My First Naked Conversation
My first trip to a nude beach was relaxing, inspiring, exciting — everything. But I couldn’t just sit on the sand all day and read, I soon realized. I wanted to see the whole beach.
And really, it was more than that: I wanted to be out there. It wasn’t enough to just be nude, to sit passively and let the day pass me by. I needed to assert myself, my newly nude body.
There was also another factor: sandflies. Some relief from the tickling bugs on my legs and back for a little while would be welcome, too.
So I packed up my stuff — I had no idea if anyone would steal anything, but I figured it was less risky to carry my stuff with me. I probably shouldn’t have worried, because the park is a pretty safe place. But the thought of having my clothes stolen was too terrifying, so I draped my towel over one shoulder, slung my bag over the other, and went for a walk.
I could see in the distance, about two kilometres away, where the beach ended, tall cliffs blocked the way, jutting out into the edge of the lake. I …
