Since my early teens, I’ve always loved the feeling of swimming and sunning nude.

Our family had a pool in our backyard deep in the heart of suburbia, and I remember wondering whether I had safely positioned the chaise lounge out of the perspective of any easily offended (or readily titillated) neighbors’ eyes as I stole a few minutes whenever I could get the opportunity to experience what the summer sun felt like on my nude body
And many late nights, after the remaining part of the family had gone to bed, I would quietly ease ito the pool for a skinny dip. It turned out to be a marvelous natural high.
Interestingly enough, I decided to attend school at UC San Diego. During the orientation tour of the campus, the counsel told us incoming freshmen about nearby Black’s Beach — and expressed some surprise when many of us did not understand about its staus as one of the best-known nude beaches in the state.
So, I understood right then and there where I would be taking the majority of my study breaks. have to say, though, that I experienced what I’d anticipate is a normal degree of trepidation when faced with a first-time nude beach experience. I recall going to the shore several times, and remaining clothed, trying to determine whether I was “safe”. I saw that the beach was huge and spread out such that one could very much keep a feeling of having “personal space”, at what felt like a comfortable distance from other beachgoers whose motivations for being there might be considerably less than innocent. Eventually, the lure of what I had in the back part of my head always wanted to experience won out, and one day I took my new boogie-board down to shore, and without hesitation lost my swimsuit.
I rushed down to the water, still a little nervous, attempting not to make eye contact with the few folks that were nearby. I plunged into the waves, and quickly realized I was having the time of my entire life. I rode the waves for a while, loving the sensation, feeling like my body was made for this.
I exhausted after a while, and decided to head back up to the beach. Feeling more relaxed and assured now, I looked around at a number of the others present. I should probably mention here that I Have been blessed with some pretty good genes, and I should probably also mention that it was impossible not to see the — well, stares — of several of the gay men present.

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After a moment or two of nervousness, I immediately decided that this was fundamentally a public place, and going nude was my pick, and that I couldn’t actually stop anyone who wanted to look at me from looking. And that as long as they kept a respectable distance and refrained from outwardly lewd behaviour or unwanted advances or harassment, I’d just accept the “eye contact” as , and think no more of it and enjoy myself.
I was pleased when it turned out that my fellow nude folks acted exactly as I had figured they would. And my attitude toward the bare experience is pretty much the same today — taking off my clothing is a choice I make, but I can’t control what you do. In case you want to look, go ahead and look, but I trust that you will not harass or otherwise act distastefully.
To this very day, my recollections of my many, many bare excursions to that shore are a few of my greatest memories. Lately, I’ve been land-locked, so to speak, near Sacramento, but it is always been in the back of my mind to get back to Black’s. I’d also like to check out San Onofre.

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