A Naked Connection

My wife, Dani, could do some pretty daring things like get naked in the car and beat off while I drove or she would go to the grocery store braless with her shirt unbuttoned by an extra button or two or she would swim topless at hotel pools. We loved “dangerous” sex, too, with lots of risk involved like naked night-sailing, which I’ve written about. She always seemed confident and comfortable with her body, so I was forever mystified by her ongoing refusal to go with me to a naturist resort. I’d loved being naked since discovering the joy of nudity the year I had to live with my grandmother. That spring, I began to wake up before dawn with a raging boner, feeling what I know now as horribly horny. Some primal drive led me to begin slipping out the kitchen door to escape into the back yard. I’d strip off my briefs and plunge into a state of erotic abandon that intensified as I’d run here and there around the yard, feeling my little dick flopping back and forth, up and down until a boner would strike, then I’d hide behind the fig tree and jackjackjack off until an explosive orgasm would leave me weak-kneed and shaking while shooting cum all over the place. I didn’t care that I didn’t understand what was happening on those glorious morning romps that left me speechless and wanting to be naked all the time. That was a longstanding fantasy and chief attraction of naturist resorts that I’d brought up with Dani early on, but she said she’d never go along because she was too fat to walk around naked in the midst of a lot of other naked people. I tried to help her understand that naturists don’t care how other people look; the idea and the joy is to be totally free of conventions that keep us stuffed into clothes and ashamed of being who and what we are. Nope, she’d say. Ain’t gonna. That was Dani’s view until one evening long after she’d been diagnosed with a fatal disease and was rapidly failing. We had walked out to our back yard pool for a swim and were about to take the steps into the water when she stopped and said: “You know what? I don’t care anymore.” She stripped off her bathing suit, stood there naked for a few seconds and let the warm summer breezes caress her. We had a huge back yard with only tall shrubs for fencing, meaning neighbors could watch us, but Dani finally didn’t mind. “Oh, man,” she said. “This feels great. I should’ve done this a long time ago. What was I thinking?”  I’d shucked my bathing suit, too, and we enjoyed a naked evening outside, in and out of the pool. After her passing and after months of struggling to pay her final medical bills, business expenses and taxes, I was exhausted. I needed to unwind. So, I asked myself, what now? Why not do something you’ve always wanted to do? Up popped my inner naturist. Well, I thought, OK … go do your naturist thing. I researched naturist resorts in my area, found one about 40 miles away that looked good, and called. Denise, the lady I spoke with was upbeat, kind and understanding and encouraged me to visit. The resort was far off a country road and down a wooded lane. I parked by the clubhouse and stripped beside the car as other guests, men and women without a stitch on, walked past and waved. My mind was being blown. It was everything I’d fantasized about. I was naked, they were naked … tits, nipples, pussies, dicks everywhere under the sunny sky above and it was no big deal. It was good. It was healing. An awesome sense of freedom enveloped me. When I checked in, naked Denise and another naked lady welcomed me, gave me a few instructions and a map of the property. Off I went to explore and revive a very tired spirit. Dani, I thought, you would have loved this, especially the nature trails. I stopped on one of those trails to remember her and to fantasize about what our visit would have been like – how her long red hair and gorgeous tits would have gently swayed as we strolled along … how she probably would have jokingly played with my dick and jacked me off and I would have finger-fucked her ... As usual, the fantasies triggered a boner. But I was alone and there was a little cedar tree over there off the path. It was full and inviting like grandmother’s fig tree. It served me well as I stroked in its shadow and imagined Dani saying, "I love this place!" And the pretty cedar reminded me that we are wonderfully and beautifully made just as we are. Why do so many of us hide?