Fun on a raft in the wild.
When I was in my mid-twenties I was intrigued by a report on a regional TV news program about (yet another) hunt for the Loch Ness monster. They asked for anyone interested to come forward, so a few weeks later, there I was in beautiful Scotland with several others. It was a loose arrangement, normally with three guys sleeping in a caravan, whilst others were on board a raft out in the actual Loch.
The raft was a strange craft with a flat deck and a semi-sunken cabin. You climbed down a few steps before emerging into the small cabin, which was dark and Spartan. There was no furniture or anything approaching normal living conditions; it was more like a workmen's hut.
When I had arrived in Scotland, I tagged along with a younger lad (we'll call him Tom), who had been there for a while, knew his way around and what was what. I think he was twenty-one at the time. He wasn't particularly good-looking but had bags of charm and an easy-going relaxed manner. My interest grew when I commented on him not wearing socks. He said that he didn't wear underwear either.
My first (and only) night on board the raft approached, it was to be Tom and I spending the night together on the loch, with the others remaining back at the caravan and elsewhere. It was pitch black as Tom steered us from the loch shore to the raft in a rubber dinghy with an outboard motor. It was exciting being in such a wild place in the dark, with wind-swept rain pricking our faces. We climbed aboard the raft and once in the cabin we quickly closed the door behind us to keep out the elements. It was quite eerie.
Tom and I had a small bottle of Scotch with us and we chatted and drank for a while before deciding it was time for sleep. I think we were both feeling quite mellow. In the dim light I remember thinking how I had become quite attached and attracted to Tom. There we were, just the two of us on a raft in the middle of Loch Ness on an inky-black night, the only sounds being the slapping of the water against the raft. Tom announced he was going to undress, 'In case you're embarrassed.'
I said, 'Go ahead,' with no intention of missing this. Tom simply raised himself off the bench and stripped off his jeans. Of course, he wasn't wearing underwear, so as he stood up I had his naked thighs and crotch in front of me. There was nothing sexual about the situation on his side, but needless to say, I was turned on by the sight of Tom naked in front of me.
Tom slid into his sleeping bag on the floor of the cabin and I got into mine. The cabin was pretty cramped and our sleeping bags were side by side. Tom lay there on his side with his back to me. As I lay there on my back, I became more excited. I turned on to my side so I was lying next to Tom. I could smell his hair and wanted to nuzzle his neck. I could hear his relaxed breathing next to me, above the slapping of the waves. I could make out the line of his body in the dim light. I was horny as hell by this point and was dying for a wank. Then my passion got the best of me and I gently put my arm around his shoulders. He didn't seem to have any problem with that. He didn't object when I slowly moved my arm down his chest so that it was draped over his waist. I couldn't help but continue downwards, stroking his belly through his sleeping bag, until my hand was rubbing his cock. His cock was rock hard. Now, at this point, things could go either way. He didn't say anything. He didn't move away. He didn't encourage me either. I came to my senses despite the lust I was now feeling and said softly, 'Do you want me to stop?'
'Yes please, I'm not gay,' was all he said. There was no fear or anger in the way he said it. So that was that. I left him alone to get some sleep.
I was disappointed but still highly aroused by the closeness of Tom. I had to have a wank! For some reason I didn't feel able to do it with him next to me (although now I would have no trouble), so I quietly unzipped my sleeping bag and got up. I was aching for release by this time, so simply knelt down a couple of feet away from Tom and started to stroke my dick. It felt so good to be where I was right then! Through the gloom I could see Tom moving a little, so I stopped my stroking, hoping that he'd fall asleep soon. Then I noticed the movement inside his sleeping bag. He was at it himself. I could see his hand movements getting faster and that did it for me. I couldn't hold back and I shot a load of spunk over whatever was around in the dark cabin. About the same time Tom reached his moment and I saw his body shaking as he shot his load inside his sleeping bag. Once I'd climbed back into my bag we got some sleep and nothing was ever mentioned about this little episode, although Tom was still his friendly open self in the morning. I climbed out of the cabin to and saw him standing on deck, jeans open, pissing into the loch in the bright morning sunshine, accompanied by the cries of the eagle that nested close by the shore.
That night, Tom and I were sleeping at the caravan. He had the small bedroom to himself, whilst I slept on one of the seats/beds in the main room. Another young lad was on another seat across the room. Tom and the other lad hollered to each other (Tom's bedroom door was closed) and chatted about sex. Tom was obviously a horny young guy and was describing his favourite position to the other lad. It was his favourite because he said he could watch his dick sliding in and out. Once again, the air was sexually charged. After Tom had finally shut up and we were all drifting off to sleep (or so I thought), a rhythmic banging noise began, which slowly became louder and more rapid. And louder still, as Tom was wanking himself silly in the bedroom and the caravan sounded like it was about to fall to pieces! He must have really been going at it, as the noise grew even louder. I think it's fair to say I had one of the best orgasms I've ever had, just like Tom the night before I came in my sleeping bag. The young lad across from me had himself a good time too.