This is the story of how I went from a prude, to nude and finally to rude. For those readers who expect a lot of immediate sexual activity, this may disappoint. Nudism did lead me to sexual awakenings, but it did not happen all that quickly. I recommend that you read my recollections from the beginning to understand better the context.
*****
It was just after 8 a.m. and I was cozy in my sleeping bag listening to the birdsong fill the camping ground. This was the start of my third day at the naturist retreat and the morning sun had not yet warmed the air, nor woken any of the other eight campers - hardly surprising after the late night dancing they had all enjoyed evening before.
I reflected with a little amazement how quickly my first nudist experience had progressed. Only two days earlier I had first taken my clothes off outside (albeit alone as I was the only camper there at the time). Since then I had walked naked through the bush, swam in the pool, had my photo taken nude by the owner Dave, watched him photograph his wife Sabrina's ass, taken a photo of a guy named Greg and seen his spontaneous erection, shared a nude BBQ with 10 people, danced with them, and danced close with the aforementioned Greg and felt his erection press against me, and late in the night, was pretty sure I heard my neighbours in the next tent having threeway sex. Perhaps that all that was nothing too outrageous for a nudist camp, but for me it was all very new and challenging. Still, I thought to myself, I'd come here to change my life and build up my confidence in myself and my body, and it certainly was doing that. And everyone had been so laid-back, accepting and non-threatening that I felt welcome and safe - and I had the best part of a week still to enjoy.
I could have lazed in my cozy tent for hours yet, but nature called and I had to go to the ablutions block. I crawled through the zip door and momentarily pondered if it was cool enough to wear at least a t-shirt. The camp rules stated clearly that it was a nudist - not clothing optional - resort, but how far was that enforced, I wondered. Surely even naturists must cover up sometime; the weather was not always perfect. Then as I stretched, I realised how comfortable it really was to be naked. I liked the complete freedom of movement; even my breasts free of restriction and swaying to and fro seemed more comfortable and a part of me than they ever had before. In the end I reasoned that as I'd be soon naked in the shower anyway, why bother dressing for a 20 metre walk.
I grabbed my biggest towel and my toiletries and walked across the dew-damp grass to the main shower block. I could still smell some lingering smoke from the campfire the night before, and its mingling with the fresh smell of eucalypt was at once earthy and somehow fresh. From the other four tents strung in a row between mine and the ablutions block, not a sound could be heard.. The block was quite large: inside, three private toilet cubicles ranged along one wall, and opposite them, four showers. I noted that while two of the showers had doors, the other two were completely open to the public gaze. Along the end wall was a long large mirror, below which were four hand basins and some power outlets. As I went into one of the toilets, I realised one of the closed showers was running and a towel was draped over its door. Here was another issue I had to confront - bathroom privacy. All through my school years I had avoided communal showers and change rooms, and had always been acutely embarrassed to think that anyone might be able to hear me 'tinkle' while using a public toilet. Were nudists just as casual around bathrooms as they were elsewhere? To me, those things were still very intimate and private.
Nevertheless - nature called, and she called urgently. I used the toilet and then went into one of the closed shower cubicles. I gave my hair a badly needed wash (it smelt like campfire) and luxuriated in the hot water for quite a long time. All sense of coldness left me and I soon felt re-charged and ready for the day. I pondered putting on some make-up but decided I had no one to impress - sun block was all I needed.
When I came out of the shower and headed to the basins to brush my teeth, I discovered who the other early riser was. Standing by the wash basins was Daryl, the tall bald guy with the very large cock (and who I had heard having some kind of sex with the couple Bruce and Steph the night before in their tent).
"Oh, good morning," I said, taking up a spot at another basin. "Looks like another lovely day."
"Hey there," he smiled over his shoulder. "And all those other pikers are wasting it by sleeping in."
"I don't want to waste a single moment," I agreed. "The weather is too nice."
I got out my things and began to brush my teeth. Daryl had his things scattered all over the wash basin bench and was busy shaving. But his face was already smooth - he was shaving his tescticles! I'm sure my eyes must have widened at the sight of it; Daryl caught my reflection in the mirror and gave me a sort of apologetic smile.
"Just tidying up a bit," he said.
He had his scrotum lightly covered in shaving cream and was slowly running his razor blade over his balls from back to front. His other hand held his cock up and out of the way. He was sort of half bent over so he could see what he was doing and had an intense look of concentration on his face.
Barely able to look away I tried to act cool.
"Umm ... be careful," I said half jokingly. "You'll look funny if you cut yourself and have to wear a band-aid."
"Oh, I'm always careful," he replied and winked at me before going back to the task.
I continued to brush my teeth - slowly. Daryl had after all the biggest cock I had ever seen (Okay, I had only seen six, and all in the last two days). He held it kind of backhanded just below the glans; the glans that seemed almost twice the circumference of the thick shaft they surmounted, like the hat of a long flesh coloured mushroom. The skin was an even tone all over and seemed to have none of the ridges and veins that made Bruce's cock look so angry. I brushed and brushed and Daryl continued to ever so gently and slowly shave his balls - balls that to me looked too small for his thick and long (how long I wondered? Easily five inches completely flaccid ) cock. If he was gentle with his balls, he certainly did not take the same care with his cock. He gripped it like a baseball bat (the simile is apt) and tugged it this way and that to get it out of his way and I was somewhat amazed at how rough he was with it. Weren't cocks sensitive? I had always assumed that they were as delicate as the flesh of my own pussy, yet Daryl treated his like a piece of tough leather.
He caught me staring in the mirror and gave a little shrug. His cock grew noticeably thicker in his hand. It lengthened and fattened until even his large hand could barely hold it. In another moment I was sure he had a full erection. It was simply enormous! Three inches of shaft protruded from his fist, topped by the head that looked like rose coloured tennis ball. He continued to shave, but my toothbrush was frozen in my mouth - and I stood there like a dummy, unable to drag my eyes away from his cock.
"Err," I don't want to be rude," he said softly. "But if you go around staring like that at guys, they might often react like this."
"Oh god, I'm sorry."
"No need to apologise," he said. "But these things," here he nodded toward his cock, "have a mind of their own and seem to know when they are being watched."
"I really didn't mean to..."
"Yeah I know," he said. "Look, this is just a little friendly advice. Men are all horndogs and we are prone to think even a curious look from lady is an invitation for more. You're new to nudism I know, so I wouldn't want your first time here to be a bad experience. And by the way, it's I who should be apologising to you. An unwanted erection is not exactly acceptable here."
I looked down and saw that his cock had softened a lot as he spoke - it was almost flaccid once again.
"How did you do that?" I asked.
"What?"
"You know, make it go all floppy again." Another aspect of my ignorance (and God only knows where I got the idea) was that men, once they had an erection, could only rid themselves of it by ejaculating. Now Daryl's cock had gone from soft to hard to soft again in just minute or two.
Daryl laughed - not unkindly though.
"Believe me," he said. "It takes a lot of control." (he was glancing at my boobs) "Usually I think about cricket, or my Auntie Ruth - that normally shuts me down."
He laughed a very self-conscious laugh. "Really," he said. "I'm very sorry about the erection. You are the last person I'd hit on here."
Perhaps it was meant as a reassurance, but the words struck me like a unexpected slap in the face. I suddenly felt embarrassed, insulted. Dumpy little Kasumi was not someone Daryl could ever seriously fancy? The two days of confidence building I had gone through unravelled and I saw myself in the mirror - mortified and , and . Saggy boobs, big butt, short legs - no man's ideal.
I grabbed all my stuff and mumbled that I had to go. Daryl tried to speak again but I was already walking as fast as I could back to my tent, my towel wrapped around me and tears threatening to burst out. I was thinking of getting dressed straight away and driving home. Home to the safety and comfort of my parents' house
_
Back in my tent I threw on a tank-top and crept into my sleeping bag. I didn't exactly break down and cry but I was on the verge of it for quite a while. I knew I was over-reacting, and that made it even worse. But as I lay there, I thought about what I had experienced and achieved since my arrival at the retreat, and I determined to stick it out. It must be said that there was a little of my mother in the decision too - after all, I had paid for my week in advance and she would be scandalised if I wasted that money.
A little while later I realised I was hungry and I left my tent and got to work with my little gas stove and made some breakfast. By then the other campers were all up and about: Stew and Barb were cleaning up after their own breakfast, John and Moira were sitting out the front of their own tent, sharing coffee with Greg and reading magazines, and Bruce and Steph were just across the way from me, lazing out the front of their sumptuous tent in large collapsible and comfy looking loungers - Daryl was in the third lounger - laying back with his eyes closed. Naturally, everyone was naked and began to feel silly in my tank-top. I peeled it off, poured another cup of tea for myself and sat in the warming morning sun; Bruce and Steph gave me a friendly good morning wave and I responded in kind.
The morning went by lazily, nobody seemed inclined to do much at all. Around 11 o'clock, bored with my novel and feeling the need for some form of activity, I took myself to the pool area and waded into the water. Despite growing up in Australia, where we are all supposed to be outdoor athletes, I was not a champion swimmer, and after a few half -hearted laps of the small pool, I contented myself with dog-paddling around and just enjoying the feeling of the cool water on my bare skin.
I was floating serenely when I heard a splash behind me. A man had just dove into the pool; the last man I felt like seeing just then - Daryl. I swam to the further end of the pool, but he followed me.
"Hey Kasumi," he said as he surfaced next to me. "Can we talk?"
"About?" I asked, gripping the tiled edge of the pool and hiding my body as much as I could from him,"
"Well," he began, moving closer to me. "This morning at the showers. I think I may have offended you - and I want to apologise."
"Offended me?"
"Yeah, you know," he nodded toward his crotch, "The erection."
"Is THAT why you think I was offended?" I was astounded at how dense men were.
