My First Time

My first nudist experience came by accident once I was 32 years old. Prior to that, I were raised in a very small family where my mother forbid my father to possess Playboy Magazines in the house (I found out years later he did anyhow.) It felt comfortable, but I never dreamed I would ever attempt it in front of others. Still, skinny-dipping was on my mental "Bucket List" to try sometime in my life when - or if - I ever could summon the nerve.
That chance came when I was married with a six year old daughter. My wife, like my mother, was extremely self-conscious about her body. What nudity there was in our home was restricted to streaking from the restroom to the bedroom after a shower.
On this special Sunday, we walked north from Paradise Cove, searching for the tide pool place a specific guidebook said was there. After a while we rounded a special corner to discover an extended shore perhaps a half-mile long, that was covered with naked bodies. We should go - now!" At that instant, my daughter squealed with delight and took off running down the shore and into the bunch. She'd completely forgotten about any tide pools.
"I always wanted to try this," I confessed to my wife. "Dont you dare!" she gently but steadfastly responded. From her tone I knew I couldnt press the issue any further.
Nonetheless, I happened to mention our accidental discovery to a co-worker a few days afterwards. He nonchalantly acknowledged he along with his wife went there all the time. I was more than surprised to discover this. Nudists lived among us! Who knew?
A year passed, and the following summer my lovely wife and daughter left to visit her sister in Washington State. I stayed behind for another week to finish an important project on the job. A few days after, exactly the same co-worker came into my office and closed the door. "Nows your chance," he said.
"What?"
"Recall last year you told me about the nude beach? Nows your time to go without your wife finding out."
I'd feel like I was cheating or something."

Well, I was nervous enough about the idea but going with folks from work was totally out of the inquiry. "Alright, but I want to go by myself the very first time." I believe I said it as much to stop the dialog and get him out of the office as to be serious about what I was saying. But as the days passed, I began thinking that perhaps this might be my only opportunity to attempt it, and I began making strategies.
That Saturday morning I drove to Paradise Cove and retraced our steps from the last year, up the shore, until I got to exactly the same large, sandy beach just south of Pt. Dume. Only I got there early and there was hardly anyone else there. I walked about halfway down, spread my blanket, and sat there, alone, not needing to be the sole one on the seashore who wasnt wearing my swim suit. It took a couple of hours, but by the time the sun was overhead many others started to arrive. Some were families, some were couples, and some were obvious groups of friends who had done this many times before. They all dropped their suits like they'd done it a thousand times before (they probably had) with not a hint of self-consciousness or shyness. They unpacked umbrellas and sand chairs and Frisbees and footballs, same as on any shore. Only these folks had no tan lines.
I reach my first moment of truth once I understood it was time to either join in or leave. So I pulled off my suit and promptly rolled onto my stomach, thinking, "Oh wow, I really did it! I truly did it!"
About a half hour later arrived the second moment of truth. That is when I realized I was burning in areas that had not been subjected to sunlight before, and I was really going to need to turn over. But I had a better idea: I 'd head for the cool ocean water and hide my privates there.
So I summoned all the courage I had, and stood up. I was certain everyones head would turn and I 'd be exposed for everybody to judge. I strove not to think about it as I took step after step toward the water. After several minutes I realized they werent looking at me. "Why werent they looking at me? Im having a nervous breakdown here as well as the least they could do is look and acknowledge it!" But nobody did. Afterwards, I found that many others also go through these twin "moment of horror" their first time, only to look back and laugh at their conceit after.
By now there were naturist in the water, splashing, diving, body surfing, doing what folks everywhere do in the water. Just without clothing.
That was my moment of epiphany. I didnt expect to adore the feeling so much. I believed this whole thing would be a few moments checking off an item on my Bucket List, and then I would go home and live the remainder of my life.
Nope, someday would need to return. This was an astonishing, sudden experience, and I remained all afternoon. I found out later that the seashore had it unofficial mayor as well as a team to volunteers who made sure nothing improper would happen there. So I discovered it really a very relaxing day. I even played a little beach volleyball. Modesty and shame would have been inappropriate in this setting.
On Monday morning, first-thing, my co worker came into my office and asked, just, "Well?" I told him I really loved the experience and I thanked him for talking me into going. No, I wasnt going to go back some other day with him and Gail, but maybe someday. Then something occurred I didnt anticipate.
A couple of hours later, another co-worker came into my office and shut the door. "My partner and I saw you Saturday," he said quietly with a huge smile on his face.
Oh, no! I couldnt sink far enough into my chair! Then he explained he and his family go to that shore regularly and they were going to say hello but felt I might upset me (damn right it'd have!).
"Is this some big conspiracy?" I inquired. "Do a great deal of the people I know go down to such a shore?"
"More than youll ever know," he answered. "We simply never talk about it."
There is a postscript to this story. A couple of days after I boarded a plane and joined my wife, daughter, and her sisters family in Washington. We had a lovely vacation except for one thing I had forgotten about.
One night in getting undressed for bed, my wife inquired, "What's that?"
"What?" I answered.
"It looks like your back is peeling. In fact your behind is paring!" There was a nervous pause while her thoughts put together the puzzle. "Dont tell me you went to that beach, did you?"
beach gallery nodded. "I knew youd never go there and I wanted to attempt it."
"Oh my God! I dont believe it..etc. etc." She reminded me of it regularly during the next few years, particularly when we had guests over for dinner so she could make an example of her "insane" husband.
Sadly for her, a few of our guests admitted they went to that shore (or others like it) also!


Social nudity, as it turns out, is enormously popular, but nobody ever wants to talk about it.
My wife (now my ex) thinks the world is crazy.)