My First Time

My first nudist experience came by accident when I was 32 years old. Prior to beach girl , I were raised in a very modest family where my mom prohibit my father to possess Playboy Magazines in the house (I found out years later he did anyway.) Nevertheless, as a teen I was always curious about it and on those rare occasions once I found myself dwelling for a couple hours alone while my parents and younger brother and sisters were off on some family trip, I tried out being without clothing for an hour here or an hour there. It felt comfortable, but I never dreamed I would ever attempt 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.
That opportunity came when I was married with a six year old daughter. My wife, like my mom, 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. My daughter was fascinated by the sea creatures trapped in the water at low tide, so we often seen distinct shores along the 50 miles of county shoreline where these pools may be explored.
On this particular 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 particular corner to discover a long shore perhaps a half-mile long, that was covered with naked bodies. "Oh my God!" 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 shore and into the crowd. 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 firmly answered.
Nevertheless, I happened to mention our casual 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 learn this. Nudists lived among us! Who knew?
A year passed, and the next summer my wife and daughter left to visit her sister in Washington State. I stayed behind for another week to finish an important project at work. A few days after, the same co-worker came into my office and closed the door. "Nows your chance," he said.
"What?"
"Remember last year you told me about the nude beach? 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?
Well, I was nervous enough about the idea but going with people from work was absolutely out of the inquiry. " beach babes , but I need to go by myself the first time." I believe I said it as much to end the dialogue 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 maybe this might be my only chance to attempt it, and I began making plans.
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 barely anyone else there. I walked about midway down, spread my blanket, and sat there, alone, not desiring to be the only one on the beach who wasnt wearing my swim suit. It took a few hours, but by the time the sun was overhead many others began to arrive. Some were families, some were couples, and some were apparent 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 touch of self-consciousness or shyness. They unpacked umbrellas and sand seats and Frisbees and footballs, same as on any beach. Just 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 immediately rolled onto my stomach, thinking, "Oh wow, I really did it! I really did it!"
About a half hour after arrived the second moment of truth. That is when I realized I was burning in places that had not been subjected to sunlight before, and I was really going to have to turn over. But I had a better idea: I would head for the cool ocean water and conceal my privates there.
So I summoned all the courage I had, and stood up. I was particular everyones head would turn and I would be exposed for everybody to judge. After a couple of minutes I realized they werent looking at me. "Why werent they looking at me? Im having a nervous breakdown here and the least they could do is look and admit it!" But nobody did. Nobody cared about me at all. Later, I found that many others also go through these twin "moment of panic" their first time, only to look back and laugh at their conceit later.
By now there were several hundred men and women in the water, splashing, diving, body surfing, doing what people everywhere do in the water. Just without clothes.
I didnt expect to adore the feeling so much. I believed this whole thing would be a few minutes checking off an item on my Bucket List, and then I'd go home and live the rest of my own life.
Nope, someday would need to come back. This was an astonishing, unexpected experience, and I remained all day. I felt no sexual tension, in fact I saw no sexuality in the slightest. I found out later that the beach had it unofficial mayor along with a team to volunteers who made sure nothing improper would happen there. So I found 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 coworker came into my office and asked, just, "Well?" I told him I really loved the encounter and I thanked him for talking me into going. No, I wasnt going to go back some other day with him and Gail, but perhaps someday. Then something occurred I didnt expect.
A couple of hours after, another co worker came into my office and shut the door. "My partner and I saw you Saturday," he said quietly with a big smile on his face.
Oh, no! beach babes couldnt sink far enough into my seat! He then explained he and his family go to that shore often and they were going to say hello but believed I might upset me (damn right it'd have!).
"Is this some big conspiracy?" I inquired. "Do a lot of the people I know go down to this type of beach?"
"More than youll ever know," he responded. " beach babes talk about it."
There's a postscript to this story. blondes on a beach had a lovely vacation except for one thing I'd forgotten about.
One night in getting undressed for bed, my wife asked, "What is that?"
"What?" I answered.
"It seems like your back is peeling. In fact your bottom is peeling!" There was a nervous pause while her mind put together the puzzle. "Dont tell me you went to that beach, did you?"
I sheepishly nodded. "I knew youd never go there and I needed to attempt it."
"Oh my God! I dont believe it..etc. etc." She reminded me of it frequently during the next few years, especially when we had guests over for dinner so she could make an example of her "mad" husband.
Sadly for her, a number of our guests confessed they went to that shore (or others like it) also!
Social nudity, as it turns out, is hugely popular, but nobody ever wants to talk about it.
My wife (now my ex-husband) believes the world is nuts.)