By 
Dating shows from the 2010s like Naked Attraction and Dating Naked (which you can still stream, BTW) tried to demonstrate the benefits of meeting nude for the first date. Why not minimize the disappointment of attempting to make new fuck-friends by introducing your private parts from the get-go? Sometimes, the chemistry just isn’t there. Isn’t it best to figure this out before you’ve wasted hours getting to know one another? As soon as you meet, the clothes come off. Do you like each other’s naked bodies? Yes—proceed. No—cut your losses.
If this sounds like an only-on-reality-TV level of crazy, I happen to be qualified to attest to the real-life advantages of such a “no surprise” dating style. I went on a naked first date during the summer I spent in a Costa Rican rainforest, and the result was hot and wet.
As for how I ended up in this foreign jungle, I traveled there for a work exchange I arranged through a volunteer website. My unpaid job was to look after four guesthouses for the American owner while they were back in the States. They needed someone bilingual to manage things on-site, and luckily, my four years of college Spanish made me a perfect fit.
The bonus was I got to stay in a cabin in the middle of a rainforest for free. At first, no guests were on the premises, so I had nothing to do. While this might sound like a perk, I was bored as heck. Looking to break the monotony, I got to swiping. As an L.A. native, I’ve used dating apps while vacationing in Boston, New York, Rome, and Mexico City. Why not try it in Costa Rica?
Soon, I matched with Victor, 35, a Costa Rican lawyer. I used my Spanish skills to chat him up and we planned a date. He initially wanted to take me into the city for some salsa dancing but quickly pivoted, texting from the road a full 24 hours before we were supposed to meet to say he was driving near where I was staying. Could he swing by and say hola?
I didn’t know whether to be put off by his arrogance or turned on by it. I chose the latter. If nothing else, his machismo probably meant he was good in bed, right?
Claro, I texted back. Sure.
But then he threw me off again when he asked: “Is it hot down there?”
Obviously. I was in the middle of a jungle during the height of summer. The air was thick with humidity. Sweat trickled down my body. Stripping off my tiny shorts and tank sounded like the perfect solution—and why not? I had the entire property to myself.
As if reading my mind, Victor texted again: “You should make it a nudist resort down there.”
He took the words right out of my mouth! Still, maybe something was lost in translation? But then I started pondering the thought of making this place into my own personal nudist resort. I imagined myself in the buff amidst the ficus trees, ferns, and vines, like I was just another primate in this jungle.
As if knowing I’d already started considering his suggestion, Victor quickly wrote back: “I want to come by your nudist resort and find you naked. Then you say that I must undress to enter your home.”
Nothing was lost in translation this time. This guy wanted to meet up in our birthday suits. Let’s do this!
After all, why else had I volunteered to essentially play housekeeper for these four Costa Rican Airbnbs in exchange for free rent? I wanted to step out of my comfort zone. I wanted adventure. Besides, in this oppressive heat, nothing sounded better than ditching my clothes.
“Sí, señor,” I texted back.
“Sí?” he responded like he didn’t totally believe me. I reassured him that yes, I wanted this. Before long, I heard his SUV crunching down the gravel driveway. Peeling off my top and short-shorts, I waited to greet him at my cabin door.
Leaning against the jam, I enjoyed the sodden caress of the jungle air on my bare skin. I couldn’t wait to also be caressed by his hands. He parked in front of my cabin and slid out of his car, presenting himself as a tanned, dark-haired hottie dressed in a pink Izod polo, fitted jeans, and leather driving loafers. But why was he clothed?
“You’d better get naked quick if you want to come inside my home,” I said.
Standing at the threshold of my door, he stripped off his preppy gear, garment by garment. When he had only his underwear on, I assessed the situation. Just gazing at him, I could tell that he participated in all the outdoor activities that were so popular in Costa Rica—cycling, hiking, surfing. When he doffed his Speedo-type briefs, I bit my lower lip. His cock…. So long and thick—it was perfect!
I suddenly understood why those naked dating shows existed. It would have taken us days to get to this point had we gone about this the “traditional” way. Instead, we jumped a bunch of bases by meeting up nude. I was bowled over by the awesomeness of this experience.
It wasn’t just the sight of Victor’s gorgeous penis that was blowing my mind. The earthy scent of moss filled my lungs and the cacophony of bugs assaulted my ears. Every nerve ending in my body felt electrified. I wasn’t in Kansas—er, L.A.—anymore.
Leading Victor into my cabin, I was acutely aware of the way his big brown eyes lingered on my nude form and his thick lips called to mine, inviting me to kiss him. When his palm brushed up my thigh, a shiver coursed through me.
I sighed as he continued to touch my flesh, delighting in the feel of his fingertips crawling up toward my arms. When he reached for a handful of my hair, I thought he would pull it (and I can’t say I would have minded that). Instead, he pushed the strands to the side and planted kisses along my neck. Arching my body into his, I enjoyed the sparks of pleasure bursting along the surface of my skin.
But I wanted him to really touch me. I guided his fingers to my vulva where more moisture pooled. His digit teased my labia and then he dipped inside me. I received his second finger effortlessly, I was that wet.
He pushed in another finger and then another, pumping into me liquidly as he did.
Curling his fingertips, he coaxed excitement from my fleshy walls. My eyes rolled back in my head and my breath flowed raggedly in and out of me.
As he continued the rhythmic pulsing of his hand, I felt my pussy suction his fingers deeper inside of me. Then my whole body began to constrict, soften, then tighten again. His fingers seemed to melt into me as I soaked them with my juices—coming hard before I even had time to anticipate it.
My body went slack and I rested against his chest. When he tried to pull his fingers out of me, thinking my climax was finished, I stopped him. “No,” I said, grabbing his hand, keeping it put—not a plea but a demand.
He started up his rhythmic pumping again and I came another time. That’s when I realized we hadn’t even made it to my bed yet. We spent the rest of the afternoon in a sensual siesta in my bedroom. He entered me and I came once more thanks to his thrusting cock. I howled like the monkeys that lived in this jungle, my body convulsing as if I weren’t totally in control of myself. (I wasn’t.) This man was a shaman giving me a sexual exorcism. It was like he opened a portal inside my cunt—one that led me to an entire summer of sultry satisfaction.
No, Victor and I didn’t meet up again. After a few more orgasms, he left as quickly as he showed up. However, I did hook up with other men. And even though we met fully clothed, each encounter satisfied both my lust and my wanderlust.
Fortunately, all this sex in the rainforest also made it ultimately bearable once the guests started showing up and I actually had to get some cleaning done. I quickly learned that while it was fine to volunteer my services as a maid during a summer abroad, it wasn’t a job I wanted to keep full-time, no matter how amazing the sex. But best believe I made good use of the free rent and zero roommates while it lasted.
