The Nude Beach on Cres

Author's note: This was my eighth trip to Europe. They say that the jet lag means less every time you fly the pond, but I don't think that's true. What I do think is that we learn to live with it, but that our bodies still feel it, every time.

The focus is to be on one day, one day only. Here's the story of that day.

* * * * *

I woke up in a strange place, uncertain where I was. As I awakened, I realized that I was at my brother's house, in the village of Cres, on the Adriatic island of the same name. Cres lies on the Dalmatian coast, off mainland Croatia. Brother Don and I had driven from Frankfurt to Croatia on the same day that I arrived in Europe - a twelve hour drive after an all night flight over the Atlantic, a drive that included crossing the Alps - and ferried with his Audi over to the island.

His house is a two level apartment row house on an ancient village street, too narrow for cars. It had been a convent. There are shops and restaurants just paces away, and a small courtyard that echoes every sound coming from any of the surrounding buildings. Here, in the courtyard, the neighbors sit and do nothing but drink, talk and relax.

It was around 8:00 a.m. that morning, euro time, which is like early tomorrow this side of the Atlantic. Not a creature was stirring in that house, in my brother's beach house, there in the pedestrian only area of the village of Cres, where Roman stones formed the walkway toward my brother's front door. I got my ass up and I got moving. A block or so away, I found a coffee bar, and I had a morning espresso. I had not had a coffee in the two years since I kicked caffeine, but I didn't care. 48 hours out of JFK, after that too long drive down from Frankfurt, I was about as dazed as I could be. Then, in the rising sun, I wandered around the old town of Cres.

Next thing I knew I was at the stone church, which had a high square tower and which was the focal point of the town. The church was open, I went in. The Stations of the Cross were a thousand years old and truly unique. I walked the Stations of the Cross; I studied the representations of Jesus Christ, being cared for by the different women of Jerusalem as he walked his final journey. I wondered as I prayed. What about the people who had been stuck there, stuck there on that island, people who for this reason or that could not leave, generations who lived and died there, before cars, when the tiny fishing village was a place to escape from and not a place to escape to.

It was a Roman town, back in Roman times, and parts of the place probably looked the same to me as it did to some Roman thousands of years ago. It was and is a fishing village, with a bay and a small harbor. Pirates combed these islands during Roman times. Julius Caesar was probably held here when he was kidnapped as a youth. I finished my prayers, crossed myself with holy water, and I left the church.

I have always enjoyed the morning sun, and the sun that day was a sun to enjoy. I went back to the house, changed into my bathing suit, left my wallet and passport behind, and headed out for a walk along the beach. Close to town, the beach is developed. A paved path, like a bike path in the USA, runs out from the small harbor along the coastline. There are restaurants here and there, nice houses on the water, some shops. But the beach itself is shit. No sand, only rocks. No surf. And the rocks are quite sharp. I was wearing my sandals and wishing that I had a pair of beach shoes. Already, before 9 am, there were other morning sun worshippers out. I saw an occasional topless woman as I walked. Not surprising, I had seen topless women in Europe many times. Although the beach was rocky, the water was aqua blue and beautiful. The sea did not smell, no rotten fish, no salt water odors, and the water appeared quite clean.

There was an attractive couple buying juice at a beach store; so attractive that I took a second glance at them. The woman had on a maroon shift dress that hung from her shoulders like a long tee shirt. She was thin, maybe 5'6, but thin with shape. She had long brown hair and a striking face. The guy was dark haired and a little taller than my 6'1. I guessed them to be late 20s, maybe 30.

My intention was to take a very long walk and to get some exercise. Jet lag and my over indulgence in wine needed to be balanced out. The path along the beach was a paved sidewalk, some concrete, some blacktop. Bicycles passed, and I watched the petals crank the wheels. The path seemed to go on forever. I watched, I walked. After an hour's hike, I came to an area where there was a campground. I saw people waking up, stepping out into the morning light, drinking coffee. The day was surprisingly bright, a sky clear blue sun hot day, common maybe there but not common to me. Kids were already in the water. Some of the kids were nude and it seemed quite natural.

As I continued down the path, I came to an area where open nudity was permitted. There were no signs, not like France or California, nothing said "nudity OK." It was a campground of a sort, adjacent to the water. There were small trailer houses that may have been rental units, I didn't know, but the people were standing around nude, making small talk with one another. For the most part they were older, unattractive people. They sported distorted shapes that I found no pleasure in seeing clothed or not. It was embarrassing to look at them, stomachs hanging out, smoking cigarettes, drinking styrofoam cups of coffee. My pace quickened.

`Walking further out I rounded a corner or two, and I found a nice area set up for sunbathing. The beach there was extremely rocky, big sharp rocks interspaced with small rocks. To overcome the rocks' surface someone created concrete sunbathing plots in the 150 feet or so between the bike path and the sea. These were poured level pads, each about the size of a king sized bed. They were spaced at different height levels near the water, about 15 feet or so apart. (OK, they were spaced like Spock's chess game on the Star Trek series - don't mean to date myself.) Some of the better perches were secluded and could not be seen from the bike path. Some were clearly placed to be seen from the path, which no doubt brought its share of gawkers on a beautiful June Saturday.

A couple was walking behind me, they followed me close for several minutes, after I passed them first from behind. They were attractive, early thirties I thought, she had dark red hair worn in a short style, and she wore black sunglasses; he was burly with a full trimmed beard. Along the water, a family of three were posing for pictures - a man, a woman and a young teen age girl - with their bathing suits on. The mom was fat but the young girl was just coming of age, thin, maybe 15 years old. In an instant they each stripped and posed for the same group pictures in the nude. The teenager had perky budding breasts and a wisp of blond hair at the top of her thin thighs. Then I noticed the couple behind me stop and climb toward one of the sunbathing platforms. I walked on, where I came upon a very attractive woman close to the path. She had long dark hair. As I approached, she stripped her bright blue bikini off while stretching out on a lounge chair. The woman saw me approaching her and she opened her legs. She looked up and smiled at me, and her smile invited me to study her nudity. The people in this area of the beach were, for the most part, very good looking. But more than that, they were exhibitionists showing off their good looks.

I stopped for a second. Turning around, I decided to head back. At that instant, it was too much for me. I felt that I was abusing these folks' privacy, I felt odd and I felt out of place. There was no reason for this, I thought, I am a handsome guy. I didn't need to behave like some geek, looking for a quick thrill. I started back, and walked 30 yards or so. Then I saw that the day had really come alive - it was about 11 a.m. - and there were many attractive women, and couples, sunning in the nude. For me it was a sight to behold: beautiful nudes, the sun and the sea.

With a changed mind I climbed to one of the concrete sunbathing platforms. I found a nice spot, not far from the path, with a nice view of the sunbathers and the sea. I sat for a second and I looked around. There was a 35ish blond 15 feet on my left, on my right there was an attractive couple, and 50 feet away were the couple that I had been walking near earlier. The blond said "hello" to me, in English, which is a normal greeting everywhere I've been. At the point of commitment, I stripped. I was not reluctant at all. If these folks could do it, so could I. I laid back. Turning, I leaned toward the blond so that we faced each other. I watched her; I showed myself to her while she showed herself to me. It was very relaxing to feel the suns rays warm all of my body. I wasn't sexually excited or aroused, at least not in the typical way, but there was excitement in both the exhibitionist and the voyeur aspects that I was experiencing.

I rolled to face the other way. On that side the couple, that were earlier walking near me, were spreading beach towels. I watched as they took their clothes off. They looked around, standing, showing off. They were staking out their territory. The gal with the dark red hair removed her blouse and shorts, while standing, and then she removed her bra and panties. She had a perfect physique, a firm round fanny, trim legs, medium sized natural breasts and nice facial features. She lifted her sunglasses up into her hair, and with hands on hips, she stared out over the sea. Her male friend, who was quite hairy but in good shape, stood proud next to her. What a pleasure it was to look at that attractive couple, a nude male and female, by the water in the sun.

At the spot where I chose, the rocks were extremely jagged. But there was a worn path to the water. That path went right next to the bathing pad that I was on. To swim, nudists walked right by me. The first couple that came by stopped, said hello, and virtually examined me while posing to get my approval. They welcomed me. The guy was a little overweight, they were about 40, but she was holding up very well. She had firm high breasts, a pretty face, died blond hair and a shapely ass. At the time it didn't occur to me, but these people were probably all regulars, who probably went there every sunny weekend day, and I was the stranger in their territory. As the gal stayed close to me, the guy went in the water. Then he tossed his plastic beach shoes back to his wife as she stood a few feet in front of me. She faced me, she turned, she opened her legs, then she bent down to pick up the plastic shoes. She pointed her fanny at me - she showed me her body from every angle - as her husband watched her and watched me enjoying her.

I laid back, comfortably, and viewed the scene. It was as if I felt that I fit in with this group of exhibitionists. I am confident about my own nudity. At nearly 6'2, my weight is about 190. I have broad shoulders, I keep my body hair trimmed short, and I possess a good size cock. I worked out at the Y three times a week for that moment, I did one hundred sit ups a day for four months. Relaxing in the sun, I rotated again, this time to face the bike path. Tourists, gawkers, clothed people with cameras, including many women, were stopping along the path, gazing at the nudists, and they were gazing at me too. The situation had been reversed, and it was fun.

The sunbathing pad immediately next to me had towels spread out, like someone had claimed it, but no one was there. That spot was more secluded, it was tucked behind large rocks and hidden from the bike path. Then, to my amazement, the same attractive couple that I had seen in town, buying juice, climbed onto that spot. I was a single nude male, perhaps the only single male nudist around. I lay facing them as they arrived in their space. They poked around for a few minutes, with some hesitancy. I was close enough to see that they were not wearing wedding rings and to hear their whispers. The gal then lifted her dress off, facing me, and the guy started undressing too. They had bathing suits beneath their clothes. But they didn't pick that spot to wear bathing suits. He hesitated, she didn't. She took the lead and removed her purple bikini; first the top, to reveal firm breasts on a thin frame. Her long brown hair fell down her back. Next, she tugged the bottom half of her suit down to her knees, then she sat back and removed the panty portion. As she sat, she spread her legs wide directly in front of me. This woman was stunning, absolutely stunning, in her beauty. I stared at her trimmed mound as I lay nude fifteen feet from them. The guy still had his suit on. I couldn't figure it out, why she took the lead in stripping. Maybe he was aroused - or so I guessed - by his girlfriend's nudity and a little embarrassed by his arousal. But after 10 minutes, minutes that included other nude couples climbing in and out of the water right in front of us, he stood up and removed his black bathing suit. At that moment, the most attractive couple that I had seen in Cres was nude before my eyes and were displaying themselves for my enjoyment. They kissed, they caressed, they looked over at me, smiled and said hello. As they sat facing each other, she placed her hand on his penis, they talked and they laughed, but they were not speaking English. I wondered what they said.

Then they decided to take a swim. Standing up, they each pranced around a little bit, showing off. The guy was thin, trim, he had thick dark hair and his cock hung long. He climbed on top of a large rock and he dove into the water, smacking his balls against the surf. But the gal chose the slow climb into the water, which put her within inches of where I lay. When she was nearest to me, facing me, she stopped. She arched her back a little, her nipples appeared hard and aroused, her legs were open. At that distance - she was two feet from my face - I literally examined her. She stood for me, making certain that I saw everything about her nudity. I stared at her stiff mound, she posed, as she enjoyed her exhibitionist side, proudly showing her nude self to an absolute stranger. Her eyes found my penis. I opened my legs wide, encouraging her to visually enjoy me as I was enjoying her. This went on for a few minutes, like a ritual dance of a sort. Then she crept into the water, bending down, legs open, so that I could see her wide crotch through her butt. They swam for a few minutes, and then they climbed back slowly to their spot, again passing within my reach as they went by me. Once back in their spot, they started to kiss and embrace. Her left hand again touched his penis, but the guy got anxious and he put his suit back on. She said something to him I didn't understand, she stretched out nude, grabbed a magazine, and began reading.

I rolled over to balance the sun tanning. Maybe there's a rule against sex on this nude beach, I thought. They must have rules. None of the real nudists took pictures, and I didn't see anyone engaged in sexual activity.

There were two women on my left, the blond and a woman who looked like she could be her sister. They were speaking German. The blond also decided to take a swim, and she strolled to within inches of my face. Like the others, she made sure that I saw every inch of her anatomy, while she examined mine. I willingly opened my legs and moved for her, she studied my penis, my muscular chest and arms, I looked as closely at her as I could. Then a man came to swim with her, and they tiptoed towards the water. He was fat and overweight, and I assumed he was her husband. She made faces about him, as she posed for me, and as she cast her eyes on my body. They swam far out in the water, and back. As she exited the water, she went by me again. It was an enjoyable vision. Once back to their sunbathing spot, the fat man said something to the other of the two women, and he left with her, leaving the blond woman near me. She watched me watching her, and she smiled to show me that she did not mind my observation.

I had been there for at least a couple of hours, and although I was loving it, I felt that I should go back to my brother's house. Also, I was getting a lot of sun, especially on my shaved head. I put my bathing suit back on, hitched my sandals, took a last look at my neighbors, and headed back down the bike path toward Cres. As I walked back, there were many more nudists out, doing all the normal activities of any campsite. I walked past another stretch of "beach" that had no sunbathing pads, which was right next to the path. The nude sunbathers used aluminum folding lounge chairs to stay free from the rocks. In this stretch of the nude beach, the women were also very attractive, but in a different way. I saw a bleached blond with a body too good to be real lying on a yellow lounge chair. Her legs were spread wide, showing her dark pussy hair. The guy she was with had thick features and a bent nose. I imagined that he was the bouncer in the bar where she stripped. He gave me that "don't look at my chick" threatening stare. I kept walking back to town.

A hour later I had returned to my brother's house. I found my wallet and headed over to the store to buy some wine. When I came back, I poured myself a glass of wine and I chatted with Don about the nude beach. We lounged around for about an hour, drinking my bottle of Croatian white wine. When we finally left, we had already finished the bottle of wine. Don and I went back to the corner store and I bought 2 more bottles of local white wine, which was priced the equivalent of around $2 per bottle. We also picked up some bread, and two varieties of local cheese.

My brother and I then walked out of the town to the beach. We stopped along the path at a really nice area that included an olive grove, nestled right by the sea. There were a few benches and a table or two among the olive trees. Don and I sat down, and I opened one of the bottles of wine. We made small sandwiches with the cheese. But he wasn't much interested in my wine. I drank most of that bottle in an ideal setting, looking out on the Adriatic Sea from an ancient olive grove.

Don wanted to go back to town.. Myself, I wanted to return to the nudist area. It's my vacation, so I did what I wanted to do. I told Don that I would be back in about an hour, and I took the last bottle of wine. I headed back to where I was that morning. I knew where to go, but I was getting pretty well lit, drinking wine in the sun during the heat of the day. The Croatian wine was strong, too, not like the gas station wine I had on previous trips to Croatia.

Soon I found an area where there were several beautiful women, mostly in couples with guys. I parked myself on a different concrete pad, stripped, and realized that the best way to see these women would be from the water. The prettiest gals were right on the water. So I went swimming, doing the same "walk by me to get to the water" thing that I had seen that morning. It was the first time that I had actually swam in the Adriatic. The water was clear and not that salty. As I stood up in the water, I stepped on the first of many spiny sea urchins. I pulled the damn thing from my foot, cursing and wondering how much venom was entering my system. Getting in and out of the water, I examined two very attractive nude couples who were displaying themselves. They spread out as I came by, they smiled, they stared closely at my body. It was just like the morning, they were attractive exhibitionists and voyeurs, and so was I. It was both relaxing and stimulating. No doubt that the stimulation was sexual, but I did not feel sexually aroused.

It was mid afternoon and I decided to walk further out. I pulled my suit and sandals on and walked toward the spot where I had laid in the morning. To my surprise, I found the exact spot, and the same people were still there from the morning. However, the pad where I had been laying was now occupied. There lay a single blond gal, a nice looking gal, alone and nude, whom I had not seen before. My guess is that she was late thirties, maybe 40 years old. She had the quality I look for in women: permanent good looks. Fortunately the next pad was empty and I climbed toward it. I was happily gazing away, more than a little tipsy.