Since my early teens, I’ve always loved the feeling of swimming and sunning nude.

Our family had a pool in our backyard deep in the heart of suburbia, and I remember wondering whether I ‘d safely positioned the chaise lounge out of the perspective of any readily offended (or readily titillated) neighbors’ eyes as I stole a couple of minutes whenever I could get the chance to experience what the summer sun felt like on my nude body
And lots of late nights, after the remainder of the family had gone to bed, I would gently ease ito the pool for a skinny dip. It was a amazing natural high.
Interestingly enough, I chose to attend faculty at UC San Diego. During the orientation tour of the campus, the counselor told us incoming freshmen about nearby Black’s Beach — and expressed some surprise when many of us did not know about its staus as one of the best known nude beaches in the country.
So, I understood and there where I ‘d be taking the majority of my study breaks.
I must say, though, that I experienced what I’d anticipate is a normal degree of trepidation when faced with a first-time nude beach experience. I recall going to the shore a couple of times, and staying clothed, attempting to determine whether I was “safe”. I saw that the beach was huge and spread out such that one could very much maintain a feeling of having “personal space”, at what felt like a comfortable distance from other beach-goers whose motives for being there might be drastically less than innocent. Finally, the bait of what I had in the back of my mind always wanted to experience won out, and one day I took my new boogie-board down to shore, and without hesitation discarded my swimsuit.
I hurried down to the water, still a bit nervous, trying not to make eye contact with the few individuals that were nearby. I plunged in the waves, and immediately realized I was having the time of my life. I rode the waves for some time, loving the sensation, feeling like my body was made for this.
I tired after some time, and decided to head back up to the seashore. Feeling more relaxed and confident now, I looked around at some of the others present. I should probably mention here that I’ve been blessed with some pretty good genes, and I should probably also mention that it was impossible not to find the — well, stares — of many of the gay men present.
After a minute or two of nervousness, I quickly determined that this was fundamentally a public place, and going naked was my pick, and that I couldn’t actually stop anyone who wanted to look at me from looking. And that as long as kept a considerable distance and refrained from outwardly lewd behaviour or unwanted advances or harassment, I’d just accept the “eye contact” as a compliment, and think no more of it and love myself.
I was pleased when it turned out that my fellow naked people behaved just as I had figured they’d. And my attitude toward the bare experience is pretty much the same now — taking off my clothing is a choice I make, but I can’t control what you do. In case you wish to look, go on and look, but I trust that you just will not harass or otherwise act distastefully.
To this very day, my recollections of my many, many nude excursions to that shore are some of my greatest memories. In the last few years, I’ve been land-locked, so to speak, near Sacramento, but it is always been in the rear of my head to return to Black’s. I had also like to look at San Onofre.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *