But I don't have a suit....!

Swimming, Friday Afternoon

If the views have been beautiful so far today, they’ve been nothing next to what you see next. Patrick leads your group to a pristine mountain pond, fed by a gentle waterfall and surrounded by large flat stones. The ten of you sit near the pool and share a simple lunch.

“Hey, Arnold,” shouts Thomas as lunch is winding down. “Go for a swim!”

“You know what they say,” Arnold replies with a glee. “Never turn down a good idea.” You can’t help but watch as Arnold rises and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing a perfectly honed 19-year-old chest. He faces the pond and, before you have a chance to realize what’s happening, he drops his shorts and underwear in one fell swoop. You’re captivated by his black ass, which squeezes together in anticipation of jumping into the chilly mountain water, and you can’t help but regret that he had turned around before stripping down.

Arnold wades into the water, whooping and shouting about how cold it is but laughing all the while. When the water is just past his knees, he turns around to face the group, and you can see how impressively endowed he is. Fuck, you say silently, reminding yourself to keep your hands firmly planted on the ground. “Come on in!” Arnold shouts. “The water’s fine!”

And then, as if in a dream, the boys start to strip all around you. You marvel at Carlos and Miguel’s uncut penises, noting that they’re not identical twins after all. (Carlos is a bit bigger.) Simon and Alex set aside their Magic cards, and you’re impressed by Alex’s girth as well. (Simon leaves something to be desired.) All in all, a gaggle of young abs, cocks, and asses parades before you as the class of boys splashes into the mountain pond.

Now this is a beautiful sight, you sigh as you feast your eyes on the dessert you didn’t know you were getting. You kick off your socks and shoes as Patrick ambles over and sits down beside you with a grin. “Not bad, huh?” he asks slyly. You blush as you glance away from the boys you’re probably not supposed to be ogling. “But you probably should turn around,” he advises gently. Knowing he’s right, you reluctantly swing yourself around so you’re facing away from the raucous boys splashing just out of reach.

After a few minutes of your curiosity burning a hole in your (very active) imagination, Patrick stands up. “Be right back,” he says and steps away from you. Left alone with your thoughts, you fantasize about what you’d like those boys to do to you. You saw their cocks only briefly, but a few—Arnold’s and Alex’s in particular—are emblazoned in your memory.

You’re lost in thought when you feel pressure against your back. “What-” you start to say, and before you know what’s going on, you find yourself lifted into the air. Lawrence, Thomas, Alex, and Miguel are holding your arms and legs, carrying you toward the mountain pond.

“Come swim with us, Miss,” Miguel says as they walk into the water.

“Wait, wait, I don’t think-” you protest. But it’s too late. The boys toss you into the pool, and your breath rushes out of your body. All you can think about for a moment is the cold. It grasps you like a vise, constricting your lungs and freezing your body in place. Then, of course, you realize you need to breathe, and you struggle to right yourself in the shallow pond. You find your footing and manage to stand up, your soaked sundress clinging tightly to your body.

Slowly your situation dawns on you. You’re not sure where Patrick went, but you find yourself thinly clothed, nipples prominently poking against your dress, surrounded by naked teenagers. Your attention is split between wanting to drink in their bodies and wanting to preserve your own from their thirsty eyes. You decide that moving deeper into the pond will provide the best cover, and you end up really enjoying yourself as you swim in the pool and watch the boys play around you.

After a while, Patrick wanders back from wherever he’s been and calls to the group that it’s time to get moving. Not wanting to be seen, you stay in the water – which ends up being a perfect place for you to observe the naked boys getting out. But of course, you can’t stay there forever…

“Come on, Vicky!” Patrick shouts. “Let’s get going!” He smiles, and the other boys all grin widely, as they wait for you to emerge from the pool. You realize that it would have been a lot better to get out when everyone else did; now, all eyes are on you.

You swim as close to the shore as you can, but inevitably, you have to stand up. Your dress sticks to your skin, framing your braless tits perfectly and outlining the contours of your legs so that nothing is left to the imagination. You try to pull the dress away from your body, but of course that mostly just reveals your cleavage even more clearly. You sigh as you parade yourself in front of the now-clothed boys and walk over to Patrick, dripping wet.

“Here,” he says with a chuckle as he tosses you a small towel. You wipe your face and dab your chest, but the towel isn’t nearly big enough to cover anything. You can’t decide which is worse: The embarrassment of being on display or the freezing cold breeze that brushes your skin. Of course, as your nipples press forcefully against the thin dress in the chilly air, you have both unpleasant sensations at once.

“Come on guys,” Patrick calls. “Let’s get a move on.”

You’re relieved that the group is walking again, though your discomfort doesn’t subside as the boys constantly ogle your body during the hike. The dress rides up the back of your legs, coming dangerously close to your ass, and it’s virtually impossible to conceal your tits as the dress pulls tightly against them.

Perhaps because they know that a crude comment could spoil the moment, though, everyone maintains their normal conversation. Their eyes are glued to your body, but otherwise things seem to be going relatively smoothly. In fact, after a half hour or so, you start to forget that you’re exposing yourself to these teenage boys and their former guidance counselor and start to have fun again.

By the time the group arrives at the campsite, your clothes are dry and your spirits are high. The boys expertly erect their tents and unroll their sleeping bags as Patrick lights the fire he’ll use to prepare dinner. “Where am I sleeping?” you ask quietly, hoping not to be overheard by the rambunctious boys.

“Oh, you can stay in my tent with me,” Patrick says with a smile. “I hope that works.”

Not seeing any alternative, of course, you hastily agree. I wonder what tonight’s going to be like.