John waited beside the jeep as I gathered the final items needed for our weekend at the nudist camp. He immediately grabbed the sleeping bags from under my arms and pitched them in the backseat along side the tent. For the next three days and nights, we would be living out of a tent, cooking our meals over a campfire and enjoying the great outdoors in the buff.
John drove the next two hours while I slept, my head braced against the door. I always slept when John drove, his hand would rest on my thigh, my hand on his. When I awoke, I squeezed his hand and asked if we were close. He replied that we were a few miles from the off ramp.
I yawned and stretched, rubbed my eyes and glanced out the window. The beauty of the Rockies had always managed to astound me. If someone were to ask what my favorite place in the entire world would be, I would have to reply, "Kneeling beside a morning campfire in the early spring somewhere in the Rockies."
John and I had enjoyed many breathtaking weekends camped alongside streams that tumbled down waterfalls, listening to the unforgettable sound of the rushing mountain waters, inhaling the fragrance of wildflowers in the meadows and on the hillsides. We fished, backpacked, hiked, or simply relaxed under the golden aspens in the autumn.
Within a few miles we had left the interstate, another turn took us to the blacktop and as we drove onto the dirt road I began to undress. I tossed my shirt in the back seat, unsnapped my bra and rubbed my breasts, it always felt good letting them out of their cage.
John laughed as he watched. "You weren't this eager, if I remember right, last year." He raised an eyebrow and patted my thigh.
"I know, but that was last year," I grinned.
We joined the line of cars and waited our turn to show Carol our summer's pass.
Bits and pieces of the previous summer ran through my mind. I laughed in spite of myself at the memories.
***
Last year one of John's co-workers had suggested a nudist camp hidden in the foothills near Denver. We were hesitant at first but hashed it over and gave the camp a call. They had sent us some brochures and forms to fill out. With a few more phone calls, we had our visitor's pass, our fishing license, paid the ten-dollar fee to pitch our tent and were on our way.
I had played navigator with the map that they had sent while John drove and within a few hours, we had left the interstate. We were soon on a blacktop that led to an unpaved dirt road. It turned and twisted through the dense pine, soon we approached a wooden cattle gate that crossed the road.
The sign said to honk for admittance so John tapped the horn a couple of times. A small nude woman in her mid forties came out of the cabin with a set of keys in her hand. She stood beside the gate and waited for us to present our visitors pass then unlocked the gate. John got back in the jeep and parked it beside the cabin while I continued to talk with her. She introduced herself as Carol, we later learned that she and her husband owned the camp. She said that there were more pamphlets inside the cabin, to follow her, she would sign us in and assign us a spot for our tent.
With more literature in hand and a map of the twenty acres, we got back in the jeep and slowly drove through the camp. I read the brochures out loud, pointed at different areas we might want to see. There were several rustic small cabins along the road. Some were public bathrooms, and others contained beds and modern conveniences that you could rent for a nominal fee.
We saw outdoor showers beside the swimming pool and a hot tub, a volleyball court and a snack bar that one brochure said served breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Near the center of the camp stood a large log cabin, they called The Barn. According to another pamphlet, everyone gathered at The Barn for dinners and dances on the weekends.
There were campers, motor homes, even a couple of mobile homes set up on concrete slabs. Soon the tents came into view, as well as the lake. I checked the map to find our lot.
Once John parked the jeep, we pulled out our tent, let it spring open, and then pounded some stakes around its edge. John put the ice chest inside and I grabbed the sleeping bags and tossed them in the corner. We had brought a couple of lounge chairs and set them beside the fire pit.
We were still dressed.
A woman in her late twenties, blonde hair, tanned from head to toe with absolutely no tan lines, held her hand out as she approached.
"Most people are in the buff by the time they turn onto the dirt road." She laughed. "Hi, I'm Jane, my campsite is just over there." She pointed to the site next to ours. "If you have any questions I'll be happy to help."
She had to be the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. No makeup, just a dazzling smile that set off her bronzed Bo Derek face, wide hips, large breasts and the tiniest waist. If she were dressed she would have appeared heavy, but nude she had a gentle and overwhelming beauty.
I shook her hand and invited her to join us. While we talked, I noticed that she had a pale line that ran from just below her breasts to her pubis. She noticed that I noticed and explained that she had a cesarean a few years back. I suppose I had not given much thought to surgical scars, it surprised me even more that that is about how much time I gave to them now.
John had taken off his clothes and tossed them in the tent. It felt strange to see him very nude out in the open. He gave me a sidelong glance, his stance asked if I intended to remain dressed or would I remove the last link to civilization. I stared back at him. Then I looked around, no one had a stitch on except me.
"There's no rush, Anne," Jane smiled, she had noticed John's questioning stare. "We've all been there, some of us just take longer than others, nothing to worry about."
