Posted by Ryan on September 5, 2005, 9:59 pm, in reply to "Part 2: Loose standards of bodily decorum in front of girls at keggers" A day or two later I went by there again. There was no one there, but when I went through some shrubs by the water, there were three girls sitting on a rock, smoking and holding bottles of beer they were drinking from. “Hi,” they replied. I sat down on the rock across from where they were. “Sure is a hot day today,” I said. “Boy, I’d really love to go in the water, but... can’t—didn’t bring my swimsuit.” “Yeah,” they were replying, nodding. One of them shrugged her shoulders and said, “Hop in. No one cares.” The other two snickered. You know from the beginning, that when you see them smoking and drinking at that age, that they’re most likely not from the more-conservative elements of society (or, if their parents are, they’re obviously not succeeding at raising them the way you assume they would want to). What did she just say? “Hop in”? “No one cares”? Maybe she didn’t, but me being who I was, seems this girl had just said the wrong thing to the wrong person. Putting on an act, I smirked too, but then raising an eyebrow, I asked them, “Do you really mean... you wouldn’t care... if I go in—if I go skinny-dipping?” They snickered again and she shrugged her shoulders again. “Go ahead,” she replied. I shrugged my shoulders. “All right,” I said. So, I stripped completely nude, right in front of them, and went in. They giggled a little. The two older girls were looking pretty nonchalant about it, but the younger girl (who told me she was 14 when I asked) kept taking some nervous looks down at it, the whole time I was there. It was causing me a rush of emotion, and provoking that strange masochistic pleasure exhibitionists feel when they get the compulsion to humiliate themselves in front of persons of the opposite sex by revealing their nakedness to them. But as all good things have to come to an end, so did this. After I had been swimming for a while and had come out of the water, and was standing there talking to them (and most of the time, they were looking at me only in the eyes while we were talking), suddenly I heard from behind me the angry voice of an elderly woman. “Young man!” I looked behind me. There was a woman, kind of between middle-aged and elderly, standing there scowling with anger. “You ought to be ASHAMED of yourself,” she scolded, “—and in a public place!” “Oh, why don’t you go away?” one of the girls responded. “He’s not hurting anybody.” “Why, I have a right to be here! Umph! I’m going to go call the POLICE!” She turned and walked quickly away. “Uh-oh, I think I better get out of here,” I said to them. I started grabbing for my clothes, scrambling to put them on as fast as I could, while still dripping wet. I threw my underpants into my bag (tactical error, I later learned) and quickly stepped into my pants, pulling them up around my penis and buttoning them with it still sticking out for a moment (which made them giggle when they noticed), and I just slipped my shoes onto my feet and stuffed the laces down into the sides of them, not taking time to tie them. “Uh, bye,” I said to the girls as I was hurriedly leaving, stuffing it in and zipping up my pants. “Bye,” they said. At the trail, I figured I had a 50-50 chance. Either the lady went left or she went right. But luck ran against me. I went left when I should have gone right. I didn’t think it was very likely she was going to be able to get the police there before I could get away, but I wasn’t very far along the trail when suddenly there I was face-to-face with a man in uniform, accompanied by the woman. “There he is!” she shrieked, pointing at me as if I were some criminal who had committed the worst atrocity. “That’s him!” “Excuse me, sir,” the policeman asked me, stopping in front of me, “could I see some identification?” While he was arresting me, he checked to see what I had in the bag I was carrying. “Your underpants?” he asked. “Well, I had to get dressed real fast,” I explained. When the lady took us to where the girls were, they must have been able to tell a policeman was coming, because I noticed they had the beer bottles and cigarettes all hidden by then. “Oh, it’s all right, officer,” the older girl, the one who had told me to hop in, said. “He wasn’t doing anything. He was just swimming in the water.” “Yeah.” “And was he nude?” the officer asked them politely. “Well, yeah, but... it’s all right. He wasn’t bothering us or anything.” “Yeah, we’ve seen naked guys before,” said the other of the two older girls, shrugging her shoulders. “I haven’t,” said the younger girl. “Well... ’cept her—” “Well, you have now,” the older girl said to the younger girl. “And how old are you, young lady?” the policeman asked her. “She’s 16,” one of them replied. “Let her answer. How old are you?” he repeated, redirecting the question to her. “Sixteen,” she said. Sixteen? She had told me she was 14. “Well, we don’t have any complaint, officer,” the older girl said. “It’s all right with us.” “Well, I DO have a complaint!” snarled the old lady. “He was naked in public, and that’s disgusting! It’s indecent! I think you should take him in!” “Oh, he wasn’t naked,” said the older girl, suddenly changing her story, in a last-ditch attempt to protect me from getting in trouble. “You just got through telling me he was,” the officer countered. “Well, not COMPLETELY naked. I mean....” “Yeah. He had his shorts on....” “That’s a lie!” snapped the old lady. “He was COMPLETELY naked! I know. I saw him.” The older girl shrugged her shoulders. “We’ve got three witnesses against one,” she said, looking at the others. “Yeah.” “She’s just lying because she’s an old hag and she just wants to get him in trouble.” The policeman rubbed his hand on his chin for a moment, looking at them, then at the woman. Then he turned and looked at me, and at my hair. “Your hair is wet,” he said. “So... you went all the way under when you were swimming?” I touched my hand on my wet hair. “Uh, yeah...” I started to say precariously. He pushed the sides of my bag down, revealing my pair of undershorts that were in it. “But I see your shorts are completely dry,” he observed. “You said you threw them in the bag because you had to get dressed real fast?” “Uh... well....” He turned and held the bag out in front of the girls. “He went all the way under the water,” he grilled, “enough to get his hair wet. Yet you say he had his shorts on. How could he have had them on if they’re still completely dry?” They shrugged their shoulders. He turned to me. “How could you have gotten them off and into the bag without being naked, anyway?” I shrugged my shoulders. “And if you weren’t doing anything wrong, then why were you in such a hurry to get dressed and leave when she threatened to call the police?” I said nothing. “The circumstantial evidence is running against you,” he said. He turned to the girls. “I think you’re the ones who are lying, young ladies.” The woman smiled contentedly. Busted! At least I should have taken my shorts and dipped them in the water before I put them in my bag—or put them on. But how in the world was I going to have thought of that at a moment like that? Sometimes policemen feel like jerks raising such a ruckus over the silly issue of who was or wasn’t wearing what, when everybody present was consenting to it being that way. But when someone is complaining to them about it, then they have to do their job—and the old lady who happened by was complaining. So, as a result, I was arrested and taken in. Link: Post a response
Message modified by board administrator September 6, 2005, 9:50 am
(Originally posted November 7, 2003, 6:46 pm)
“Hi,” I said to them.
