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.
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The sun was beating down and flashing through the trees as I drove the last few dirt miles to the bushland retreat. I had worried that my little Hyundai, laden with camping gear, and an abundance of food, drinks and ice, might not make it through the rough country roads, but she had handled it all with hardly a complaint. I wondered now if I would be as resilient as she once I reached the end of the bumpy, sandy road that led - in less than 5 minutes - to my destination.
The retreat, hidden away in the hinterlands, was beautifully advertised online as a 'nature retreat' where one could walk in the beautiful australian bush, dip one's toes in pristine waterfalls, admire native fauna and flora, and enjoy the best of peaceful and comfortable camping. All that was enticing and welcoming to a young woman stressed out with years of study, work and yet more study, and I SHOULD by rights be feeling the relaxation seep into my bones already. But I was so, so far from relaxed. Because as well as being the seemingly idyllic locale for my week long holiday - the retreat was also a Naturist (not 'clothing optional') Resort.
The butterflies in my tummy at that moment were flapping up a storm, I really, really needed to stop for a nervous pee, and I considered for the 50th time just doing a U-turn and driving the 5 long hours back to Sydney. "Just what the hell," I asked myself again, "was I doing here?"
The answer to that was complex. To understand the decision that had brought me to this place you need to know a little about me. I was 24, single ( for single read 'virgin') I had been raised in a loving, supporting family, had excelled at High School and University, had just embarked on what looked to be a successful career, and life should have been about 'as good as it gets'. Yet it wasn't.
What I'd learnt about myself in my first real full-time job is that I didn't have what it takes to succeed - and what it takes is confidence. I'm not going to say I had a lot of 'body issues', but my introverted character was undoubtedly related to how I looked. I was ... a little overweight. Not fat, not by most standards anyway, but as a girl of Asian heritage, I'd always been bigger than my friends. Not tall, not obese, just what my mum would call 'chubby'. I had a roundish face, a largish bottom, biggish thighs and (to my continuous embarrassment during my school years ) a very large bosom for someone of my height. So much was I conscious of my body shape, I spent most of my formative years covering up and avoiding sports and anything that might require revealing myself, including swimming and sunbathing. In fact I had only ever owned one swimsuit - a large black, shapeless monstrosity that I wore under sufferance at our annual school swimming carnivals.
So, what was I doing here? I was on a quest to learn to be comfortable in my own body. A year earlier I'd heard some people at work talking about their weekend on a nudist beach. I'd never even thought such places really existed, and at home that night - after a glass or two of wine - I'd googled it. As often happens, one internet page led to another and I stayed up half the night reading about naturism, nudism, FKK and whatever the movement called itself. I downloaded a few books from amazon and the subject and read them voraciously - this was a world I'd never imagined. I wasn't really convinced of the endless denials in the literature that nudism 'was not about sex', and I only half believed the stuff about it being a healthy alternative lifestyle. What truly fascinated me were the photographs. On beaches, in woods, at resorts and campgrounds, people of all shapes and sizes relaxed naked and smiled confidently back at the camera. And I mean ALL shapes and sizes. It was such a revelation to me. People were not all gorgeous, slim and toned. People were not all the bikini models that had haunted me my whole life with their seemingly unattainable and unsustainable perfect physiques. Their nudity not only made them seem more real than the ideals that advertising pushed, they actually looked more confident, happy and accepting. For the first time in a long while that night I stripped naked and looked at myself in a full length mirror. I had the sudden revelation that I was OK! Just another perfectly acceptable shape on the human spectrum. I had an overwhelming desire to join these nudists, to be accepted in my own skin.
I woke up the next day, and chickened out. And kept chickening out for months.
I found out where the local nude beaches where and tried every week to pluck up the courage to visit one, But I never did. I made myself plenty of excuses: I couldn't go alone, I'd be too shy. I couldn't go with a friend, I'd be too self-conscious. What if there were sex-pests there? What if I bumped into someone from work? So many reasons kept me from the beach, but the fascination with naturism remained.
So, I opted for a resort. The one I finally chose looked safe, clean and not too crowded. And I figured, as I'd be camping there, I'd always have a tent to hide in if needed.
So here I was, almost at the gate to the retreat and really really needing that nervous tinkle. I stopped the car and scooted out to behind a tree on the side of the road. Hiking up my skirt and pulling down my knickers ( the first time believe it or not I had done so outside ) I did what I needed to do and then in an act of what I considered bravado, I slid the knickers off over my feet and threw them onto the back seat of the car. Bravado indeed! My skirt came down to below knee-length so there was nothing really all daring in what I'd done. Still, I felt it was a milestone.
That gave me pause for thought. I'd soon be at my destination and neither the website nor the emails I had exchanged with the owners had given me precise instructions regarding one thing. When does one actually get naked at a nudist resort? Before arriving? At the front desk? At the 5 o'clock cocktail party? I simply didn't know and did not want to offend the protocol.
Too late to worry now, I thought as my little car swung through the gate and into a new world.
Inside the gate, the retreat seemed already to live up to its name. It was an idyllic bush hideaway, complete with beautiful gum trees, wild flowers, birds flitting here and there and even a few kangeroos grazing shyly on what looked like the greenest softest grass I had ever seen. And that's all I saw: no nude volleyball players, no skinny dippers, no streakers - no one in fact. For a moment I thought I'd missed a turning and come to the wrong place. I drove toward what I assumed was the office, - a lovely homestead surrounded by verandahs and a huge sun deck. I heard voices shouting, 'Hi! You made it!' and I knew I really had.
A middle aged couple were walking hand-in-hand toward me. They were attractive, waving at me enthusiastically, and both stark naked. Naked except both wore trainers which seemed to draw even more attention to their bare skin. She was perhaps in her 40s, slim, dark and petite, I noticed almost unconsciously that her pussy was almost bare and her long hair almost but not quite covered her nipples. He was maybe a little older than her, neither thin nor fat, neither muscular nor underdeveloped - just a normal guy, I'm sure I must have seen his penis as they walked toward me, but in my excitement and confusion I honestly don't remember it. I just remember thinking, "This is it! I'm about to meet nude people!"
