Our family had a pool in our backyard deep in the heart of suburbia, and I remember wondering whether I had safely positioned the chaise lounge out of the perspective of any readily offended (or easily titillated) neighbors’ eyes as I snitched a couple of minutes whenever I really could get http://1115.us to experience what the summer sun felt like on my nude body
And many late nights, after the rest of the family had gone to bed, I’d gently ease ito the pool for a skinny dip. It was a marvelous natural high.
Interestingly enough, I decided to attend college at UC San Diego. During the orientation tour of the campus, the counsel told us incoming freshmen about nearby Black’s Beach — and expressed some surprise when many of us did not understand about its staus as one of the best-known nude beaches in the state.
So, I knew nude beach teen and there where I ‘d be taking the majority of my study breaks.
I must say, though, that I experienced what I’d expect is a standard degree of trepidation when faced with a first-time nude beach encounter. I recall going to the beach a couple of times, and staying clothed, trying to decide whether I was “safe”. I saw the beach was huge and spread out such that one could very much keep a sense of having “personal space”, at what felt like a comfortable distance from other beachgoers whose motives for being there might be substantially less than innocent. Eventually, the lure of what I had in the back part of my mind always desired to experience won out, and one day I took my new boogie-board down to shore, and without reluctance discarded my swimsuit.
I hurried down to the water, still a little nervous, trying not to make eye contact with the few people that were nearby.
I plunged in the waves, and quickly realized I was having the time of my own life. I drove the waves for a while, loving the sensation, feeling like my body was made for this.
I worn out after a little while, and decided to head back up to the shore. Feeling more relaxed and assured now, I looked around at some of the others present. I should probably mention here that I’ve been blessed with some pretty good genes, and I should probably also mention that it was impossible not to see the — well, stares — of lots of the gay men present.
After a minute or two of nervousness, I quickly decided that this was essentially a public place, and going nude was my choice, and that I couldn’t really stop anyone who wanted to look at me from looking. And that as long as they kept a considerable distance and refrained from outwardly lewd conduct or unwanted advances or harassment, I would simply accept the “eye contact” as a compliment, and think no more of it and love myself.
I was pleased when it turned out that my fellow naked folks behaved exactly as I had figured they’d. And my approach toward the nude encounter is pretty much the same now — taking off my clothing is a choice I make, but I can not control what you do. In the event you’d like to look, go on and look, but I trust that you won’t harass or otherwise act distastefully.
To this day, my recollections of my many, many naked trips to that shore are some of my best memories. Lately, I Have been land locked, so to speak, near Sacramento, but it’s always been in the back part of my head to get back to Black’s. I’d also like to check out San Onofre.