Can it be the unclothed beach experience I ‘ve always fantasized about? Not always. When you hear others talk about their nudist experiences, or when you read trip reports and see pictures of naturist holidays in magazines or on the web, you get a specific impression in your mind, an image of a location where everyone’s nude, everywhere, all the time: swimming, relaxing, playing, dancing, and even dining – all in the buff. Of course, I didn’t expect that much from this holiday, and maybe next time, someplace such as Cap D’Agde would make a more appropriate destination. This holiday was far from an ideal vision I had in mind. But it’s definitely a part of the right course. I’ve come quite a distance from skinny dips snuck at night.

And one thing for sure, it is good to know that I ‘ve the local option.
Bare Strand Blogs and Posts About By Young Naturists & Young Nudists America
Tags: egypt, bare beach
Classification: Naked Beach, Nudism and Naturism, Social Nudity Blogs
Part 5 of My Naturist Blog Set: Out of the Naturist Cabinet and Into Naked Paradise
Finding Naked or Nudist Paradise
For my preceding naturist blog storylines, see Component 1 Least Likely To Be A Naturist; Part 2 Boobs Boobs Everywhere; Part 3 Home Naturist Held Captive and Part 4 Seeking for the Nudist-Bird.
Long before dreaming of bare beaches, when my afternoons were spent as a naked prisoner at home, I picked up the phone book and flipped to my favourite word in the English language.
Well, my second favorite word, the first being naked. But since naked can mean nearly anything, I sought under “nudist” and came up with Paradise Lakes Resort in Land O’ Lakes, Florida.
I was around twelve at the time and the woman on the line must have thought me a crank caller. “Can you go nude there?” I asked her. “Really? Like . . . wherever you need? Really? The whole time? Awesome!” OK, perhaps I did not say amazing, but that was how I felt.

Only trouble? I needed to be 18. But despite not being able to go, only knowing a place existed where people were free to go naked made me happy. But telling a twelve year old to wait six years is like telling an adult to wait 600.
Finding Naked or Nudist Paradise
Flash forward a decade, I am twenty two and just completed Saint Petersburg Junior College, and my family life has dramatically transformed. My dad, who had been a workaholic since 1952, finally assembled his dream house.
This, needless to say, had to resemble the Parthenon, with two story columns and an enormous front door we could never open and an exclusive backyard that looked like the Garden of Eden.
Unfortunately, my parents were old and weary and spent considerably additional time at home. Other than sitting on my nude buttocks before my Amiga, the isolation I once enjoyed was no more. had to look forward to were summer trips to the islands.
naturist storyline – Finding Nude or Naturist Paradise
If you’d have seen my University of South Florida I.D. card, you would have believed I was trying to pass myself off as [insert dark skinned stereotype here]. Normally, I ‘m more Germanic looking than Greek, but I Had spent about a month on the island of Mykonos risking skin cancer. Free body tourism in Greece, however, was on the decline. Boobs became a rare sight and they even posted a “No Nudism” sign in Eos. All the while, I hated the constant secrecy, which became more of a burden than ties, church shoes or wet bathing suits. Returning stateside after so much sun where the “sun do not shine” was depressing.
One night, while counting the months till summer, it happened if you ask me to type, “nudist resort, young nudist families into my America Online web browser. Lo and behold, the resort I Had called ten years earlier popped up. Why I’d never thought to do this before is beyond me. I checked the address, assuming it must be located in some remote part of the Everglades, but God, it appears, really desired me to stay a naturist.
I commuted an hour to school each day, and the route was convoluted. What I hadn’t realized was that I was driving by the biggest nudist resort in the nation, for months, every darn day. A five mile detour and I was in Paradise Lakes Clothing Optional Resort.
The thought of joining a resort was a lot like taking that first shower without locking the door. For nearly a decade I considered myself a nudist, but never spoke to anyone who could say the same.
Individuals on the shores spoke Swedish and German and were typically being intimate with their partners. I worried that in detecting other naturists, I might find they were nothing like I imagined, all hippies or rednecks, or sex-crazed weirdoes.
Driving up to the checkpoint, like those used in gated communities, a middle-aged woman checked me over like I was a secret agent. Without mentioning nudism, she asked, “Have you been here before?”
“Do you know what this place is?”
“Yes, obviously.”
“O.K. Drive on through. But you’ll need to take the day tour!”