past and we were anchored in White Bay. It was after dinner, we’d had a bottle of wine or four, and determined we needed to proceed to the bar ashore for a drink – but of course we did not desire to get dressed. Somehow we did not find this as a issue. Into the dighy we climbed, motored off to the bar (not the Soggy Dollar, the other one) and in we walked. There were just half a dozen people there, but not astonishingly our entry was discovered. One young man let out a whoop when we walked in, and he quickly got naked (though his girlfriend got him get dressed again – I’ve frequently believed that I hoped he dumped her). We sat down as generally as possible at one of the tables, continuing our dialog, and in a moment the server came along.
We spent nearly two hours in the bar and had nude in beach . Eventually the majority of the other patrons left, the bartender got nude, and even the server took off her top. She and our hostess then compared breast jobs and discovered they’d had the same plastic surgeon in Atlanta. It was definitely a memorable night!
We went without clothing, so without pockets, consequently without wallets, therefore without money.
So I guess the best portion of beach pissing was that it wasn’t only clothing-free, it was also drinks-for free.