My husband and were invited to some relatively new friend’s house for dinner one evening.

Over dinner they told us about their apartment in France and by the end of dinner had invited us to join them for a few days break in June.

We were delighted to accept and after we had committed ourselves they said “well, we had better let you know where it is, it is in a naturist site called Cap D’Adge.

My husband and I laughed it off and said it wouldn’t matter to us as we were both broad minded and anyway, we would probably keep our kit on if that was ok.

The time came for us to go, they had driven down and we would fly and they would pick us up from the airport.

The husband was waiting for us with their dog, his wife was organising food for a jubilee party, they had invited a few friends around for lunch to celebrate the queen’s jubilee and our arrival.

We entered into the “village”, going through security which I found a little strange and drove down the road by the port.

I noticed one couple strolling hand in hand alongside the boats, with no clothes on.

I had a little smirk to myself and then as we entered into the hub of the port noticed that people were everywhere with no clothes on.

I must admit I was gob-smacked. I had never seen anything like it, they were all completely naked, sitting around in bars, strolling down the street and just acting normal.

We retrieved our luggage out of the boot and made our way to the apartment, which happened to be above the bars and nightclubs, a two minute walk from the port.

I felt that people were staring at us as we were dressed, I felt like the odd one out. We went into the gated apartment area of a small complex and were greeted with union jack buntings and flags, red white and blue everywhere and many people standing around eating and drinking……. completely naked.

I again was shocked and suprised.

People were introduced to us and I was shaking hands and kissing people who were completely naked.

It was awkward for me as I had never encountered such a situation and didn’t quite know what to do next, I didnt feel comfortable at taking my clothes off straight away.

My husband on the other hand could not wait to get his kit off. He was straight in the bedroom, kit on the floor and strolled out into the throng of people like he had been naked all his life. I stood in the bedroom for what seemed like a long time in a dilemma as what to do.

I decided that I would take my top off but pop on a sarong to cover myself, leaving my shorts on.

I went back out and joined the others. Everyone was extremely friendly and people were asking if it was our first time at a naturist village, encouraging me to take my time and only do things which were comfortable.

After a few glasses of wine I decided to take my sarong off, baring my breasts. I felt liberated and free and started to enjoy the freedom of having no top on in such a social environment. I looked around, there was only me with shorts on.

I went to the bedroom, took off my shorts and pants and wrapped my sarong around my hips, swaggering back into the throng of people, feeling sexy and very comfortable.

There were people all ages and shapes and sizes, no one cared.

By the time we were toasting the queen the sun was beating down on my skin and I was feeling so content and happy to be among this throng of English, French and Swedish people that I discretely took my sarong off and stood there completely naked.

I kept pinching myself to see if it was actually me standing there amongst all of these people, all of them strangers except for our two friends, completely naked.

It was a fantastic day, a memory to treasure for all sorts of reasons.

The next day we got up to be greeted by our two naked friends. My husband didn’t have a care in the world, he took the dog for a walk with our friend completely naked.

I helped to clear the house from the evenings debris and kept chuckling to myself that I had never done housework before naked.

I never put my clothes on through the day for the rest of the week and it was fantastic. We played Boules naked, swam naked, went to restaurants naked, shopped naked, and it was the most liberating feeling I have ever had.

No one judged or made you feel uncomfortable. And the evening entertainment was like nothing I had ever imagined in my life. We would just sit in a bar and people watch, the most amazing array of clothing and people I have ever seen.

At the airport on our way home my husband turned to me and said “well, we had a great time didnt we”.

He does’t usually like going on holiday so for him to say that meant that he really did have a good time.

I agreed, it was the most relaxing holiday we had ever had.

I do a little modelling at home (I am a mature 53 year old with curves!), I have recently joined the RAMM website for artists models, including life drawings.

I would never dreamed of doing that before I went away on this holiday. It has opened up a whole new world.

We are now booked to go back with our friend’s in September…….. I cant wait……… One thing is for sure, my suitcase will be much lighter the next trip!!

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Hi let me introduce myself, my name is Ian from the uk.
My first experience was when I was 11, I lived with my mum and to say we didn’t have much money was an understatement, my mum worked all hours to make ends meet. We lived in a small village and when my mum was at work her best friend Linda looked after me at her house.
I liked staying here as it was a nice big house and my best friend Andrea lived there, Andra was a year older than me but we hand a fantastic friendship from when we first met when I was 6.

You can imagine my delight when Linda asked my mum if we wanted to go on a uk holiday with them. It was a camping holiday but our first holiday. [Read more…]

A few years ago, whilst holidaying in Gran Canaria, I was wandering along the long sandy beaches at Playa del Ingles, enjoying the combination of the hot sun and the fresh sea air, when it dawned on me that I was being continually overtaken by hordes of people that weren’t admiring the scenery, but were purposefully striding into the distance.

“Where are all these people going?” I mused, “There doesn’t appear to be anything worth heading towards.”

Curious, I decided to follow them, wondering why so many people would want to flock away from these beautiful surroundings.

After a couple of miles of quick-stepping along the sand, many of the people I was following started to slow down, and drift away from the sea shore towards some sand dunes.

“This doesn’t make any sense” I thought to myself “Why leave that lovely beach back in Playa del Ingles, to come all the way here and to visit some dunes?”

Then I realised that people were taking off their swimwear and not replacing it. Also, there didn’t seem to be any attempt to conceal their own nudity.

It then further dawned on me that the people lying on the sun loungers were also naked…they hadn’t been visible from the sea front. It was obviously a nudist beach.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I walked back to the waters edge. I felt uncomfortable because I was clothed, ok it was just a pair of shorts, but I also didn’t want to appear as if I was some sort of peeping pervert.

I carried on walking, at a much slower pace, taking in the interesting images. By now, I must have entered the heart of the nudist beach area,

because there were naked people everywhere, all shapes and sizes, all ages, all looking quite normal, apart from their nudity.

Nakedness everywhere, in the sea, surrounding the beach bar, playing ball games on the sand, everyone doing exactly as they would on a normal beach, only in the nude.

They must be Weirdo’s, I thought to myself, and carried on walking towards, what I came to know as Maspalomas.

As I left the naturist part of the beach, it seemed almost strange to see people with their swimsuits on. I sort of missed the comparative freedom that I had seen with the naked people earlier.

After a Tapas style lunch, and quite a few pints of Tropical beer to quench my thirst after the long walk, I decided to head back to the apartment at Playa de Ingles, conveniently passing the naturist beach on the way.

Filled with bravado caused by the Spanish beer, I had made my mind up that I too, wanted to experience being naked on a beach.

However, as I got nearer, my stomach tightened. Fingers of panic started to set in, although I didn’t know why. Was it some form of deep rooted insecurity?

I took a deep breath and strode into the nudist area.

As I located an empty lounger, I was grateful that the majority of naked sun worshipers were snoozing in the mid afternoon sun, so there wouldn’t be too many to witness my initial stripping-off.

As removed my clothes, I remembered to my horror, that because I had been swimming and sunbathing earlier with my trunks on. I had “White bits.”

In fact, as I took off my shorts, it looked as though I still had a pair of Very White trunks on, because the sun hadn’t christened that particular area!

I put a towel over the sun-lounger, and feeling awkward at the newness of this novel situation, lay back and tried to relax.

“Excuse me, do you have the time?”

Irritated, I opened my eyes to see a naked bearded guy, sitting on the next lounger along, pointing to his wrist.

We ended up having a long conversation about holidays, cars and football. He introduced me to his wife who had just woken up, and it turned out that it was their first time on a nudist beach too.

As the subject came round to naturism, I suddenly realised that I had been sat chatting to this couple, and had almost forgotten that I was naked, and furthermore, wasn’t really noticing their nudity!

We swum naked in the sea, which was a wonderful experience, but it was strange to see clothed people walking by, giving us a similar look to one that I was probably giving a few hours earlier!

For me that was it.

For the rest of the holiday I did the route march from Playa del ingles to Maspalomas, and spent each day on the nudist beach, deepening my all-over tan and relaxing in the glorious sunshine.

By the end of the holiday, now feeling confident amongst my new-found nudist friends, I looked at passing holiday makers in traditional

beach attire, and thought:..

“What are those weirdo’s doing with their clothes on!”

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Perhaps its all to do with your roots… I was born in the sticks, a small farm with 50 acres of land, I grew up in a tiny community our family were a welcome addition to the local parish, and, perhaps owing to my Mums Croatian heritage, we were fairly liberal about most things that in Britain, would be considered rude, taboo or inappropriate.

Mainly I can remember we never really worried about seeing each other in a state of undress, indeed I my fondest memories were playing in the garden pond with my cousins, jumping off the waterfall into the deep end, drying off in the sun, chucking the basketball around, all without a stitch of clothing on.

This liberal attitude toward nudity remained with me until my teenage years… I can remember finishing a PE session in secondary school, returning to the changing room and walking into the shower room, dropping my towel and exposing my newly pubescent penis to my class mates, of course I thought nothing of it initially, but, and I still remember the jeers, the abuse, the shock… I was nicknamed ‘boner boy’ for the remainder of the school year… That sense of modesty and shame had snuck in. In college when acne struck, and teenage horniness was abound, the idea of being comfortable in the buff was about as realistic as a truthful Labour Party MP.

Those years of naturism had been lost… Perhaps forever…

Then came my holiday with the girlfriend (now wife) to Gran Canaria in 2012, we knew little about this mediterranean island other than that it was bloody hot and had plenty of beaches, which, after dealing with the stresses of a new job that year, was just what we needed.

It was the first day, we were staying at playa del ingles and the holiday rep advised you could walk to the neighbouring Maspalomas via the beachfront, alas, the friendly rep whom boasted extensive knowledge of the area seemed to have omitted one minute detail; this tranquil walk across the broken waves would take us through the local au naturel spots.

So as we walked hand in hand, her in a gorgeous (if slightly see through) maxi dress and me in my customary billabong board shorts, we saw a striking figure in the distance, a muscly gentleman striding from the ocean back to the beach, droplets of salt water glistening upon his naked posterior… Wait a minute, double take… Naked posterior?? That’s right, at first we thought this a mighty brave act from one individual with a taste for exhibitionism, but then, more naked bodies came into view, it was all on show; willies and boobies, and bums, and vaginas! This wasn’t on the Thompson travel guide, low and behold, our adventurous hike had landed us smack dab in the middle of the nudist beach.

As we hastily trundled through, the GF looked up, down, out to sea, anywhere where her juvenile grin might go unnoticed, for me I was intrigued; I couldn’t help but glance at the varying couples and groups, all of them swimming, playing ball games, chatting away, doing all the things one would normally do to relax, just in the complete buff. I’d done this before, many years ago, it wasn’t an alien concept, I’d just lost that feeling of freedom amidst the tide of societal pressure and ridicule from peers throughout my adult years… I must admit I was a little envious. Here existed a place that seemed on the surface.

We walked straight through and spent the rest of the day on the ‘textile’ beach, although even here my GF was in the minoroty with her bikini top on, there was a sense of liberation abundent in our surroundings.

That night at dinner, we discussed the days visual stimuli, at first we did what most British people did; giggled childishly, but as the night wore on I told the GF about my naturist experiences in my youth, at first I thought she’s never shower at my parents again, but, and perhaps the wine played a role here, she seemed curious; she asked what of felt like, what the atmosphere was like, but in all honesty, my experiences as a nudist was as a child, from a time before I know what social acceptability was, when my mind was naive to the taboo that surrounded nudity, as an adult I’d had no point of reference as to what a naked experience would be like.

Stone me the GF actually suggested we try the nude beach in the morrow. By this point she was steaming from the two bottles of mont blanc so I dismissed it, alas, when I sheepishly mentioned it at breakfast, she maintained her enthusiasm, albeit with a certain anxiety.

So we entered the nude beach, our first instincts were to try and subtlety find another couple perhaps our own age and set down near them, I guess we were trying to blend in with the crowd. We found a point just back from the sea front up against a bank of sand, nearby was a hippyish couple I’d assume were in their twenties.

We plonked ourselves down and in a matter of seconds stripped off, the GF immediately dropped like a bomb to her towel and laid on her front, I walked around my towel, just trying to get a a sense of whom if anyone would be noticing and how I’d find that, of course, no one noticed, and this was perhaps the Brit in me assuming my nudity would cause uproar, but here we were, in a place were it was quite the norm.

The water against nude skin was the greatest sensation. We spent the remainder of the holiday on the nude beaches, our greatest truimph came when we walked from the beach across the dunes completely in the buff. One could argue it was exhibitionism on our part, but I can honestly say we did it because we felt free, free from social judgement, we didnt really notice we were nude.

This account came from reader John Callis

Sent from my iPad

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I think It was in the summer of 1980 when I accidentally had my first experience.

I was living in Kent at the time, and had decided to go for a head-clearing walk after a particularly tough week at work.

I made my way through the village of Darenth and kept up a manly stride along some long narrow lanes, alone with my thoughts.

After some time, it dawned on me that I had kept walking and not seen another being, just the occasional car.

It further dawned on me that it was now bloody hot with the combination of the physical effort, and the midday sun, and boy, was I thirsty. The trouble was that having walked so far, it seemed pointless just to turn back and I considered my best bet was to hope to come across a country pub where I could get a drink and then get a taxi back.

After about another half hour, a car drew slowly next to me, containing two females.

The older one shouted ” Are you heading for the club?”

I immediately imagined some sort of golf or rugby club which surely must offer liquid refreshment,so I lied “Yes”

As I got into the rear, the younger of the two, who turned out to be the daughter asked how long had I been a member? I replied that I wasn’t, but I was intending to apply.

“don’t worry” they said “we’ll look after you”

As the car pulled into a long driveway, I thought I caught a glimpse of a naked man walking through a thicket in the distance. At first I thought I was going mad, and then it started to dawn on me that I might have made a terrible mistake!

My worst fears were realised, when the car entered the main gates. There were nude people everywhere! All shapes, all sizes, all ages…but nude. Yes, it was a naturist club!

I started to panic, what had I done? – How was I going to escape this situation?

“you can sit with us if you want” said the women “we’ll talk to the owner, and you can be our guest for the day”

It then dawned on me that the alternative to baring my body, was an extremely long walk back to the village. What a dilemma!

The two woman were by now starkers…I hadn’t even noticed them removing their clothing. I took off shirt and jeans and sat on the grass to wriggle out of my underpants, feeling that the world and his wife were watching me.

After I had sat there naked for a minute, it was obvious that no-one had taken any notice of me at all, in fact everyone seemed very relaxed and cheerful. There were people playing tennis, families splashing in the pool, and groups just chilling out looking happy and content.

We’re going in the pool, are you coming?” my two companions wanted to know.

I took a deep breath, and stood up to join them; It seemed that I was now a nudist, albeit an accidental one, but nevertheless, a nudist…

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