My First Time

My first nudist experience came by accident when I was 32 years old. Prior to that, I had been raised in an extremely modest family where my mom prohibit my dad to get Playboy Magazines in the house (I found out years after he did anyhow.) It felt comfortable, but I never dreamed I would ever try it in front of others. However, skinny dipping was on my mental "Bucket List" to try sometime in my life when - or if - I ever could summon the guts.
My wife, like my mom, was incredibly self-conscious about her body. What nudity there was in our house was limited to streaking from the restroom to the bedroom after a shower. On this specific day, the three of us happened to be exploring tide pools near Paradise Cove on the shore of the Pacific just north of Los Angeles. My daughter was fascinated by the sea creatures trapped in the water at low tide, so we regularly visited different beaches along the 50 miles of county coastline where these pools may be explored.
On this particular Sunday, we walked north from Paradise Cove, looking for the tide pool place a specific guidebook said was there. After a while we rounded a particular corner to detect a long seashore perhaps a half-mile long, that was covered with naked bodies. "Oh beach party !" my wife cried out, "Its a nude beach. We must go - now!" At that instant, my daughter squealed with delight and took off running down the beach and into the bunch. beach babes had totally forgotten about any tide pools.
"I always liked to attempt this," I admitted to my wife. "Dont you dare!" she gently but steadfastly responded. From her tone I knew I couldnt press the issue any farther. After we regained our daughter and got her dressed, we turned south and returned to our car and left.
Nonetheless, I happened to mention our accidental discovery to a coworker a few days after. He nonchalantly admitted he along with his wife went there all the time. I was more than surprised to hear this. Nudists dwelt 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 couple of days later, exactly the same coworker came into my office and shut the door. "Nows your chance," he said.
"What?"
Nows your time to really go without your wife finding out."
"No, I couldnt do that. I'd feel like I was cheating or something."
"Nah, how would she ever find out? Come on down Saturday with Gail and me."
Well, I was nervous enough about the idea but going with folks from work was entirely out of the question. "Alright, but I need to go by myself the first time." 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 big, sandy beach just south of Pt. Dume. Simply I got there early and there was hardly anyone else there. I walked about midway down, spread my blanket, and sat there, alone, not needing to be the only one on the beach 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 likely had) with not a hint of self-consciousness or shyness. They unpacked umbrellas and sand seats and Frisbees and footballs, same as on any shore. Only these people had no tan lines.
I reach my first moment of truth when I knew it was time to either join in or leave. So I pulled off my suit and promptly rolled onto my belly, thinking, "Oh wow, I really did it! I really did it!"
About a half hour later arrived the second moment of truth. That's when I realized I was burning in areas that had not been exposed to the sun before, and I was going to have to turn over. But I had a better idea: I 'd head for the cool ocean water and conceal my privates there.
So I summoned all the courage I 'd, and stood up. I was specific everyones head would turn and I would be exposed for everyone to judge. After a few seconds I realized they werent looking at me. "Why werent they looking at me? Im having a nervous breakdown here and also the least they could do is look and acknowledge it!" beach freedom cared about me at all. After, I found that many others also go through these twin "instant of panic" their first time, only to look back and laugh at their conceit later.
By now there were several hundred people in the water, splashing, diving, body surfing, doing what people everywhere do in the water. Just without clothing.
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'd go home and live the remainder of my life.
Nope, someday would have to return. This was an astonishing, surprising encounter, and I stayed all day. I felt no sexual tension, in fact I saw no sexuality whatsoever. I found out after that the beach had it unofficial mayor as well as a team to volunteers who made sure nothing improper would happen there. So I discovered it actually a very relaxing day. I even played a small beach volleyball. Modesty and shame would have been inappropriate in this setting.
On Monday morning, first-thing, my coworker came into my office and asked, simply, "Well?" I told him I actually enjoyed the experience and I thanked him for talking me into going. No, I wasnt going to go back another day with him and Gail, but maybe someday. Then something occurred I didnt anticipate.
A couple of hours after, another co-worker came into my office and shut the door. "My wife and I saw you Saturday," he said softly with a huge smile on his face.
Oh, no! I couldnt sink far enough into my chair! Then he explained he along with his family go to that shore frequently and they were planning to say hello but believed I might upset me (darn right it'd have!).
"Is this some huge conspiracy?" I asked. "Do a lot of the folks I know go down to this sort of seashore?"
"More than youll ever know," he answered. " beach blondes talk about it."
There is a postscript to this story. We had a wonderful holiday except for one thing I'd forgotten about.
One night in getting undressed for bed, my wife inquired, "What is that?"
"What?" I replied.
"It looks like your back is skinning. In fact your behind is peeling!" There was a nervous pause while her thoughts put together the puzzle. " beach party tell me you went to that shore, did you?"
I sheepishly nodded. "I knew youd never go there and I liked to try it."
"Oh my God! I dont believe it..etc. etc." She reminded me of it frequently during the next few years, notably when we had guests over for dinner so she could make an example of her "crazy" husband.
Unfortunately for her, a few of our guests admitted they went to that beach (or others like it) additionally!
Societal nudity, as it turns out, is enormously popular, but nobody ever needs to talk about it.
My wife (now my ex) believes the world is nuts.)