My Favorite Memory

Christian sent in this great story of his first time ever, an incredible bonding experience with his father:

My family and I take an annual trip to see our grandparents in Mexico every summer. Mom grew up in a small village nestled between towering, verdant mountains, through which wind glassy rivers, pockmarked here and there by hidden swimming holes. The citizens of this cozy town are very amiable, with a strong sense of family values. It’s an “Everybody Knows Everybody” kind of place. And yet, for all their friendliness, they guard the village pretty seriously; they’re very wary of outsiders. However, this is to my benefit, for at the time of this story, it meant that there were fewer people to catch me and my dad bathing in the nude.

I must have been six years old, plus or minus a year, and at this point I was very chummy with my dad, especially during the summer when he got time off work. He grew up in a desert, where he didn’t have access to a pool to learn how to swim. Mom taught him in the rivers of her hometown. Once he learned the basics, he and I went on wild adventures, looking for new places to practice. It was an incredible bonding experience for both of us, just a couple of explorers in the uncharted wilderness. One time we were gone all day and most of the night, just swimming; we were gone for so long that Mom sent out a search party to look for us (this is before cell phones were commercialized).

Anyway, one day we went to a swimming hole we were familiar with, twenty minutes away by car. The crystalline water drifts lazily over a shallow shore of perfectly smoothed pebbles, while on the opposite shore a low cliff hosts a tree which extends horizontally over the deepest part of the river before growing up to the canopy. Both shores are lined with tall arcades of trees, which protect bathers from the harsh sun and the noise of traffic from a nearby road. The natural landscape allows for small kids to splash around in the shallows and hardened swimmers to dive off the hanging tree, making this particular river very popular. And yet, no one was there that day to enjoy its benefits (such as any good skinny dipping stories start, right?)

Dad and I swam for a few minutes alone, savoring the coolness of the water in the unforgiving heat. We took turns impressing the other with our “professional” diving skills. Finally, Dad resurfaces from a dive as I’m treading water and he says with a goofy smile on his face, “Hey Christian, I have an idea!”
“What’s that?”
“Have you ever swum naked?”
The questioned disarmed me for a few moments; I wasn’t expecting it in the least. I was comfortable being naked around him, he was the one who clothed and bathed me when I was younger, after all. And seeing someone else naked wasn’t new to me either: I’ve taken swimming lessons, so I’d seen boys my age dress and undress. But it was one thing to be naked in a bathroom or locker room; I’ve never been naked outside where someone could see me.

I told him, “No, I’ve always at least worn underwear when I swim.”
“I’ve never done it either, let’s give it a try!” he says mischievously.
“I don’t know… what if somebody sees us?”
“There’s no one around,” he assures. “It’s been the two of us for a long time, I doubt anyone will show up at this point.”
I was still unsure, and upon seeing my indecision, he tells me, “That’s okay, buddy, you don’t have to do it if you’re not comfortable with it. But be a lookout for me, I still want to try it out!”

I was still skeptical, but went to the shore to watch out for any new bathers. There were none, so I gave Dad the all-clear. Beaming, he scrambled up the tree and slid off his shorts, leaving them at the base. He took a short running start, a deep inhale, and a jump, landing feet first in the blue water. I saw nothing from the shore for a few seconds, then with a sharp exhale, he resurfaced from the deep, giddy like a child.

“How is it?” I cried from the shore.
“It feels great, man!! It’s…unlike anything I’ve ever felt before!!”

While I was happy for him, I was still unsure of stripping down in plain view, even if it was just the two of us, so I resumed swimming in shorts.

This went on for a while, taking turns diving again, me in my swimming suit and Dad in his birthday suit. I quickly got used to seeing him nude, but…the longer he spent naked, the more curious I got about it. He kept saying that it felt good, but I didn’t see how. Surely there isn’t a difference swimming completely naked versus in shorts? What difference could a piece of fabric do?

Eventually my curiosity overcame my doubt, and I told Dad, “I want to try it out.” He smirked and said with feigned astonishment, “Well then hotshot, go ahead!” I climbed up to where he dropped his own suit, and looked down at Dad. He might’ve been teasing me earlier, but now I see a gentle encouragement in his visage, which I appreciated. I knew I could’ve made the decision to stay clothed, he wouldn’t have forced me either way. But I didn’t want to live modestly, I wanted to be adventurous like my dad. Here was my one opportunity to live adventurously. It would have been a shame to pass up on that chance just because of a little…well…shame.

I took in a deep breath, an exhale, and I dropped my suit.

My first impression was a discomfort to an openness around my underwear line. To anyone who’s never been naked outdoors, it’s like standing in an empty warehouse. It was a sense of vulnerability. That’s not to say it was a bad feeling, just one I wasn’t used to. I was more nervous about being seen by a stranger than anything else.

I looked down at my dad; he’s patiently treading water below me. I was grateful that he’s not rushing me at this point, cause I’m still a little freaked. I assumed the jumping stance, just about three feet above the river. Then I launched myself into the refreshing water.

My second impression was “WOW, this feels REALLY good!!” It’s worth noting that I’m not sexually mature, so I didn’t feel aroused; I felt liberated. The feeling was one of exhilaration throughout my entire body. There is no comparing that feeling to anything else I’ve experienced at that point in my life (or anything since). To the readers: If ever you get the chance to skinny dip, go for it, take the plunge! I cannot recommend skinny dipping enough; everyone should do it at least once in their life! (Without breaking the law, of course). You don’t realize how disconnected from nature you are until you take that leap of faith.

I resurfaced and wiped water off my face, quickly finding Dad’s head bobbing next to mine. He asked, “How is it?”
“It feels really good!” I responded, and I tested the water with a few strokes. It was a foreign feeling, but again, not a bad one.

The swimming and diving continued, only now in the buff. You might think it’s weird that a father and son be so carefree and naked together, but I felt no shame in spending quality time with my dad. It’s hard to explain, but laying it all bare with someone you love is a sign of trust, in the same way you entrust someone with a secret. If anything, my relationship with him got better BECAUSE we decided to skinny dip together. I’m in my 20s and we still talk about that day: Our Little Secret, we call it.

Anyway, like all good things, it came to an end sooner than I would’ve liked. My fear of being caught came back eventually, after only about a half hour of skinny dipping. I told Dad that I felt uncomfortable that someone would catch us, and I wanted to get dressed. He seemed dispirited, but told me it was alright, I shouldn’t force myself into it. I climbed the roots of the tree and pulled my shorts around my waist again. A cannonball later, I realized how much I miss skinny dipping already. My anxieties wouldn’t let me take them off though, so I continued swimming. A few minutes later Dad followed “suit,” probably because I discouraged him with my own cowardice. I felt bad that I put a damper on the mood. I knew he was having a lot of fun, and I ruined it for him.

It was just as well: no sooner than he tied the string around his waist that a woman Dad’s age and a girl my age came out from behind the trees. They hadn’t seen us, of that I was sure. But they would have seen A LOT of my dad if he had spent a single second longer in the water. My eyes widened, and I glanced up at my dad from his perch. His expression mirrored mine, and we exchanged impish grins.

That was my introduction into skinny dipping, and I have done it (alone) many times since! In fact, we’re installing a pool in the backyard right now, which is more or less secluded from the neighbors. Maybe I’ll get the chance to skinny dip when I’m home alone, or even on a hot night. Who knows, maybe Dad will join me, for old time’s sake? Or I can induct someone else!

Thanks, Christian! Wow, that is now one of my favorite my-first-time stories. What a great memory.

Anyone else have an amazing first-time story?


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