Erect Nudism

One day, at age 14, my mom asked me to put some trash from the kitchen in the garbage can out in the garage. I was running around the house in nothing but my underwear at the time. The house was warm, but the uninsulated garage was about 35 degrees Fahrenheit. While I was alone out there, I briefly pulled down my underwear. Boy, did that feel freeing! For the first time in my young life, I felt cool, fresh air on my crotch, and it was really surprised at how nice that was. I immediately became paranoid, and pulled my pants back up. Perhaps three times during the next few years, I took long hikes in the woods, and when I felt truly, absolutely alone, I'd pull down my pants and masturbate. I loved the light breeze on my hard cock. But, I was usually too scared that someone would somehow catch me, so I never ejaculated. I'd just have my pants down for less than a minute, rub my rapidly hardening penis for just a few strokes, and then pull the pants back up. About the time I turned 18, I had my own car, and I heard about a nudist place out by a small lake. I drove the 20 miles, and was delighted to come across a scene of around 20 naked people of all ages and sexes. Although nervous because I had never shown my genitals to anyone, I knew I had to strip or leave, so I stripped. I was casually accepted by the crowd. I mean, they didn't treat me like a long-lost friend, or even someone trying out a new church on Sunday morning. More like, a few of them introduced themselves, looked at me sideways to make sure I wasn't going to molest their children or something, and then let me stay. I threw a frisbee with a guy about twice my age for a few minutes. After a half-hour, I started to feel weird, kind of self-conscious, and so I threw the clothes back on and left. A week or so later, I returned, with camping gear. Some of the people from last time recognized me, and actually said "Hi." Two women about my mom's age helped me unload the trunk of my car and set up my camp. They were friendly, but not overly so. Much like any good neighbors. Around dinner time, I was about to heat up my can of stew, and I was invited over to a family's campfire to dine with them. We had corn on the cob, hamburgers, and finished off with toasted marshmallows as the sun set. Conversation became friendly and nice. People were exchanging knock knock jokes. A guy broke out a guitar, and we tried to sing along. He wasn't keeping the rhythm very well, so we gave up on music and went on to silly stories with lots of sexual innuendos. Around midnight I returned to my tent and jerked off, and the others went wherever they went. Some may have played with each other - I don't know. Needless to say, I had a good time with the nudists that weekend. By the end of the summer, i was truly one of them, and had enjoyed several excellent weekends. I never had an erection except on the last weekend. Everyone was feeling frisky. There was quite a bit of rustling in the bushes. I was totally curious to see what was going on, and who was doing what with whom, but restrained myself. I didn't want to embarrass anyone by looking. A few people were floating on the 'lake' which was tiny. More of a pond, really. They were floating face down on air mattresses. Something came over me, and I floated over to a girl about my age, and without asking, I pushed a finger into her ass. I was a bit awkward about it, having to kind of poke two or three times before I hit the bulls eye. The idea was I was going to paddle away with my feet and one arm, while towing her by my finger stuck in her asshole. It sort of worked. She didn't express anything other than momentary surprise by my bold and weird move. She acted like it happened all the time. After a few minutes of towing, I didn't quite know what to do next. I was trying to ask her out on a date, but didn't manage to come up with the words. So, I finally withdrew my finger and started to float away. She said, "Thanks, that was nice." A minute later, I came up to one of the older fellows. These 50-something guys were horny devils, and as I had noticed all summer, weren't afraid to express their bisexual side. So, I poked one of those guys and towed him around the pond. He said he was in heaven. Shortly after, he floated over to the shore, stood up off his raft, and I noticed he was openly displaying a full erection. I had no idea that was OK. In fact, I'm still not sure if it was, all these years later. That evening, in my tent, remembering my little towing escapades, I wanked myself to an immediate and huge orgasm. But the season had ended. All winter went by, and I had no nudist opportunities. Spring came, and I had been accepted at a college out of town. What a delight to be on my own for the first time in my life. I decided to be bold in my dorm room. On the third day, my new roommate came back from class, to see me naked in our room. He said, "Either you've got to put some clothes on, or I have to take some off." I didn't know how to react to that, but I learned right away that he would be OK with my nudism, because he locked the door, and took his clothes off. A month or so into college, we had been naked all the time in our dorm room, but both of us were careful not to be seen with erections. One day, he jumped out of bed with a morning erection. He didn't try to hide it. In fact, I think he was making a point of letting me see it. I decided the only proper response was to fluff myself into an erection under the covers, then throw the covers off, so he wouldn't be alone in his erectness. If you've never done it, I must say it is a very liberating feeling to be hard, without concern or fear of repercussion, in front of another man - or woman, for that matter. Within a month after that, we were frequently masturbating each other. We claimed - and it's probably true - that frequent masturbation relieved the stress of our studies. We didn't do it sixty-nine style, and we never sucked each other, rubbed our bodies together or anything like that. Sometimes, I'd lay on the bed and he'd wank me, sometimes I'd wank him. He seemed to like really athletic wanking. He wanted me to go up and down fast and hard. I would have hated that. For me, he'd touch me with an extremely light touch for at least ten minutes before stroking me at all. During the whole time, I'd be hard as steel. Finally, after circling his finger around the peehole for a while, he pull my skin gently up and down, until I squirted cum. After a while, he picked up a sweet girlfriend. That didn't seem to slow down our wanking at all, even though I knew he and she had been quite sexual many times. Sometimes they'd do it right in front of me while I was studying. One night, they invited me to join them. I declined doing any fucking. Me, being who I am, I've always preferred wanking-like activities. So, I fingered her for quite a while, while she had orgasm after orgasm. While I was doing that, she was sucking his penis, and putting a finger in his ass, which he loved, and he was gently wanking me at the same time. Around the time I was 13, I thought I might be gay, and that concerned me very much. By the time I was 17, I knew I was actually a closet bisexual, leaning more toward men than women. In those days, being 'gay' was a big stigma. It's not like today where every 10th athlete is openly gay, and there are TV shows like Glee that champion sexual diversity. I say closet bisexual, because I had few sexual encounters, and none of them normal. Most were of a masturbatory nature, and more with guys than girls. Fast forward about 47 years. By the time I was sixty, my kids were grown, I had been happily married to a beautiful, wonderful in all ways, woman for 35 years. We had been very sexual in every way, but me, being hornier than her, had masturbated openly in front of her many more times than the few times she masturbated in front of me. Several years ago, as her hormones shifted post-menopause, she lost interest in sexual activities, and suggested I play with some men my age from time to time. She didn't want me to hang with any other women. That thought scared her. So, it was time to dust off my bisexuality and see what I could line up. The place to start was the local nude beach. Living on the west coast of the United States, there were three local nude beaches to choose from. For three weeks running, I tried out each beach. The first one was nice. It felt oh so wonderful after all these years to throw off my clothes, not only to enjoy the fresh air and sun all over, but the exhibitionist in me was delighted. I couldn't stay long because my suntan stopped at my wrists and neck. This was a conservative group of people, so far as I could tell. No one was doing anything in the bushes. One guy might have had a half-erection at one point, but I couldn't quite tell. I was, however, intrigued at the thought. The next weekend, I went to another beach, and it was a completely different scene. I threw down my towel and took off my clothes, and looked around. It seemed like the beach was segregated. Groups of two and sometimes three men were all sitting along the north end. Mixed couples on the south. There were no groups of two or more women. After a couple of minutes a guy came walking briskly with long strides from the south end to the north who shocked the hell out of me. He was a skinny, tall guy, with a full-on erection. He was singing loudly to himself, and stroking his penis as he walked. No one said anything except a pair of fellows just north of the approximate middle of the beach who catcalled and whistled appreciatively. I stayed a bit longer, but couldn't stay all day because I still needed a tan, not a sunburn. However, during the time I was there, I saw two gay couples masturbating each other on their towels, and several more men on both the north and south sides with full erections. They were all unabashed, evidently feeling completely free to display their aroused states. Now, this was heaven! The week after that, figuring the third beach might be even better, I checked it out. I was surprised, and disappointed to discover that it was another dud beach - a conservative nude beach. There were a bunch of friendly volley ballers there, and one guy had a large Prince Albert piercing, and there were several pretty women to look at, but no sexual activity at all. So, back to the second beach for my fourth and subsequent weeks. In time it became like a corner pub. All the regulars knew each other, and we had long conversation while sitting on our towels, sharing beers and chips in the sun. Sometimes, men would get spontaneous erections, and they were not hiding them. One day, I did! What a delight! Oh, I still had something in me that was bashful about that. I kind of wanted to lay face down in the sand until it subsided, but I didn't. Instead, just to prove I could, I went for a walk, with my full erection waving back and forth in front of me, all the way to the north end, then all the way to the south, and back. That was as proud a day for me as when I got my PhD. Time went on, and I became better and better friends with the regulars on the beach. The day came when I wanked a guy in front of everyone. Not long after that, I got wanked on my towel on the beach. Now, I've been jacked off by both sexes on the beach, although I failed to mention to my wife about being jacked by any women. I've never done anything more. No blowjobs, no frotting, no kissing. I'm a happily married man, after all. So now I've done everything I always wanted to do. I was satisfied. I am satisfied! If I died tomorrow, it would have been a good, complete and happy life.