THE DAY I BECAME A NATURIST (CHAPTER 1)

The Adventures of Roy


Hi, my name is Roy.  Compared to most people, I
suppose I have had a very privileged and in many ways
unusual upbringing.

     I live in a rather dry but beautiful
Mediterranean country with a lovely climate, born into
a rich family and living in a large house set on a
two-acre plot.  But, to me, one of the most special
parts of my life is that I am a naturist.

     My parents are not naturists.  They are fairly
normal people of modern British stock, with a few
inhibitions as far as nakedness is concerned.  When I
was small, I bathed at times with my parents and was
allowed to play naked in the privacy of our garden,
protected from the wicked eyes of the world by the
high walls that surround most plots in our affluent
suburban area of town.

     High walls are not really necessary nowadays, but
have become something of a status symbol for the rich.
 Apparently they sprang up overnight among the rich
during the revolution forty-odd years ago, along with
security guards, but are really superfluous nowadays
in a country notable far more for its easy-going
character and lethargy than for any crime or violence.

     By the age of about five I was considered too old
to indulge in any unnecessary displays of flesh in the
open air, and on visits to the seaside was always
expected to change under a towel rather than allow any
unauthorized viewing of my quite unremarkable
reproductive organs.  I still did what most children
do when they are sure they are unobserved by adults,
though, and urinated out of doors when caught short. 
The local population is notorious for this, and it is
not uncommon to see them, mainly male and even adults,
relieving themselves into walls or hedges without
showing any real desire for privacy.

    Of course, I had to put up with all the baby words
that most families use for parts of the body and
bodily functions that cannot apparently be named
without shame – wee and poo, and their like.  Nowadays
I am embarrassed to use such words, and it is more
natural for me to use the correct terms.  So in these
stories, if you don't mind, I will toss out terms like
penis and vagina where they apply, rather than the
baby words of the family or the dirty words of the
schoolyard.

     Naturally, with such an upbringing, I rarely saw
girls of my own age naked.  Perhaps when I was very
young I did play naked or change into swimming
costumes along with girls of a similar age, but I
don't remember any instances.  When I was five my
cousin Shelley, who lives about a kilometre from us,
was born.  Her mother, my Aunt Sue, is much more
liberal than my parents, and I was soon familiar with
every part of little Shelley's body, to my keen
interest that I had learned to hide from adults.

    When I was seven years old, my sister Jenny was
finally born, my mother having had a couple of
miscarriages in the meantime.  My parents did not seem
to mind my seeing her naked at such a young age, and
even taught me to change her nappies, a task I
performed only briefly without protest, until my
curiosity had worn off.  My interest had been aroused
when I was five, when I had a few adventures with a
girl next door, about which I shall write on another
occasion.

     By the age of seven and in second grade, I was
just beginning to develop a greater curiosity in
female anatomy.  I had already become aware of the
fascination of feminine underwear, thanks partly to
Alison next door and also to another incident that
took place at school about the same time.

     Like other Mediterranean lands, most of our rain
comes during the winter.  One morning I went to school
after overnight rain wearing Wellington boots, as did
most of the other children.  On the veranda outside my
classroom was a long trestle table for us to put our
belongings.  I was one of the first to arrive, so I
went to the table along with another boy who was also
early.

    We sat down on the benches beside the table to
take off our boots and put on our school shoes, as was
expected of us.  We fooled around a bit as we did so,
and the other boy in fun threw my boots under the
table.

     I crawled under the table to fetch them, while my
friend, in typical second-grade fashion, called out,
"Good doggy, nice doggy," laughing all the while at
his joke.  I kept up the game, pretending to be a dog
and snuffling around under the table.

     At that point several girls arrived, and took it
as quite a joke to see me crawling around under the
table.  They had a good laugh at me and tried to pat
me, while I growled and barked at them.  Then they sat
down to take off their boots.

     As girls of that age of innocence so often do,
they simply sat on the benches and, instead of
reaching down to remove their boots on the ground as
streetwise older girls would, they lifted their legs,
one by one, to pull them off.  They were quite unaware
that they were revealing to me, in my privileged
position under the table, the full glory of their
underwear.

     I still can't imagine how I failed to give myself
away as I gazed in open-mouthed awe at the splendid
display of panties on offer under their long blue
school skirts, only just in front of my eyes.  Had I
not been paralysed with wonderment, I could have
reached out and touched them.  They were mostly white,
some bordered with edgings of lace, and I was
intrigued to see how soft and delicate they appeared
when compared to the utilitarian underwear that I and
most other boys wore.

     I was also fascinated to see how smoothly the
thin material ran under the crotch, without the little
bulge that was evident in my own underpants when I
wore them.  Some panties appeared quite tight, as if
whatever they were covering was rounded and convex,
but it always appeared so smooth and even.  I had some
idea of what a girl looked like between her legs,
although I couldn't really visualize it when I tried,
apart from baby Jenny's rounded little slit, but I
wanted to see more.

     This desire was encouraged the next time we had
class swimming.  For the first time, as I changed
along with the other boys, I meditated on the fact
that boys and girls always changed separately, and
came to the logical conclusion that they must have
something to hide, something that boys were not
supposed to see.  Naturally, in line with non-naturist
thinking, I was curious and wanted to see it.  Only
later did it occur to me that perhaps I had something
the girls should not see either.

     I noticed again, as we were beside the pool, that
the girls' swimming costumes curved neatly under the
crotch in a tight little V, while the boys' costumes
were more rounded, and some indeed actually bulged
slightly when viewed from side-on.  I found it quite
fascinating.

     An incident at home a few weeks later heightened
my interest still further.  While I was very conscious
of the underwear and potential nakedness of girls my
own age, it had no connection with older females.  At
the age of seven I had no sexual thoughts whatsoever
about adults or even teenagers and nothing of that
kind ever crossed my mind, until one evening at home.

     Aunt Sue was round at our house and playing with
me in the garden.  I always loved her because she was
so much fun.  She was quite unconventional, and my
parents seemed to regard her as an eccentric, but with
good-humoured tolerance.

     I had just begun to take an interest in football
and was begging the adults to play with me.  My dad
had knee trouble and wasn't often able to play that
sort of game with me, while my mother was willing at
times but very feeble.  Aunt Sue was happy to
volunteer, and we gave it a full go.  What she lacked
in skill, she made up for in gusto, and we were having
a wonderful game.

     Then we both went for the ball at full tilt at
the same time, and we collided.  I crashed right into
her midriff, which fortunately was very soft and well
padded, and we both crashed over in a heap, rolling
over together.

     For a moment I didn't know where I was.  It had
gone half-dark all of a sudden as I lay there on the
ground.  I could see something over my head, and I
could feel my face was pressing on something soft and
fleshy.  I moved my head, and could see a bit more. 
There was a large white expanse just in front of my
nose, and a funny sort of powdery smell that I didn't
recognize.  And I could hear peals of laughter from
just beside my head.  That had to be Aunt Sue.

     There was still something pressing against my
head, and I dragged myself free.  I found myself
half-sitting, half-lying on the grass with a pair of
large plump thighs in front of my nose.  I shifted my
eyes upwards and saw that large expanse of white
again, set against a dark blue background.  Then the
legs rolled over, the white disappeared, and I
recognized the lower half of Aunt Sue's body.

     As her laughter continued, I began to realize
what had happened.  Somehow I had got my head thrust
up Aunt Sue's dark blue dress.  I could not imagine
what that white mass I had seen was.

     "Are you all right, Roy?" Aunt Sue burst out,
still laughing.  I nodded vaguely, and she went on, in
affected indignation, "You naughty boy, just fancy
putting your head up a lady's skirt like that!"  She
burst into laughter again.

     I began to realize that the white mass I had seen
had actually been my aunt's panties.  It couldn't be
anything else and it had disappeared when she put her
legs down.  Suddenly I had an appreciation of the fact
that adult women wore panties, too, although I had
seen my mother's before in the laundry.  It also
occurred to me that it was considered very naughty to
look up a lady's skirt and quite shocking to have my
head up it!  Aunt Sue was treating it as a huge joke
and teasing me, pretending that I had actually been as
naughty as that.

     "Did you see him?" she exclaimed to my parents
amid gales of her laughter.  "I find myself lying on
the ground, and there he is with his head up my skirt!
 Roy, I really am shocked at you!  That's no way for a
well-mannered boy to behave!"

     My parents grinned in an embarrassed, sickly way,
and I didn't know what to do, but Aunt Sue obviously
thought it a huge joke, so I laughed along with her,
although at that age I didn't really appreciate why. 
But, as so often happens with small children, I got a
thrill of excitement from doing something supposedly
naughty and causing amusement by it.  I might well
have arranged to do it again, but knew my parents
would disapprove, so I was wise enough to use no more
than my eyes.

     Looking back, I think it was really a silly thing
for Aunt Sue to say, as it got my mind working and
made me conscious of something I had never been aware
of before.  Aunt Sue wore her skirts quite short, as
was the fashion among the young, while my mother, of
more mature years, wore hers rather longer.  I found
myself, whenever I saw Aunt Sue, thinking back to our
football accident and watching the edge of her skirt
to see if her panties would become visible again.

     Sometimes they did.  It was difficult to see
anything when we had our rough-and-tumbles, as we did
sometimes, as my head was usually the wrong end,
although I could sometimes see down the top of her
dress.  There was something white there, which I
naively assumed to be her vest, and I was not
particularly interested in that.  As far as I knew,
girls did not worry about people seeing their vests,
and in this hot climate in fact very few people wore
vests at all.

     Sitting down I discovered was Aunt Sue's most
vulnerable point.  Flamboyant and impulsive by nature,
she was not the sort to keep her hands demurely in her
lap.  Especially when she sat with me on the grass, as
I often persuaded her to do, a flash of white was
evident as she sat and then crossed her legs, cutting
off my view, but no doubt without any idea that she
had either exposed them or covered them.

     Aunt Sue's silly joke had set off a new train of
thought in my impressionable mind.  It did not at that
stage develop into any thought of seeing her naked at
all, though had I gone to her house and walked in
while she was having a bath or with a towel around
her, it might have done, especially had she made a
similar silly joke of it.  I'm not really blaming her,
as she was that sort of person, but her comments were
quite unwise and I've learnt to avoid saying anything
like that or making jokes about underwear or nakedness
to small children.  It can so easily make the sort of
wrong impression on them that it made on me.

     (To be continued)



THE DAY I BECAME A NATURIST (CHAPTER 2)


I think children generally start showing some sort of
interest in nakedness before they start proper school,
but it seems to be in or around second grade when they
start to become seriously concerned about having
others see them naked.  I don't actually remember when
I started second grade having any particular worries
about any girl observing me.  Then, after one brief
incident, I became paranoid about it like most
children from the age of about seven upwards – in
fact, much worse, so traumatic did I find it.

     I had a new blue school swimming costume that was
a little loose.  The first time I used it, at a class
swimming lesson, I needed a bowel motion and so was
later than the others in coming out of the changing
room.  I joined the rest of my class to find them wet,
having dipped themselves in the pool, and gathered
around our swimming teacher, Miss Winrow, as she was
about to start the lesson proper.

     "Why are you late, Roy?" she asked me as I
sneaked in, hoping not to be noticed.

     "I needed a poo," I explained reluctantly, using
the common baby-talk as I knew no better and feeling
slightly ashamed as I said it.  The big giggle that
went round the class immediately taught me that I had
good reason to be embarrassed and I should never
mention anything like that in public again as long as
I lived.

     "Quiet, children," Miss Winrow scolded, also
looking awkward.  "Roy, jump into the pool quickly and
then come out and listen to me."

     I obeyed, jumping into the water, which came up
almost to my chest, and then hurriedly heaved myself
up over the side again.  As I did so, I felt something
unusual happening around my midriff that I could not
immediately identify.

     At the same moment, a number of children who had
been watching me exploded – or so it seemed to me. 
There were shocked squeals and ribald laughter, the
pointing of fingers, exclamations of my name, and I
distinctly heard one girl exclaim, "Oh, gross!"

     I stared down, to see my penis dangling a few
centimetres above the side of the pool, and my
swimming costume still in the water, halfway down my
calves.  I had forgotten to tie the drawstring. 
Appalled and humiliated, I dropped back into the pool
and hauled up my swimming costume straight away. 
Flushing furiously, I clutched my costume with one
hand to keep it in place and headed for the steps,
about three metres away, where I could climb out
one-handed.

     Half the class was by now laughing and making
rude and silly comments, while the other half, who had
not been watching me, was desperately trying to find
out what treat it had missed.  Miss Winrow was trying
with equal desperation and a strangely flushed face to
persuade them to be quiet and pay attention.  I didn't
know whether she had seen the incident or not, but the
awkwardness of her manner, the redness of her face and
the fact that she did not try to find out why the
class was making such a noise suggested that she had
indeed been one of those privileged to view my
seven-year-old penis.

     I can still remember the utter humiliation I felt
as I tried to tie up my drawstring, looking downwards,
unable to face the laughter and ribald comments of my
classmates.  "We saw your wee-wee," one girl helpfully
informed me with a silly giggle as the class gradually
came to order again.

     With typical second-grade sensitivity, my
classmates would not allow me to forget the
experience.  Throughout the lesson, sniggering faces
were turned towards me and girls, whenever they could,
whispered together in twos and threes as those poor
deprived females who had been so unwisely paying
attention to the teacher instead of to me sought
desperately to find out exactly what they had missed.

     In the changing rooms afterwards, once they were
out of sight of Miss Winrow, the other boys had a good
laugh at me.  "All the girls saw you," I was gleefully
informed.  "Miss Winrow saw you."

     "Oh, shut up, it doesn't matter," I heard one
voice say loudly, with annoyance.  It was a fairly new
boy to our school, Stephen by name.  The eager voices
quietened a little, and Stephen continued crossly,
"Look, it was just an accident and it doesn't matter. 
Don't be so silly about it."

     I was surprised to find that most of the boys
seemed to feel a little ashamed at this unexpected
outburst and I didn't get much more teasing from them.
 Some of the girls were different, though.  As soon as
we returned to our own classroom, dressed and ready
for our next lesson, one of them announced importantly
and with great delight to our class teacher, "Mrs
Canford, Roy forgot to tie his costume up and it came
off in the swimming pool."

     Mrs Canford had a couple of words of mild reproof
for her, but not enough, as the torment continued from
several girls in the class.  I have found that most
girls can be very cruel, but if they just get a bit of
guidance when they are young they are quick to realize
it and quick to be kind instead.  But I had nobody to
take my side with the girls and I endured several
weeks of humiliation.  No doubt all the parents had
enjoyed a full ball-by-ball commentary on the incident
as well.

     Every day some of the girls would slip by me, in
the classroom or the passage or the playing field, and
chant in a whisper into my ear, gloating smiles on
their faces, "We saw your wee-wee!"  Girls who hadn't
been watching seemed never to tire of eliciting all
the details and description from those who had, and at
every swimming lesson I had girls sidle up to me and
ask gloatingly with a giggle, "Is your swimming
costume tight enough today, Roy?"  Whenever I went in
the pool I could sense all eyes on me, hoping for an
action replay.

     I did try and reply at times by telling them what
sort of panties they wore, as I had been noticing
those, and even pulled up some skirts to prove it, but
that only made it worse.  They became more malicious
and much more cautious with their skirts when I was
around, and I quickly gave up that line of
retaliation.

     Needless to say I tied my swimming costume up
very firmly after that, and two weeks later I tied the
drawstring so tightly that I couldn't get it undone. 
An embarrassed Miss Winrow had a go after the lesson,
when all the others were changed and waiting, and I
was terrified she would pull it down and expose what
was below, that which I was determined never again to
let any female see apart from my mother and Aunt Sue. 
But she also seemed terrified of that possibility, and
did no more than fiddle feebly with the top of my
costume before sending me to the first-aid centre, a
subject of class ridicule again, where the nurse had
to cut the drawstring, fortunately without revealing
my genitals.

     My torment did finally come to an abrupt end,
thanks to some good fortune.  One of the girls in my
class one day had diarrhoea in the assembly hall.  I
was not near her when it happened, and the first I
knew anything unusual was up was when I saw her, as we
were all sitting on the floor listening to the
headmaster, being led out of the hall, head down, face
deathly white and one hand clutched to her backside,
with a brown stain down one leg.

     There was a muffled murmur of disgust and rapid
movement away from where she had been sitting, and
children all moved outwards, many holding their noses.
 I craned my neck, as did all the other children in
the school I'm sure, but I could not see anything from
where I was.  It was only five minutes later as we all
left the hall that I could see, staring along with
everybody else, a little pool of liquid manure, about
the size of a biscuit, on the plastic tiles.  A maid
had just arrived with a bucket of water to clean it
up.

     Now it was somebody else's turn to suffer, and I
was greatly relieved, although a little disappointed
that the girl in question had not been one of my major
tormentors.  Many of the other boys in my class were
eager to talk about it and tease the girl herself when
she returned to school two days later.

     I was tempted to join in, since I was no longer
the main victim.  But I quickly saw the solidarity and
loyalty of girls to each other, which I would have
appreciated in boys, and the others stood alongside
the victim to oppose the boys who tried to torment
her.  I felt sure that if I said anything unkind, they
would come back at me with "We saw your wee-wee"
again, and I didn't want that.

     So I kept quiet, and I think it worked to my
advantage.  I suppose the girls as a whole decided
that because I never joined in the cruelty of the
other boys, I must be a `nice boy' and therefore
should no longer be teased.  It was hardly mentioned
again by the girls and I noticed that most of them
were soon fairly pleasant towards me again.

     That incident had a lasting effect on me, though.
 As soon as I arrived home after school on the day it
happened, too ashamed to tell my parents, I shut
myself in my room and cried from humiliation.  I hated
my penis and cursed it bitterly for causing me such
degradation.  When I had a shower that night, I tried
so hard to pull it off, hoping it would detach in my
hands, and I could wash it down the drain and never
have a penis again.  I was terribly disappointed that
nothing I could do would remove that offending organ,
or the little scrotum underneath that hurt quite
sharply when I tried to unscrew it.

     That night I fantasized about being a boy without
a penis, without considering whether that could be
logical.  I wished I could have just one wish in all
the world, and I would wish away my private parts and
never have to wear them again.  Then I wished I could
strip naked all those who had laughed at me and make
them run round the school naked and go home naked.  I
tried to enjoy visualizing them doing so, while I beat
their bare skin with a whip, but the pain underneath
was too great.

     Once I became more or less reconciled to the fact
that I was stuck with my genitals, literally, I began
to examine them more closely.  I concluded that there
must be something wrong with them, something deformed,
something peculiar, to make everyone laugh at them.  I
wondered what it was.



THE DAY I BECAME A NATURIST (CHAPTER 3)


I had never taken any interest in observing the
genitals of other boys before now, but the next time
our class changed for swimming, I was ready to take a
look at the other boys to see just why mine were so
odd.  I was very much afraid that they would revert to
teasing me about the previous lesson, but they had
forgotten that and chattered gaily as we changed for
the lesson.  I felt rather ashamed to let even other
boys view my deformed penis, so I kept my shirt on and
changed under my shirt-tail.  Nobody seemed to notice.

     After swimming I had an even better look at the
other boys, as they removed their swimming costumes
and dried themselves, naked and unconcerned about it. 
They did not seem to notice at all that I was
examining them and comparing their equipment with my
own.

     My research led to some unexpected observations
and conclusions on my part.  I was surprised, when I
looked closely, to find that penises vary a great deal
from one individual to another.  Some are longer than
others, and some are smaller.  Some are thinner and
some are fatter.  Some are thickest at the top, while
some have a bulge in the middle.  Some are covered by
foreskins and some have a little purple prepuce
visible instead.  Some are pink and some are white. 
Some foreskins taper off almost to a point, while
other penises come to an abrupt, stubby ending.  Some
are curly and some are straight.

     The size of a boy seems to have nothing to do
with the size of his penis.  Some small boys have
quite impressive penises, while the fattest boys
usually seem to have tiny little things hidden away
between their legs.  Some, unnaturally squashed up
inside a wet swimming costume, seemed to stick
together into an indescribable little ball when
released and took some time to come apart and resume
their natural shapes.

     Try as I might, I could not discover anything the
slightest bit unusual about mine.  It seemed as
ordinary a penis as ever existed, not too long or too
short, not too thin or too fat, and with my foreskin
just nicely covering the end of it.  The testicles
underneath seemed to be quite normal as well, enclosed
in a little bag that neither drooped nor hugged the
skin so tightly they were almost invisible.  I felt
relieved.  I was not abnormal after all.  
So I had to admit that they were not actually laughing
at *it*, but they would have laughed at any boy who
made the same mistake as I had done.

     I looked round at those naked boys, with my
shorts on now, and studied them again.  After the cold
water in the pool, many of the boys had penises so
shrunken that they appeared to be little more than
tiny purple blobs.  Others had longer members that
hung down and wobbled as they moved.  Mine was right
in between.  We were all slightly different, perhaps,
but strangely I was the only one who seemed to be
aware of it.  A couple of weeks later, I was still
wary but no longer afraid I was abnormal and would
have the other boys laughing at me.

     One thing that had always bothered me a bit, even
before this trauma, was the occasional peculiar
behaviour of my penis.  Every now and then, for no
apparent reason, it would become stiff.  I first
remember noticing this – though obviously it had
happened before - when I was about five, playing naked
in the sandpit at home.  I was sitting on the ground
holding some sand in my hand when some of it started
trickling through my fingers on to my penis.

     It felt funny and tingly, and my penis suddenly
started to stiffen.  It was quite an exciting feeling,
so I let some more sand trickle through.  My penis
quickly became quite stiff, pointing upwards towards
my chin.  I kept sprinkling it and wriggled with
pleasure.  Unfortunately my parents were watching me,
and that was the moment they decided that in future I
should be clothed at all times when outside.

     About two or three months after the disaster with
my swimming costume, we had an enlightening incident
in the changing rooms after swimming.  We came inside
to change after the lesson, and one boy announced in a
loud, clear, self-satisfied voice, with a silly
giggle, "Oh, look, my wee has gone all stiff!"  Having
secured our attention, he pulled down the front of his
costume to show his hard little member sticking
upwards, tittering gleefully as he did so.

     The rest of us stared and giggled naughtily, and
then another boy said, "I can do that.  Watch me."  He
pulled down the front of his costume, seized his limp
little penis and began working on it with his fingers.
 It quickly grew stiff as we watched in awe.

     In no time at all, most of the boys in the class
were marching around the changing room, swimming
costumes pulled down to just below the buttocks, with
stiff little penises pointing upwards or outwards,
giggling heartily or making silly noises.  One boy
went to the urinal and squeaked with laughter as,
untouched by human hand, his spray of urine went
upwards and described an elegant arc before hitting
the porcelain.  Eagerly other boys crowded round the
urinal to copy this skill.

     I was still too wary to join in, and I noticed
Stephen appeared to be rather disgusted by such
behaviour.  But such is the copy-cat and show-off
mentality of the seven-year-old that most of the class
were striving to copy, to outdo each other and to
invent new variations.

     "Boys!  Boys!"  came Miss Winrow's voice from
just outside.  For a moment we all froze.  "Make less
noise and hurry up," she called out again, and her
tone of voice seemed to suggest that she suspected
that something was up that she very much did not want
to be involved with, but was duty-bound to interrupt.

     "She's coming in!" squealed one boy, slapping his
hands over his genitals and bending over at the waist,
looking for all the world as if he had just taken a
blow below the belt.  There were shrieks from the
other boys, who all covered up, some holding their
half-lowered costumes over their swollen exhibits.

     We all knew, though, that Miss Winrow never came
into the boys' changing room, although it was only
later that we began to appreciate her reluctance to
risk seeing anything she might consider X-rated. 
Hands remained over genitals until their owners were
quite sure, and then with naughty sniggers and
whispers they began to dress.  One or two could not
resist the temptation to show off the bulges in their
underpants before we had quite finished, though.

     I was still terrified of ever letting a girl see
my penis again.  The other side of the coin was that I
became much more curious about what girls looked like
underneath.  I had another good look at Shelley and my
newborn sister Jenny, but they were only babies.  I
wanted to see girls of my own age.

     It became almost an obsession with me, stimulated
by the merciless teasing I had endured from the girls
in my class.  I kept my eyes wide open for their
panties, always in the hope that one day one of them
might not be wearing any.  I invited some `nice' girls
round to my house in the hope I could spy on them when
they changed for a swim in our pool, but they always
secured themselves in the changing rooms where I was
unable to see them.

     I did even gouge a little eyehole in the wooden
wall of the girls' small changing room, but when I
tried it out after finishing the job realized to my
chagrin that it was too dark inside for me to see a
thing.  I would also be very visible from the house
and I did not want my parents to know about my
obsession.  I didn't dare try it out, knowing it would
be doomed to failure and perhaps discovery, but my
heart beat wildly every time I knew a girl was
changing in there, and my bowels often turned to water
with the excitement.  Now I am older I realize that,
had I tried to peep through the hole, the girl inside
would have immediately seen me against the light and I
would have been caught in the act, so I am relieved I
never tried it.

     What my parents did notice was that suddenly I
became very interested in the human body.  I spent
hours paging through our family encyclopedia until I
found the section that showed very rudimentary
labelled drawings of the human body, male and female. 
Every day I took the book away to study the female
pictures in private.  There were two, one to show a
preteen girl and one a fully-grown woman.  I was
scarcely interested in the adult one, which looked
somehow grotesque, but was fascinated by the preteen
one, although it showed nothing more than a little
line between the legs.  After a couple of weeks I was
horrified to notice that the page edges had turned
very dark with constant use and it was easy for
anybody picking up the book to see immediately what I
was always looking at.

     I did the same in the school library, sharing my
interest in whispers with my friends.  Some of us
hunted for books together, but our school was a very
old-fashioned one and we found nothing any clearer
than those pictures in our family encyclopedia.  We
drew crude little pictures of naked girls on scraps of
paper and showed them to each other, and made wild
plans to spy on naked girls that were so fantastic
that we never even tried to carry them out.  Boys who
had sisters were encouraged to tell all they knew and
all they had seen, but most of us in our little group
were without sisters.  That is perhaps significant.

     One day one of the boys brought from home a book
entirely on the human body, and that was very
revealing.  Several of us sneaked into a corner of the
playground at break time and stared at it together, a
full page with a full-colour picture of a naked girl
of about our age.  The vagina was carefully drawn so
we could see it was rounded, almost like little lips,
I thought, before I even knew what labia were.  We
drooled over it, and hastily hid it whenever a prefect
or anybody else at all came anywhere near us.

     I memorized the name of the book and begged my
parents to get it for me, pretending I wanted to
become a doctor when I grew up.  When we went to town,
I eventually found it in a shop, but my parents would
not buy it, saying it was an adult book and I was not
old enough to understand it yet.

     One good thing that came from the incident was
that my friendship with Stephen developed.  He was
quite a tall boy, with dark sandy hair and light brown
eyes, and he was good company.  He had seemed
strangely uninterested in the pictures that so
enthralled me.  Several times we invited each other
round to our houses to play.  I often wanted to ask
him why he had stood up for me when the other boys had
teased me, but felt too embarrassed.

     One day, with my parents' approval, I invited
Stephen to spend the weekend at our house.  "If he
would like to come, we'll phone his parents," my
mother said.  Our respective parents had already met a
few times and got on well, so we expected it to be
just a formality.

     "I can come on Sunday but not on Saturday,
because we're going to the club," he told me at school
when I asked him the Monday before.

     I wanted to know what club, and he answered,
"It's a naturist club we belong to."

     I was not familiar with the word, so I asked him
what a naturist club was.  "Oh, it's just like a
normal club for families, except that we don't wear
clothes," he told me.

     My heart suddenly started throbbing with
excitement, as it tended to do now whenever nakedness
was mentioned.  "Why don't you wear clothes?" I asked,
astounded.  "Is everybody naked?  What do you do?"

     "Yes, and it's much more fun than wearing
clothes," he smiled, his eyes shining.  "We play games
and swim and have barbecues and all sorts of things. 
We have a caravan we sometimes stay in, and so have a
lot of other people there."

     "All without clothes on?" I gasped incredulously.
 I now had the idea that nobody anywhere would ever
want anybody else, from the opposite sex at least, to
see them naked, that nakedness was something awful
that attracted scorn and ridicule and only happened
when absolutely necessary, such as when changing
clothes, changing for swimming or taking a bath or
shower.  These activities were acceptable when done in
private between consenting males, but never at any
other occasion.

     "Yes, of course," he grinned, surprised at my
horrified reaction.  "Except for the barbecue because
sometimes there are sparks."  I had a suddenhorrifying
vision of what might happen were a loose spark to fly
off and hit a naked person in an unfortunate and
unprotected place.

     "I've got an all-over tan," Stephen told me
proudly, and pulled his shorts down a little at the
back to show me, although I had noticed he was
strangely brown in the changing room on that day when
I needed to assure myself that I was not abnormal. 
"So has everybody else there."

     "Are there *girls* there?" I asked, unable to
believe he could possibly answer in the affirmative,
but he did.  My heart beat wildly at the thought.  I
asked what ages, and he told me all ages – very small,
our age, older girls, teenagers, the lot.

     "But don't they laugh at you when they see your
wee?" I asked him, sure that this always happened
since it had happened to me.

     "Oh, no, of course not, silly," he chuckled. 
"We're all so used to seeing each other naked and it
just doesn't matter.  I don't mind if they see me and
they don't mind if I see them, and we don't even
notice.  It's not like the kids in this class."

     I couldn't imagine how I could ever see a naked
girl and not even notice, or how one could see me
naked and not even react.  Stephen must be some kind
of different person altogether, I thought.  And maybe
the girls were different kinds of people as well –
even though they looked the same as other girls
underneath.  Whatever that was like.

     I actually felt almost like vomiting with
over-excitement at the thought of large numbers of
girls all running round naked.  My heart felt as if it
was going to burst out of my chest.  I couldn't bear
it.  I wanted to go – but not if I had to go naked
too.  There was no way I wanted any girl to see me
naked.  I had vowed that no girl ever would see me
naked, never again.

     "Do we – do people *have* to be naked there?" I
blurted out, hoping that somehow I could go along and
remain clothed and yet feast my eyes on naked female
bodies.

     "Yes, of course," he answered, surprised. 
"That's the whole idea of the club.  It's a place
where anybody who wants to can go and be naked, and
nobody minds, and you don't get people being rude or
saying silly things like you do in our class."

     "Are there any girls from our class there?" I
asked.  "From our school, I mean," I added as an
afterthought, but Stephen was already answering.

     "No, it's way out in the country, and most of the
people are farmers," he said.  "It was started by the
farmers a long time ago and we've got about a hundred
people who belong to it now."

     The thought of a hundred naked girls flashed
through my mind, an illogical assumption from what
Stephen said but one that stuck.  I was too shattered
to inquire any further that day, but the whole idea
completely took over my thoughts for the rest of the
day.  I was too excited at the thought even to eat my
meals properly and several times I almost vomited. 
But I felt bitterly frustrated because I knew I would
have to be naked myself, if I could find a way to join
Stephen's family at all, and I just could not bear to
have a girl see me naked ever again.

     For two days I couldn't think of anything else. 
I had this obsession with seeing naked girls – proper
girls, I told myself, not babies like Shelley and
Jenny – on the one hand, and on the other I would
never again allow a girl to see me naked.  Somehow I
had to go with Stephen to his club, yet keep my
clothes on while I observed the ultimate in forbidden
and thrilling sights.

     (To be continued)



THE DAY I BECAME A NATURIST (CHAPTER 4)


How could I resolve my dilemma?  Perhaps, I thought, I
might go along with Stephen's family, giving the
impression I was happy to go naked with them, and then
when I got there pretend I wasn't well and felt cold
and had to keep my clothes on.

     But I have always had a calculating mind, even at
that age, and I knew it wouldn't work.  It was about
the hottest time of year, so feeling cold would be
scarcely believable unless I had other symptoms.  And
then, if I did manage to convince Stephen's parents I
wasn't well, they would no doubt take me home
immediately.

     I wished I could turn invisible, and then I could
feast my eyes without anybody knowing it.  I wished I
could make my genitals disappear and then I could show
off as the only person there who was so blessed as not
to have anything to hide.  I wouldn't have any holes
in my bottom or between my legs but everywhere would
be smooth because I never needed to go to the toilet
either.

     Such were my feelings, and I still remember them
clearly, when I was very young and immature and felt
there was something dirty or wrong about certain body
parts or bodily functions.  Such is the result of
conditioning by families and societies in most parts
of the world.  Fortunately I gather that Europe as a
whole is more enlightened than anywhere else in the
world that I know of, although there are still
inhibitions here.

     I now know that all body parts and bodily
functions are nothing at all to be ashamed of, but
merely part of being human.  However, that still does
not stop me from appreciating sensually the nakedness
of others.  My misguided views came to an abrupt end
at the age of seven, when my desires, along with those
of other children, were simply to see the other sex
naked.  I still have that desire to see, and I get
sensual satisfaction from seeing.  My sexual desires
are quiet and pleasant and natural, I think, and very
different from the sexual urges that many others my
age seem to feel and find so frustrating and difficult
to control.  I think naturism has done me good in that
area.

     Now I can control my desire to see others naked,
but at the age of seven, started off by that traumatic
experience at the school swimming pool, I couldn't.  I
had been humiliated myself, made to feel so inferior
and degraded because others who were not naked had
seen me naked, and I felt a tremendous desire that I
think was basically a longing to get back on equal
terms - to see others naked, especially girls, so they
would no longer have anything to hold over me.  And I
wanted better than that as well, to see them naked
without their seeing me naked.  After my experience,
it was far more than mere childish curiosity but an
obsession.

     It became unbearable.  My parents quickly noticed
that I was so very distracted, even unhappy, and could
hardly eat or concentrate on anything.  I would not
tell them what it was, and my father quickly came to
the conclusion that I had fallen in love.  I'm not
quite sure how serious he was, but I denied it so
furiously that my parents felt sure he was right.  But
I wouldn't tell them anything.  I was too ashamed, and
with their inhibitions about nakedness I never could
have told them anything.

     At school I kept questioning Stephen all about
the club until I became virtually a nuisance.  He
asked me if I wanted to come with him, and the mere
question set my heart throbbing frantically and
painfully all over again.  I shook my head, but then
kept asking him so many questions that in the end he
told me to shut up because I never talked about
anything else.  He must have been very perplexed by my
strange behaviour.

     Finally, by Wednesday I had had enough.  I
couldn't handle my frustration any longer.  I knew I
just had to go along to that naturist club and fill my
eyes with the naked girls that were constantly in my
thoughts and imagination.

     On the one hand, I wished the girls in my class
went there so I could see them naked.  I tried to
visualize them naked, but in my imagination that place
between their legs was always blank, even though I had
seen small versions on Shelley and Jenny.  Then I
remembered that if they were at the club, I would
never dare go, as they would see my penis again and
laugh at me.

     This brought me to the next logical step, that I
would not actually know any of the girls there.  They
came from farms, I thought Stephen had said.  I didn't
think I knew many people who lived on farms, and I
could never imagine any of them at a naturist club.  I
would far rather see girls that I knew naked than
girls that I didn't know.  But on the other hand I
would never want the girls I knew to see me naked – so
perhaps it didn't matter quite so desperately if a
girl I didn't know and was never likely to know
anywhere else saw me – naked?  As long as I saw all I
wanted of her, of course.

     And Stephen had almost ridiculed the idea that
these girls might laugh at me.  Clearly they didn't
laugh at him.  But he was obviously used to mixing
naked with naked girls, and I was afraid I would feel
terrible.  I had a terrifying feeling in the pit of my
stomach just thinking about any girl, however nice,
observing my penis.

     But I just couldn't bear the thought that, this
coming Saturday, there would be a place full of naked
girls, and I was not in it.  I needed to satisfy my
curiosity and I needed to get back on even terms with
the rest of humanity.  My privacy had been violated,
and I could not look girls in the face again until I
had tasted of the forbidden fruit myself.

     Feeling utterly terrified but driven by urges
that I couldn't explain, I asked Stephen that
Wednesday morning if I could come with him to the club
on Saturday.  "I'll ask my dad," he replied.

     I spent the next twenty-four hours dreading
Stephen's father would say no and drive my frustration
to exploding point, and dreading he would say yes and
force me to contemplate exposing my nakedness in
public.  There were times when I felt I could never
face up to exposing myself, and other times when I
felt I just had to take this great opportunity,
however fearsome it might be.

     I felt almost physically ill as I met Stephen on
Thursday morning to hear his answer, desperate to know
but terrified of a yes and terrified of a no.  "My dad
says it's fine with him," he told me, "but he'll need
to talk to your dad about it.  He says he'll phone
your dad tonight if you still want to come."

     "But don't let him say – it's naturist," I
answered.  "He mustn't do that.  He can just say we're
going out on a picnic.  That will be all right."

     "My dad says he has to tell your dad it's a
naturist club and get your dad's permission," Stephen
explained.  "He says your dad might be very cross with
him if he didn't know and found out later, because a
lot of people don't like naturist places."

     I didn't know how to answer.  I had never thought
of that side of it, and had assumed that Stephen's
father would be quite happy to call it a picnic and
nothing more.  I tried to tell Stephen that I would
have to think about it and I didn't want his father
ringing up yet, but I obviously wasn't coherent about
it and Stephen misunderstood me.

     I was still wrestling with the problem that
evening and assuming that Stephen and his father were
waiting on my final answer.  Aunt Sue was round with
her husband, my mother's brother, and baby Shelley,
and I was on the veranda with them all after supper
because it was expected of me.

     I normally enjoyed their visits very much, but
this time my mind was in such turmoil that I didn't
behave at all normally.  My mother explained, in the
usual way parents have as if I wasn't there, that I
had been behaving in a peculiar way all week and they
were wondering if I had fallen in love with a girl who
was rejecting me.  There were chuckles all round and I
felt humiliated again.

     Then the telephone rang and my father went
indoors to answer it.  I stiffened at the first ring,
although I was not really expecting Stephen's father
to call, but worried just in case he should.  Then I
heard my father's voice say, "Hello, Tom," and I froze
with terror.  It was indeed Stephen's dad – he was the
only adult Tom I knew – and my shameful secret would
be out.

     My dad then shut the front door behind him so as
not to be distracted by the noise Shelley was making
at that moment, and I could hear no more.  I sat there
as if I was facing instant death.  My face must have
been as white as a sheet, but fortunately Shelley was
too young and my mother and Aunt Sue were too busy
talking to notice, while my uncle was reading one of
my dad's business journals.

     All too soon my father came out of the front door
and glared at me.  "That was Mr Watkins," he told me. 
"What's all this about you wanting to go to a
*naturist* club with them?"

     I stared at him, open-mouthed and I'm sure
looking extremely guilty, not knowing what to say. 
Then Aunt Sue took a hand.  She evidently heard my
father despite her conversation with my mother.  "A
naturist club?" she exclaimed.  "Goodness, Roy, that
sounds very daring!  I didn't know there were any near
town at all.  You must tell me all about it when you
get back."

     My dad looked at her and said, "I told Mr Watkins
Roy wouldn't be going."

     "Not going?" Aunt Sue exclaimed.  "Pete, I never
knew you were so – so prejudiced."  She laughed.  "I
think these places could be quite fun, and very
different."

     "All those people naked together?" my dad
replied.  "If they want to be naked, why can't they
use their own gardens where nobody can see them?  In
public, it's not decent."

     "Oh, that's just our stuffy English cultural
heritage," Aunt Sue laughed.  "A hundred years ago
ladies couldn't even show their ankles, and now we're
in the age of miniskirts.  Probably most of the
members don't have walled gardens to strip off in,
anyway.  I'm sure it's a good family place or your
friends the Watkins would never go or invite Roy to go
with them."

     "Stephen says there are lots of gir – of kids
there," I dared to put in.

     "There aren't many other places around here where
families can go and meet together, apart from the
sports club, and then the men just go into the bar and
drink," said Aunt Sue.  "I'd be fascinated in finding
out from Roy what this place is really like."

     "I don't want him going to a place like that
without our supervision, and we're certainly not
going," said my father firmly.

     Aunt Sue laughed and shook her head and was about
to reply when my mother broke in.  "Roy, take Shelley
up to your bedroom and play with her there," she told
me quickly.

     My dad and Aunt Sue held their peace for a minute
while I led the willing Shelley inside the house, and
then started again.  I tried to hang around and
listen, but Shelley was chattering away and I couldn't
hear.  Reluctantly I went upstairs with her, in a
state of high tension about what was going on below. 
I didn't know what to hope, except that I would not be
in trouble with my parents.  I felt very relieved that
at least Aunt Sue had been there to distract my
father.

     It seemed like a very long time before I heard my
mother calling me from the foot of the stairs.  I came
slowly downstairs with Shelley, wondering what was
awaiting me.

     My father told me to sit, and I did so fearfully.
 He no longer seemed so surprised or indignant, at
least.  I glanced across at Aunt Sue, but Shelley had
run across to her so she was not looking at me.  This
gave me no prior hint of what had happened during my
absence.

     "Now, Roy," he began.  "Tell me why you are so
keen to go to this – this naturist club."

     I gulped.  Then I looked down at my feet and
blurted out something like, "Well, I don't know – I –
I didn't know – I wasn't sure – it was naturist.  It's
just – Stephen's my friend and he often goes so I
can't play with him at weekends and I thought I – I'd
like to go where he goes."

     "Do you really want to run around – naked, with
all those other people watching you?" my father asked.

     That was the last thing I wanted, but at least I
sensed a softening of my father's attitude.  Of
course, I could never reveal the real reason I wanted
to go.  So I just whispered guiltily, "He said it was
fun.  They do all sorts of fun things."

     "Do you still want to go?" he asked me.

     I stared up at him.  The implication was that he
might even agree.  But I daren't risk anything.  I
thought long and hard how to answer.  I didn't even
know myself.  Finally I whispered what I thought
seemed safest: "I won't go if you don't want me to
go."

     There was a pause, and then my dad said, "Well,
Mum and I have never been to one of these places, and
they didn't sound good to us.  But Aunt Sue thinks it
might be all right.  No doubt she knows more about
that sort of thing than we do."  A gentle barb here,
which I'm sure only amused my aunt.

     "So," my dad continued, "we have talked about it,
and we think we might allow you to go, if you really
want to, but only if Aunt Sue is able to go with you. 
She has offered to go along if you would like her to. 
I don't know if Mr and Mrs Watkins would be willing to
let her come as well, but if not, I suppose that's a
bad sign.  Now, what do you think?"

     I didn't know what I thought.  I looked over for
guidance to Aunt Sue, who was smiling at me.  "I'd
love to come, sweetie," she said to me.  "But it's for
you to decide."

     My parents have always been pretty liberal in
allowing me to make decisions myself, but if I hardly
knew what I wanted to do before they found out, I
certainly didn't know what to do afterwards.  "I don't
know," I whispered.

     To cut a long story short, it was left for me to
decide, within twenty-four hours.  I went to bed
exhausted, but again unable to sleep properly, as my
mind was in turmoil.  I was so close now to my
nirvana, but I was also so much closer to the awful
ordeal of uncovering my naked body in public – to
girls.

     (To be continued)



THE DAY I BECAME A NATURIST (CHAPTER 5)


In the morning I finally made my decision.  If I
didn't go, I might never in my whole life get the
chance to see girls naked again, and I would forever
regret what might have been.  And it would be a great
comfort, at my age, to have Aunt Sue there with me. 
She might do things at times that one didn't associate
with being grown-up, but if anybody laughed at me, she
would handle them.  I would not be in it alone, and I
had no fears about her seeing me naked.  It did not
occur to me at all then that I would also see her
naked.

     I hoped my parents would take the initiative at
breakfast and make it easier for me.  But they didn't,
perhaps hoping I would say nothing and the matter
would drop, never to return.  Finally, as I prepared
to depart for school, I spoke to my mother, although
my father was in the room.  She had not taken sides in
the original argument, as far as I knew.

     "Mum," I whispered.  "Is it still all right if I
go with Stephen – tomorrow?  Please?"

     "Well, that's what we agreed," she said, rather
fatalistically.

     "You want to go then, Roy?" my father asked. 
Slowly I nodded my head and hoped I was not blushing
too furiously.

     He paused, and then said, "Right, then, I'll
phone Mr Watkins at work and see if he minds Aunt Sue
coming as well."

     I had forgotten that part, and realized that I
would actually have to wait until I saw my parents
that evening now to find out if I would actually be
able to go or not.  I wished a thousand times I had
made up my mind more quickly as the day dragged by and
I remained in suspense.

     That evening I received the news.  Yes, Aunt Sue
would be most welcome, and we were going.  There would
not be room for us both in the Watkins' car, though,
as Stephen had an older and a younger brother, so Aunt
Sue would take her car and follow theirs to – the
naturist club!

     "Just remember, Roy, when you're there," my
father warned me seriously.  "Don't stare.  It's very
bad manners to stare at people."  He obviously still
had serious reservations about my going at all.

     "Oh, Pete, Roy isn't old enough to be conscious
of that sort of thing yet," my mother told him. 
Little did she know, but I took my dad's words to
heart.  I had already learned that if I let girls know
I was interested in seeing anything private, they did
their best to ensure that I never had the chance.

     I had got what I wanted, but I can still remember
the mixture of excitement and fear that once again
prevented me from getting much sleep.  I felt tired
out when that fateful Saturday morning came, but
pretended not to be, in case my parents decided I was
not well enough to go.  I was smart enough to realize
that they might be very happy to take this way out, as
I could tell they were still dubious about the
morality of such a club.

     I remember going to the toilet when I got up and
looking down in hatred at my innocent little white
penis as it did its major job in life, spurting urine
into the bowl.  How I wished I didn't have one, or
anything down there, so I could go to the club without
fear.  This day, I thought, my wee (as I called it
then), together with that tight little pink bag of
testicles underneath, would appear in public for the
first time since I ever became conscious of it.  I
would have given anything to avoid it – anything but
the frustration that would be quite impossible to live
with if I missed seeing those imaginary hundreds of
girls naked.

     I didn't think I could even eat any breakfast or
hold down anything if I tried, so I tried to look
healthy and hit on the brilliant idea of telling my
parents that I didn't need any because Stephen had
said we would have breakfast at the club.  Just to be
awkward, my dad then decided they had better phone
Aunt Sue and let her know, but my mother said that it
was too late because she would already have eaten.

     "I can't imagine Sue ever saying no to two
breakfasts," chuckled my father, and I was relieved
that the matter ended there, before Aunt Sue found me
to be a liar at the club.

     I was in a state of high tension and had emptied
my bowels until there was nothing left inside me as
Aunt Sue picked me up at nine o'clock – Shelley was
there too but not my uncle - and we drove to meet the
Watkinses at their house.  Stephen invited me to join
them in their car, which was possible although
squashed.  I decided I would feel much safer, with the
greatest and most wonderful ordeal of my life just
ahead of me, travelling with my aunt, though.

     It takes well over an hour to reach the naturist
club from the city, and it was the longest hour of my
life.  A mixture of excitement and dread is highly
toxic.  I sat on the back seat with Shelley in her
little strapped-in chair, while Aunt Sue chattered
away cheerfully.

     "You're very quiet these days, Roy," she said at
last, after about twenty minutes of my monosyllabic
answers.  "Are you nervous about going to a naturist
club?"

     "Well, a bit," I admitted grudgingly, glad that
somebody understood my feelings.  Then, afraid I had
given too much away and afraid that she might suspect
the rest of them, I blurted out, "Aunt Sue, have you
ever been to a naturist club?"

     "Not to a club, dear," she answered.  "But when I
was a little girl on our farm, our whole family would
go skinny-dipping every day in the reservoir.  Oh,
that was such fun, to feel the sun and the wind on my
bare skin and to be free . . . it really brings back
memories.  I'd got out of that habit since I married
your uncle, but when I heard you had been invited to a
naturist club, well, I just thought, what the hell,
I'd love to go."

     Within a minute she was telling me about her
memories of swimming in the reservoir, and I
especially remember one story.  "One day while we were
swimming, a couple of girl hikers came over the hill
nearby and saw us.  My two brothers, who were
teenagers then, climbed out and went running towards
them, completely starkers, shouting at them to join
us.  You never saw two girls run away so fast in all
your life!"  She howled with laughter at the memory
and almost drove the car off the road.

     "Didn't they mind the girls seeing their – seeing
them . . ." I stammered.

     "Oh, no, none of us ever worried much about
that," Aunt Sue laughed.  "We just said, who cares? 
They look just the same as us underneath, only they're
scared of it and we're not.  Look at little Shelley –
nothing she likes better than running around in her
little bare bottom – hey, Shell?  It's only when she
gets to school she'll have idiots telling her she
shouldn't."

     "Why didn't you go to a naturist club before?" I
asked.

     "Well, I married your uncle and, as you know,
your family are rather strict about that sort of
thing," she answered.  "And I knew there was a
naturist club somewhere way out in the countryside,
but it was the other side of town from our farm and
I'd never been there or known anybody who had gone
there, so I didn't bother.  But if I can go there with
you and Shelley, that would be great fun, especially
on the days when your uncle plays golf.  Let's see how
we enjoy it."

     I shrank back into a mixture of fear and
anticipation as the car in front finally turned off
the main road on to what looked like a narrow dusty
farm track.  But, from what I had heard, the family
who started the club had converted part of their farm
into a naturist club.

     Our two cars drove along this dirt road for about
three or four kilometres before the Watkins' car
turned down a side road and immediately stopped before
a padlocked gate.  There was a hedge all around the
property so nobody could get in.  I learned later that
years ago there had once been a fence, but the owners
planted a hedge, many kilometres long altogether,
around the outside.  I was not surprised to find such
precautions had been taken to keep the place private. 
After all, if I had lived nearby I would have wanted
to find a way to sneak inside.

     Stephen's older brother got out of their car and
unlocked the gate so that both cars could drive
through.  He locked it again behind us, climbed back
into their car and we set off slowly down the new dirt
road.  My heart felt as if it was going to burst as I
gazed eagerly out of the windows, desperate to espy my
first naked girl.  There was nobody in sight.  We were
now driving through the woods.

     I had imagined somehow that we would drive into a
big open place with people – especially girls –
running around naked, where I would be able to feast
my eyes before the dreaded moment when I would have to
expose my greatest secrets to the unsuspecting world. 
I was quite taken aback, then, when we reached a long
line of caravans beside the road, and the Watkins' car
turned in beside the second one.  I could see two or
three more cars further up under the trees before the
road turned a corner.  Still everywhere looked
deserted.

     The doors of Stephen's family car burst open and
the boys poured out, naked already, or in the final
stages of stripping.  Aunt Sue pulled up alongside
them.  Puzzled and probably red-faced, I reluctantly
climbed out.

     "Here we are, then," smiled Mrs Watkins.  "The
boys just can't wait.  All right, let's get changed
first, and then we can unpack."

     "Isn't there anybody else here?" I blurted out.

     "Oh, yes, there will be, but they'll all be up in
the clubhouse area, I should think," she replied. 
"We'll go and join them soon, just as soon as we've
undressed and unpacked."

     The Watkins parents began undressing and Aunt Sue
was already slipping off her blouse, talking to them
as she did so.  I tightened with fear and excitement
so much I was afraid I would burst.  The dreaded,
glorious moment was upon me, but it looked as if I
would have to strip off before I had anything in
return!  I didn't count adults as trophies.

     I stole a glance at Aunt Sue when nobody seemed
to be looking, and in my naivety I was puzzled as to
why she was wearing such a small tight vest.  It
didn't even cover her whole chest, as mine did on the
rare occasions in our warm climate when I needed one,
and only looked like a sort of bikini top.

     I didn't dare glance at the Watkins parents.  The
three boys, all naked, were noisily unpacking the car.
 I found my excuse and started helping little Shelley
off with her clothes.  She always liked having me
undress her and it wasn't difficult to turn this into
a time-consuming job.

     I was soon feeling very self-conscious as the
only one clothed, and thinking it would have been
better to have undressed at the same time as the
others rather than have to do it alone, with the
possibility of receiving special attention.  The
others took no notice of me, though, as they unpacked
and talked.

     I was just in the process of removing Shelley's
panties, the last item before I would have to face up
to undressing myself, when I heard a girl's voice
calling, "Stephen, Stephen!"  I looked up to see a
naked girl running down the road towards us, calling
and waving to my friend.

     "Hi, Anne," he called back.  An indescribable
feeling came over me as I realized that this was a
girl I knew.  There were two second-grade classes at
our school and she was in the other one.

     She didn't see me straight away as I was crouched
with Shelley beside our car.  She ran up to Stephen,
grabbed his arm and said with a big smile, "Come
quickly, Stephen!  There's a big new slide at the
pool."

     I stared at her, my heart about to burst at
seeing a girl I knew fully naked for the first time,
and with dread in the knowledge that she would soon
see me in the same state.  My eyes devoured her, as
she hadn't seen me yet.

     Anne was a pleasant-looking girl, with a clear
open face, light brown hair tied back in a ponytail,
and grey eyes.  But this wasn't what I was looking at.
 I could see her hipbones just visible as she talked
to Stephen, and the gentle groove of her groins as
they extended down from her hips to the junction of
her legs.  And there, at the bottom between her legs,
was a lovely little rounded slit, bright in the
sunlight.  I almost vomited with excitement as I
stared at it, so soft, so tender, so exciting.

     It really did look like Shelley's or Jenny's, but
this was a girl my own age and she was not ashamed of
it.  At least the first girl to see me naked who knew
me was a nice, friendly girl, and not one likely to
insult or mock me.  I quite liked her although I
didn't know her well, except I could recall seeing her
soft white panties once or twice.

     Then little Shelley gave a squeal and took off
around the little clearing beside the caravan,
shrieking with joy.  Anne looked over towards her and
saw me.  I must have made a pretty unimpressive sight
as I crouched there in embarrassment, but relieved at
being still clothed at that moment.

     "Oh, Roy, I didn't see you there!" she exclaimed,
her open face beaming with delight.  She bounced over
to me, quite untroubled by the fact that she was naked
and I wasn't.  I scrambled to my feet as her bare body
arrived right in front of my eyes and she exclaimed,
"What are you doing here?"

     I opened my mouth but no sound came out.  Stephen
rescued me.  "He's my friend and he's come to visit
for the day," he explained.  "His aunt has come too."

     "Hurry and come up to the pool, both of you,"
beamed Anne.  "The new slide is so exciting.  It goes
up and down in the middle . . .  Let me help you
unpack."

     I think Mrs Watkins must have sensed my
embarrassment, as she said gently, "Anne, would you go
and wait for us at the clubhouse, please?  We'll come
and join you when we're ready."

     "All right," answered Anne agreeably.  "Hurry,
then," she called out to Stephen and myself, turning
to wave before she ran off back up the road.

     I glanced for a moment at her little light-brown
bottom gleaming in the sun as she ran, and then turned
on Stephen.  "You said there weren't any other girls
from our school here!" I accused him.

     Stephen looked surprised.  "No, you just asked me
about girls from our class," he corrected me.  "None
of them come."

     "Are there any other girls from school here?" I
demanded, immediately thinking of several from other
classes that I certainly did not want to see me naked.

     "Not many – there's Sharon," he replied.  "And
Rachel and – and Sarah Joslin, and I don't think there
are any others."

     Sharon was Anne's sister, in sixth grade and a
prefect at the school.  She too I classified as a
`nice girl', as children often do.  My heart speeded
up again.  Was I really going to see a *girl prefect*
naked?  Rachel was a quiet, pleasant, pretty girl in
the same class as Anne, nobody I was worried about and
one I would be very eager to see naked.  But Sarah
Joslin – I wasn't too happy about her.  She was in the
sixth grade, but not a prefect.  I didn't know her
well but her reputation was that she was not a `nice
girl'.  But I wasn't sure that she actually knew who I
was, an ordinary boy four years younger.

     I must have looked very uncertain and unhappy
because Mrs Watkins realized there was something
wrong.  "Roy, if you don't feel good about this, we're
not going to force you to join us," she told me
quietly and kindly, from above a mass of tanned skin
that I dared not look at.  "Would you rather sit in
the car and read a book or something?"

     I thought hard.  Little as I relished the
prospect of presenting my naked body in public,
especially if Sarah Joslin was there, I would miss the
chance of seeing a prefect naked, of having another
look at Anne – I longed to feast my eyes on her
beautiful smooth soft body again – and any other girls
who were there as well.  I gulped and spluttered out,
"I – I'm all right.  I'll get – get changed in a
minute."

     "All right, take your time, dear," she smiled
kindly, and turned to look at Shelley, who was gaily
chasing some brightly coloured butterflies that seemed
to inhabit the place in large numbers.  The others
were already watching her and laughing at her while
she, delighted to be the centre of attention, was
playing up to the gallery.  Nobody was taking any
notice of me at that moment.

     I glanced nervously at Aunt Sue.  She, and all
the others, were laughing at Shelley and they were all
naked.  I had only vague memories of my parents naked
from the past, and had never seen another adult naked.
 Now here was all this bare flesh before me, the
Watkins' more tanned than Aunt Sue's.  It was an
unbelievable sight to my callow eyes.  I felt as if I
were in a completely different world.

     I had never imagined what Aunt Sue looked like
underneath her clothes.  I was literally shocked to
see her breasts, large to me but fairly small by adult
standards I was to find.  They were rounded and
sagging a little, with large pink nipples hanging down
slightly.  She was always slightly plump, although not
badly so, but it showed a bit more when she was naked.

     I had seen her stomach before when she wore her
regular bikini and it hung slightly over the lower
portion.  But I was quite unprepared for what had
previously lain hidden underneath.  There was a large
patch of black hair between her legs where the vagina
had been.

     I couldn't help staring, but fortunately she was
not watching me.  I wondered if it was real.  I
thought it couldn't be.  I stole the quickest of
glances at Mrs Watkins, and was amazed to see that she
also had a patch of hair there, which was a rather
lighter brown.  Mrs Watkins also had breasts that
stuck out but didn't sag.  I had always been aware
that women had bosoms but had never wondered what they
looked like, because I had never been made aware that
viewing them was forbidden.  Girls my age in our
country usually wear similar swimming costumes to boys
– out of school - up until the age of about ten, and
they have no inhibitions about letting boys see their
chests, which look exactly the same as boys' anyway.

     I actually felt horrified.  I thought Aunt Sue's
exposed body looked so ugly, and felt the same about
other women when I saw them shortly afterwards.  I was
also to see men, with their large penises dangling
down and hair at the top, and hoped I never looked as
ugly as that.  Other children my age, with their small
hairless parts, I thought really beautiful.  It
actually took me a couple of years as a naturist
before I began to feel that maybe adults were not
quite so ugly after all.

     Even today, when my own penis has grown somewhat
and sprouted pubic hair, I still have a preference for
the beautiful unsullied bodies of preteen children. 
It is a wonderful sight to me to see children between
about eight and twelve, who should in `normal' society
be very shy of revealing their naked bodies, running
around and playing happily, enjoying their nakedness
and completely uninhibited.

     Not that I ever have any sexual desires towards
them at all.  It is sensual rather than sexual, the
most beautiful sight in all the world to me.  They
look so vulnerable, especially the girls.  I am really
a very chivalrous person and I just want to be a big
brother to them, nothing more, loving them and
protecting them while I enjoy their beauty.

     (To be continued)



THE DAY I BECAME A NATURIST (CHAPTER 6)


I didn't know whether the others were deliberately
giving me the chance to strip off when they weren't
looking, but I did know I had better do it now.  I
kept my sandals on, as did all the others as the
ground was rough in places.  I pulled off my shirt,
and gulped.  My heartbeat rose rapidly as I fearfully
pulled down my shorts.

     I felt exposed already in my white underpants. 
But they too had to go.  I slid half behind the car
and, with trembling fingers, pulled them down and my
penis popped into view.

     Feeling desperately vulnerable and with one hand
nervously clutching my crotch, I looked at the others.
 Stephen's younger brother looked at me, grinned in a
friendly way and turned back to watch Shelley's show. 
I was very much afraid at the time he was grinning at
the sight of my penis, but I later realised it wasn't.

     I glanced down at my penis, looking so small,
white and vulnerable as it made its first appearance
in public since I first became self-conscious about
it.  It gleamed in a patch of sunlight shining down
through the treetops.  I shivered, and I'm sure my
penis came out in gooseflesh, despite the heat of the
day.  Defensively I clutched it with my fingers.  It
felt so cold, and my little scrotum was snuggled up
closely to my body.

     I thought again about the sensual delights ahead
of me, and my penis gave a quick spurt of urine before
I could stop it.  Appalled, I moved away hurriedly and
glanced at the others, but to my utmost relief they
had not been looking at me.  My quick movements,
though, attracted their attention and they glanced
briefly at me.  I don't think they could have helped
but notice how strained and embarrassed I was.  I
needed to urinate but was too shy to ask.

     Shelley was coming to the end of her show and ran
to Aunt Sue for a hug.  Mrs Watkins looked around and
then suggested brightly, "Well, shall we move up to
the clubhouse now?  There are so many people who would
be delighted to meet you all."

     The others began to pick up bags and picnic
baskets while I stayed frozen to the spot, one hand
right next to my penis, partly to shield it from view
and partly to grab it should it decide to engage in
any involuntary action again without my consent. 
Stephen saved me.  "I need a wee first," he announced,
heading for a bush at the back of the caravan.

     His little brother followed him and I knew I had
better seize my chance.  My penis was already spurting
as I reached the bush.  The three of us must have
looked a funny sight, standing there side by side with
our bare bottoms facing the road and all urinating
together into the same bush.  I'm sure my face was red
now and I felt horribly exposed, but nobody laughed. 
Stephen's penis was a little longer than mine, but
still pretty normal, while his brother's was quite
thin and stringy.

     Before I had finished, I could see Shelley
toddling up on my left.  She was only two and we had
often had a bath together before that fateful day when
my swimming costume failed to co-operate at the school
pool, so she had seen me naked before.  I turned my
face away in embarrassment, though, thinking she had
come to examine my penis.

     Instead, she called out gaily, "Look at me,
Mummy!  I'm like the boys."  She thrust her hips
forward and tried to urinate standing up, like the
three of us.  Then she gave an exclamation of
disappointment as most of her little stream of urine
poured down her leg instead of spraying into the bush.

     "Oh, no, Shelley, girls don't do it standing up,"
laughed Aunt Sue.  "Well, they can, but I'll have to
teach you how sometime.  Come here and let me dry you
now."

     Whimpering, Shelley ran back to my aunt, who
wiped her leg dry with tissue paper.  "I want to stand
up like the boys," she complained.

     "I'll teach you how later on," promised Aunt Sue.
 She obviously did, because I never again saw Shelley
urinating sitting down.  She learned how to press
herself in the right place to send the spray outwards
and keep her legs dry.  Even today, she is still
adamant that she will always urinate standing and
enjoys teaching other girls the skill.

     We took the baskets and walked up the road
towards the clubhouse.  It was over a hundred metres
away, and there were a lot of caravans on either side
of the road.  Most of the members owned their own
caravans.  I pulled my hat and towel out of the basket
I was carrying and held them as casually as I could at
around belly-button level so they hung down and
covered my penis.
 
     We passed a few other families, either talking
walks or heading for the clubhouse as well, having
just arrived.  They greeted the Watkinses cheerily. 
"Please don't introduce me to anybody," I pleaded
urgently to Mrs Watkins, still ashamed of my
nakedness.  "I just want to make friends by myself."

     "All right, I'll try not to," she smiled, and she
did a pretty good job, introducing Aunt Sue while I
tried to keep out of sight among Stephen and his
brothers.  There were a few other boys and girls who
came up to meet Stephen, but as children of that age
tend to do they usually ignored me as one they didn't
know.

     I made no effort to be friendly as I was far too
self-conscious, but I greedily feasted my eyes on the
girls.  I was surprised to find there were some
differences among their vaginas, although they were
not usually as individual as boys' penises.

     Some vaginas are, of course, a little longer or
wider than others.  Some are flatter than others and
some are more rounded than others.  As with fat boys,
I soon found that fat girls tend to have small vaginas
hidden away beneath their legs.  Some girls, I was
intrigued to see, actually seemed to have something
sticking down a bit inside their vaginas at the top,
almost as if there was a tiny penis hidden inside.  In
my ignorance, I wondered if it was, and watched them
carefully to see if it ever came out.  Their vaginas
seemed to describe a double line instead of the single
slit that most girls there seemed to have.

     One or two little girls had what I came to call a
buttonhole vagina.  The tops of their vaginas seemed a
little wider and more rounded than the rest, as if
they were topped with a little buttonhole.  I noticed
that as my sister Jenny grew a little older, her
vagina began to look the same, although it seemed to
lose this characteristic when she was about six or
seven.

     I was most intrigued by girls of about eleven or
twelve, just beginning puberty, and their growing
patches of hair, mostly black or a lighter brown, just
appearing between their legs.  Some of them had
vaginas that looked strangely fuzzy at first, and it
took a closer look to discover that they were just
beginning to develop little light puffs of downy hair.
 With some I could see quite clearly the little
strands of hair spreading outwards from the vagina.

     Their developing breasts also fascinated me. 
This was something I had never even thought about
before, as I mentioned earlier.  At first I thought
them ugly and deformed, but I gradually got used to
them.  I have never really liked them large, though.

     After a few months, I fell in love with those
little breasts that were just growing, just sticking
up from the skin like a tiny replica of Mount
Fujiyama.  Others seemed rather to grow broader, so
that the girl for a few months looked more like a boy
with a muscular chest.  When they eventually became
really large, like a pair of funnels I would say, I
sadly gave up my interest in them, just as I did with
the vaginas once they developed a real mat of hair.

     As we continued to walk along the track, I could
clearly hear the shouts and laughter of children up
ahead, and the splashing of water in the swimming
pool.  Then we came out into an open space, and I
could see the clubhouse up in front, with a bar on the
large veranda, and a large number of naked adults
talking and drinking and enjoying each other's
company.  It was like suddenly walking into a
terrifying strange new world.

     In front of the veranda was a large, beautifully
kept lawn, and in the middle of that was the swimming
pool, surrounded by wire netting to avoid accidents
but to allow parents to see all that was going on
there.  Naked children were running around inside the
pool area, swimming in the water and using the diving
boards and slides.  A few adults were in there as
well.  There were a few other children playing on the
lawn or on the veranda with the adults, but these were
mainly younger ones.

     "Isn't this great?" Stephen grinned at me.  I
nodded, speechless.

     "Come up to the veranda first, and you can meet
people and have a drink," suggested Mrs Watkins to us
all.

     "Aw, Mum, please may we have a swim first?"
pleaded Stephen.  "I'm so hot."  I was very grateful
to him.  I wanted to get into that pool, all the
better to watch the girls, and also to hide my penis
underwater.

     "Oh, all right, just for a short while," agreed
his mother.  We threw our baskets on to the adults and
took off for the swimming pool, with myself still
holding my hat and towel ridiculously over my penis.

     "Hello, Stephen!  Hello, Roy!" Anne greeted us
happily, climbing out of the pool in front of us, her
long hair, now loose, hanging wetly all over her face
and shoulders.  Flushing furiously, I tried to hide my
naked body behind Stephen and tried not to look too
obviously at that lovely soft smooth wet vagina. 
"Come and try the new slide," she urged us, grabbing
our arms.

     She had never seen me naked before, and she could
not see my penis now because I had them covered with
my hat and towel.  She obviously wasn't the slightest
bit interested in seeing it at all, I realised with
great relief.  Not that I was willing to give her a
chance if I could help it.

     I could see the new slide and a line of about ten
children, naturally naked, all eagerly lined up to use
it.  It looked very exciting.  It was about three
metres high, went through a small tunnel, and then up
over a hump, down again and into the pool.  There was
a great deal of shouting and laughter, and in normal
circumstances I would have been only too eager to have
a turn as quickly as possible.

     But to join the queue would have meant putting my
towel and hat down and exposing my white genitals in
the same way that the others were doing.  I didn't
want to do that yet.  "I want a swim first," I blurted
out.  Breaking away from Anne's arm, I plunged into
the pool, dropping my hat and towel on the edge in the
same moment.

     I came to the surface with some relief, my penis
largely protected from the public by the water.  Anne
and Stephen had given me up, and were chattering
excitedly at the back of the queue to the slide. 
There were shrieks of mixed fright and delight as an
older girl, little breasts just sprouting, bounced
down the slide and landed with a splash less than five
metres from me.

     I paddled aimlessly around by myself for a while,
too ashamed of my nakedness to join in with anybody
else, but very happy to be feasting my eyes on naked
girls of all ages.  I stared at them in the queue or
as they ran round the pool, fascinated by the little
breasts of those just verging on puberty, a new
dimension I had never envisaged.  I could not get
enough of their little smooth vaginas, or the little
patches of hair covering the spot for those aged about
eleven or over.  I felt disappointed that at this
stage the vaginas should be hidden under the hair, yet
the hair itself fascinated me.

     Stephen and Anne tried to encourage me to try the
slide, but when I told them "Later" a couple of times
they left me.  I wished I could have joined them, but
still did not feel ready to display my body out of the
water.

     Then a boy of about ten, being chased around the
side of the pool by a friend, accidentally kicked my
towel into the water.  "Hey!" I shouted crossly as he
looked down guiltily.  "That's my towel!"

     "Shouldn't have left it there," he retorted, but
he did reach down and grab it before it sank.

     My main consternation was that a soaking wet
towel would not be appropriate for shielding my penis
from view any longer, and I was cross and alarmed. 
Illogically and without thinking, I scrambled out of
the pool and grabbed it from him.  I held it at arm's
length as it dripped water in a steady stream.

     "Oh, sorry, Roy," said Anne, coming over as she
seemed to have seen what happened.  "Here, let's put
it over a branch to dry."  Before I had time to think,
and at the same moment that I realized that I was
naked out of the water, she took it from me and went
over to the nearest tree.

     I must have gone pale with the realization that I
had blown all my cover.  Should I leap back into the
pool quickly?  Anne draped my towel over a branch and
turned to me.  "Come and try the slide now," she urged
me, drawing me by the arm towards the slide before I
had worked out what to do.

     All this time she had not stolen a single glance
at my nether regions.  As we stood in the queue she
happily chattered away about what it felt like on the
slide, looking me in the face all the time, while I
surreptitiously stood there with one hand defensively
clutching my penis.  As we moved up the ladder bit by
bit, I glanced fearfully around and found that nobody
else was staring at me either.

     She was ahead of me on the ladder, and my eyes
were about level with her little tanned bottom.  When
she reached the top, as the boy in front of her took
his turn, she turned towards me as she continued to
chatter.  Her little rounded vagina was right in front
of my eyes.  I could see the inward curve of the flesh
like two little lips, and even the tiny little fair
hairs that would one day darken and grow.  It was
still damp with pool water and shining in the
sunlight.  I could have reached out and touched it, or
kissed it, as I often fantasized later.

     With a start, I tore my eyes away and looked up
at her, terrified she would have seen me staring.  But
she was still chatting away, and then she swung
herself on to the edge of the slide.  "Let's go
together!" she squealed.  "Sit behind me, Roy!"

     If she had looked back, I could never have done
it.  But, facing the front, she lifted her arms for me
to slip my legs underneath, as I had seen others do. 
Afraid that others might be watching me, I quickly sat
behind her and spread out my legs on either side of
her as she grabbed my shins with her hands, making
sure my penis was nowhere near her back.  Then before
I knew it we were off.

     Through the tunnel, up over the hump we went,
with Anne squealing with delight and myself in
terrified silence.  I was still terrified of being
seen naked and knew that a lot of people were watching
me right now, but it was a great slide.  We splashed
into the pool together and I landed half on top of
Anne.  I could feel her wet bare body against mine as
we scrambled upright together and she looked into my
eyes, hers shining.

     "Again!" she ordered, making for the side of the
pool.  I followed and scrambled out, still painfully
aware that I was exposing my penis to the public
again.  But each time I did it I became a little less
worried, a little less shy.  I won't say I quickly
overcame my self-consciousness because that took a few
hours, after my traumatic episode at school, but I
began to feel free to be naked without fear.

     We played together, Stephen as well and two or
three others whom they had befriended, for quite a
while.  We were splashing about together in the pool
when we heard a voice calling Anne.

     Looking over to the side of the pool, I felt my
heart tighten suddenly.  There was Sharon, Anne's
sister, eleven years old – and a respected prefect at
school.  She was naked!  I had never seen, or imagined
I might see, a girl prefect naked before.  I stared in
awe.

     Sharon was bending over a little as Anne swam
towards her at the side of the pool.  Her long dark
brown hair hung loosely over her shoulders, but not
quite enough to obscure little pointed breasts poking
out from her chest.  There below was her flat stomach,
her loins – and between her legs a little patch of
black hair.  I held my breath and gazed in awe, at the
same time frustrated that the hair obscured her vagina
– a prefect's vagina!

     Then a wonderful thing happened.  Anne reached
the side of the pool, where she put her hands up to
hold on, and Sharon squatted down in front of her to
tell her something.  There, just above Anne's head,
was an awesome sight that would have blown my pants
and socks off, had I been wearing any.

     There was that little patch of black hair at the
top.  It thinned out lower down, in the area right
underneath, between her legs when she stood upright. 
But now that area was exposed and pointing right in my
direction.  I saw a piece of flesh that, once I was
old enough to make comparisons, reminded me ever since
of an African war shield, long, with broadly curved
sides and a triangle apparently coming to a point at
the bottom.  It was a darker pink than the rest of her
flesh, but not ugly and red as I soon classified that
area in older females.  It looked soft and loose. 
Running down the middle of it was what looked to me
like a long, long black slit.

     I think my mouth dropped open in awe and my ears
sang.  I had actually – I still couldn't believe it –
I was actually seeing a girl prefect naked.  Right in
front of my eyes!  I stared again, at that little
black patch of hair, at that pink war shield, at that
long, long slit down the middle, reaching it seemed
right round to her bottom.  And then she stood up and
walked away, with Anne climbing out of the pool after
her.

     Anne turned and waved at the rest of us, calling,
"Got to go now.  See you later."

     I was too stunned to respond.  What I had seen –
if I was a millionaire I think I would have given my
whole fortune to see that sight, normally forbidden to
boys, that sight beyond imagination.  This place was
the gate of paradise itself.  I felt a thrill beyond
anything else I had ever known, and I clutched my
penis under the water convulsively.  I just wanted to
spend the rest of my life enjoying sights like that. 
Sharon – what beauty!  Absolutely awesome!  I just
couldn't believe I had actually seen what I did.  A
prefect, too, of all people!

     Not long afterwards Aunt Sue came down to the
pool to invite us up to the clubhouse for a drink, and
being Aunt Sue she had a turn on the slide, to
everybody's amusement.  I was thirsty by now, but
still nervous about appearing naked in front of all
those adults, although they were naked too.

     I felt very self-conscious as I followed Aunt Sue
and Stephen and his brothers out of the pool area and
across the grass, up a slope to the clubhouse where
all the adults were.  But somehow it didn't seem real.
 The sun and the colours seemed brighter than they had
ever been before.  The whole world seemed different
somehow.  It was as if I were back in the Garden of
Eden.

     We had a drink and some biscuits with Stephen's
family, and I had to share Stephen's towel as we sat
on the ground next to their table, as mine was still
wet.  None of the adults seemed to be taking any
notice of me, which suited me fine.

     (To be continued)



THE DAY I BECAME A NATURIST (CHAPTER 7)


After a while Aunt Sue noticed that I had left my hat
in the pool area, so she sent me off to fetch it
before anything happened to it.  I found it, damp, and
then investigated my towel.  As it was drying rapidly
I took it back with me so I would not have to share –
and also to hide my penis on the return journey. 
Still feeling very vulnerable, but also as if I were
on another, brighter, planet, I walked back to rejoin
the others, trying to remain invisible.

     I was not successful.  I heard a loud call, "Hey,
Roy!" over to my left, and I involuntarily turned.  It
was Anne, sitting under a tree about ten metres away
with her family group, smiling and waving at me.  I
wished I had pretended not to hear, but it was too
late and it would have been hard not to.  Most of
those in the group were looking at me, making me feel
more vulnerable than ever, even though I had my towel
in place.

     "Come and join us, Roy!" Anne called, smiling and
waving.  "We've got strawberries!"   Her mother also
beckoned me over, so I slunk over as reluctantly as I
had ever done to the head teacher's office, despite
the lure of strawberries.

     Anne's parents were sitting on deck chairs, while
the children were cross-legged on the floor.  Sharon
had her back to me, but she turned round and smiled at
me as I approached, causing me to blush furiously. 
Rachel had arrived, and she too greeted me with a
smile.  My heart pumped desperately as I saw her
sitting there naked, but from the side, so I was
unable to satisfy my curiosity about what lay between
her legs.

     "Roy, come and have a bowl of strawberries," her
mother instructed me.  She was a good-looking woman,
with a smooth tanned skin and smaller, tighter breasts
than Aunt Sue.  She reached down to the basket beside
her and I stole a glance lower down.  All I could see
was a patch of medium brown hair disappearing
downwards.

     I choked out some thanks as she placed a large
bowl of strawberries with cream in one hand, my other
still desperately clutching my towel.  I wanted to
look at the girls but did not dare, as I could tell
they were all looking at me.  "Sit down with us and
eat them here, if you can spare a moment," Anne's
mother invited me.  "You're welcome to join us.  What
brings you here today?"

     I stared at the strawberries, which normally I
loved, but I felt too desperately excited to want food
at the moment.  I looked down at Anne and Rachel,
smiling up at me, but didn't dare to look below
face-level.

     Then disaster happened.  I moved my hand and the
spoon in my bowl of strawberries fell out. 
Instinctively I tried to catch it with my other hand,
and my towel fell down.  As I tried to catch my towel,
I almost dropped the bowl, and to save it clutched it
tightly to my chest.  The towel fell and the open end
of the bowl pressed against my skin, so I could feel
the cold strawberries and the sticky cream on my
chest.

     I couldn't move in a hurry without dropping the
entire bowl, and in my current state of mind I was
sure that was what I was going to do if I moved at
all.  My worst nightmare had come true.  There I was,
stark naked in front of all those girls, with my towel
fallen and strawberries all over my chest.  I awaited
the inevitable squeals of laughter and ridicule.

     It didn't happen.  There were squeals, but just
of surprise at my accident.  Rachel reached forward to
pick up my towel.  With an exclamation of sympathy,
Anne's mother stood up and rescued the bowl for me. 
Using a spoon, she cleaned up my chest.  There was no
laughter, despite the fact that my penis was now on
public show and, I later discovered, even had a blob
of white cream on the end.

     "There, now, are you all right, dear?" laughed
the mother, but it was a laugh of sympathy.  "I'll
hold the bowl for you until you've sat down, then just
enjoy it.  There, just sit next to Rachel."

     Looking down, I saw Rachel was spreading my towel
out for me on the ground between her and Anne's
mother, left knee down, right knee up, and such a
sweet little vagina in between.  I glanced away as
soon as I could, feeling very guilty about staring at
it when she and the others had not so much giggled at
my sudden self-exposure.

     I sat down on the towel, forgetting to thank
Rachel, and placing the bowl immediately in front of
my penis.  It was in fact the best possible seat I
could have asked for.  On my right were Rachel and
Anne, both half-facing me as they showed an interest
in me – and right opposite me was Sharon, sitting with
her legs crossed only about three metres away and
everything visible.

     "There you are," said Anne's mother kindly,
giving me the bowl and the spoon.  "Roy, you know
Sharon from school, don't you?"

     "I'm sure he does," came Sharon's friendly voice
as I desperately avoided looking at her.  "Hello,
Roy."  I mumbled something in return, desperately
looking down into my bowl and afraid my cheeks were
burning furiously.

     Sharon laughed, but it was a friendly laugh. 
"I'm not a prefect here, Roy, so you don't have to
worry about me," she said kindly.  But I was too
overcome to reply coherently, and I suppose the others
thought I was just shy.  Actually I was still overcome
with the shock of seeing her naked body. 
Seven-year-olds just don't realize that the dignified
and greatly respected prefects are human too.

     "So what brings you here today, Roy?" Anne's
mother asked again.  I replied that I had come with
Stephen.

     "Have you ever been to a naturist place before?"
asked Rachel.  I nodded unconvincingly, looking down
and starting to eat my strawberries.  Of course, the
next question asked me where, so I said I didn't
remember, even less convincingly.

     They chatted to me for a while, and I just wished
they would leave me alone for a while.  Then Sharon
waved and called out, "Maria!", spotting a friend.

     Maria was actually another girl at our school, a
local girl of Mediterranean stock, although she was
not a prefect.  I knew her only by sight, and probably
Stephen had not realized she was at the school or
forgotten her, as he had not mentioned her to me as
one of those who came to the club.

     Maria came over shyly to join us.  She was always
a quiet, shy girl, but pleasant and quite pretty. 
Like all the locals, she had black hair, rather curly,
which was cut short above the shoulders.  She had the
narrow Mediterranean nose, not prominent but straight
and forming an acute angle with the face.

     I was fascinated to see the same acute angle from
her neck downwards, in a straight line until it
reached the tip of her little breasts, and then there
was a little rounded overhang as it joined her
stomach.  Instead of the patch of pubic hair, such as
Sharon had, there was a little vertical ridge of black
hair, with the black lips of a soft broad vagina still
just visible at the bottom.

     As the others were all looking in Maria's
direction as she came towards us, I quickly dared to
look at Sharon.  Her head was turned over her shoulder
as she greeted Maria and one knee was raised, but I
had a full, unimpeded view of her beauty.

     Again there was that patch of black hair at the
top, and the black slit emerging at the bottom.  It
now seemed to be shortened and opened out somewhat, in
a way I couldn't understand, with little folds of
rounded flesh as it sat on that darker pink area
between her legs.  Then Maria came into the middle of
our group, to be offered some strawberries by Sharon's
mother, so I quickly averted my eyes from Sharon and
stole another glance at Maria.  There was no way I
wanted anybody to know I was gazing at Sharon.

     Anne and Rachel were chattering away with their
heads together next to me, and I stole a glance at
Rachel.  She was a pretty girl with a round face, rosy
cheeks and big blue eyes.  She had short fair hair
that hung rather untidily over her face.  And down
between her legs, her little vagina hadn't yet lost
its puppy fat.  It was chubby and the lips were well
rounded.  I could even see the tiny fair hairs on her
body.  There was a little rounded `buttonhole' at the
top.

     I suddenly felt ashamed of myself for hiding my
penis when the others were so willing to share their
nakedness with me.  I finished my strawberries and
gave back the bowl to Sharon's mother, and then sat
next to the girls with my knees up and apart, so that
my little penis hung down the middle in full view.  I
still felt very uncomfortable about doing this, but I
felt I wanted to give something in return, to share
myself with them.  Nobody seemed to notice.  I felt
relieved, yet strangely disappointed.

     I listened to Rachel and Anne talking.  "My mum
had visitors yesterday," I heard Rachel say with a
giggle.  "I didn't know they had come, so I hadn't put
my clothes on.  I just walked into the lounge when
they were there and they looked so surprised!"

     "Sharon had something like that happen to her
last year," replied Anne.  "She was in the swimming
pool when they came, and she had to call me to fetch
her swimming costume and towel before she could get
out."

     I was amazed.  These girls actually went around
their own homes and swam in their pools naked, by the
sound of it!  To me, just beginning, nakedness was
something you did at this wonderful place I had just
discovered, but at home clothes were always expected
to be worn.  I would no more have imagined, even now,
walking round my house naked than I would have gone
for a bath with all my clothes on.

     "Do you – go round your houses naked?" I blurted
out unbelievingly.

     "Oh, yes.  Don't you?" replied Anne, sounding
amazed in turn.

     I hardly knew how to answer.  Then I finally
said," My parents won't let me."

     "Oh, poor you," they sympathized, as if I was
being denied a wonderful everyday experience.  I began
to think that I was.

     I was still thinking about it when I suddenly
felt two chubby arms round my neck and a damp yell
into my ear.  Shelley had arrived, sent by my aunt to
find me.  Everybody turned and looked as Shelley,
standing behind me and arms still round my neck,
expressed her delight at finding me.

     "Oh, isn't she sweet?  Is that your sister, Roy?"
asked Sharon.  So I introduced Shelley to them, and
she was immediately introduced to the strawberries,
which she received with shrieks of glee.  She did a
tour of the group, eating and spilling strawberries
while she chattered away and enjoyed the attention.

     Before very long, we decided we wanted another
swim, so off we trooped to the pool again.  I was
feeling much less self-conscious now, although it
still seemed to me as if I was on another planet.  I
was virtually forgotten by the others, who all wanted
to look after Shelley, who collected her water wings
from her mother and was bubbling with excitement.

     I didn't mind at all, as I was still adjusting. 
As I was splashing around by myself in the busy pool,
a girl swam into me.  "Hey, watch where you're going,"
she frowned at me, which I didn't think was fair as I
was sure it was more her fault than mine.

     I didn't reply, as to my dismay I recognized
Sarah Joslin, the other girl from my school and the
one I had hoped to avoid.  "Hey, haven't I seen you
before?" she challenged me.  I could see recognition
dawning in her freckled face.

     "Aren't you the one the girls were all teasing at
school because your swimming costume fell down?" she
asked me.  I went through shock.  Even at this place,
it seemed, I was going to suffer more ridicule as my
mishap of the past caught up with me.  I was
dumbstruck.

     Fortunately Sarah didn't demand a reply of me. 
"Stupid little ticks," she snorted.  "I bet they'd
squeal loud enough if their precious little fannies
ever saw the light of day."  And with that she swam
on.

     I stared after her in the bliss of relief.  Of
course – she was a naturist and didn't see anything
silly in what had happened to me.  In fact, she was
contemptuous of the girls rather than of me.

     I almost felt I liked her as I watched her climb
out of the pool.  Up went one leg over the side,
revealing a little bulge of pale pink skin hanging
down under her legs, with a line down the middle and
two or three long brown wet hairs stuck together with
a drip of water on the end.

     She stood up, and then turned to look back across
the pool, but not at me.  I was fascinated to see that
her breasts were more developed than those of her
peers Sharon or Maria, while her vagina appeared less
so.  Her breasts were like little rounded jellies with
a cherry on top of each.  Her vagina was quite easily
visible, although there was a thin area of light brown
fuzz at the top.  Then she waved to somebody behind me
and leapt in the pool again to swim across to her.

     I soon felt quite exhausted.  All the excitement
had used up all the adrenaline in my body and I had no
energy left.  But there was too much still to watch
for me to think of taking a nap.  I sat quietly under
a tree with my knees under my chin and drank in the
sights of paradise, my knowledge of female anatomy
increasing by leaps and bounds.

     I had further education when one girl not far
from me bent over to take her sandals off before
swimming.  Most girls would sit on the ground to do
it, but this one bent over, bottom high in the air, so
I could see between her legs.  I could see a sort of
downward bulge as the crack in her bottom seemed to
meet her vagina, almost like a boy's scrotum.  As I
looked right underneath I was reminded of a zip
fastener as her vagina, on what I later discovered was
called a pubic mound, curved round, dark and almost
jagged, out of sight round her front.

     I was interested to note something I thought
strange about Rachel when she stood in a normal way. 
Her vagina was not centralised.  Instead of appearing
to come from directly between her legs, it seemed to
come out of her groin a little to the right-hand side
of the junction between her body and legs.  Before the
afternoon was out, I saw one or two other girls whose
anatomy was similarly constructed.  I wondered if they
were a little deformed and thought it a fascinating
phenomenon.

     (To be continued)



THE DAY I BECAME A NATURIST  (CHAPTER 8)


Mostly I kept my eyes on Sharon.  I felt sure I was in
love with her.  Even today, just simply seeing a girl
naked can set my heart fluttering, with a desire to
love and protect her in her vulnerability.  I had to
be careful, though, because I was sure she kept
looking at me, and I was afraid she had noticed I was
staring at her nether regions.

     I stared at her again as she climbed out of the
pool near me, the little black patch soaked with
water, an unclear kind of shadow where her loins
disappeared between her legs and a couple of longer
strands of hair hanging down and dripping water.  Then
she looked at me, and immediately I shifted my gaze
away, afraid that I had looked for too long and she
had caught me doing it.

     I froze with dread as she walked over to where I
was sitting, scared that she would scold me.  Instead,
she crouched down next to me, smiled at me and asked,
"Roy, has anybody shown you round the club grounds
yet?"

     Dumbly I shook my head.  "Would you like to come
around with me and I'll show you everything?" she
asked.

     I thought for a moment, and then silently nodded.
 She laughed.  "Oh, Roy, you mustn't be so shy of me! 
I'm not a prefect here, you know."

     She took my hand as I got to my feet and led me
out of the pool area.  Within a moment we were walking
into the woods, leaving the noise and the brightness
behind.

     Sharon kept talking to me, but I was unable to
answer much.  She thought I was shy of her, and that
was true, but only because I felt completely in love
with her.  It was also an unbelievable situation for
me.  In my wildest dreams in the few days beforehand I
may have imagined something like it, but that did not
enable me to cope with the reality of the situation.

     Here I was, walking hand in hand with the kindest
and most beautiful of girl prefects, and she was quite
naked – we both were.  My eyes were level with her
small breasts, and when I was able to look down . . . 
Even now I cannot describe the awe and wonder I felt
at being privileged to share the nakedness of this
older girl, and she didn't mind at all.  She seemed
totally unaware of my worship of her body, as she
behaved as naturally in her glorious nakedness as she
did in her school uniform – in fact, more so.

     I felt so guilty about feasting my eyes on her
nakedness and desperate to give something in return. 
My penis was of course exposed to her view, but she
obviously paid no more attention to it than she would
to my feet or my ears.  If I was younger I might have
done what a five-year-old girl did to me not so long
ago when she proudly invited me, "Look at my wee."

     But I had learned to be more subtle than that. 
So as we walked along I told her hesitantly, "I need
to do a wee," and stopped by a suitable tree that
looked as if it were in need of nourishment.

     Sharon politely turned her back as she waited for
me to finish, but that was not what I wanted.  I
wanted to give it to her in trust.  So after a
moment's thought, looking at the back of her head, I
announced proudly, "Look what I can do."  That did
make her turn round, and so I thrust my hips forward,
pointed my penis upwards and urinated as hard as I
could.

     The little stream of urine did not go very far up
the tree trunk, and I think Sharon was rather
embarrassed to watch it.  But I felt ridiculously
pleased with myself, feeling that I had shared
something extra special with her as a sign of our
mutual trust.  I also had hopes in the back of my mind
that she might return the trust – if prefects ever did
urinate at all – but she didn't.

     My `gift' helped me to open up a bit more to
Sharon and be a bit more chatty as she led me around,
through the woods and up a small hill where we could
stand naked in the sun and see for kilometres in every
direction.  She pointed out several landmarks, but I
was too overcome with joy and wonder to listen.

     Then she showed me a little stream that bubbled
down from the hill.  As we reached the bottom we found
a few of the children playing in the water and in the
mud on the banks.  Normally I would have loved to join
in, but Sharon clearly in my opinion was too old to
play in the mud – prefects could never play in mud! –
so we moved on.  There was even a small orchard at the
club, but the fruit was not ripe, and a small field of
growing wheat.

     We finally walked up the road with caravans on
either side and arrived back at the pool, after what
seemed an eternity with my goddess.  Anne ran up to
us, calling, "Sharon, where have you been?  We were
looking for you.  Mummy says we must go now as we're
going out tonight.  Come to the caravan and get
dressed."

     Sharon turned to say goodbye to me, but another
thought came to me.  "Please – can I see inside your
caravan?" I asked.

     "Yes, if you like," agreed Sharon happily, and
the three of us walked back towards their family
caravan, which Sharon had already pointed out to me. 
I wasn't interested in their caravan.  The `get
dressed' call from Anne made me wonder – what kind of
panties did prefects wear?  I longed to find out.

     I soon had my wish.  I went inside with the
girls, through to their tiny bedroom, and they took
their clothes from their beds as I pretended to show
interest in their decorating.  I was already familiar
with Anne's underwear and I watched covertly as Sharon
took her panties off her bed, where they lay with her
dress, and stepped into them.

     They were plain and white, a rich deep white, and
looked as soft and white as wool.  I should have known
that my goddess would wear the most beautiful panties
of all.  I longed to put out my hand and touch them,
and the desire became too great for me.  Sharon
reached out to pick up her dress.  Knowing nothing of
bras, I had never wondered if she wore one, and she
didn't – not yet.

     There was very little room inside their bedroom,
and I squeezed past her, pretending I wanted to look
out of the window.  As I did so, my hand sort of
accidentally brushed quite firmly against her panties
at the back.  I shuddered at the softness, the
wool-like feeling, and at the soft, firm buttock
underneath.  Ever since then, I have loved this kind
of panties best of all, and it still gives me a warm
sensual feeling to see a pair.

     I felt a moment of terror as I thought I had gone
too far, that Sharon must surely realize what I was
doing.  But instead she just tried to move out of my
way and even said, "Sorry, Roy," when I was the one
who should have been apologizing.

     Moments later she was dressed in an attractive
red and yellow dress that came halfway down her
thighs, and I suddenly felt shy of her again.  She
looked completely different now that she was clothed. 
I burst out abruptly, "I've got to go now," and headed
for the door.

     "Goodbye, Roy," the two girls called after me,
and Sharon added, "It's been nice talking to you
today."

     At the same moment I thought to myself that if I
had stayed for a moment instead of moving out so
quickly, she might even have given me a goodbye kiss. 
Would she?  I thought momentarily of going back, of
saying something, just in case – but I didn't.  Then I
wished I had.  But it was too late.

     After all my wonderful time with her, I left the
caravan bitterly frustrated because I might have had a
goodbye kiss if only I had waited, if only I had
thought of it in time . . .  I'm afraid I blundered
out without even saying goodbye to the parents and
thanking them for their hospitality.

     I returned to Aunt Sue, feeling utterly
exhausted.  This brilliant new Garden of Eden had
suddenly become too much for me.  I sat quietly beside
her chair as she chatted and laughed with her
new-found friends and even snapped at little Shelley
as she wanted to play with me.  Fortunately she like
her mother had no difficulty in finding other friends.

     Finally Aunt Sue decided it was time to go, as
she wanted to get back home before dark.  Too
exhausted to say much by way of grateful thanks to
Stephen and his family and the other friendly people I
had got to know during the day, I dressed and climbed
into the car, and we had hardly left the property
before Shelley and I both fell fast asleep.

     I vaguely remember arriving home in the half-dark
and my father picking me up and carrying me up to my
bedroom.  I sleepily assured my parents that I'd had a
wonderful time and was alert enough to call out to
Aunt Sue, asking if we were going again the next day,
Sunday.  With a laugh, Aunt Sue said we weren't, but
she would talk to me about it sometime later.

     Home seemed so dark, dreary and boring after that
wonderful paradise that seemed as if it were on the
other planet.  I knew my parents had not really
approved of my going, so I had to be careful of what I
told them, but I did tell them what a wonderful place
it was and begged them to join the club.  They of
course had no interest in joining at all, but might
think about letting me go again after they had spoken
more about it to Aunt Sue.

     I was still feeling exhausted the next day when
Stephen came round, as we had arranged.  With my
parents there, there was no nudity and I found it
disappointing.  Everyday life had become very grey to
me after the thrills of the club.

     As soon as I saw Aunt Sue again, which I think
was on Monday evening, I begged her to go again.  I
knew she had really enjoyed it, but then Aunt Sue
enjoys everything.  I was delighted when she told me
she was thinking of joining the club, and she told my
parents what a wonderful place it was, what wonderful
people there were, and I would be welcome to come with
her whenever she went, and that they should be quite
happy if I went there with Stephen's family and
without her.

     So that is how it all started.  Aunt Sue became a
member, although she did not actually buy a caravan
because my uncle remained uninterested and she always
returned to him at night.  Most weekends, when my
parents would let me, I would join her and Shelley and
we would go out to the club together.  Later on Jenny
came too, and she and Shelley thus had the great
privilege that I didn't have of growing up in the
naturist lifestyle and therefore never having any
hang-ups about nakedness or any urge to see others
naked, as this was so natural for them.

     I still remember that traumatic experience for me
at the school pool, although the pain quickly wore off
after a few weeks at the Orindo Sun Club, as it was
called.  If it happened to me nowadays, I don't think
it would bother me at all.  But I still have that
desire to admire the beauty of naked bodies, and don't
feel I really know anybody until we have seen each
other naked.

     I looked forward to those early visits to the
club with a desperate longing.  It gave me a deep
warmth inside as I meditated on what had now actually
happened, on the girls I met there and befriended and
played with and watched – and watched.

     Especially Sharon.  I still felt very shy of her
around school, but she was quite natural with me and
sought me out to say hello quite a few times.  I know
now she really liked me, like an older sister.  But it
was never quite the same when we were at school and
she was a prefect in uniform.  It was hard to imagine
that I had seen the beauty that lay hidden underneath.
 Fortunately I had the sense never to tell my
non-naturist friends at school that I had actually
seen one of the revered prefects naked.  I doubt they
would have believed me anyway.  At the age of seven,
prefects can't be naked.

     After several weeks all the strangeness about
being naked had worn off.  One day I almost walked out
of the changing room at school swimming naked,
forgetting to put on my costume.  The other boys
laughed at me, but by now I didn't mind at all.

     At home I felt frustrated at having to wear
clothes, especially when the weather was hot.  Jenny
would at times do as I had done no doubt as a baby,
and when I was a little older as well, crawl around
the garden naked.  When I asked permission to do the
same at my age, I was refused.  The furthest I could
go was to wear only a pair of shorts, as my father did
in the heat.

     I would sometimes strip off in the privacy of my
bedroom.  I would say goodnight to my parents in the
evening, and then remove my pyjamas upstairs and sleep
naked.  It felt strange at first, and my penis would
rub up against the sheets in an unusual way, before I
grew used to it.

     I remembered Anne and Rachel talking about how
they often went naked at home, and wished I could do
the same.  One hot Sunday morning, after spending the
Saturday at the club, I decided to try it, and went
down to breakfast, very nervously, quite unclothed.

     My mother stared at me as if I were the most
forgetful creature on earth, and then began to laugh,
which annoyed me.  "Roy, go and put your clothes on,"
she smiled at me, speaking as if I had forgotten.

     "Do I have to?" I moaned.  "It's so hot."

     "Your father and I don't walk around the place
without any clothes on," she informed me.  "It's not
decent.  Don't go getting any silly ideas to bring
home from your club."

     So I had to cover up, much to my disappointment. 
I was hoping that at least my parents would admire my
all-over tan that was just developing and of which I
was becoming very proud.

     When Jenny became a year old, my mother decided
to get a mornings-only job and do what many other
mothers in the English-speaking community did by
hiring a maid from a reputable local firm to look
after the children.  I saw little of the maid, whose
name was Carmen, until the next school holidays.  I
often visited friends or had friends visit me, of
course, but there were mornings when I was home by
myself, with just the maid and Jenny there.  Sometimes
Shelley joined us as well, but not always, because
Aunt Sue does part-time or supply teaching at the
English high school and so does not go out to work
during the holidays.

     I knew even at that age that the local people, of
Mediterranean stock, were much more casual about
nakedness than the stuffy British.  I didn't try
anything for two weeks until I got to know her better.

     Then one morning Shelley came round and soon
decided she wanted a swim.  She threw off her clothes,
as she usually does, and as Carmen fixed her
water-wings I decided I would make a break for my
bodily freedom.

     Until then, I had always worn my swimming costume
when I used our pool.  This time, I took off all my
clothes, trying to be as casual as I could but ready
all the time for the command to use a costume.  But
Carmen didn't turn a hair as I marched naked over to
the pool and jumped in.  It was the first time I had
swum naked in our pool, and I felt a wonderful sense
of freshness and freedom.

     After that I never wore a costume when swimming
with Carmen in charge, whether Shelley was there or
not.  A week or so later, I didn't bother dressing
again after I had finished my swim, but played in the
garden naked.  Carmen didn't seem to see anything
wrong or even unusual in that.  Later on she would let
Jenny play naked as well, but at that stage Jenny
still had to crawl around in a nappy otherwise she
would make frequent messes all over her legs and often
indoors.

     I had another insight into Carmen's liberated
approach to nakedness not long afterwards.  I had a
friend called Ryan playing with me one morning and we
went into the kitchen to see Carmen standing by the
sink wearing only her bra and panties, scrubbing away
at her dress.  She explained that Jenny had just
vomited on her dress and she needed to wash it.

     Had he been a bit older, Ryan might have laughed.
 But instead he was quite fascinated, staring at
Carmen while she seemed quite unaware of his interest.
 She was wearing the brief frilly panties that locals
seem to prefer, a pale orange in colour and with a big
hem of frills all around both legs.

     "You will have to excuse me while my dress
dries," she said in her accented voice, but quite
unconcerned that we could see her in her underwear. 
She took it outside, dressed (or undressed) as she
was, to hang on the washing line.  It only took an
hour or so to dry, and in that time she quite happily
wore only her flimsy underwear, with Ryan's wide-open
eyes following her wherever she went.

     I had in fact seen Carmen's panties at times
before, as local women are much less worried about how
they sit than the stuffy British.  In fact, they
rarely cross their legs when they sit, and Carmen like
others often sat with her legs a little apart.  My
best views were when I was in the pool and she was
watching me, sitting on a chair by the side with Jenny
on her lap.  From my lower level I had some superb
views of he frilly panties of various colours, from
white to light green to sickly pink to black.

     Things went well until one day my mother came
home unexpectedly and caught me swimming naked in the
pool.  She wanted to stop me, but fortunately my
parents taught me, when I had any complaints, to make
them quietly and reasonably, instead of whining or
ranting like most children do.  So we sat down and
talked, while I explained that Carmen obviously didn't
mind – in fact, she was visibly startled when my
mother first reprimanded me - and nobody else could
see me.  I told her I felt much more comfortable naked
in hot weather and again asked permission to be naked
at home.

     That evening we discussed it with my father, and
came to a compromise.  They are very reasonable
people, and explained they did not think naturism was
really decent.  However, they would allow me (and the
same applied to Jenny as she grew up) to be naked
upstairs and in the pool, as long as it was not in
their presence.  I was not to be naked when there were
visitors.  And things have largely stayed that way
ever since.

     All the people outside my family mentioned in
this story have now left the country.  I did not get
my goodbye kiss from Sharon for another two years, by
which time my seven-year-old crush had largely
evaporated.  We were just good friends, as they say in
Hollywood, and I was no more than happy to receive one
by that stage.  Rather I was sad at the occasion, for
that was the time when her father's contract in this
country came to an end and they left.

     But I can still remember as if it were yesterday
Sharon's part on that brilliant day at the club, the
most memorable day of my life, the day I became a
naturist.

     (The End)


________________________________________________________________________
Yahoo! Messenger - Communicate instantly..."Ping" 
your friends today! Download Messenger Now 
http://uk.messenger.yahoo.com/download/index.html