Author's note: All characters portrayed in the story are aged 21 or older. This is a work of fiction; any resemblance between the characters in the story and any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This story contains mild incest. If you are offended by the subject matter, proceed no further.
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I was butt naked when I met the girl of my dreams. Yet, that was not the most unusual circumstance of that improbable introduction. She was naked as well on that fateful day, as were the twenty or thirty other people in the area. It just goes to show that there is some wisdom in the old Boy Scouts' motto: Be prepared.
It was the summer between my junior and senior years at the university. A few days earlier, one of my housemates–a part-time hedonist taking summer classes at the local community college–introduced me to "the quarry," a little-known swimming hole located about five miles outside of town. At the center of the abandoned quarry, a spring-fed pool of the coldest, clearest water in the county was home base for a secretive community of naturists. I joined that unofficial club the first week of summer vacation, and spent the rest of the summer driving to my personal paradise at every opportunity.
On that fateful day I left for the quarry right after lunch. I took a towel, a book, and a small cooler containing a few beers–just enough to maintain a mild buzz throughout the afternoon. I parked alongside the road a half mile from the quarry. There were two parking areas within walking distance of the swimming hole; the closer of the two resulted in a walk of only about a hundred yards, but that was where the cops went first on their semi-weekly roust of the naturists. They always took down license plate numbers prior to chasing everyone out of the quarry. The alternated parking area was much further away–nearly a half mile walk through the mosquito-infested woods–but the cops didn't seem to know about it. At least no one parking there had ever received a citation. That was where I always parked.
I found my favorite rock unoccupied, so I spread out my towel, dropped my shorts and t-shirt, and jumped into the frigid water to rinse the sweat from my body. I swam back and forth across the pool for about twenty minutes, then returned to my towel. I dried off, opened a can of beer, and then took a good look at my surroundings. While I was swimming the small crowd of about twenty had grown to over thirty people. I scanned the shoreline from east to west, and that's when I spotted her, lying on a towel about twenty yards to my left.
I put on my sunglasses, sat down on my towel, and tried to think of a way to approach her. I had never been shy around girls, but never before had I attempted to introduce myself to a nude woman. It goes without saying that I had never tried to meet a naked girl when I was also naked. It's more difficult than one might think. No matter how hard I tried, I could not gather the courage to move from my towel. I ended up sitting on that rock for nearly an hour and a half, doing nothing more than sipping beers and hiding behind my aviators.
Thank God for those counterfeit Vuarnets that I found in the library. Without turning in her direction, I was able to stare at her naked body for almost ninety minutes. I watched her read a book. I watched her jump in the water and swim. I watched her climb back onto her rock and towel herself off. I watched her apply sun screen to her entire body. It was at that point that I finally moved–I had to lie face down to hide my erection.
The crowd continued to grow, and the sparse female population finally became more abundant. Nonetheless, I only had eyes for the golden-skinned girl with curly brown hair hanging just past her shoulders. She stood about five feet, seven inches tall. She had an athletic build, well-toned legs and arms, a flat stomach, and breasts that looked like C-cups sitting high on her chest. Her dark brown aureoles were about the size of a quarter, and her nipples pointed upward at forty-five degree angles. A thick bush of dark curly hair glistened in the afternoon sun. I never believed in love at first sight, but at that moment I was forced to reassess many of my former beliefs.
The hours passed. People came and left, jumping in the water and then climbing back onto the rocks to sun themselves in the afternoon heat. Regulars greeted each other, shared beers, and passed joints from one to another. My golden girl with the thick bush didn't leave her rock, however, so I remained anchored to mine.
If she would just jump into the water again, I could dive in and swim near her. That's all the opening I need.
The afternoon tranquility was shattered when two new guys ambled down the path and spread their towels on the rock next to the golden girl. One guy carried a boom box cranked up to eleven, while the other carried a large cooler. The two immediately offered beers to everyone seated near them, including her. I was heartbroken as I watched her sit up, take a beer, and begin talking to one of the louts.
That's what you get for waiting too long. As my history teacher always said: "he who hesitates is lost."
I sat up and watched Goldie and Party Guy, trying my best to appear inconspicuous while my insides roiled.
I had my chance. I blew it. The only person I can be mad at is me.
Finding my erection diminished, I jumped into the water to cool off.
Fifteen minutes later I emerged from my swim, only to find her gone. My first thought was that she had left with Party Guy, but a quick survey revealed that he had moved on and was chatting up two more naked girls on another rock. Realizing I had missed her, I looked over and saw that her towel and clothes were gone, as well. I was relieved that she did not leave with Party Guy, but disappointed that I had blown my opportunity to meet her.
I dried off, got dressed, and left. On the walk back to the car and throughout the drive home I tried to analyze the situation and my complete failure to take advantage of the opportunity. I never before had a problem talking to girls on campus or at bars. I almost always got lucky at parties. On rare occasions I had even met girls on the street and ended up staying at their places for the night. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I still could not imagine my naked self approaching a naked girl. It was incomprehensible.
I spent the next week contemplating that problem. I went to the quarry every day, hoping for another opportunity to talk to her. I left every evening, frustrated that I had not seen her. At the same time, I was also relieved that I did not see her, as I still did not have a viable solution to the nudity conundrum.
Everything changed on the ninth day. I exited the woods and turned on the path that led to the northern edge of the pool. I rounded a bend along the water, only to find that my favorite rock was occupied. Looking for a new place to set up, I turned to the left and saw no good spaces. I turned to the right and saw her, laying face down on a rock a few feet from my favorite spot. There was an empty rock next to hers. I picked up the pace and made a bee-line for that rock.
I claimed a spot less than ten feet from her.
I've established a beachhead.
I pretended not to notice her as I took off my shorts and t-shirt. My manhood immediately started to rise, so I dropped myself face-down onto the towel to hide my arousal. I turned in her direction and got my first good look at her perfect butt. She was blessed with tight round cheeks that were the same golden color as the rest of her skin. Each side of her lower back had a dimple above the butt cheek. I imagined that the dimples disappeared when she assumed the doggy-style position. That thought caused my erection to throb painfully between my belly and the rock, so I forced myself to look away.
A minute later I heard a splash. I glanced up to see her swimming across the pool, agitating the still water as she swam away.
Get up! Go! She wants to be followed!
I sat up and reached for the cooler. I opened a beer and watched as she reached the opposite end of the swimming hole. That particular spot was the only place where the ground sloped into the water. Everywhere else there was a drop off from the rocks to water–in some places only a foot, and in others as much as six feet. She walked out of the water and onto the path that led from the water to the surrounding hills. I had never explored that path. I preferred to stay in the water or on the rocks at the opposite end.
Miss Golden Buns disappeared behind a hill.
Follow her, damnit! She's leading me to the hills!
I tried to recall every conversation I ever had with anyone regarding the quarry, but no one had mentioned the path leading from the water to the hills on the far side. I had no idea what was over there.
As soon as I finish this beer, I'll swim over there and find out for myself.
Goldie returned before I could move. She walked into the water, turned onto her back, and swam a slow backstroke to the rocky side of the pool. She reached the rock where I was sitting, and stood on a ledge at the edge of the water.
"Excuse me," she said, extending one arm toward me. "Can you give me a hand?"
I almost dropped my can of beer.
"Um, sure, what can I do for you?"
"I need help getting up this rock."
Countless times I had stood on the precise spot where she was standing. I knew it was not difficult to climb out of the water at that point. A mere six feet to her left was a different story, but she was standing on a ledge that almost formed a natural ladder.
I'm in. Motherfucker, I am in.
I stood up and walked to the edge of the rock. As I squatted down to take her hand, I noticed that my flaccid cock was hanging less than two feet from her face. Without warning, it started to swell when I took her hand and pulled her out of the water.
"Thank you," she said as she emerged from the water. "I always have a hard time climbing out on this side. It's so much easier on the sandy side."
She stood up, reached behind her head, and pulled her hair into a ponytail. Her back arched and her breasts jutted skyward as she squeezed the excess water from her hair. I felt my dick stiffening.
