"Neither did I," he replied. "How? Never mind, how about a coffee?"
We went over to the coffee shop. Numerous coffees later and a couple of hours of talking we had decided to be a couple, at least for the fortnight that our families had booked for the holiday. We spent most of the time hand in hand. I had some jealous glances from other younger women on the site. Alan's manhood seemed to salute almost all of them. If I had not been obviously Alan's girlfriend he might have been vulnerable to seduction by several single women, and some not so single. I was protecting him; he was protecting me as well because several men were attracted by my nude body.
That was twenty-six years ago. Less than a year later Alan and I were married. We went to a nudist camp in the South of France for our Spring honeymoon. Late summer we came back to this camp in Dorset. By the end of our week here I was pregnant with our first child. After the birth we tended go on family holidays to more conventional resorts. Neither of us were fanatic naturists. We weren't ashamed of our naked bodies but not dedicated to baring ourselves, especially during changeable English weather.
The warm weather after the peak school holiday season had decided us. We would go back to Dorset for the first time in twenty-five years if there was space at the camp. A quick internet search had shown that there were vacancies and a very cheap rate for a chalet for a week. But was that wise?
The site had improved almost beyond recognition. The chalets had been chilly wooden huts. Now they were solidly built with central heating and air conditioning. Many more areas were covered with space heating. The pond that had been the swimming hole had been replaced by a heated indoor swimming pool with hot tubs and spa facilities. What hadn't changed was that everyone was naked.
Alan was still in good physical shape except for a slight thickening around the waist. His tool still saluted attractive nude females if its rise was slower and not as vertical as it had been twenty-five years ago. I felt frumpy beside him. I had evidence of child-bearing with faint stretch marks and sagging well-used breasts. What hurt me most is that while Alan saluted passing females, he didn't react to my naked body as he did to them.
Over the rest of that first day I watched Alan's instinctive reaction every time. He responded to almost every woman of any age but not me. There were exceptions. The Jones family from our town that we had known since we first met them with our parents twenty-six years ago didn't cause any response. The wife was still attractive even in her sixties but Alan's tool didn't react to her. Nor, surprisingly, did it salute their adult daughters in their twenties even though they had some of the most attractive bodies on the site.
That evening we were sitting on the decking outside our chalet drinking the remains of the wine we had had with our evening meal when the young couple from the next chalet came to us.
They introduced themselves as Tom and Alice. Could we help? Their electricity had failed. They had thought it was a power cut but our chalet's lights were still on so it couldn't be a site-wide cut.
Alan asked a few questions and found out that they had bought a kettle in the local supermarket because the chalet's kettle seemed defective, taking a very long time to boil.
"That's your problem," he announced. "The kettle supplied is low power. A normal kettle uses more energy that the connection can supply. You just have to wait for the kettle to boil -- eventually. I'll reset your power box but you shouldn't use your new kettle."
