Gay guy grew up near a nude beach.
I grew up near a nude beach. This was a huge beach that vanished into the horizon and sea mist. There were massive sand dunes, and lupins growing tall. The cruising foot traffic made tracks along the ridges and dips, and tunnels through the undergrowth. Many times I’d stumbled from the undergrowth, surprising a nude sun-bather, or almost tripping over then. I was 18 and most of the other nude beach goers were a little older. Occasionally I’d be asked to rub sunscreen on someone’s back, or we’d chat …
Wandering naked was liberating, a thrill being seen by strangers and it was sexual for me, but my chest would still pound at the idea I might be spotted by family (who would just embarrass me, nothing sinister), friends, or teachers even though I’d graduated and was heading to university. There were a few male teachers I’d be happy to see at the beach, but that's a different story.
Stress was erased with a swim, and after laying down in a sheltered sand dune. Gentle sun drenched breeze passing over my naked body. Maybe this was a kind of ritual, I would always be aroused by the salt crystallizing on my skin. I’d keep an eye on who was around, tricky in the dunes as people appeared from nowhere, and were down and up again like inquisitive meerkats.
Author:AussieBoner | Category: Outdoors
