The thing that I considered a
saving grace and proof that it wasn't a sexual perversion was that despite the
onset of puberty and my hormones running wild, there was never anything sexual
about these sessions, I never got aroused by them. Even the two teenage riders
hadn’t caused any sexual reaction - I was probably too scared.
* * *
When I was about fifteen, a
school friend showed me a copy of H & E, he’d got it to look at
the nude women. Some newsagents would let the older school kids buy the few
"girlie" mags that were readily available at the time and some of the
kids lifted them from the shops that wouldn't sell to them. I didn't ask my
friend how he got it, but he was one of very few friends I had at school, so I
trusted that he'd paid for it.
Some of the, more intimate,
details were airbrushed out in those days, but the breasts and rest of the body
were visible and for most schoolboys that was enough to start the blood
boiling.
That magazine changed my life,
the pictures were the most wonderful thing I had ever seen, Men and Women
naked, swimming, playing tennis and volleyball or just sitting talking and
sunbathing. I was ecstatic and walking on air for weeks afterwards.
My friend couldn’t understand
why I was looking at the somewhat distant activity pictures rather than the
close-up pictures of individual naked women and he gave me some very funny
looks when I started reading the articles instead of pouring over the naked
ladies.
But this was what I had been
looking for, I wasn’t a pervert – I was a naturist, the relief was immense. Of
course at that age there was no way I could join a club and my parents had no
leanings in that direction, I had never even seen them in the bath. But I still
felt I belonged to a naturist community that, until then, I didn't know
existed.
So I made do with my visits to
the woods, getting more daring and exploring further a field wearing only my
shoes. Soon I was able to cross open ground between areas of woodland and could
walk for miles totally unencumbered. Only slipping my trousers on to cross the
road if anything was coming.
I could look down at a nearby
village before skirting round to the banks of a very pretty reservoir. Swimming
wasn't allowed in the reservoir and I would have been spotted by the anglers,
in their boats, if I'd tried. So I made do with rambling through the woods at
the south end. I could have gone into the local deer park from there but it has
always been a popular park and despite its size it was hard to walk there
totally unseen.
*
* *
My visits to this, secret place
and beyond, lasted from around the time of puberty, until I got my own
transport and was able to travel to better places. Then I made trips to the
seaside and went nude among the dunes or swimming naked by the simple expedient
of wading out in my swimming trunks, then as soon as I was far enough out and
away from people, taking them off and enjoying the feeling of the water over my
body. With the sea not being clear it didn’t matter if anyone passed by or came
close to where I was swimming, they couldn’t see anything and be offended. But
I always had an escape route if anyone seemed to be getting too close.
Sometimes if I found a deserted beach I could be nude
all day, swimming and sunbathing it was great. But I felt that something was missing,
I enjoyed what I was doing but wanted to share it with someone. I did, from
time to time come across others going nude in the dunes. But no-one spoke, even
when I apologised for disturbing them. It was mainly men but occasionally I
would see a couple and once a lone woman, who looked as old as my mother,
smiled and replied, "That’s alright." Before returning to her book. I
have no idea who they were but they were the first naked people I'd ever seen
and the lone woman was the first naked woman who'd spoken to me.
to be continued
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