A few months ago I posted a non-fiction story here about the times that I'd been caught naked in public, where every single word was completely true. Today I'm pleased to say that I have another anecdote for you, where I tell the tale of how I ended up being the only naked person on a busy public beach. Again, this will be a shorter submission than usual, but hopefully it will be exciting enough given that everything here happened exactly as I've described it, down to the last detail.
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In case you'd forgotten, my last real-life submission ended with me being caught completely naked outside my family home by the next-door neighbour, who then told my parents what they'd seen. That sad day ended the run of daring public streaks that I'd been enjoying as a teenager, and the experience was so unpleasant that I promised myself I'd never try any form of public nudity ever again.
This summer I broke that promise.
It all started with a text from a friend. He'd been to a nude beach in Spain on holiday, and he told me about how much fun it had been sunbathing naked there. I'd never tried a nude beach before, and to be honest I'd never really been interested in going to one - I don't care about naturism or nudism as I only enjoy getting naked in public because I'm an exhibitionist, and I need the thrill and risk of being caught naked in places I shouldn't be. Nude beaches expect everyone to be naked, which in my opinion is boring and no challenge at all.
However, at the same time I had really started to miss my old nude adventures, when I used to run naked through the streets and parks around my house, and the sense of longing was only getting worse. I first started writing on here as a way to get my exhibitionism fix vicariously through my characters, but over the years I'd been getting increasingly tempted to try another public dare again. And so, out of curiosity, I Googled UK nude beaches to see what was out there. By complete coincidence there was one only a two-hour train journey away from London, in a city that my friend lived in. I was going to see her for dinner the following week, and so I decided, rather impulsively, that I'd get there early and give the nude beach a go.
A few days later I was on the train heading towards the coast, and I was feeling very nervous. I'd tried to read as much about the beach as possible, but there wasn't much information online. It had a few good reviews on Google maps, but nothing which told me what to expect, or how to act when I got there. With nothing to go on I'd decided to pack lightly - sunscreen, book, towel, but no swimsuit. I didn't want to give myself the option of chickening out, so I'd decided that I'd either let myself be fully dressed or totally nude, but nothing in-between.
Once I arrived at the seaside I left the station and followed the beach out of town, towards the 'naturist section' which was a thirty-minute walk along a path which ran parallel to the coast. I was getting progressively more apprehensive as I approached the huge artificial mound of pebbles which hid the nude beach from the main road, and I paused for a moment to take a picture of the metal signs which warned of potentially naked sunbathers ahead - I'd send that to my friend later to show him what he'd started.
I cut inside past the signs and stepped out onto the pebbled beach, climbing over the lip of the mound until suddenly I saw them - five totally naked men, laid out on the beach right there in front of me. I stopped in my tracks, and one of them looked up and frowned at me when he saw me standing there. Embarrassed I blushed, turned away, and quickly started to walk around them, giving the nudists a wide berth. I couldn't believe how casual it all was - one minute you're walking along a public beach, packed with tourists and families, and then next thing you know there's five dicks staring back at you.
Feeling a little intimidated I carried on along the beach, away from the line of naked men. The naturist section was only about two-hundred metres in length, with a couple of signs at each end to mark the boundaries. The tall pebble mound meant that the beach sloped down towards the water in a wave-like manner, creating three distinct flatter tiers where people were sunbathing, with sharper declines in-between them. The five naked men were all on the highest level, so I quickly headed down towards the sea and stumbled my way onto the second smoother tier.
I set down my towel, took off my trainers, and then took stock of the situation. The first issue I identified was that all of the naked people were men, and I mean literally every single one. I'd read online that the beach was a bit of a gay scene, and as such fewer women tended to frequent the naturist section, but I still hadn't expected to see no naked women at all. Looking down I could see that the lowest tier also had maybe six or seven nude guys there, lounging around on their backs, and even though there were some women on the beach they were all dressed in at least shorts and t-shirts.
The second issue was that it clearly wasn't a nude beach. Although it was described online and on the signs as 'naturist', in reality it was very much clothing optional, and most people had opted to stay fully dressed. Some were in swimsuits but most were just in their street clothes, and it certainly wasn't the full nudist experience that my friend had enjoyed in Spain.
The third issue was that the naturist section was still connected to the normal beach at both ends, with a path running straight through the middle tier. That meant that there was a near constant stream of fully dressed passers-by strolling past the naked sunbathers, passing just metres from them as they walked along the seafront.
In short it was not what I'd been expecting. Only ten percent of people there were naked, one hundred percent of those were guys, and there was no privacy from the general public at all. Feeling a little put out I opened my book, put on my sunglasses so it wasn't too obvious when I was checking out and comparing the guys' dick sizes, and read for a while. I wasn't ready to leave yet, having walked so far, but I definitely wasn't ready to get naked under such extreme circumstances. To compromise I decided to take off my shirt and shorts, and sit there on my towel in my underwear for a while. I wasn't showing off anything more than a swimsuit would, but at least it was something, and the sun on my legs and stomach did feel good.
I probably stayed there procrastinating for about an hour, trying to work up the courage to take the rest of my clothes off. I hadn't done anything exhibitionist-y for years, and I found myself feeling surprisingly self-conscious whenever a group of strangers walked past me, even though I wasn't even naked yet. I'd only arrived at the seaside at around two in the afternoon, so soon it began to cool down and the beach started to get quieter. A lot of the naked men got dressed as it got cloudier, and I realised that I didn't have long left. I'd have to leave in an hour or so to meet my friend in town, and with the weather getting more overcast the thought of taking off any more clothes was getting less and less appealing.
In the end I decided that I was being a coward, and so I decided to give myself a challenge - I would force myself to get naked and see if I could last an hour, then I'd call it a day and leave.
First I picked up my stuff and walked down to the lowest tier, nearer the water. Most of the remaining naked men were down there, and I felt a bit more confident being near them as opposed to higher up the beach where I'd be the only nude one. With my heart rate rising I sat down on my towel, took a deep breath, then quickly stripped off my underwear, grabbed my shirt, and laid flat on my back with my top bundled over my face. It was a pose I'd seen one of the men using earlier, and it helped me to stay calm as I lay there with my hands by my side, simultaneously terrified and delighted to be one hundred percent naked in public again for the first time in years.
I probably didn't move a muscle for the first twenty minutes or so. Instead I just lay there, eyes closed, with my body fully on display, but my face and identity obscured. At first I kept my legs locked together and my fists balled, but eventually I began to relax and got a bit more comfortable, eventually shifting around on my towel until I lay with one leg bent out to the side, with my hands either resting on my stomach or stretched out wide. I kept my shirt covering my head, and with my vision blocked my sense of hearing went into overdrive. Every time someone walked behind me along the beach the sound of their shoes crunching over the pebbles would sound as if it were just an inch or so from my head, and I would flinch as their footsteps grew louder and louder, and I'd have to fight the urge to pull my towel around my body.
Eventually my nerves began to settle and my sense of curiosity would get the better of me, and whenever I heard someone getting close I would peer out from under my top to see who it was. Every time I would get a little kick as I'd look up at another fully dressed passerby as they strolled past, with some hiding their little glances better at my body than others. On the whole the non-naked people weren't too bad, in that they didn't blatantly ogle the rest of us too much, but at the same time if you walk along a beach and see a young twenty-something sunbathing nude in front of you, there's no way you don't sneak a peek, right?