The Jump

Hi all

A fun flirty conversation with a lady friend of mine resulted in me telling her about a real life episode that happened to me some 35 years ago. She loved it that much that she pleaded with me to put it down and submit it here. I being the shy retiring type (honest!) I said no, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought I would surprise her. So small_town_girl, here it is...And thanks in advance to both her and funinthesungirl119 for editing it XX

Enjoy dear readers, and it really is a true life story with only a few names and places changed to protect the innocent.

*****

The story starts in the summer of 1978 when I was a young officer in Her Majesty's Armed Forces. We worked hard and played even harder, but I was only 19 so life held no fear for me. Not surprisingly I threw myself into all sort of risky activities, but the one that held the most fascination for me was parachuting. Freefall skydiving to be exact.

A perk of being in the Forces is that they actively encourage, and also fund, all sorts of activities which are deemed to enhance the overall skills and qualities that are essential to being a serviceman. Parachuting definitely falls into that category so to that end they had set up and funded a military sports parachute association at a disused airfield on the south coast of England. It also ran alongside a civilian parachute school and both shared the runway and hangers, thus reducing the overall cost to both schools.

We did however have our own training and leisure facilities in the form of long wooden huts. Luxury was not high on the priority list, but being typical soldiers we soon made the living area habitable and scrounged easy chairs, tables and most importantly an old bar nicked from a pub that was being refurbished and was surplus to requirements. Strange how service folk always seem to find these luxuries, but I digress.

It was one evening after a successful day's jumping that we were sat having a beer in the crew room when Jon, who was the senior of us service wise with about 15 years time in, brought up the subject of a comrade of ours who was recently paralysed in a car crash. Basically, how could we dig in and help him and his wife out financially. Various ideas were thrown around and out of the blue one bright spark, whose name I cannot remember, suggested a naked parachute jump.

You could have heard a pin drop while that particular thought was digested, but seconds later everyone started talking at once laughing and swearing at the guy who had spoken. But the upshot was everyone loved the idea. In the sober light of day I'm sure we all had a rethink, but that night with a few beers down our necks we were going to do it, and being young guys full of life, once we said we were going to do something... we did it!

The next hour was spent on the logistics of the jump, how to get sponsorship, the date and all such mundane things as that. I won't bore you with the details because I don't think that's what you want to read about, but there is one important part of all this that I will mention. It was decided that the best way to raise money was to sell tickets, and obviously as it was a naked jump, the sales focus was going to be on the ladies. It was decided that we would all try and sell as many tickets to family, friends, colleagues, wives, etc., and at £10 a head we hoped to raise about £1000 for the man and his wife.

10 of us were going to jump so we were all targeted with selling 10 tickets. On the day of the jump, the ticket holder was to be allowed to stand at the side of the walkway from the hut to the plane as we passed, watch us take off and then stand near to the landing area for our arrival back on terra firma. In the days before internet porn and the Chippendales, we thought that represented good value for money and were hopeful of hitting our target...

Oh Boy...how wrong were we to be!!

Now, a little aside before I continue. As a young officer I technically was the senior person of the group, but in our mob It was always wise to respect experience, so Jon was designated team leader and the majority of the organisation fell on his - and a couple of other senior guys' - shoulders. Hence once the tickets were produced by the base printer, all I had to do was basically sell my 10 tickets and turn up on the day. I also eventually realised that as I was the youngest, as well as being an officer, they were keeping something from me. Knowing that our lot loved practical jokes I was steeling myself for something embarrassing to happen, but for the life of me I couldn't work out what. I was to find out later.

From memory we only had about three weeks from conception to jump so things went pretty swiftly. I sold my 10 tickets in the first week and Jon was really lavish in his praise telling me that none of the others had completed their quota yet. Chest duly puffed up with pride I left him clutching another 10 tickets in my grubby paw, determined to be top of the pops when the money was handed in.

Those extras sold in a few days too and Jon was ecstatic. Only one other had managed to sell his quota so obviously I as an officer was leading by example. Happy as a sandboy I left with another book of tickets, determined to sell the lot. I am sorry to say that my head was so swollen with his praise that it never occurred to me that I was being wound up and having the piss taken out of me. Oh the innocence of youth. What made it even worse was try as I might, nobody was interested in any more tickets. It seemed everyone was washing their hair that day...oh well...at least I had sold 20.

SOOOO, without any more preamble let's get to D Day.

It was decided we would jump about 10.00, before it got too hot and before the coastal breeze picked up. We all arrived about 8.30 which gave us plenty of time to have a coffee, have a pre-jump nerves chat and check our kit. We were all then gathered in the equipment room to prepare. This room was right in the middle of the building, designed that way so that it could be secured against some light fingered Herbert deciding he wanted some good quality gear some night.

Common sense said that we would get ready here as there were no windows for lusty ladies to peer into as we were getting changed. It hadn't occurred to me that we couldn't look out either and decide to get cold feet, but Jon was so cool, calm and collected that we were actually in quite a relaxed state of mind. Too relaxed as it happens and you will all find out why shortly. I also discovered how soundproof it was as well.

Now, for all you ladies that might be unsure how this parachute harness malarkey actually works, then let me explain how we were 'dressed'. It was decided in the interest of safety that we would wear our jump boots. Very wise decision because when all was said and done we were active troops, and to get a sprained or broken ankle wasn't going to go down well with the bosses. A jump helmet completed the clothing we would wear.

The comments that flew as 10 guys stood there stark naked but for boots and a hat will stay with me to my grave. Not to be repeated, suffice to say most were centred around the size, or not, of what the ladies had come to see. We were under no illusion whatever that they were even remotely interested in our parachuting skills. Oh no...it was John Thomas on parade time and I'm afraid to say I was getting distinct stage fright. I have always been a grower not a shower and this was no exception.

With 20 minutes to go we donned our parachutes. Basically both arms went through their respective shoulder harness and the two leg straps then came up between the legs on either side of the goodies and snapped into a quick release buckle. All are then pulled very tight. If you are freefalling at 100 MPH there is one almighty jerk on the body when you deploy the canopy. If the straps aren't tight then believe me you will know about it.

So, to recap, we have 10 fit hunky young men wearing nothing but boots, helmet and a parachute. The chute incidentally sits high on your back and doesn't not cover your arse at all. The tight straps pulled our naked groins apart and without putting too fine a point on it... framed the old meat and two veg leaving them totally exposed. Unfortunately in my case, and in some of the other's too, the centre piece left a lot to be desired. I was now really beginning to wish I had never volunteered and was seriously getting a little down about it.

"Ok guys, we ready to give the ladies something to cheer about?" said a happy beaming Jon. No wonder he was happy looking at the size of his flaming member, was my uncharitable thought. "And a round of applause to Jim here for selling the most tickets. Very well done Sir". All the guys clapped and holla'd offering me congratulations, which cheered me up a bit.

As I said earlier, the innocence of youth, because as the cheering died down, obviously on a pre arranged signal, the door opens and in walks Jons' wife Annie. "Well well, this is all my Christmas' and Birthdays in one. God this has turned me on." and walking to her husband she gave him a smacker of a kiss before saying "Thank you darling."

Annie was an absolutely gorgeous woman, blonde, about mid 30's and slightly under 6'. She also had a figure to die for with breasts that seemed to defy gravity. I know this because she was wearing a T shirt and very obviously had forgotten to include a bra. To complete the ensemble was a pair of tight hot pants, all the rage in the 70's.

"Ok guys, it's nearly showtime and Annie here came up with the idea that you might all want to look your best on this pay and display. So with my blessing she is going to give you all a bit of help in standing proud."

I am not exaggerating when I say that what happened next made for a jaw dropping moment. Annie, smiling widely, slowly peeled her T shirt over her head leaving her standing in just hot pants, sandals and a devilish grin, her fabulous breasts and little pink erect nipples displayed for all to see.

"Fuck me" I think was uttered by someone and that broke the ice. Truth be told we were all actually quite nervous and that somehow broke the dam allowing us to relax.

Annie walked up to the first guy in line, rubbed her nipples against his chest and at the same time as looking him in the eye, reached down to cup his balls. "I hope you are going to be a big boy for me," she enthused and reached out with her other hand to hold the cock of the guy on her right. He reciprocated by reaching across and caressing her breast while teasing the nipple.

I can safely say that by the time it came to my turn I didn't have any problems with inadequacy. Quite the opposite in fact. Her soft touch on my cock and the feel of her breasts on my chest had left me in the worrying position of going out with a hard on. Admittedly I wasn't in the porn star department but I was a good solid 7" and 5" round on a good day and today certainly fell into that category. At least I wasn't the only one with that problem.

Thinking back on it, it must have been one pussy soaking sight for Annie, ten guys with hard ons and semi's wearing a harness which proudly exposed the goodies. For the ladies amongst the readers, I can say that without particularly paying attention coz it's not something that blokes actually do, the display ranged in size from about 5" through to one corporal who really was hung like the proverbial horse. He was also the loneliest man in the troop at shower time because nobody, and I mean nobody, wanted to stand next to him. He naturally thought it was hilarious and constantly ribbed us poor little white boys. He was Jamaican and as black as the ace of spades, and the lighthearted banter between him and us was superb. Also an outstanding soldier and one of the best men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I was pretty glad he wasn't stood near me though!

"Right guys, we all ready? Let's give them something to remember!"

And with that we all got into a line at the door, Jon in front, me in the middle somewhere and a senior guy at the back. Annie kissed her husband, wished us luck and slipped out of the room to join the main group of spectators. Much to our chagrin though she had replaced her T shirt, but the memory of those breasts... Lucky Barstard!!

The idea was to walk in single file down the footpath to the plane, about 100M, with the approx 50 to 100 ticket holders stood alongside cheering and catcalling. That was what I supposed was going to happen. As we waited to exit the equipment room, thankfully MJ Junior had decided to behave and instead of being a raging hard on, was now a respectable half awake. Thank God!

Jon opened the store door and led us out into the living area towards the main door. The first thing that struck me was the amount of noise coming from outside. I didn't pay it much attention and just concentrated on following the guy in front and not lagging behind. So I was pretty much in my own headspace and just focusing on walking until we got to the main door and Jon opened it.

OH DEAR GOD.

There must easily have been 600 plus women, and a lot of our colleagues, lining both sides of the footpath about 3 deep, and when they saw us the roar that went up sent a shard of ice up my spine. It was like Russell Crowe in the Gladiators arena, with the women from the final scene of The Full Monty as support. I discovered later that Jon and the guys had gone full out promoting this and making sure I knew nothing about it. Local press included. Told you the sods were up to something!

The walk to the plane was a nightmare. If I thought Annie giving my cock a rub was bad, then I was in for a rude awakening. Jon deliberately kept the pace as slow as he could. Every woman that could reach was going for my nipples, bum or cock. My head got grabbed and kisses planted on any available bit of skin from my forehead down to my arse. On more than one occasion my cock was grabbed and the foreskin pulled back exposing my bell end as if I was being given a quick wank.

At least we were all getting the full-on grope treatment, so it didn't feel as if I was being singled out. It also wasn't rough but let's just say MJ Junior had a grandstand seat and certainly sat up to give it his maximum attention. Some women even flipped their T shirts giving the little sod even more to think about. And the more Junior sat up, the more attention he received until he was being constantly massaged. Each woman handing me over to her replacement as soon as I was out of reach. I swear to God these bloody women were deliberately trying to make me cum.

And you know what made it even worse? A small gap had opened up between me and the man in front allowing them full access, and try as I might I couldn't seem to catch up. It turns out the guy behind me had deliberately grabbed my chute and was pulling backwards to slow me down and keep himself covered...Thanks pal...I owe you one.

After what seemed an age we reached the sanctuary of the plane and it was down to business. We settled pretty quickly and became the professional soldiers that gave this sport the respect that it deserved. We took off and the plane climbed to about 7000' or thereabouts. Enough height to ensure we all could keep together as a group and all land roughly at the same time. We would then all do the walk of shame back into the hut. We exited in the order we agreed, all of us leaving the aircraft straight after the other and settling into our freefall.

How did it feel skydiving naked? For the gents among us I can say it was an interesting experience. Thank God it was summer. The best way I can describe it is imagine you are suspended face down and somebody underneath you has turned on an industrial fan capable of 100 MPH. Yer bits get the full force of the air blast and it is actually bloody painful...and cold. Air temp at that height is a lot less than ground level, and being early the sun hadn't had a chance to work its magic.

For the ladies, I am sure you can use your imagination. The sight of a male set of genitals being buffered about in high wind must have been either absolutely hilarious or highly arousing, depending on your particular take on things. For my part I rapidly regressed back into my normal non-showing state, which I didn't notice until after I had landed. For those who are really curious there are quite a few films on the internet for you to drool over. For the males there is also a very good one of a lady skydiver with large inner lips which is absolutely hilarious. I'm sure you all know where to look for them by now.

The walk back to the clubhouse was a complete contrast to the exit. The ladies all stood back and applauded, while we were mostly able to cover our fronts with the used parachute which we carried in our arms. Frankly though, by this time we were just relieved, and not a little proud, that it was over and couldn't have cared less what was on show. We got dressed in normal civvies and went back out to the grass area by the hut to repack the chutes. Without being ungentlemanly I think it's fair to say that I got my fair share of the audience who were only too keen to chat and help the guy who got naked for them pack his chute. I remember it took an age to get it done, but I can't think why.

There were two upsides to the day. The first was we raised a lot of money for the poor guy, some £7000 from memory which was an awful lot of money then. It was good to know that if I had been in a similar position the guys would have done it for me. Secondly one of my parachute packing assistants became a long term girlfriend and we had an enjoyable year together until I was drafted elsewhere. There is a third upside to the day, but I'm not sure if Jon would agree that me feeling Annie's tits counts. I suspect though that she certainly would.

*****

And that, guys n' gals, is the story of how Yours Truly did a naked skydive.

I hope you enjoyed my little tale and thank you to STG for encouraging me to write it.

Any comments and votes would be much appreciated, but thank you for taking the time to read it.

Regards,

MJ and MJ Junior