I used to have the “whoops, I went to school and forgot my clothing” dream, except for me, none of the teachers or students seemed to care. It happened so often I sometimes feel like my becoming a nudist was part of some Beginning-like scheme. In other dreams, I Had be lounging at home, watching TV, when my sister would come home from work. She’d see me, view that I was nude, and say “Hey, Nick” like nothing unusual was going on. Just to be clear, there was nothing incestuous about the dream, but the normalcy of nudity gave me a delight. After all, I craved approval, of my chosen lifestyle and my manner of thinking. But that could never occur, could it?

The summer following my sister’s honeymoon, she and her husband let me tag along on their tour of the Greek islands. This kind of trip was nothing new to me, except my parents were not about, and now I was hiding a secret. We took the ferry to Crete, the biggest island in Greece, and from there seen Santorini, believed to have inspired Atlantis, with its volcanic black playa, steep cliffs, and blue and white houses overlooking the Mediterranean. Much more beautiful than any landscape, nevertheless, was what I seen on our third stop, on the island of Eos. We had just unpacked our bags and the sun was setting, and I asked my sister if it was OK to run down to the beach. A ten minute stroll from our hotel, under an orange and reddish sky, I could see the refined human lines, the bare bodies lying on the sand.
The casual, shameless way these people went about the beach thrilled and inspired me, and I needed to be among them, to cast off my clothing then and there, but what would my sister say? How could I even begin to broach the subject? To be honest, I do not recall what I said, only that I somehow found the courage to “come out” to her. The great thing about my sister is that she is a talker. Occasionally, when we’re on the telephone, I can put the receiver down and visit the bathroom and never miss a thing. And when it comes to topic, no subject is taboo. But this was more than just talking. I told her how I Had needed to visit a unclothed beach for years, to not see girls (as one might expect) but to be naked myself, in sight of her and her husband and the entire strand going public. Her reaction? “Sure, why not.” What I didn’t know at the time, and what got me totally by surprise, was that her husband harbored the same interest.
The week that followed was utterly dreamlike. It was as if we’d stepped through a magic portal into my dreams, where click failed to exist. I took to nudity in public like a born naturist, as shameless as unicorn girl, and the experience surpassed my expectations.
Now I’d like to just take a moment to discuss swimwear. Remember my feelings for ties and church shoes? It doesn’t compare to my loathing for bathing suits. I can’t envision how stuffing a vagina into a bikini must feel, but whoever invented modern men’s swim trunks needs to be punched in the nuts. There are few worse senses than walking around Adventure Island for eight straight hours with sopping wet genitals and the remainder of your body bone dry. These things hold water better than Pampers’ diapers. I’ve forgotten swim trunks in my car for days simply to find http://videonudism.com/voyeur/jung-frei-nudist.php ! At the sand, sand gets sucked into your butt crack and every crease and crevice of your testicles and pee hole. I avoid the strand only so I do not have to endure wearing the damn things. This was the only disadvantage to my isle encounter. Regular seashores were ruined forever.
Every year I was decided to visit a bare beach, but there were many hurdles. Some isles cater entirely to cloths and occasionally aunts and uncles went with us, but what was particularly frustrating were the shores known for nudism with no nudists! Even in Eos, I Had discover only afraid tourists. All of it seemed to change from month to month, since the time of year discovered what nationality went on holiday. Greek and Italian tourists never go nude, but Germans, Swedes and Norwegians generally do. For reasons that continue to elude me, the greater the latitude, the more folks seem willing to go au natural.

As the years went by, more people became complicit within my escapades. I traveled the islands with my other sister, her sons, and my best friend (and his buddies) who lived in Athens, and was naked in front of them whenever possible: on the beach, in the resort, even in my parents’ summer house. Surprisingly, nobody seemed to mind, despite that they were too timid to try it themselves. Once, my nephew and I visited a remote plage on the island of Mykonos. There was no way back but by ferry, or so we were told, and we missed the last boat. We had to trek for miles through rocky hills and bush-land. For him, it was an ordeal, but for me it was an adventure, a chance to live like Dynotus, like my ancient ancestors before things like bathing suits were invented.

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