If I Had Said Yes. But ...

I was on a road trip back in the 90s, driving cross country and camping each night. I’d chosen a Midwest nudist camp for my first night out. The night I arrived, they were hosting a membership drive. They had food and lots more people than they normally have, and more couples than usual.

I got there just before dinner. Typically, once you sign in, they let you camp nearly anywhere, but because there were so many people, they had created specific spaces and assigned people to them. A nearly naked man checked me in while I was still in the parking lot. I was nearly naked myself, wearing only a pair of flimsy running shorts and some tennis shoes. He said, “Follow me. I’ll show you where to set up your tent.” I grabbed my tarp and tent and followed him.

He led me along paths that had been recently mowed through the grasses that surrounded a small, central lake. We walked past a small beach area and I could see several nudists hanging out by the water or in it. There was a floating platform anchored about 30 feet from shore. More were sitting out there. One or two women wore bikinis but most were nude. All the guys were.

We arrived at my assigned space. There were four tents already set up. He showed me where to place mine. I shucked my shorts and did so. 

I walked back to my car in the parking lot to get the rest of my gear. I didn’t bother to put my shorts on. Passing back through the main area, I was told dinner was being served. I put my paraphernalia in the tent, grabbed my towel, and headed back to the communal area where they had several picnic tables set up. I picked up a plate of food and a drink and found a space at a table.

I introduced myself to the group and told them I was traveling through. Everybody else seemed relatively local. One pair were first-time nudists, but they’d been there since noon and were pretty well acclimated. As a part-time nudist, I found myself comfortable quickly.

Once the sun started going down, I headed back to my tent. When I got there, my camp mates were sitting on towels or camp chairs, talking. I joined them. One was an older couple, maybe in their early 60s. She seemed a little less impressed with being naked in the group and wore a button-up shirt completely unbuttoned, and nothing else. They both sagged where older humans sag, but were easy to look at and pleasant to be with. Both struck me as very learned.

There were two more couples. One, probably in their 20s, were trying out social nudity for the first time. They’d gone skinny dipping once or twice and were comfortable being naked around the house, so they thought they’d try the next step. They seemed reserved. Both were relatively tall and thin and both had dark hair. Her breasts were quite lovely, though small, with little nipples that stood slightly erect the whole time. She had a light patch of dark public hair which was also pretty to look at. The other couple was in  their 30s. She had larger breasts than either of the other women, though not huge. They were quite nice, a little on the floppy side, with half-dollar size areolae. Her blonde hair seemed dyed but she had shaved her pussy, so I couldn’t tell for sure. Neither of the pair was fat but they probably didn’t work out much. As we all conversed, they kept touching one another in a way that seemed both mildly affectionate and sexually charged. The last at the circle was a tall, pudgy, dark-haired guy who looked like the prototypical nerd. None of the guys (including me) had particularly notable cocks.

Our conversation was light, general, non-intrusive. Pleasant but forgettable. The woman of the older couple said her good nights and retired to their tent. He stayed out, but it was getting late and the conversation was winding down. Just as everyone else stood up, the guy in his 30s announced that he and his girlfriend were going to be fucking in their tent, if anyone cared to watch.

What? Had I heard that right? The other couple and the older man muttered no, rather sheepishly, so I guess I had. The nerd and I didn’t respond. I was torn. I would love to watch a couple fucking but somehow saying yes in that moment seemed like it would brand me the group’s pervert, so I didn’t say anything and turned to go into my tent. I heard the zippers on all the other tents opening and then closing. Our tents were all close, maybe 10 feet apart. In a nudist facility, there’s not much need for visual privacy, since everybody’s naked. But aural privacy is another matter.

I laid down on my sleeping bag, my ears on high alert. Meanwhile, I kept thinking, what if I just went to their tent and asked if the invitation was still open. But, of course, everyone would hear me, so I just laid there. After a few minutes, i unzipped my tent flap just a enough to peek out. There was a dim light in the tent of the 30s couple, but it was hung high, so there weren’t any scintillating shadows to watch. I closed my tent and laid back down.

I decided that maybe they were just kidding. Then I heard a whispered moan. Then again. Whatever he was doing, she approved, adding little yeses to her moans. My dick started growing rapidly. I checked the view again. Still no sexual silhouettes, but it was clear we would hear them. All of us.

Her moaning got louder. My cock got harder. I gripped it, feeling how quickly it had gotten hot to the touch. A slow stroke quickly brought it to full attention. Some indistinguishably wet sounds emanated from their tent. Maybe he was licking her shaved pussy. She approved some more. So did my cock.

After a bit, I heard her respond with that very telling sharp, verbal inhalation women make when a man slides his cock into her. His low moan confirmed it. More wet sounds. She had gotten very moist from his ministrations. My cock was slick with my own juices. 

Then a slap of flesh on flesh. Then more. Then faster. They were fucking hard now, her little cries matched by his huffs and low groans. The slap slap slap of skin on skin was constant. I had been staying quiet as I stroked my cock, but I started to care less. My hands sliding up and down my wet hardon added a little more to the sexual soundtrack. 

Then I heard a sigh from a different direction. My tent was between the 30s couple and the 20s couple. That sigh was from the 20s woman. I didn’t hear anything else but that one telltale breath, but now I imagined the two of them fucking in the dark while listening to the 30s couple. Maybe he had slid his cock into her from behind, clutching her beautiful breasts as he pushed against her ass, burying his dick in her pussy.

The whimpers from the 30s couple were growing more insistent. Somehow I visualized them in a modified missionary, where she pulled her knees up, opening herself wide to his cock. Every few moments I thought I heard a wet sound or a caught breath from the 20s tent. I heard nothing from the other two tents but imagined the nerd pounding his pud like I was. I was now letting little moans escape myself and I didn’t care anymore if anyone could hear my hand stroking my cock.

I came first, a gasp escaping my lips as my cum hit my chest. My fist caught some of my cum and it was now lubing my cock as I continued to stroke, continued to orgasm, the sound of my moistened masturbation unmistakable in the night. A moan to my left let me know that the 20s woman had been satisfied. In another moment, a deeper moan announced his orgasm. Our 30s woman had been close for a bit, we all heard, but now she cascaded over the edge. In the middle of her cries, he let out an abrupt “Oh, God!” as the slapping sound stopped and it was clear he was cumming. In the space of about two minutes, our little circle of nudists had produced at least five orgasms. Nice.