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

in the sun. But I cant. I grew up in the East Midlands in britain in the 1970s (I was born in 1968), with a totally ordinary youth. I only ever saw my parents nude once or twice, and I dont think theyve seen me naked since I was about 10.
So, I grew up with all of the ordinary British reservations about revealing my body in public. I think that my first exposure to naturism came on vacation in the south of France with my parents when I was (I think) 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 decided to see what was on the other side of a sizable stony breakwater. Imagine my surprise once I saw a beach full of nude folks! Id like to say that I went and stripped off and joined them, but I didnt.

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Remember, this was a time when I didnt even need my parents to see me without a shirt on!
Anyway, when I was a pupil (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 without doubt be familiar to British readers, but might be less so to those from foreign. Just remember that Playboy is a top shelf magazine!). It was interesting to find a magazine full of naked photos of what http://nudistshots.com came to think of as normal people doing ordinary things not models who appear to be auditioning for a gynaecological textbook. At the moment, I also begun to spend some time throughout the house nude when everyone else was out, but this was more from the illegal delight perspective. Nevertheless, my opinion started to change, and I found that I really enjoyed being nude, and envied people who were able to go on naturist holidays. I did manage a couple of days sunbathing nude in the back garden in an exceedingly rare time when my parents were on holiday and my brother was still away at school in a different town.
And that was it for many years. In 1992 or 1993, my girlfriend and I went to stay with a friend who lived in Poole, on the south shore. On the Saturday we went to their local beach for a walk, and my buddy warned us that there clearly was a nudist section. It was Studland Bay, somewhere I had learned of in H&E (which I ‘d long stopped purchasing, chiefly because I ‘d moved in with my girlfriend). So there I was, walking along Studland, encircled by nudists, but I didnt dare do anything. I mean, I used to work with my (female) friend (and did again several years after) and couldnt imagine telling her hey, Id love to strip off here. For all I know, her and her husband might have been regulars, but that wasnt going to take place!
My girlfriend and I went back to Studland on our last day as the weather was nice, and I somehow plucked up the nerve to suggest to her that we went to the nudist beach because I fancied stripping off. She was quite amazed, but agreed on the understanding that she didnt have to. I truly loved it, much to her bemusement. I even swam nude in the ocean, which was simply superb (if a little cool).
Over the next couple of years, my girlfriend indulged me and we seen Studland once or twice annually and I also 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 cottages, and weve always managed to be http://nudistrude.com enough for me (and sometimes my girlfriend) to strip off by the pool. During the past year or two, I’ve been doing a series of photography classes (Im a very keen hobbyist), and the last one, in 2003, was social documentary. I fought for quite a while to think of a topic, and from somewhere deep down I came up with the idea of doing something on naturism. I hunted round the web and found a club in Marlborough (which is about 50 miles from Bristol where I now dwell) who astonishingly enough were agreeable for me to shoot some photographs and invited me to come along and see them even though I would be on my own as my girlfriend would not be joining me.
So, I somewhat nervously went to see them so they could meet me and I really could see what the photographic chances were. They were most welcoming, and I spent a thoroughly pleasant evening swimming and playing badminton in the nude.
There were some delays in receiving permission from the sports centre they use, and in the end they said no. By this time, I had been 2 or 3 times and was getting to love it. So, even though my project was killed off before I ‘d shot any graphics, the club asked me if I wanted to join, and I did. I now go along once a month or so, and love it. Theprimary problem is that the team meets on Saturday evenings, and I feel guilty about leaving my girlfriend on her own at home whenever I go. Id love for her to come as well, but she isnt assured enough at present, although she hasnt ruled out the possibility completely.
More recently, I’ve been beginning to think about making contact with one of the clubs not too far from Bristol one that’s its own land so I could possibly have someplace outdoors to see regularly.

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