My First Time

beach bum 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 father to have Playboy Magazines in the house (I found out years later he did anyway.) Nevertheless, as a teen I was always interested about it and on those infrequent occasions once I found myself home for several 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 try it in front of others. Still, skinny dipping was on my mental "Bucket List" to attempt sometime in my entire 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 mom, was extremely self conscious about her body. What nudity there was in our home was limited to streaking from the bathroom to the bedroom after a shower.
On beach party , we walked north from Paradise Cove, searching for the tide pool place a certain guidebook said was there. After a while we rounded a special corner to find an extended beach perhaps a half-mile long, that was covered with nude bodies. "Oh my God!" my wife cried out, "Its a nude beach. We must go - now!" At beach party , my daughter squealed with delight and took off running down the shore and into the bunch. She had absolutely forgotten about any tide pools.
"I always wanted to attempt this," I conceded to my wife. "Dont you dare!" she quietly but firmly answered.
Nevertheless, I happened to mention our accidental discovery to a coworker several days after. He nonchalantly acknowledged he and 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 lovely 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 later, 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."
"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 completely out of the question. "Alright, but I wish to go by myself the very first time." But as the days passed, I started thinking that perhaps this might be my only opportunity to try it, and I started 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. Just 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 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 had 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 seashore. Only these individuals 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 immediately rolled onto my stomach, thinking, "Oh wow, I really did it! I truly did it!"
About a half hour after arrived the second moment of truth. That is when I understood I was burning in places that hadn't been subjected to the sun 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 'd, and stood up. I was specific everyones head would turn and I 'd be exposed for everybody to judge. After a couple of minutes I realized they werent looking at me. Im having a nervous breakdown here as well as the least they could do is look and admit it!" But nobody did. Afterwards, I found that many others also go through these twin "instant of terror" their first time, simply to look back and laugh at their conceit afterwards.
By now there were several hundred men and women in the water, splashing, diving, body surfing, doing what people everywhere do in the water. Only without clothes.
I didnt expect to love 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 have to return. This was an amazing, surprising 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 and also a team to volunteers who made sure nothing improper would happen there. So I discovered it really an extremely relaxing day. I even played a little beach volleyball. naturism 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 loved the encounter 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 happened I didnt expect.
A few hours later, another co worker came into my office and closed the door. "My wife and I saw you Saturday," he said softly with a huge grin 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 going to say hello but felt I might upset me (darn right it'd have!).
"Is this some huge conspiracy?" I asked. "Do lots of the people I know go down to this type of shore?"
"More than youll ever know," he responded. "We simply never talk about it."
There's 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 asked, "What is that?"
"What?" I answered.
"It seems like your back is peeling. In fact your end is paring!" 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 liked to attempt it."
"Oh my God!


Unfortunately for her, a number of our guests confessed they went to that shore (or others like it) additionally!
Social nudity, as it turns out, is enormously popular, but nobody ever needs to talk about it.
My wife (now my ex-husband) thinks the world is nuts.)