I wish I could say that I grew up in a naturist household, spending my summer holidays running round naked

in the sun. But I cant. I was raised in the East Midlands in britain in the 1970s (I was born in 1968), with a totally ordinary childhood. I only ever saw my parents naked once or twice, and I dont think theyve seen me naked since I was about 10.
So, I grew up with all of the normal British reservations about showing my body in public. I believe that my first exposure to naturism came on vacation in the south of France with my parents when I was (I believe) about 17 – my last holiday with them before I became a student and then left house. We stayed near Port Grimaud, and one day I made the decision to see what was on the different side of a sizable stony breakwater. Imagine my surprise when I saw a beach full of beach handjob ! Id love to say which I went and stripped off and joined them, but I didnt. Remember, this was a time when I didnt even want my parents to see me without a top on!
Anyway, when I was a student (residing at home), I picked up a copy of Health and Efficiency from a store that had it as one of its own top shelf magazines (a phrase that will no doubt be familiar to British readers, but may be less so to those from foreign. Just remember that Playboy is a top shelf magazine!). It was interesting to discover a magazine full of nude photos of what I came to think of as ordinary people doing regular things not models who seem to be auditioning for a gynaecological textbook. At this time, I also started to spend time throughout the house nude when everyone else was outside, but this was more from the illegal delight perspective. Nevertheless, my opinion began to change, and I found that I actually enjoyed being naked, and envied people who could go on naturist vacations. I did manage some afternoons sunbathing naked in the back garden in an extremely rare time when my parents were on holiday and my brother was still away at school in another town.
And that was it for many years. On the Saturday we went to their local beach for a walk, and my buddy warned us that there was a nudist section. It was Studland Bay, someplace I had learned of in H&E (which I had long stopped purchasing, chiefly because I had moved in with my girlfriend). So there I was, walking along Studland, encompassed by nudists, but I didnt dare do anything. For all I know, her and her husband might have been regulars, but that wasnt going to happen!
She was fairly amazed, but agreed on the understanding that she didnt have to. I truly loved it, much to her bemusement. I even swam naked in the sea, which was just brilliant (if a little cool).
Over the the next couple of years, my girlfriend indulged me and we visited Studland once or twice per year and I likewise stripped off once or even twice on a beach in France, but that was pretty much it. For the last 3-4 years however, we’ve been on vacation in French bungalows, and weve always managed to be remote enough for me (and occasionally my girlfriend) to strip off by the pool. During the past year or two, I have been doing a streak of photography courses (Im an extremely keen amateur), and the last one, in 2003, was social documentary. I fought for quite a long time to think of a subject, and from somewhere deep down I came up with the notion of doing something on naturism. I hunted round the net and found a club in Marlborough (which is about 50 miles from Bristol where I now live) who surprisingly enough were agreeable for me to take some photographs and invited me to come along and see them even though I would be on my own as my girlfriend wouldn’t be joining ukraine nude beach .
So, I somewhat nervously went to see them so that they could meet me and I could see what the photographic possibilities were. They were most welcoming, and I spent a thoroughly agreeable evening swimming and playing badminton in the nude.
There were some delays in getting permission from the sports center they use, and in the end they said no. By this time, I had been 2 or 3 times and was getting to appreciate it. Thus, even though my job was killed off before I had taken any graphics, the club asked me if I liked to join, and I did. I now go along once a month or so, and adore it. Id love for her to come as well, but she isnt confident enough at present, although she hasnt ruled out the possibility entirely.

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More recently, I have been beginning to consider making contact with one of the clubs not too far from Bristol one that’s its own land so that I could maybe have somewhere outside to see frequently.

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