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 small family where my mom prohibit my dad to have Playboy Magazines in the house (I found out years later he did anyway.) felt comfortable, but I never dreamed I ‘d ever try it in front of others. Still, skinny-dipping was on my mental “Bucket List” to try sometime in my entire life when – or if – I ever could summon the courage.
My wife, like my mom, was extremely self conscious about her body. What nudity there was in our home was limited 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 detect an extended shore maybe a half mile long, that was covered with nude bodies. We have to go – now!” At that instant, my daughter squealed with joy and took off running down the shore and into the bunch. She’d absolutely forgotten about any tide pools.
“I always liked to try this,” I confessed to my wife. “Dont you dare!” she quietly but firmly replied. 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 casual discovery to a co-worker a few days afterwards. He nonchalantly admitted he and 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 see her sister in Washington State. I stayed behind for another week to complete an important project at work. A few days afterwards, exactly the same co worker came into my office and shut the door. “Nows your chance,” he said.
“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.”
“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 people from work was entirely out of the question. “Alright, but I wish to go by myself the first time.” I think I said it as much to end the dialog and get him out of the office as to be serious about what I was saying. But as the days passed, I started thinking that perhaps this might be my only chance to attempt it, and I started making plans.
That Saturday morning I drove to Paradise Cove and retraced our steps from the previous year, up the shore, until I got to the exact same big, sandy beach just south of Pt. Dume. Simply I got there early and there was hardly anyone else there. I walked about halfway 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 started to arrive. Some were families, some were couples, and some were obvious groups of friends who’d 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 seats and Frisbees and footballs, same as on any shore. Just these people 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 instantly rolled onto my stomach, thinking, “Oh wow, I really did it! I truly did it!”
About a half hour later came the second moment of truth. That is when I realized I was burning in areas that had not been subjected to the sun before, and I was really going to have 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 ‘d, and stood up. I was certain 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. Im having a nervous breakdown here and also the least they could do is look and admit it!” Nobody cared about me at all. Later, I found that many others also go through these twin “moment of terror” their first time, simply to look back and laugh at their conceit after.
By now there were several hundred people in the water, splashing, diving, body surfing, doing what folks everywhere do in the water. Just without clothes. I joined in the fun and experienced my first surprising moment when the ocean wraps itself around ones body free of clothes.
I didnt expect to love 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 rest of my own life.
Nope, someday would have to come back. This was an amazing, unexpected experience, and I remained all afternoon. I felt no sexual tension, in fact I saw no sexuality at all. I found out after that the shore had it unofficial mayor and also a team to volunteers who made sure nothing improper would happen there. So I found it actually a very relaxing day. I even played a small beach volleyball. Modesty and shame would have been improper in this setting.
On Monday morning, first-thing, my co worker came into my office and asked, just, “Well?” I told him I really appreciated 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 perhaps someday. Then something occurred I didnt expect.

A few hours later, another co worker came into my office and shut the door. “My wife and I saw you Saturday,” he said gently with a big grin on his face.
Oh, no! couldnt sink far enough into my chair! Then he explained he along with his family go to that shore often 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 folks I know go down to this type of beach?”
“More than youll ever know,” he replied. “We simply never talk about it.”
There’s a postscript to this story. A couple of days later 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’d forgotten about.
One night in getting undressed for bed, my wife asked, “What is that?”
“What?” responded.
“It looks like your back is skinning. In fact your bottom is paring!” There was a nervous pause while her thoughts put together the puzzle. “Dont tell me you went to that shore, did you?”
I sheepishly nodded. “I knew youd never go there and I liked to attempt it.”
“Oh my God!
Sadly for her, a number of our guests admitted they went to that shore (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 crazy.)