Naked at the Roadhouse
His clothes are stolen in the mountains
by G. Lawrence
Stories on Literotica may have multiple categories, but I prefer Exhibitionist & Voyeur as my default category. This story could easily fall into Humor & Satire, for none of it is to be taken seriously. Perhaps nonconsent/reluctance, though that category is rarely whimsical. The events in this story did not happen, and I do not suggest they should happen. It's a fantasy. Please don't post comments saying it's not realistic, or that illegal acts were committed, or that there would be lawsuits. We already know that. There is nudity but no sex. All of the characters are over 18 years old.
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I was new in town without any acquaintances when my old Chrysler needed work. The auto shop a few blocks down the street looked promising, so I checked it out. The owner was Joe Milton, in his late-20's like I was. A knowledgeable mechanic with many clients owning classic cars. Regular visitors to the shop were his best friends Charley and Harry. It seemed they had all gone to high school together.
"Haven't seen you in here before," Joe said, crawling out from under a Thunderbird.
"Jeff Sanders," I introduced, shaking the oily hand. "My office transferred here last month. I'm still getting to know the neighborhood."
"You have an athletic look about you," Joe observed. "Play any sports?"
"I did in college. Not much lately," I answered.
He gave my old car the once over, made suggestions, and offered to make a better inspection when not so overwhelmed with business, which worked for me. We began hanging out at the local bar after hours with Charley and Harry, watching baseball while guzzling pitchers of beer. I was partial to my hometown Tigers. The guys preferred their beloved Rockies.
"Do you do much camping?" Joe asked as the summer grew warmer.
"I've done some," I replied.
"You should come with us," Joe offered. "Harry, Charley, and me. We have a spot near Bear Trap Lake that we use all the time."
"Sounds like fun," I agreed.
The lake was a two-hour drive from the city, going deep into the mountains. We reached a quaint village. There were a few houses and cabins. Mobile homes were popular. We stopped at a country store for beer. A small motel and gas station made up the rest of the town. Then we were back on the road.
"Our campsite is a secret," Charley explained. Like Joe, he was still a bachelor, teaching 5th grade at Laudanum Elementary School. Harry was the office manager for a real estate company with a wife back home.
"How is it secret?" he wanted me to ask.
"The state park is on the north shore of the lake," Charley answered. "We camp on the south shore. Technically, it's private property, but no one cares as long as tourists don't show up."
Eight miles from the village, we came to a yellow chain across the road where it turned from asphalt to dirt. Harry jumped out, released the chain for Joe to drive through, and then put it back. I noticed a large rambling shack a hundred yards off. No, not a shack. Some sort of dive bar out in the middle of nowhere. It was closed so early in the day. We drove ten more miles, bouncing up and down on the bumpy surface.
"Here we are," Joe said, pulling into a tree-lined area. "The lake is another half mile up the trail. It's a nice hike. We usually have a late lunch there but camp back here."
I could see the attraction. The forest was beautiful. Mountains rose in every direction, without evidence of civilization.
They pulled tents and sleeping bags from the back of the SUV and set up a folding picnic table. It would make a suitable campsite.
"Let's get to the lake," Joe said, putting our beer and sandwiches in a backpack.
The trail was a little rough, winding along the edge of a deep ravine. After twenty minutes, a lake came into view. It was quite large, though our portion was more a lagoon. We settled down on a sandy beach. Charley, being very environmental, made sure refuse went into a black trash bag.
"Time to go swimming," Harry announced. And to my surprise, all three stripped off their hiking clothes, preparing to enter the water naked.
"Sorry, Jeff. We're not gay, it's just that we've been skinny-dipping up here since we were in the 6th grade," Charley said. "You don't need to join us if you're shy."
I didn't have a strong desire to take off my clothes, but these were new friends. The only friends I'd made since breaking up with my girlfriend and leaving for a new city. I didn't want them to be uncomfortable around me. Or think I wasn't a good sport. I stripped, piled my shoes, T-shirt, and short pants on a rock, and slowly went down to the water. It was cold but not unpleasant.
Joe was as I had expected, stocky and hairy, with a broad chest and thick waist. Charley was my height, 5'10, and skinny. He looked like a chess player. Harry was 6', evenly proportioned, with wide shoulders. He probably played football in school. I still had the swimmer's physique I'd had in college, though not quite so buff anymore. I didn't measure any dicks, but if I had, I'd likely have won. I'd never had any complaints in that department.
"What do you think of getting back to nature, Jeff?" Charley asked.
"I'm glad this isn't a crowded area. It would be embarrassing," I answered.
"You don't like being naked in public?' Harry asked with a laugh.
"My ex-girlfriend liked nude beaches. I usually kept a towel around me," I replied.
"Was she a looker?" Charley eagerly inquired.
"Anna was great," I said. "Round in all the right places."
"What happened?" Joe asked.
"After we left the Peace Corps, I took a boring office job. I'd had enough excitement for a while. Anna said life with me was dull and looked for greener pastures," I sadly relayed.
"Doesn't the Peace Corps just build huts and plant crops?" Harry said.
"Something like that," I answered without elaborating. For it wasn't what we did, it was where we did it. Not always the friendliest countries.
Harry went back to the beach, taking a 35mm camera from his backpack.
"Don't worry, Jeff. We don't take frontal photographs at the lake, that would be weird. But we do long distance shots. Can you do me a favor?"
"What's that?" I asked, a little nervous.
"See that small island out there? About a hundred yards away?" Harry said. "You look like a good swimmer. Swim out, climb up on the rocks, and raise your arms toward the sun. I'll get a shot of you from behind."
"I don't know. What if someone recognizes me?" I responded.
"No one is going to recognize you at that distance. And if they did, they wouldn't be seeing anything but your butt."
"Come on, Jeff. We've all done it," Charley encouraged.
"Yeah, you should do it," Joe agreed.
They were looking at me with expectation, and I didn't want to let them down. It would only take a few minutes to reach the island at a leisurely pace.
"Okay," I agreed, using lazy strokes through the blue water. It felt good. There was a rocky shelf around the island, causing me to tread cautiously. No diving here.
All three guys were on the beach wearing their hats and shirts, watching. I turned my back to them, raised my arms, and waited for Harry to shout more instructions. And waited. After a minute or two, I wondered what else I should be doing, turning to look. To my dismay, the guys were dressed, hurriedly stuffing everything in their backpacks, and getting ready to leave. Charley ran from the beach first, followed closely by Harry. Joe waved at me, grinning, and disappeared down the trail.
I needed to climb back down to the water carefully because of the rocks and swam as quickly as I could. When I reached the beach, I discovered my clothes were gone. They hadn't left me a stitch to wear. Not even shoes. I ran after them, but being barefoot on the stoney path, I wasn't making good time. They were running in their hiking boots with a good head start, and they knew the trail. I was guessing.
When I reached the campsite, no one was there. The car was gone. The camping gear was gone. My three companions had vanished. I could only hope it was a prank and they'd be back soon, but an hour later, there was still no sign of them. It was late afternoon. Without clothes, or shoes, and no way to make a fire, I needed to get back to the village eighteen miles away before it got cold.
Needless to say, I was quite embarrassed. And angry. And dejected. Thinking back on the last few weeks, I wondered if the guys had been setting me up all along. Was I so desperate for friends that I hadn't noticed?
I'd walked along the dirt road for several miles when a car came up behind me. Out in the open, there was no place to hide. I found a tumbleweed, holding it in front of me. It appeared to be a park ranger vehicle by the markings. A man and woman in khaki uniforms stepped out.
"What do we have here? Naked in public?" the man said. His nametag read Officer Sam Heffington. The woman was Officer Emily Jonas. Both appeared to be in their early 40s.
"I'm sorry, sir. Someone stole my clothes," I replied.
"That's a likely story," Emily said. "We get you city people up here all the time getting your cheap thrills."
"No, really. I came up with three friends to go camping. They tricked me," I insisted.
"Camping? The campgrounds are on the other side of the lake. This is private property, and you are trespassing."
"They said no one would care. They've been coming here for years. Joe, Harry, and Charley."
"Never heard of them," Sam said. "Now drop the bush, put your hands on the back of the car, and spread your legs."
I did as I was told. The woman ran her hands up and down my sides, then down my legs, and grabbed my crotch, squeezing my balls.
"He's clean," she reported. And then she handcuffed my hands behind my back.
"Is this really necessary?" I asked.
"You are under arrest for public indecency and trespassing restricted property," Sam said. "We will now transport you to our substation for booking. If found guilty, your name will be entered on the sex offender watchlist. Do you understand?"
