(With thanks to Mike for his tireless help with proofing and editing - you know who you are!)
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When I was at university in London, I confess that I became a bit of a slut.
Having lost my virginity to a much older man during my gap year (see "Gap Year Experience" stories) I had become much more sexually adventurous and had a number of lovers, female as well as male. I was truly branching out and experimenting.
One day during the summer term I had taken the afternoon off to go swimming at the Highgate Men's Pond on Hampstead Heath in north London.
For readers who don't know London, Hampstead Heath is a large area of wood and grassland to the north of the city, popular with walkers and offering fantastic views over London.
It also has three natural swimming ponds, one for women only, one for men only and a mixed pond. These are extremely popular swimming spots during the summer months and also, amongst a die-hard population, through the winter. I was, and am, not such a die-hard, but did enjoy swimming at the men's pond during the summer.
Lest I frighten-off prospective swimmers, the Ponds are not known as pick-up spots (although the Heath more broadly does have a certain reputation after dark) but on occasion it is possible to meet like-minded men if you know what to look out for.
So, on this early June afternoon I had entered the changing area - which is outdoors - and had stripped off ready for my swim. As I was about to put on my swimming trunks I saw a large, solidly built, bearded man walking around naked, rather ostentatiously in my opinion. In my experience men don't do that without good reason.
I caught his eye and smiled.
Now that I had his attention, rather than put my swimming trunks on immediately, I turned away from him and bent over to rummage in my bag, in the process giving him a good - and private - view of my arse.
Despite my experimentation with lovers my own age, I still had a thing for older lovers, and men in particular.
He obviously noticed what I was doing and called over "Hello. I haven't seen you here before."
"It's my first time!" which wasn't actually true.
"Welcome to the Pond - enjoy your swim".
He looked me up and down - noting that I was also needlessly naked.
Nothing more was said. We both went to the pond, dived in and started to swim laps around the perimeter.
On the other side of the pond, farthest away from the entrance, I stopped to rest on a floating platform. He saw me and swam over to join me, well out of earshot of anyone else.
"Hello again."
"Hello."
"Fancy meeting you here."
"Indeed!"
How are you finding the Pond?"
"Good. Cold!"
"I couldn't help noticing you in the changing rooms" he said.
I was coquettish.
"And what did you notice?!"
"I noticed a fit young man who seemed to be taking a while to get changed and seemed quite happy for a certain older man to be admiring him."
I laughed.
"Am I that obvious?"
He smiled.
"What's your name?"
"Dan. And yours?"
He told me, but as it isn't important for the story and, it subsequently transpired, he was actually quite well known in London's media circles, I will draw a discreet veil over it.
"Does your boyfriend know you are here?"
"Who says I have a boyfriend?" I responded archly.
"Well, girlfriend then?" with a raised eyebrow.
"I actually don't have either, formally, at the moment but, just for the record, last time I did it was a boyfriend, and before that a girlfriend!"
I didn't feel the need to explain my actual situation which was that I was informally fucking both a man and a woman at the time (although not, I hasten to add, at the same time - although the thought had occurred to me!)
My mind briefly wandered to an image of the slim-hipped, amply-cocked, Ghanaian undergraduate with whom I was, very discreetly, spending time, as well as the fifty-something divorcΓ©e with the polished home counties vowels and the large, empty, house in Clapham, whom I had, equally discreetly, kept warm at night, on-and-off, for the previous few months.
My sexual tastes were wide ranging, and nothing if not eclectic!
As an aside, I was constantly amazed at how I could find the slim, taught, dreamily chocolate-coloured, buttocks of my young boyfriend just as erotic as the plump, soft, milky white ones of my older lady friend.
The view, and the feel, as I fucked them from behind were poles apart, but each in its own way, hugely erotic to me.
Each knew that they were not exclusive to me - and vice versa - and rigorous rules around use of condoms and regular STI testing were part of our mutual understanding of trust.
I digress, but I suppose the point I am getting to is that my sexuality was, and is, almost independent of the gender, body type, race or other physical attributes of that body. I am much more aroused by the mental construct with that person.
Which explains why I also felt my cock stirring as this large, older man was chatting me up in a cold pond on Hampstead Heath...
"Aha, so you swing both ways!?"
To be honest I thought that was a rather limiting term, but I nevertheless agreed.
"Yes, you could say that."
"And you are single at the moment?"
"Yes, you could also say that."
"What do you do for a living?"
"I am a student."