Honeymoon Bride Number Eleven

A true story, from 1995, edited to 750 words.

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My wife and I visited Horseshoe Lake in Canada's Jasper Park on a hot August day. In middle afternoon, no cars were in the parking spot; the short trail wasn't well-trafficked. After sightseeing all day, the walk made us even hotter.

The trail emerged cliff-top about 10 metres above blue water. Deep clear water invited jumping straight in. Because we had been camping throughout the Western USA, Canada, and Alaska for three months, and had oft-bathed outdoors in streams and lakes, stripping seemed natural.

In contrast to the hot air, the water was cold. As I swam around, my wife took several nice photos from afar of me skinny-dipping in the picturesque lake.

I heard the commotion first, 20 Japanese honeymoon couples, all 40 carrying cameras. First instinct was to head towards my clothes, so I swam to shore. The honeymooners followed.

Cliffs surrounded much of the lake, I'm not a great swimmer, so I'd no other option but the landable bank. Exiting the water was awkward, but the worst part of being completely naked was navigating the pine-needled trail barefoot.

The embarrassment of being caught naked is potentially twofold. There's the shame of one's own body on display, but I always worried more about shocking the other, or having them be embarrassed by my predicament.

These honeymooners were not embarrassed.

They laughed playfully, not at me, but with each other, as their camera continuously clicked.

When right in the middle of the pack, one asked in good English if I would pose next to his wife. The humour was obvious. So, to be a sport, I stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the middle of their traveling party as he—and others—photographed his young bride with a naked stranger.

Two others took their turn.

The fourth husband, perhaps conscious of photo-framing, asked me and his wife to step away from the troupe, so he could get the photo-perfect lake as sole backdrop.

The dynamic changed. Photographing one's wife standing next to a naked stranger surrounded by people is one thing; without the throng it's another.

Husband five must have realized this. He asked his wife to scoot closer so that our shoulders touched. As things do in such gatherings, escalation eschewed.

Husband six asked his wife to put her arm around my waste and, egged on by the crowd, she did, but her hand brushed my butt on the way past. "I touched his bum!" she tittled aloud to the amusement of all. I noted that the same hand had a less subtle caress as she removed herself.

Young bride seven wasn't subtle at all. She immediately made a comical showing of groping my ass. I played along and turned my back to the camera, so that she could be photographed with her hand on my bum. I stood slightly aside, our right shoulders pressed together, her left hand on my backside. Her right hand dangled in front of me, which I grabbed and placed on my genitals. She didn't flinch, she didn't stop the banter with her group, she just looked me in the eyes, and kept squeezing until I became very erect.

When I turned to the camera, she pointed, and the laugh was raucous.

Then, I noticed Her. Some women are best described as pretty, some as beautiful. She was Sexy. Her tight clothes showed ample curve of breast and hips, her hemline high, and her cleavage revealed. She was the only not laughing, and her wide eyes stared at my erection. She bit her lower left lip. The tip of her tongue touched her upper full lip.

She waited while brides 8-10 posed for bawdier pics, like farcically pointing at my erection, or bending over in front of it.

Only after the remaining honeymooners declined did Sexy saunter forward.

I'm sure cameras clicked, but I heard not.

She caressed my face, neck, chest, belly, pubic hair and then cock. We kissed, passionate and tongue, and then her lips retraced the path of her hand. When eye level to my cock, she grabbed it, kissed the tip, slipped it in tonsils-deep, sucking as she slowly extracted.

Then she was gone.

"Where are my clothes?" I asked my wife.

She pointed away to where I'd left them.

"That will teach you!" she sniggered.

"Teach me what?"

"I'll show you!"

At the site of my clothes, barely in eyesight of the departing Japanese honeymooners, my wife laid down a blanket. She was very turned on. But that is another story.