My First Time

My first nudist experience came by accident once I was 32 years old. Prior to that, I were raised in an extremely modest family where my mother forbid my dad to have Playboy Magazines in the house (I found out years later he did anyhow.) felt comfortable, but I never dreamed I ‘d ever try it in front of others. However, skinny-dipping was on my mental “Bucket List” to attempt sometime in my entire 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 mother, was incredibly self conscious about her body. What nudity there was in our house was limited to streaking from the bathroom 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 shoreline of the Pacific just north of Los Angeles.
On this special Sunday, we walked north from Paradise Cove, searching for the tide pool area a specific guidebook said was there. After a while we rounded a particular corner to find a long seashore perhaps a half mile long, that was covered with nude bodies. “Oh my God!” my wife cried out, “Its a nude beach. We need to go – now!” At that instant, my daughter squealed with delight and took off running down the shore and into the crowd. She had completely forgotten about any tide pools.
My wife rolled her eyes, and we walked with purpose toward where she had shed her bathing suit and was now running even quicker down the beach. “I always wanted to attempt 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 further. After we regained our daughter and got her dressed, we turned south and returned to our car and left.
Yet, I happened to mention our casual discovery to a coworker a few days later. He nonchalantly acknowledged he along with his wife went there all the time. I was more than surprised to hear 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 complete an important project on the job. A few days after, the same coworker came into my office and shut the door.
“Remember last year you told me about the nude beach? Nows your time to go without your wife finding out.”
“No, I couldnt do that. I’d feel like I was cheating or something.”
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 inquiry. “Ok, but I need to go by myself the very first time.” But as the days passed, I began thinking that perhaps this might be my only chance to attempt it, and I started making plans.

Simply I got there early and there was barely 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 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 had done this many times before. They all dropped their suits like they had done it a thousand times before (they likely had) with not a trace of self consciousness or shyness. They unpacked umbrellas and sand seats and Frisbees and footballs, same as on any shore. Just these individuals had no tan lines.
I reach my first moment of truth when I understood 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 truly did it!”
About a half hour later arrived the second moment of truth. Then I realized I was burning in places that had not been exposed to the sun before, and I was going to need 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 specific everyones head would turn and I ‘d be exposed for everybody to judge. After a few minutes 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!” 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 after.
By now there were several hundred men and women in the water, splashing, diving, body surfing, doing what folks everyw here do in the water. Only without clothes. I joined in the fun and experienced my first astonishing instant when the ocean wraps itself around ones body free of garments.
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 entire life.
Nope, someday would need to come back. This was an astonishing, surprising experience, and I stayed all day. 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 a team to volunteers who made sure nothing inappropriate would happen there. So I discovered it really an extremely 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, 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 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 quietly with a big grin on his face.
Oh, no! I couldnt sink far enough into my chair! Then he explained he and his family go to that beach regularly and they were planning to say hello but felt I might upset me (damn right it would have!).
“Is this some big conspiracy?” I inquired. “Do lots of the people I know go down to this kind of beach?”
“More than youll ever know,” he replied. “We simply never talk about it.”
There’s a postscript to this story. We had a wonderful holiday except for one thing I had forgotten about.
One night in getting undressed for bed, my wife asked, “What is that?”
“What?” I answered.
“It seems like your back is skinning. In fact your end is peeling!” There was a nervous pause while her mind 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! I dont believe it..etc. etc.” She reminded me of it regularly during the next few years, notably when we had guests over for dinner so she could make an example of her “mad” husband.
Sadly for her, a few of our guests admitted they went to that shore (or others like it) also!
Societal nudity, as it turns out, is hugely popular, but nobody ever needs to talk about it.
My wife (now my ex) believes the world is nuts.)