My First Time

My first <a href= nudism .buzz/contents/65998678/3.html">nudist experience came by accident once I was 32 years old. Prior to that, I were raised in a very modest family where my mother prohibit my father to possess Playboy Magazines in the house (I found out years after he did anyway.) 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 attempt sometime in my life when - or if - I ever could summon the guts.
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. My daughter was fascinated by the sea creatures trapped in the water at low tide, so we frequently seen different beaches along the 50 miles of county coastline where these pools could 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 special corner to find a lengthy shore maybe a half-mile long, that was covered with naked bodies. We should go - now!" At that instant, my daughter squealed with joy and took off running down the shore and into the crowd. She'd totally forgotten about any tide pools.
My wife rolled her eyes, and we walked with purpose toward where she'd shed her bathing suit and was now running even quicker down the seashore. "I always liked to try this," I confessed to my wife. "Dont you dare!" she quietly but steadfastly responded. From her tone I knew I couldnt press the issue any farther.
As a family we never went back. Yet, I happened to mention our casual discovery to a coworker several days later. 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! blondes on a beach knew?
A year passed, and the following summer my wife and daughter left to see her sister in Washington State. I stayed behind for another week to finish an important project at work. A few days after, the exact same coworker came into my office and shut the door.
"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 would feel like I was cheating or something."

Well, I was nervous enough about the idea but going with folks from work was totally out of the inquiry. "Ok, but I wish to go by myself the first time." I think I said it as much to stop the dialog 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 perhaps this might be my only opportunity to try it, and I started making strategies.
That Saturday morning I drove to Paradise Cove and retraced our steps from the previous year, up the shore, until I got to exactly the same big, sandy beach just south of Pt. Dume. Just I got there early and there was hardly anyone else there. I walked about midway down, spread my blanket, and sat there, alone, not desiring to be the only one on the seashore 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. beach party were families, some were couples, and some were clear groups of friends who'd 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 touch of self-consciousness or shyness. They unpacked umbrellas and sand seats and Frisbees and footballs, same as on any beach. Only these individuals 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 instantly 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 understood I was burning in places that had not been subjected to the sun before, and I was really going to need to turn over. But I had a better idea: I would 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 would be exposed for everyone to judge. After a couple of moments I realized they werent looking at me. "Why werent they looking at me? Im having a nervous breakdown here as well as the least they could do is look and acknowledge it!" But nobody did. After, I found that many others also go through these twin "moment of horror" their first time, simply 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 people everywhere do in the water. Only without clothes.
That was my moment of epiphany. 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'd go home and live the remainder of my entire life.
Nope, someday would need to come back. This was an amazing, sudden encounter, and I stayed all afternoon. I found out afterwards that the beach had it unofficial mayor and also a team to volunteers who made sure nothing inappropriate would happen there. So I discovered it actually a very relaxing day. I even played a little 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 actually appreciated the experience 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 anticipate.
A few hours later, another co worker came into my office and closed the door. "My partner and I saw you Saturday," he said softly with a huge grin on his face.
Oh, no! I couldnt sink far enough into my seat! Then he explained he and his family go to that shore frequently and they were going to say hello but believed I might upset me (damn right it would have!).
"Is this some huge conspiracy?" I asked. "Do a great deal of the folks I know go down to this sort of shore?"
"More than youll ever know," he replied. "We just never talk about it."
There is a postscript to this story. A few days after I boarded a plane and joined my wife, daughter, and her sisters family in Washington. We had a lovely holiday except for one thing I'd forgotten about.
One night in getting undressed for bed, my wife inquired, "What's that?"
"What?" I replied.
"It seems like your back is skinning. In fact your behind is paring!" There was a nervous pause while her thoughts 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! I dont believe it..etc. etc." She reminded me of it often during the next few years, especially when we had guests over for dinner so she could make an example of her "crazy" husband.
Sadly for beach freedom , some of our guests confessed they went to that shore (or others like it) also!
Societal nudity, as it turns out, is extremely popular, but nobody ever needs to talk about it.
My wife (now my ex) thinks the world is crazy.)