There is something, well, I suppose 'illicit' is the best word, about being naked in the open air. A mixture of freedom and exhibitionism. Which is why I made a last check on my surroundings before slipping off my underpants.
I was on private land, the owners were away and it was miles from any public place, so the chances of being seen were very remote indeed. I doffed my last covering and stood at the end of the small jetty.
Should I dive in or try the water with my toe first?
My prick had risen to half-mast, reminding me that it had been a long time since my last ejaculation. And that had been self-induced, it was even longer since I'd had a woman. My prick twitched at the thought and
I placed my fingers around my thickening shaft.
Then, "No." I thought, "I will find a female to fuck before the day is out, my next come will be into flesh other than my own."
I plunged into the cold water, killing all erotic thoughts and began to swim. The lake was a fair size, the end away from the jetty was covered in white water lilies. I swam to their edge, turned and swam back. I swam for about half an hour then pulled myself back onto the jetty, suddenly realising that I had no towel.
Still, in the hot sun I would quickly dry. I stretched out on the grass and closed my eyes.
I am a freelance professional photographer and had come to the lake to take some slides for use as backgrounds in my studio. Slides, as this was just as digital was starting. Medium format film was the choice for pro's, who at the time regarded digital as a gimmick. What I mean by backgrounds is pictures to project behind whatever I was photographing in the studio, to make it look like 'on location'.
Come on. You don't really believe that the camera can't lie do you?
The lake was in the grounds of a large country house which I had used for location shots on several occasions, but it's expensive to move the subject to the location, so I was moving the location to the subject.
The lake was superb at this time of year. I had arrived at dawn, with permission from the owners of course, and had worked while the light was good. Work done, I had rewarded myself with a nude dip.
My mind turned inevitably to my celibate state. My last fuck had been with a model, sent by an agency to have a portfolio done. She was a good looking girl, but a lousy model. She had needed no persuading to go nude and had no objection to moving the action from my studio to my bed. Unfortunately she was as bad a fuck as she was a model. Some girls seem to think that looks are all they need to become a model.
Or a lover.
She took no active part in our coupling, just lay on her back as I ploughed her furrow. She had wanted no foreplay, no oral, just get in and get it over. I don't think she was capable of an orgasm. I just banged away until I came. Better than wanking, but not much.
Since then I had fucked only my fist. I decided to rectify that before the day was over,
even if I had to pay for it.
I must have fallen asleep. I was wakened by a moorhen calling. I stood up and stretched, then made to get dressed. My clothes had gone!
All my photographic gear was still there, but no clothes. A tramp perhaps? But why take my togs and not my cameras? Even my watch was there and my wallet, still in my camera bag.
I had taken a short-cut to the lake, through a well concealed gap in the fence. I would have to walk bollock naked along the road for about half a mile to where my car was parked.
I looked around to find something to cover my nudity. In my camera bag was what we call a changing bag. It's a sort-of portable dark room. Imagine a black teeshirt with no neck hole and a zip across the hem and you'll get the idea. You zip whatever you have to do into the bag, put your arms in through the 'sleeves' and fumble away.
The bag was quite large. I unzipped the hem and put the bag on like shorts. It was a tight fit but covered the bits I could get arrested for. But to walk half a mile in it promised nothing but slow castration.
I tried a few steps, then noticed movement in the thick Rhododendron bushes at the edge of the clearing.
I stopped and stared at where I thought the movement had been. Very slowly a stick with a white flag was pushed out from the hiding place. The 'flag' was my underpants!
I pulled off my makeshift garment and ran towards the flag. The miscreants made no move to escape.
It was two young women, both helpless with laughter.
"We surrender," said one of them, we yield to your superior weapon."
I rescued my knickers and hastily donned them. Now that I felt less vulnerable, I began to see the joke. They introduced themselves, Jenny, a plumpish blonde and Sue, a tall, thin brunette. They lived in the nearby village and had evening jobs at the local pub. So, knowing when the house was empty, used the lake as a free swimming pool.
They new about my 'secret' way into the lake and, weather permitting, came by bike to their private lido.
"But," said Jenny, when we arrived today we found a sleeping beauty."
"Yes," added Sue, nodding at my crutch, but now you've covered him up."
They both giggled at the joke. I introduced myself and explained why I was here, adding that their secret was safe with me.
