Can it be the unclothed beach experience I ‘ve always fantasized about? Not necessarily. When you hear others talk about their naturist encounters, or when you read trip reports and see pictures of nudist holidays in magazines or on the web, you get a certain picture in mind, an image of a place where everyone’s naked, everywhere, all the time: swimming, relaxing, playing, dancing, and even dining – all in the buff. Of course, I did not expect that much from this holiday, and maybe next time, someplace such as Cap D’Agde would make a more suitable destination. This holiday was far from an ideal vision I had in mind. But it’s undoubtedly a part of the right path. I have come a ways from skinny dips stolen at nighttime.

And one thing for sure, it is great to understand that I ‘ve the local option.
Bare Sand Blogs and Posts About By Young Naturists & Young Naturists America
Tags: egypt, naked beach
Classification: Nude Beach, Nudism and Naturism, Societal Nudity Websites
Component 5 of My Naturist Site Series: Out of the Nudist Cabinet and Into Naked Paradise
Finding Nude or Naturist Paradise
For my preceding naturist website narratives, see Part 1 Least Likely To Become Naturist; Part 2 Boobs Boobs Everywhere; Part 3 Home Nudist Held Captive and Part 4 Seeking for the Naturist-Bird.
Well, my second favourite word, the first being http://wnude.com/topic/wet-and-nude-topic-about-naughty-beach-girl.php . But since naked can mean nearly anything, I sought under “naturist” and came up with Paradise Lakes Resort in Land O’ Lakes, Florida.
“Can you go naked there?” I asked her. “Really? Like . . . wherever you need? Actually? The complete time? Amazing!” OK, maybe I didn’t say wonderful, but that was how I felt.
Only difficulty? I needed to be 18. But despite being unable to go, simply 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 Nude or Naturist Paradise
Flash forward a decade, I am twenty two and just completed Saint Petersburg Junior College, and my family life has radically changed. My father, who’d been a workaholic since 1952, finally built his dream house.
This, obviously, had to resemble the Parthenon, with two story columns and an immense front door we’re able to never open and a private backyard that looked like the Garden of Eden.
Sadly, my parents were old and tired and spent much more time at home. Other than sitting on my nude bottom in front of my Amiga, the isolation I once enjoyed was no more. All I ‘d to look forward to were summer trips to the isles.
naturist narrative – Finding Naked or Naturist Paradise
If you’d have seen my University of South Florida I.D. card, you would have thought I was trying to pass myself off as [add dark skinned stereotype here]. Ordinarily, I am more Germanic looking than Greek, but I’d spent about a month on the isle of Mykonos risking skin cancer. Free body tourism in Greece, nevertheless, was on the decline. 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.
Lo and behold, the resort I Had called ten years previously popped up. Why I Had never thought to do that before is beyond me. I checked the address, assuming it must be situated in some distant part of the Everglades, but God, it seems, truly wanted me to remain a naturist.
I commuted an hour to school each day, and the route was convoluted. What I hadn’t understood was that I was driving by the biggest naturist resort in the nation, for months, every damn day. A five mile detour and I was in Paradise Lakes Clothing Optional Resort.
ilovethebeach of joining a resort was a lot like taking that first shower without locking the door. For almost a decade I considered myself a naturist, but never spoke to anyone who could say the exact same.
The folks on the shores talked Swedish and German and were generally 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 around the checkpoint, like those used in gated communities, a middle-aged girl checked me over like I was a secret agent. Without mentioning naturism, she asked, “Have you been here before?”
“No.”
“Do you realize what this place is?”
“Yes, of course.”
But you will have to take the day tour!”

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