We're giving you one more chance, Grandpa,
Either your beard
comes off or you resign
from the club!
Please send us your stories about your own genuine naturist experiences...
Maybe it was an embarrassing naked experience like being caught in what turned out to be a non-nudist area...
Or what about your very first time naked in public?
This could be your chance to share that special, or nerve wracking first time when you bared your body to the world! How did you feel before and after, and how do you feel now? Let us know, your experiences may help others who are tempted to give it a try!
Whatever your story, It only needs to be a short paragraph, more only if you wish.
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Your True Nudist Stories!
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I've spent some time on your website recently and I have to say it's great; an invaluable resource for a young girl making her first strides into nudism. I want to share my first experience, which was quite by accident, in the hope that it will reassure more of my peers that this is an exciting alternative lifestyle. Sarah-Beth
My first experience came 18 months ago, as a 20 year old. I'd decided to defer my final year of University to travel and see some of the world. Part of that included doing a ski season in Switzerland as a chalet girl. I settled into the resort really well, enjoying both the skiing and the socialising and just about cramming some work in as well.
Anyone who's been on a skiing holiday knows how tiring all the physical exertion and après-ski can be, so combine that with cleaning chalets and you can imagine that we were often is need of some down time.
During an evening out one of the ski instructors suggested to my friend, Melissa, and I that there was a very good spa with a sauna and hot baths down in the town. It was a little off the beaten track and more frequented by locals than tourists. Yes we thought! The perfect escape. We took down some directions and made a plan to visit the following Friday evening, when the rest of the crew would be partying hard.
Next Friday came and we dug out our bikinis and headed down. We found it without too much trouble.
A very smiley middle-aged lady on reception checked us in, gave us two small towels each showed us where the ladies changing rooms were. She also commented that they didn't get very many English visitors.
We changed into our swimwear and took a shower (as indicated by a picture diagram on the door to the spa). The first room we walked into was a locker room and we stored our gear and headed through the next door. It led into a beautiful wooden clad area with a small swimming pool and hot-tub and the place looked deserted.
There was however plenty of towels on sun-loungers indicating there were at least 10-15 other people here somewhere. Melissa suggested that this meant there was more to explore, so after a quick couple of lengths of the empty pool we headed through one of 4 doors off the side of the pool room, none of which was labelled.
As soon as we walked through the first push door it was obvious this led to the steam room. Melissa was ahead of me and she opened the door to the actual steam room first, took half a step inside and stopped. Me, being me, just carried on and half bumped/half pushed her until we were both inside and the door shut behind us.
As my eyes adjusted to the darker light and steam I could see why she'd stopped. We were standing in a steam room with 5 fully naked men from young to old.
The eldest man half smiled at us but only then seemed to realise we were female, he stood up and started shouting and pointing. I don't know if you've heard an angry German, but it's quite intimidating. We were out of the steam room so quick it's lucky the glass door didn't shatter!
Melissa's words were to the effect of "Oh my God, we just walked into the man's steam room", perhaps a little more sweary, and then something suggestive about the "big" hunky guy in the corner. I was just cross and I knew straight where I was going, back to reception to complain to the English-speaking receptionist about the lack of signs. Not really thinking too much about my modesty I marched us both through the changing rooms and into the reception area.
The lady had been replaced by a younger attractive man who was serving an older couple. Forgetting myself a little bit I marched up and started explaining in raised tones what had happened.
The poor guy obviously didn't speak any English but I think he understood a little and started pointing at our bikinis, shaking his head and speaking German. Great I thought, a bloody fashion critic. But, of course I was wrong.
Thankfully the lady in reception turned to us and explained what he was saying, basically "bathing suits are banned", "the spa is a nudist area", "you must go completely naked in order to use the facilities".
The realisation hit us both at the same time: So that's why the man was angry, followed by "uh-oh, if we want our relaxing spa experience we're going to have to strip off in front of a bunch of strangers". Having spent a reasonable amount on the entry fee neither of us was keen to forego what we were entitled to so we trudged back to the female changing rooms to discuss it. As an aside I still don't truly understand the point of separate changing rooms if everyone's getting naked and staying that way, but there we are!
We sat there in silence. I don't know what Melissa was thinking but she didn't look keen. All I could think was "what's she got to worry about, with those huge boobs of hers no-one will be judging her". I've had issues with my small breast size for a few years and the thought of exposing them to a mainly male audience wasn't doing my confidence any good. After sitting there a while the kindly lady who'd translated for us (who was now in the altogether) came over and really helped.
She basically explained that she understood we were nervous, but that was because of our culture. In Switzerland they have less hang-ups about nudity and going to the spa and everyone getting naked together was not a big issue. No-one judged and nobody would stare and she would show us around the facilities of the spa. It was a kind act and she explained that all we had to do was take off our bikinis first, and was it such a big deal as they weren't actually covering all that much skin anyway.
Melissa was first to make her find up "let's do it", and with that she released her sizeable boobs an down came the bikini bottoms to reveal her very smooth minnie. I followed her lead more slowly, more than a little embarrassed at my small chest and more "natural" look downstairs. The good Samaritan took each of us by the hand and led us through the locker room back to the pool, which was now inhabited by 3 men and 1 woman, all naked and none of whom seemed the least bit interested in our entrance. I have to confess I did do a little bit of staring, but it was all new to me. I didn't have long though as we were led through to the steam room where all the drama had begun. In we went and this time were greeted with smiles. The lady pointed for us to sit down (and we both immediately crossed our legs, which must have looked strange). I assume she then explained what had happened, there was a sense of general understanding and the man who has shouted at us said something. Everyone laughed and nodded!
What did he say I asked. "He said he was sorry for not realising you were English, but that if the UK truly wanted to be in Europe it would have to get used to our strange customs. But he's very happy that two such beautiful young girls were flying the flag for their country". I'm pretty sure we both blushed but it certainly put us at ease.
I must confess to forgetting that we were naked in there and I only became aware again when we were taken to see the rest of the facilities.
There was a sauna, occupied by 2 more men and a girl of similar age to us, and there was a series of 6 plunge pools; hot then cold, finally there was the "family pool" through the last door. In it I was a little shocked to see a family of 5, Mum, Dad, a son and daughter who both must have been in their early teens and a younger son playing in the shallow pool. All naked as the day they were born.
At that moment I felt envious of the daughter, she quite clearly didn't have any of the body issue of self-consciousness I had, and I decided that this enlightened was of being nude was probably responsible.
We stayed a further 2 hours in the spa before departing as changed people. I'm pleased to say we returned on at least a dozen occasions. I would be lying if I said I didn't think we had different motivations for visiting. I loved the freedom and lack of judgement. I strongly suspect Melissa saw it as an opportunity to flash her assets at the well-endowed hunk she'd first spotted in the sauna.
It still caused me nerves walking though the changing rooms exit in the nude, and taking my clothes of for a nudist event still does to this day, but once I'm surrounded by cool like-minded people all the fears are gone and I can feel truly free.
I don't think the normal path into nudism involves having an angry man demand in German that you remove your bikini, but it got me to where I am today.
They're got a lot right these crazy Europeans!
This account comes from reader John Callis
Perhaps its all to do with your roots… I was born in the sticks, a small farm with 50 acres of land, I grew up in a tiny community our family were a welcome addition to the local parish, and, perhaps owing to my Mums Croatian heritage, we were fairly liberal about most things that in Britain, would be considered rude, taboo or inappropriate.
Mainly I can remember we never really worried about seeing each other in a state of undress, indeed I my fondest memories were playing in the garden pond with my cousins, jumping off the waterfall into the deep end, drying off in the sun, chucking the basketball around, all without a stitch of clothing on.
This liberal attitude toward nudity remained with me until my teenage years… I can remember finishing a PE session in secondary school, returning to the changing room and walking into the shower room, dropping my towel and exposing my newly pubescent penis to my class mates, of course I thought nothing of it initially, but, and I still remember the jeers, the abuse, the shock… I was nicknamed ‘boner boy’ for the remainder of the school year… That sense of modesty and shame had snuck in. In college when acne struck, and teenage horniness was abound, the idea of being comfortable in the buff was about as realistic as a truthful Labour Party MP.
Those years of naturism had been lost… Perhaps forever…
Then came my holiday with the girlfriend (now wife) to Gran Canaria in 2012, we knew little about this mediterranean island other than that it was bloody hot and had plenty of beaches, which, after dealing with the stresses of a new job that year, was just what we needed.
It was the first day, we were staying at playa del ingles and the holiday rep advised you could walk to the neighbouring Maspalomas via the beachfront, alas, the friendly rep whom boasted extensive knowledge of the area seemed to have omitted one minute detail; this tranquil walk across the broken waves would take us through the local au naturel spots.
So as we walked hand in hand, her in a gorgeous (if slightly see through) maxi dress and me in my customary billabong board shorts, we saw a striking figure in the distance, a muscly gentleman striding from the ocean back to the beach, droplets of salt water glistening upon his naked posterior… Wait a minute, double take… Naked posterior?? That’s right, at first we thought this a mighty brave act from one individual with a taste for exhibitionism, but then, more naked bodies came into view, it was all on show; willies and boobies, and bums, and vaginas! This wasn’t on the Thompson travel guide, low and behold, our adventurous hike had landed us smack dab in the middle of the nudist beach.
As we hastily trundled through, the GF looked up, down, out to sea, anywhere where her juvenile grin might go unnoticed, for me I was intrigued; I couldn’t help but glance at the varying couples and groups, all of them swimming, playing ball games, chatting away, doing all the things one would normally do to relax, just in the complete buff. I’d done this before, many years ago, it wasn’t an alien concept, I’d just lost that feeling of freedom amidst the tide of societal pressure and ridicule from peers throughout my adult years… I must admit I was a little envious. Here existed a place that seemed on the surface.
We walked straight through and spent the rest of the day on the ‘textile’ beach, although even here my GF was in the minoroty with her bikini top on, there was a sense of liberation abundent in our surroundings.
That night at dinner, we discussed the days visual stimuli, at first we did what most British people did; giggled childishly, but as the night wore on I told the GF about my naturist experiences in my youth, at first I thought she’s never shower at my parents again, but, and perhaps the wine played a role here, she seemed curious; she asked what of felt like, what the atmosphere was like, but in all honesty, my experiences as a nudist was as a child, from a time before I know what social acceptability was, when my mind was naive to the taboo that surrounded nudity, as an adult I’d had no point of reference as to what a naked experience would be like.
Stone me the GF actually suggested we try the nude beach in the morrow. By this point she was steaming from the two bottles of mont blanc so I dismissed it, alas, when I sheepishly mentioned it at breakfast, she maintained her enthusiasm, albeit with a certain anxiety.
So we entered the nude beach, our first instincts were to try and subtlety find another couple perhaps our own age and set down near them, I guess we were trying to blend in with the crowd. We found a point just back from the sea front up against a bank of sand, nearby was a hippyish couple I’d assume were in their twenties.
We plonked ourselves down and in a matter of seconds stripped off, the GF immediately dropped like a bomb to her towel and laid on her front, I walked around my towel, just trying to get a a sense of whom if anyone would be noticing and how I’d find that, of course, no one noticed, and this was perhaps the Brit in me assuming my nudity would cause uproar, but here we were, in a place were it was quite the norm.
The water against nude skin was the greatest sensation. We spent the remainder of the holiday on the nude beaches, our greatest truimph came when we walked from the beach across the dunes completely in the buff. One could argue it was exhibitionism on our part, but I can honestly say we did it because we felt free, free from social judgement, we didnt really notice we were nude.
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First time naturist experience
My husband and were invited to some relatively new friend's house for dinner one evening.
Over dinner they told us about their apartment in France and by the end of dinner had invited us to join them for a few days break in June.
We were delighted to accept and after we had committed ourselves they said "well, we had better let you know where it is, it is in a naturist site called Cap D'Adge.
My husband and I laughed it off and said it wouldn't matter to us as we were both broad minded and anyway, we would probably keep our kit on if that was ok.
The time came for us to go, they had driven down and we would fly and they would pick us up from the airport.
The husband was waiting for us with their dog, his wife was organising food for a jubilee party, they had invited a few friends around for lunch to celebrate the queen's jubilee and our arrival.
We entered into the "village", going through security which I found a little strange and drove down the road by the port.
I noticed one couple strolling hand in hand alongside the boats, with no clothes on.
I had a little smirk to myself and then as we entered into the hub of the port noticed that people were everywhere with no clothes on.
I must admit I was gob-smacked. I had never seen anything like it, they were all completely naked, sitting around in bars, strolling down the street and just acting normal.
We retrieved our luggage out of the boot and made our way to the apartment, which happened to be above the bars and nightclubs, a two minute walk from the port.
I felt that people were staring at us as we were dressed, I felt like the odd one out. We went into the gated apartment area of a small complex and were greeted with union jack buntings and flags, red white and blue everywhere and many people standing around eating and drinking....... completely naked.
I again was shocked and suprised.
People were introduced to us and I was shaking hands and kissing people who were completely naked.
It was awkward for me as I had never encountered such a situation and didn't quite know what to do next, I didnt feel comfortable at taking my clothes off straight away.
My husband on the other hand could not wait to get his kit off. He was straight in the bedroom, kit on the floor and strolled out into the throng of people like he had been naked all his life. I stood in the bedroom for what seemed like a long time in a dilemma as what to do.
I decided that I would take my top off but pop on a sarong to cover myself, leaving my shorts on.
I went back out and joined the others. Everyone was extremely friendly and people were asking if it was our first time at a naturist village, encouraging me to take my time and only do things which were comfortable.
After a few glasses of wine I decided to take my sarong off, baring my breasts. I felt liberated and free and started to enjoy the freedom of having no top on in such a social environment. I looked around, there was only me with shorts on.
I went to the bedroom, took off my shorts and pants and wrapped my sarong around my hips, swaggering back into the throng of people, feeling sexy and very comfortable.
There were people all ages and shapes and sizes, no one cared.
By the time we were toasting the queen the sun was beating down on my skin and I was feeling so content and happy to be among this throng of English, French and Swedish people that I discretely took my sarong off and stood there completely naked.
I kept pinching myself to see if it was actually me standing there amongst all of these people, all of them strangers except for our two friends, completely naked.
It was a fantastic day, a memory to treasure for all sorts of reasons.
The next day we got up to be greeted by our two naked friends. My husband didn't have a care in the world, he took the dog for a walk with our friend completely naked.
I helped to clear the house from the evenings debris and kept chuckling to myself that I had never done housework before naked.
I never put my clothes on through the day for the rest of the week and it was fantastic. We played Boules naked, swam naked, went to restaurants naked, shopped naked, and it was the most liberating feeling I have ever had.
No one judged or made you feel uncomfortable. And the evening entertainment was like nothing I had ever imagined in my life. We would just sit in a bar and people watch, the most amazing array of clothing and people I have ever seen.
At the airport on our way home my husband turned to me and said "well, we had a great time didnt we".
He does't usually like going on holiday so for him to say that meant that he really did have a good time.
I agreed, it was the most relaxing holiday we had ever had.
I do a little modelling at home (I am a mature 53 year old with curves!), I have recently joined the RAMM website for artists models, including life drawings.
I would never dreamed of doing that before I went away on this holiday. It has opened up a whole new world.
We are now booked to go back with our friend's in September........ I cant wait......... One thing is for sure, my suitcase will be much lighter the next trip!!
A new Nudist Experience!
A few years ago, whilst holidaying in Gran Canaria, I was wandering along the long sandy beaches at Playa del Ingles, enjoying the combination of the hot sun and the fresh sea air, when it dawned on me that I was being continually overtaken by hordes of people that weren’t admiring the scenery, but were purposefully striding into the distance.
“Where are all these people going?” I mused, “There doesn’t appear to be anything worth heading towards.”
Curious, I decided to follow them, wondering why so many people would want to flock away from these beautiful surroundings.
After a couple of miles of quick-stepping along the sand, many of the people I was following started to slow down, and drift away from the sea shore towards some sand dunes.
“This doesn’t make any sense” I thought to myself “Why leave that lovely beach back in Playa del Ingles, to come all the way here and to visit some dunes?”
Then I realised that people were taking off their swimwear and not replacing it. Also, there didn’t seem to be any attempt to conceal their own nudity.
It then further dawned on me that the people lying on the sun loungers were also naked…they hadn’t been visible from the sea front. It was obviously a nudist beach.
Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I walked back to the waters edge. I felt uncomfortable because I was clothed, ok it was just a pair of shorts, but I also didn’t want to appear as if I was some sort of peeping pervert.
I carried on walking, at a much slower pace, taking in the interesting images. By now, I must have entered the heart of the nudist beach area,
because there were naked people everywhere, all shapes and sizes, all ages, all looking quite normal, apart from their nudity.
Nakedness everywhere, in the sea, surrounding the beach bar, playing ball games on the sand, everyone doing exactly as they would on a normal beach, only in the nude.
They must be Weirdo’s, I thought to myself, and carried on walking towards, what I came to know as Maspalomas.
As I left the naturist part of the beach, it seemed almost strange to see people with their swimsuits on. I sort of missed the comparative freedom that I had seen with the naked people earlier.
After a Tapas style lunch, and quite a few pints of Tropical beer to quench my thirst after the long walk, I decided to head back to the apartment at Playa de Ingles, conveniently passing the naturist beach on the way.
Filled with bravado caused by the Spanish beer, I had made my mind up that I too, wanted to experience being naked on a beach.
However, as I got nearer, my stomach tightened. Fingers of panic started to set in, although I didn’t know why. Was it some form of deep rooted insecurity?
I took a deep breath and strode into the nudist area.
As I located an empty lounger, I was grateful that the majority of naked sun worshipers were snoozing in the mid afternoon sun, so there wouldn’t be too many to witness my initial stripping-off.
As removed my clothes, I remembered to my horror, that because I had been swimming and sunbathing earlier with my trunks on. I had “White bits.”
In fact, as I took off my shorts, it looked as though I still had a pair of Very White trunks on, because the sun hadn’t christened that particular area!
I put a towel over the sun-lounger, and feeling awkward at the newness of this novel situation, lay back and tried to relax.
“Excuse me, do you have the time?”
Irritated, I opened my eyes to see a naked bearded guy, sitting on the next lounger along, pointing to his wrist.
We ended up having a long conversation about holidays, cars and football. He introduced me to his wife who had just woken up, and it turned out that it was their first time on a nudist beach too.
As the subject came round to naturism, I suddenly realised that I had been sat chatting to this couple, and had almost forgotten that I was naked, and furthermore, wasn’t really noticing their nudity!
We swum naked in the sea, which was a wonderful experience, but it was strange to see clothed people walking by, giving us a similar look to one that I was probably giving a few hours earlier!
For me that was it.
For the rest of the holiday I did the route march from Playa del ingles to Maspalomas, and spent each day on the nudist beach, deepening my all-over tan and relaxing in the glorious sunshine.
By the end of the holiday, now feeling confident amongst my new-found nudist friends, I looked at passing holiday makers in traditional
beach attire, and thought:..
“What are those weirdo’s doing with their clothes on!”
The Accidental Nudist
I think It was in the summer of 1980 when I accidentally had my first nudist experience.
I was living in Kent at the time, and had decided to go for a head-clearing walk after a particularly tough week at work.
I made my way through the village of Darenth and kept up a manly stride along some long narrow lanes, alone with my thoughts.
After some time, it dawned on me that I had kept walking and not seen another being, just the occasional car.
It further dawned on me that it was now bloody hot with the combination of the physical effort, and the midday sun, and boy, was I thirsty. The trouble was that having walked so far, it seemed pointless just to turn back and I considered my best bet was to hope to come across a country pub where I could get a drink and then get a taxi back.
After about another half hour, a car drew slowly next to me, containing two females.
The older one shouted " Are you heading for the club?"
I immediately imagined some sort of golf or rugby club which surely must offer liquid refreshment,so I lied "Yes"
Read the rest of "the Accidental Nudist" here on this site
My first time as a naturist
My first time was in the mid 50's when I took the plunge and attended
a International Naturist Convention being held at the Duke of Bedfords.
I had borrowed my brothers small tent and set it up, surrounded by several children who were highly amused at my efforts of erecting this tent. However their friendliness and laughter etc, put me at ease and soon ..
Read the rest of "my first time as a naturist
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