Lakeside longings and Skinny-Dipping Sex

Five naked guys in a lake? Surely that's more 'Lucky Dip' than Skinny Dip?

Is it just me, or is skinny dipping essentially just a very long (and occasionally somewhat self defeating) way of getting around to inviting someone for sex?

I ask because in my adult years - and I use the term *adult* very loosely here, as I technically mean University years and beyond, and while I was a great many things during Uni, I don’t think ‘a mature adult’ would be considered among them - I have indulged in the practice of skinny dipping on precisely three occasions. And each and every one of them have ultimately resulted in sex.

I can’t believe I’m alone here. Let’s be honest, the very notion of skinny dipping is, despite whatever innocuous excuse may be offered at the time, inherently a sexual one. Sure, it’s all played as simply being ‘for fun’, a silly dare or a way to refresh, but ultimately someone is suggesting that everyone take their clothes off in close proximity. Either they’re keen to show off what they’ve been hiding under their own layers, or they’re keen to see someone else stripped bare. Usually, I dare say, both.

But it’s not just the sheer barefaced ‘let’s all [en]gorge on visual feast of each other’s resplendent naked forms’ that makes for such a solid signifier of a sexual outcome, for as magnificent as the undisguised human form can be, guys are very rarely at their most attention grabbing best when knee deep in exceptionally chilly water. It’s also the seemingly mandatory yet utterly *horseplay* that follows.

It’s seemingly a hard and fast rule (ironic in itself as the cold water renders regions far from hard, and the inanity of it results in things from progressing anything but fast) that while naked in a body of water three things will happen:

Splashing of water over each other. Which escalates into 2) Girls on guys shoulders doing the splashing. Which culminates in 3) People being ‘thrown in’.

All of which, I’m utterly convinced, for better or worse, is just the barest minimum of excuses to get handsy with each other. And once you’re handsy with a naked torso, there really is only way it will escalate. Especially once you throw in the unbearable cliche of cold water and an immediate need in the aftermath to be ‘warmed up.’

But enough with the hypothetical, I hear you cry. Instead I’ll jump into an actual example which I feel illustrates all of the above, and ultimately proves that things would be much improved by skipping the middleman, and just cutting to straight to the sex. (And yes I’m more than aware that this same advice could very easily be applied to my posts. The irony is not lost on me.)

The Lake District in the North of England is, in my humble opinion, one of the most beautiful places on earth. I’ll not waste time extolling the glorious virtues of the fells, rugged crags, endless forestry and picturesque vistas, as I dare say it’s not what you’re reading this for. So instead I’ll simply describe it in the same manner I noted in my diary at the time:

“Stunningly beautiful. And FUCKING COLD.”

This is a crucial fact to remember for later. For regardless how magnificently iridescent the sun may be - a rare sight in itself in northern England - I can only assume the lakes themselves must consist of purely historic glacial water. They are perpetually *freezing* and somehow manage to pass that very same chill into the wondrous landscape surrounding them.

Which is why when several years ago some friends suggested it would be ‘fun’ to go camping in the gloriously civilised wilderness, I told them they could go forth and multiply. Which is to say; they could fuck right off. While I’m not entirely averse to being in a tent, I don’t cope well with a chill.

Thankfully my friends are both a) wonderful people and far more significantly b) incredibly easily swayed to my will.

So the cheap weekend getaway turned into a long weekend ‘Gampling’ instead.

Again, I’ll not waste time by describing in detail the main differences between camping and glamping, other than to say the latter is far superior in every possible way. Instead of a tend you stay in a lovely *warm* chalet type setup instead. All the fun of camping but with added comfort and warmth, and at only six times the cost. It was also almost an hour’s well paced walk away from the nearest lake. But who needs convenience when you can be *warm*?

Myself and the three friends I’d talked into this ended up sharing a ‘pod’ on a site featuring a row of six of the wooden structures. Picture a sauna but without the steam, and with three beds and a pull out sofa instead of a bench and you can’t go far wrong. There were also a number of potted plants position on shelves around the walls which seemed somewhat redundant, given one wall was made entirely out of glass an overlooked nothing but sumptuous green field and trees.

The space was small. The beds were positioned so that any flailing arms could easily make contact with another, and as such the sofa bed positioned facing the glass wall was deemed preferable and out of potential striking distance.

I won that ‘negotiation’ too.

Crucially though for any reader wondering whether this reminiscence will ever reach a stage in which sex actually features, the pod beside us was filled with guys. Five of them, no less, somehow squeezing themselves into a four person pod.

On first discovery we assumed they were on a stag do but, ultimately, if they were then they hid it well, and we certainly didn’t ever discover who the stag was.

The guys had clearly arrived the day prior, evidenced by the fact that when we appeared on the scene they were seemingly only just emerging from their pod, and clearly in varying states of hungover distress. Their spirits however did seem somewhat lifted by the presence of four women in their mid-twenties setting up next door, as they eagerly offered to help us move in and ‘get the lay of the land’, pun intended no doubt.

If I ever learned their names, they’ve long since been forgotten to the winds of time. I’m sure I’ll have been *told* their names upon meeting them, but in much the same fashion as any casual acquaintance you may encounter on a holiday, I made no effort to commit them to memory (One individual aside, but to avoid spoilers I’ll not single him out just yet). As such, and shamelessly stealing a trope from the Umbrella Academy, I’ll simple refer to them by number for ease.

The quintet were all aged in their late twenties to early thirties, and all - except perhaps Number Four - seemed incredibly pleasant company. Number Four, the most overtly bearded and ‘laddish’ of the fivesome, was clearly suffering the most from the revelries of the night before and did little other than grunt in our presence. After helping us getting our stuff inside, they suggested we should perhaps have drinks after whatever day we had in store. We mumbled polite but vague ’Yeah, maybe, if there’s time…’s, and got on with our first day of excessive walking, eating scones and, more importantly, drinking in village pubs.

Returning late into the evening we were all surprised and somewhat delighted to find the guys had apparently brought with them a small bar’s worth of alcohol, and were more than happy to share. In the light of the evening, they were all somewhat attractive in their own way, which I hope isn’t too damning with faint praise. I can’t pretend this was a red-hot fivesome the likes of which dreams are made of by any means, and all were, as close male friends can sometimes freakishly appear, somewhat carbon copies of each other. All on the endearingly ‘rougher’ side of well groomed, but all lean, reasonable fit, and with both Numbers One and Two being well on their way to being ‘chiselled’. At a party I’d not foresee any going home empty handed, but perhaps only One and Two would be anyone’s ‘take them home early’.

We shared a few drinks but the evening was otherwise very civil and uneventful. I’m 99% certain that Charlie blew Number Four during a suspiciously long bathroom break, but she swears to this day that they were both embarrassingly suffering the after effects of too much clotted cream within earshot of each other in the shared toilet facilities…

After retreating to our pod for the night, we idly discussed which we’d all fuck. Charlie would sleep with any except Number Four - the toilet experience having put her off. Jess had a boyfriend so wasn’t thinking such thoughts, but if she were it’d be Numbers Two and Five. Lisa also had a boyfriend but would definitely sleep with One, Two and Five. And I was similarly minded to Charlie, except I hadn’t had the misfortune of listening to Number Four having an unpleasant time, though given the morning I could already imagine the grunting.

The following day’s adventuring featured much the same as the previous, though with more kayaking and fewer scones. We’d arranged with the guys to meet up at a pub in the evening, wherein we ate, drank, compared kayak wounds, and generally enjoyed each other’s company.

So much so that as the pub closed, we decided to keep things going. The guys still had plentiful alcohol supplies they’d seemingly been carrying around with them all day and, given it was a relatively mild night, we decided we should head to the lake before heading back to the pods.

Given the title of this post, I needn’t be coy about where this is heading.

I don’t know who suggested skinny dipping. According to Charlie it was Number Two. According to Number One it was Lisa. According to Lisa it was *me* (it wasn’t). But I’m pretty sure it was Jess.

Whoever suggested it is immaterial. Because no sooner had the suggestion been aired, whether it be in jest or as an actual suggestion, in the blinking of an eye and at Clark Kent becomes Superman speed, Number One had removed his clothes. I swear he must have been wearing an all-in-one for it to happen so fast. By the Number Two had kicked off his shoes, Charlie had her top off, as had Number Five. I was sat between Numbers Three and Four at the time this was instigated. Number Four grunted as only Number Four can, in a manner that suggested this perhaps wasn’t his thing. I got the feeling he perhaps wasn’t a fan of getting his beard wet. Number Three and I shared a look of ‘Shall we?’ and I sighed. Not because I wasn’t intending to get involved - I’d already started kicking off my shoes and was in the process of pulling down my shorts - but because as far as I was concerned, this was simply adding to the time before sex would ensue.

One looked good naked. Two did not. To their credit both Three and Five looked far better naked than I’d been expecting. As they hit the icy cold water, their penises did the only sensible thing and immediately withdrew into their bodies. And herein lies the true reason I don’t understand skinny dipping.

It simply doesn’t do the better endowed guys any favours!

Charlie and I both spurred on I suspect by the fact the other was doing it stripped entirely naked and ran into the water at speed. If we’d attempted to dip in slowly I fear neither of us would have made it.

IT WAS FREEZING.

Jess had taken off her shorts but was otherwise still clothed and decided just to ‘paddle’, reminding us all every few minutes that she had a boyfriend so it wouldn’t be fair to do more. Lisa also reminded us she had a boyfriend, and that was why she was only stripping to her underwear. Her bra came off within five minutes.

Once we were all in the water there was a horrifying moment where we were all just stood, naked and freezing, and I swear you could hear teeth chattering. In that single moment nobody quite knew what to do. We’d rushed in on an adrenaline (and dare I say, alcohol induced) high, but now faltered unknowing what to do next. Surely we weren’t just going to stand awkwardly and then get out again?

So, with another deep sigh, I took the lead and splashed Number One in the face.

Within seconds a ‘water fight’ had broken out. I forged an alliance with One and Five versus Charlie, Jess, Two and Three.

Within minutes I found myself propped up on Number One’s shoulders, with number five providing ‘support’ by literally having his hands pressed against my arse. Similarly Charlie had mounted Three but Lisa and Two had seemingly left the battle, as they were far too busy apparently sucking each others faces off, with her bra having now magically disappeared.

Having both spotted Lisa wisely skipping head, we indulged in shoulder mounted splashing for less than a minute. There’s something about straddling a guy’s neck with full skin-on-skin contact that really heightens the libido. We were each dutifully thrown off to complete the skinny dip triumvirate, before the fun actually began.

I wasted no time at all in making a grab for Number One. I’d been on his shoulders so I felt I’d already done enough to secure him, but you never can tell with Charlie. With little delicacy I splashed the few steps through the water and all but through myself around him, arms gripping his torso as I knocked heads slightly with him for a kiss.

It was so fucking cold I swear that both our teeth were chattering, but we kissed with urgent enthusiasm, our tongues doing their best to avoid being bitten. My poor nipples were so cold they had turned apparently into steel bullets, and were digging into his chest. They were so numbed that I didn’t feel him playing and tweaking them for quite some time.

Full disclosure I have very little idea what went on between Charlie and Number Three, nor Lisa and Number Two as my attention was largely elsewhere. All I will say is that Lisa clearly felt that what happens in a lake, stays in a lake, as she and Two were the last to emerge, and when they did they’d already seemingly finished whatever they had been doing. Just looking at the stars, I’m sure. After the event I was also told by Jess that, as the lake shenanigans kicked off, Number Four had propositioned her with the line ‘Wanna do something to?’ after she politely declined, he apparently decided to simply get his cock out and masturbate watching everyone else’s fun instead.

Still kissing Number One, I began to grope around beneath the surface of the water, trying my best to locate his apparently absent cock, eventually coming to the conclusion that the disappointing flap of skin hanging between his legs was all that remained since the icy water had done its work. Nevertheless I got to work stroking and tugging at what little I had to work with, until I began to feel life slowly reemerge, like a hibernating turtle sleepily poking its weary head from its shell.

But I can be an impatient soul, and the chill was preventing things from moving at the pace to which I have become accustomed. So, deciding enough was enough I pulled back from the kiss and suggested we make our way back to the land and perhaps continue things in the moderately tepid night air, rather than the submerged in what felt like icy tundra.

Having pulled away I spotted what I’m sure the more astute readers will have now been wondering; ‘what the hell happened to Number Five?’

Well, dear reader, having been unlucky enough to have not found himself as the first port of call for any of us, he had somewhat awkwardly but thoroughly endearingly backed away slightly and lowered himself into the water so as to cause as little fuss as possible. Now I have no doubt in my mind at all that he was furiously masturbating beneath the surface, surrounded as he was by copulating couples, and no doubt he was potentially simply waiting for a suitable opening to try his luck. But in that moment I found him incredibly sweet.

Plus he was actually pretty good looking naked. And his hands had felt excellent on my arse while he was assisting in holding me up.

So as I disengaged from Number One and he started heading back to dry land, I instead manoeuvred in the direction of Five.

“Having fun?” I asked.

“Not as much as you,” he replied with a simultaneously sad and cheeky smile which made me like him all the more.

Feeling enough time had already been wasted, and eager to finally get myself out of the fucking lake (in both senses of the word if the splashing emanating from Lisa and Number Two were anything to go by ), I directly asked him if he’d been waiting hoping for a chance with myself or with Charlie. His response was to float on his back, revealing a sizeable and fully erect cock he’d somehow manage to maintain in the freezing water.

“Does that answer your question?” He asked, all traces of sadness immediately vanishing from his face.

I got as far as pointing out ‘technically, no’, before he’d splashed over to me to suck heartily on my still numb nipples, having seemingly taken my coyness as an invitation.

Which, to be fair, it was.

The unfortunate side effect of this bold move was that I found myself loitering all the longer in the damn lake. He continued sucking with such enthusiasm that I actually regained a little feeling, while his hand made some tentative probing beneath the surface of the water. The low temperature had provoked something of a - to put not too fine a point on it - ‘tightening’ effect, so he made do with vigorously rubbing my clit while I offered an energetic tug in return under the lake.

It was around this time Number One had made it back to dry land and hollered out the phrase that has remained burned into my mind years later;

“Alice, are you joining me or do I have to stand here and have a sad wank like Kevin?”

To his credit, Number Five stopped sucking my chest and disengaged almost immediately. Not that he had much choice as the cold had made me somewhat delirious as I found the previous statement far, far funnier than it had any right to be, and I was rendered very near hysterical. He suggested I should go and spend some time with Number One. And then, when I was warmed up, I could always come back to him. Surprised by his apparent generosity, I instead put forward that perhaps we should all indulge at once. I’m something of a threesome fan, and I reasoned it would be a much quicker way of injecting twice as much heat into the occasion.

Sadly, Number Five declined. Apparently he wasn’t the sharing type. Which still seems odd, given how apparently happy he was to indulge in some potentially sloppy seconds instead. But it’s not my place to judge.

I bounded out of the lake, passing Lisa and Number Two who were so excited watching the stars they were both apparently jumping for joy, and displacing a *lot* of water.

During my distraction, Number One had clearly been doing some work and had mercifully found his cock. He’d also - and I must confess this earned him serious points - hunted a towel out of his backpack. As he threw the towel around my shoulders, I showed my gratitude for the sudden snuggly warmth by immediately dropping to my knees right on the lakefront, and taking his cock in my mouth. I was vaguely aware of Number Four sat somewhere not far behind touching himself watching us, but I didn’t much care.

I sucked with as much vigour and energy as I could muster; big sweeping motions with my mouth and maximum tongue contact, aware that any small or delicate motion could be potentially lost to the cold. Whilst I was busy doing this I became aware than Number Five had got out of the lake himself and was getting dressed in full view. He told us to have fun, and offered to walk back to the pods with Jess, who’d been stood like a spare part while all of this had been transpiring.

Number One withdrew from my mouth and kissed me again. There’s something reassuring about a man who’s not afraid to taste himself, but that’s a discussion for another time. He asked if I wanted to head back too so we could get a little more comfortable. I reminded him it was be an hour’s walk back to the pods and that, frankly, I wasn’t keen on waiting that long.

He conceded, and stuck his fingers inside me. I started warming up considerably.

When he took a turn on his knees, combining fingers and tongue, all numbness faded and things started feeling pretty fucking wonderful.

So as not to simply be watching Number Four masturbate we’d positioned ourselves so I was looking out to the lake. I had no idea where Charlie and Number Three had gone, but assumed they’d found their own secluded spot elsewhere. Instead I idly watched Lisa and Number Two excitedly bounce watching the stars. It must have been both an infuriating and almost religious experience, as both ‘Fuck, oh fuck,’ and ‘Oh God’ could be distinctly heard coming from their direction.

Warmed and invigorated by the actions of Number One, I told him in no uncertain terms that he should fuck me.

And he did.

Reader, I’d love to tell you that after all this build up it was hugely anecdote worthy sex…

And it was.

There’s something about freezing cold followed by massive heat that really enhances the senses. There’s not much of interest I can describe about the action of the sex itself - it was all simply standing with me bent over, him taking me hard from behind. Not much in the way of variety, but the view was lovely.

I came first. It was extraordinary and accelerated from 0-100 in mere seconds. I actually yelped. An explosion of pleasure erupted and nearly floored me.

Normally I’d have encouraged him to keep going, but everything was far too sensitive in the immediate aftermath, so I slid off him and got back on my knees. I’d found he’d particularly enjoyed some cock-to-inside-cheek action the first time, so I indulged him again to ensure his climax was as satisfying as my own.

The jets of cum which shot in my mouth confirmed my theory. I swallowed and we kissed some more. Aside from my sensitivity, it had been a calculated move. It conveniently ensured I wasn’t making a drippy hour long walk home. And, if I’m honest, I was also thinking ahead to what Number Five may have in store.

Number Four had departed at some stage when we hadn’t been looking, clearly having finished up his own fun. We waited instead for Number Two and Lisa. We weren’t waiting long. They both looked exhausted but satisfied. That’s what looking at the starts in a cold lake will do for you. None of us had any idea where Charlie and Number Three had gone, so we decided to leave them to it. They knew how to get back without our help.

The hour long walk back was beautifully calm, quiet and serene, as we all basked in the quiet thrill of what we’d done.

As I wondered what, and indeed, who, I may be dipping into next…