The Walk

[John332]

“I hate myself,” I thought as I came.

Not the best of introductions, I know, but it’s what went through my head at the time. Here I was, wanking again, bored out of my skull. Name’s Ben, just finished A-levels, no place at university, no job. Not even a temporary job, just looking for one. And there’s only so much time you can spend looking for a job, even if looking is, in itself, a full time job as they say.

Hence the wanking.

I have, in all honesty, a dirty turn of mind. You might think that all 18-year old boys do, but ... mine is pretty dirty. Which doesn’t help my feelings of self-worth.

Anyway, I clean myself up and get out of the garden and have a shower.

Yeah, that’s my latest thing – dares. I got drunk with a few friends and we started daring ourselves to do stuff over the summer. Stuff we’d always wanted to do. This wasn’t one of those things, but sunbathing nude had always turned me on a bit, so wanking was the next thing on the list.

I head inside and apply for a few more jobs. I feel like I’m wasting my life away, but I really don’t have a clue what I should be doing next. We eat, I watch a film and sleep.

That’s all cleared up as the post arrives the next morning. I’m woken up by my mum and dad leaving the house with my sister, chucking letters at me to wake me up.

“Bye, waster,” my sister Jess says. It’s starting to sting a bit more every day.

“Good luck,” my mum says. “Don’t lie in too long.”

I’ve been quite diligent in getting up and applying for jobs, but it’s also starting to wear. My mum and dad both work, and my sister, who is a year younger than me, is volunteering at a summer camp, which is a full time job.

I sit up and wipe the sleep from my eyes as the door slams shut. One of the letters is a job rejection – how old-fashioned, I think to myself. Most just email.

And then I open the second one. Paper and some fabric falls out.

“Ben. I know you need a job so here is one. Go to this grid reference today. Walk steadily east in a straight line and remove one item of clothing every 200m. For every 200m you walk, I will deposit £50 in your bank account. You will receive a £100 bonus if you wear the enclosed garment and remove it last. You will receive a further £100 bonus if you reach the beach at the end. Do not freak out. This is not a friend. There may be people along the way. Some of them I have planted. I have deposited £150 as an advance into your bank account. If you do not do the dare, please return the money to this paypal account. You do not want to know what happens if you don’t return it. This can be a pleasant professional encounter.”

What the fuck?

[John332]

I shook out the fabric; leggings. Or rather, base layer tights, I knew from my running days.

This must all be an elaborate joke, I thought to myself. But I still found myself checking my bank balance. And there was £150, right there, with a payment reference labelled ‘whatstolose’.

Fuck it.

Absolutely fuck it. I was pissing my life away applying for these jobs. I could do that any other day of my life. Today I was going to live a little.

I jumped out of bed, hit the shower and before I knew it, I’d pulled the leggings on (they were tight, but my ass looked good) and was googling the grid reference. It wasn’t too far, about two kilometres from where I lived and two more to the beach.

I grabbed a bag with some food and drink, a towel, ignoring the left-over overnight stuff in it (not sure I was going to need shampoo, but you never know) and more or less jogged out of the door.

Of course, what I realised, as I walked out, is that base layer tights are supposed to be just that – base layer. There’s a definite bump over your dick, and they cling like crazy to your ass. I mean, I looked ok, I just wasn’t sure if I was decent, so I felt quite self-conscious, but again, fuck it.

My first awkward moment comes as I pass a dogwalker. No-one I know, which in itself is odd, but they give me an evil look and tut after their eyes flick down to my groin. Shit.

I start sweating as two cyclists go past me.

Then, as I’m approaching the grid reference, disaster strikes. My school friend Melanie appears on the other path joining this one and jumps almost like a foot in the air as she sees me.

[John332]

“Oh, hi Ben,” she says.

“Hey Mel,” I say awkwardly. This is weird already. We’ve known each other for like ten years.

“Where you off to?”

“The beach. You?”

“Uh ... yeah ... same,” she says.

We walk along to the point, a fork in the road. I pause and look at my phone, setting it to track me and beep every 200m. We keep walking, talking about job applications. Neither of us has had any luck.

My mind is working furiously, and as we reach the first marker, I hit on a solution.

“Hey, wait a sec,” I say. “I’m going to take off my shoes and socks. My trainers are really warm. You go on if you’re in a hurry.”

“Uh ... I think I’ll do the same,” Mel says, and we rub our toes in the grass, making awkward smalltalk. Ok, now I’m good for 800m, I think to myself.

Then I notice; she’s wearing a dress and it’s hitched high at the back. When she gets up from the grass, I can see her bum cheeks and thong. Shit, it’s hot. I wonder if she knows.

“So, what’s with the leggings?” Mel says, and suddenly I’m conscious that I’m only wearing two more items of clothing.

“Thought I’d try getting fit over the summer. Got pretty tired. Gave up,” I manage, awkwardly, before looking at her.

“That’s a shame,” Mel says. “I’ve been employed to do some kind of weird strip tease before getting to the beach.”

[John332]

I almost cried with relief. “Oh thank God,” I say, my shoulders suddenly less tense. “Me too.”

She grins. “You know, you’re a terrible liar. But isn’t this awkward? Do you want to go on ahead or anything?”

She’s always been pretty frank. I’m never sure if I like that about her or not.
“Well, if we’re both going to the beach...”

Mel waits.

“We’re going to see each other anyway, and from my point of view, a naked guy attracts attention. A naked couple is less weird. And you might be safer.”

She nods. “It does make sense. But ... it’s going to be weird.”

“So why do you reckon they are doing this?” I ask. “And who do you think it is?”

We throw theories around but nothing conclusive and finally my watch beeps the 800m mark. I pull off my shirt and I feel quite naked. I’m only really wearing a thin layer of clothing and it’s pretty skin tight.

Melanie shrugs out of her dress, showing a bikini style top and her thong, which I’m pretty sure is just underwear.

“I had to wear these,” she says. “Were the leggings your thing?”

I nod, feeling self conscious, especially as we pass another dogwalker, but he’s a teenager and stares at Melanie who blushes.

We walk slowly east. It’s about another kilometre to the beach. Shit.

We’ve been silent for a few long minutes when my phone beeps and we both stop. It’s 600 to the beach, but we can’t see it. I can’t quite muster up the courage to do it.

“You going to do it?” Mel says

“I ... I dunno,” I say. “Could I get arrested for this?”

She shakes her head. “Probably just cautioned.”

I look at her. “You don’t seem as fazed as I feel.”

Mel holds out her hand – it’s trembling. “Scared shitless,” she says and for some reason I feel a lot better.

A cyclist goes by, swerving slightly as he sees Mel in her pants and bikini top.

I look at her. She looks at me. I peel off the leggings and step out of them and she claps, then hurriedly pulls off her bikini top and knickers.

Shit. We’re naked. Her tits are unexpectedly large, nipples small and pointing up. I make the mistake of glancing down and see her perfectly shaved pussy; a hairless slot at the top of her gorgeous legs. My dick is instantly hard.

[John332]

“Fuck ... uh ... sorry,” I fumble with words. “Come on, hurry”

She sniggers as I set off, glancing behind me. Oh crap. I can just about see people behind us in a large group. I quicken my pace, feet pounding along the dirt track.

I try not to look at Mel and my dick starts to go down a bit. I’m sweating, a bit panicky when suddenly I see a runner approaching in the distance.

“Quick!” I gesture to the undergrowth around us and I start stepping through the long grass and wincing as thorns prick me. It’s slow going, almost too slow and I look over to see the runner not too far away. Then we’re into the trees and I keep going a bit.

“Ben!” Mel hisses and I flatten myself against a tree. She presses herself into my back and I’m acutely aware of her naked flesh pressing against mine. I can feel the softness of her breasts and I start getting hard again. It’s a long wait until the runner goes by, and I wait a few seconds until they’re out of the way before starting to extract myself from the foliage. Again, it takes a long time and as we emerge onto the track, I can hear voices behind us coming up the hill.

“Quickly!” Mel screeches and we set off at a jog. Fortunately, there’s split in the path ahead and we carry straight on, hoping that the other guys will take the turn. We slow to a fast walk and keep going, pulses racing. It can’t be more than 200m to the beach.

So of course, we almost walk head-long into a female jogger. She comes off another turn and almost runs into us. She’s got headphones in, so is oblivious until the last moment, putting a hand out and stabilising herself against me, touching bare flesh, then looking down as she does and gives a little screech as she sees both of us, hurriedly turning and running down the trail faster.

“Oh fuck, fuck fuck,” Mel says. “I think I know her.”

“Shit!” I breathe. “Think she’ll call the police?”

“No fucking idea, but let’s hurry,” she says and we move faster down the trail until it finally becomes sandy and we reach the beach.

I breathe a sigh of relief, but there is one main problem – it’s not technically a naturist beach. We head along the – mercifully empty – beach until we find a secluded section behind a large dune.

“Now what?” I ask, but the beeping of my phone interrupts me, and Mel rummages in her bag, hers doing the same.

[Charlotte.W]

I'm really liking this so far. Please keep going