By Glory First, listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories Enjoying the summer sun. My introduction to sex in the water outdoors was with my first girlfriend, but always very discreetly at night. Being teenagers, we often had sex outdoors, though the local lake was not a public place to go swimming, much less have sex. We were never caught in the water, though there was a time when a cop shined his light in the car, with my hand still under her shirt. As the years and girlfriends went by, I learned about other places to swim outdoors. Having moved to the countryside, I rented a room from a married couple. On one very hot day, the wife mentioned she knew a small flooded quarry close by, something of a local secret. This was explained while sharing a bowl with me and my then girlfriend, leading naturally to deciding that Chris and I would go swimming. Something that came together quickly, a deflated raft fitting easily into one of the bike’s saddle bags. With a couple of large towels in the other bag, ready to ride as normal in the summer, just jeans and a t-shirt under a leather jacket. The quarry was both close and easy to find, turning onto an unpaved entrance road, then taking the first left, going over a rise before seeing the water. It was small and fairly well hidden, but definitely enticing, especially after riding the last 100 yards in dry dust. Going a bit beyond and turning back, the best parking possibility seemed under a shade tree. The bike was not particularly noticeable, separated from the dry dirt track by 5 yards and a fair amount of brush. The place continued to look surprisingly inviting, as if very few people ever came here anymore. We walked to water’s edge, not quite a beach, but the area would function well enough to put in the raft and leave our towels and clothes. The water felt refreshing when we put our hands in, kneeling next to each other. Rising, undressing quickly, having already taken off the helmets and jackets, leaving them at the bike. Seeing her pale skin and unshaved red hair was glorious as I inflated the raft. She went in still wearing a thin white t-shirt, saying that the water felt wonderful as I inflated the raft. As soon as it was fairly rigid, I brought it into the water, taking time to look around. We were here on an August work day, but it was obvious that this place had not been worked for decades. The small rusted steam shovel was one of the ways to guess, as was the size of the wild growing trees. Abandoned flooded quarries combine artificial and natural in intriguing fashion, one we were about to experience stoned and naked on a bright summer day. We floated together, each one on a side of the raft, our feet and legs only occasionally brushing. An occurrence that felt fantastic, the hair of her legs creating magical sensations, with neither of us doing anything but floating together. Both of us were too young to have ever had any actual hippy experiences, yet this was a perfect recreation, particularly as Chris never shaved, adding a halo of floating hair around and between her legs. Weed, little clothing, water, glorious sunshine, warm touching skin and cool flowing water. Chris shared the same wonderful horniness of my first two girlfriends, but today, we simply let the currents carry us along. The raft had a rope, prompting her to drift a bit further, a fantastic sight of white skin, erect nipples obvious under the free floating fabric, and an exposed full red bush. Her foot stretched, not quite making the goal obvious, both knowing what games we would be playing, taking a luxurious amount of time to sensually indulge ourselves first. The difference between nudity and sex remained fairly obvious, even with a couple in a relationship. However, floating and growing increasingly attuned to the sensations, we knew that inevitably, our contact would grow ever more delightfully intimate. We were in public in a sense, basically naked in a place without permission to be, yet this had a