Nudist Camp Open House

James is depressed after breaking up with his fiancee. To give his humdrum life a jolt, he visits a nearby nudist camp when it is hosting an open house.

Part One
I always make a point to read postings on bulletin boards. You never know what you might see in the way of notices that might catch your fancy. The only negative to this habit is reading an announcement, becoming interested in it—and then noticing the event had happened weeks earlier and no one had bothered to remove the old ad. Whenever that occurs, I usually respond by angrily tearing it off the board so no other people waste their time with it.

It was the last week of June in 1990. The weather had turned warm so that jackets no longer had to be worn. I stopped at my local convenience store to buy a few items. I had parked my car just a couple of feet from a large outdoor bulletin board that had been there as long as I could remember. Of course, some of the notices were badly out of date. (One advertised a December 21 Christmas concert at a local Baptist church. I ripped it off and tore it into pieces.) Nothing seemed to interest me until I saw an ad printed on a sheet of 8½ x 11 lime-green stationery. It was promoting an open house at a nudist camp!

The camp, known as Free Spirit Hideaway, was located about 25 miles away, well off the beaten path from a regional, two-lane highway. Everyone seemed aware of this camp’s existence, but I did not know a single person who had ever been inside it. According to the flyer on the bulletin board, it was celebrating its 20th anniversary. The one-day open house, from dawn until dusk this coming Saturday, was part of the festivities. There was a phone number at the bottom of the sheet that could be called for further information. (The contact person’s name was Fanny—which, under the circumstances, I found quite amusing!) It went totally against my upbringing and conservative nature, but I memorized the number and decided to call Fanny shortly after I got home.

In 1990, I was all by myself. I was 38 years old, living alone, with no romantic interest in my life. A three-year relationship had fallen apart four months earlier when the 30-year-old woman I was seriously dating abruptly stated that she didn’t want to have children. I wanted to be a father—and the clock was ticking—so I felt there was no need to continue seeing her. I felt I needed a reset in my staid, traditional life. What could be more of a jolt than a one-day visit to a nudist resort? I jotted down the camp’s phone number from memory, took a deep breath, and called Fanny.

It turned out that Fanny Albertson was a delightful person to converse with. She was friendly, garrulous, and didn’t mind answering any and all of my questions about the camp specifically and nudism in general. I estimated from her voice that she was somewhere between 35 and 45 years old—basically my age demographic. She explained that the camp was comprised of 30 cabins that were no different than typical summer cottages. They were basically intended for long-term summer rentals, but some people just stayed for a week or two. Fanny insisted that Free Spirit Hideaway was a family-friendly place that had plenty of activities for all ages. She specifically noted the huge indoor swimming pool, a small man-made lake, a tennis court, a nine-hole miniature golf course, and numerous fun things designed for children, seniors, and everyone in between. “For example, there’s a karaoke event happening tonight. There’s also a poker tournament going on today in the rec hall,” she informed me.

“I assume it’s not strip poker since everyone is already nude!” I quipped.

Fanny laughed and replied, “That’s a good one! I’ll have to tell the card-players what you said. Most of us can laugh at our choice of a clothes-free lifestyle. We are a fun-loving group.”

“How do I sign up for this Saturday’s open house—and what are the rules for visitors?” I asked her.
“There is no formal registration,” Fanny stated. “Just show up anytime during daylight hours on Saturday and say you are here for the open house. The only stipulation is that clothes cannot be worn at Free Spirit Hideaway. We are quite strict about that policy. The only exceptions are hats and shoes.”

“This is probably a stupid question, but what about eyeglasses?” I asked.

“That question is asked more than you might think,” Fanny said. “Eyeglasses and jewelry don’t count as clothing. You can wear them. The same policy applies to contact lenses, cosmetics, and nail polish.” There was a pause, then Fanny said, “That last sentence was supposed to be a joke, but very few people here wear cosmetics or nail polish. They generally believe in natural beauty.”

“If you decide to attend on Saturday,” she continued, “when you arrive at the front gate, someone will greet you and escort you to a changing area where you can undress. We’ll store your clothing in a secure area until you leave. Then you are free to wander around and enjoy the facilities. This is something new for us, too. We’re hoping to attract a few new, long-term attendees.”

I thanked Fanny and hung up. I was not sure if I was going to attend, but I did not say I would not, either. I was leaning 80:20 in giving nudism a try—at least for this one day.

Part Two

Saturday, June 30 was a glorious and sunny summer day. The weather forecast called for clear skies and slightly warmer than usual temperatures. When I heard a weatherman on the radio say it would seem like mid-July weather, I made up my mind: I would indeed visit Free Spirit Hideaway to see what the nudist camp had to offer someone like me. It turned out to be a very fortuitous choice.

It took me half an hour to drive there. I didn’t need a map because there were a few signs along the highway telling visitors which exit to take to get to the nudist resort. The paved road quickly turned into a dirt road within a mile or two, but more signage was in place to assure travelers that they were still on course for Free Spirit Hideaway. I arrived shortly before 9 a.m. I knew I was in the right place when I saw a nude male parking attendant with a red flag in his right hand point me to the visitors’ lot. I could already tell this was going to be an unusual and memorable day.

I strolled up to the front gate where a fortyish woman in her birthday suit greeted me with a smile. I asked if she happened to be “Fanny, the person I spoke to on the phone earlier in the week”. She said, “No, I’m her sister-in-law, Naomi.” She was quite a fetching female. I asked if I could greet her with a handshake.

“Handshakes are no problem,” she said with a cheeky grin. “Hugs are reserved for people we know well.”

“That makes perfect sense!” I agreed as I gently clasped her right hand with mine. Then I said I had spoken to Fanny a few days before and I had come as a visitor based on the flyer I saw on a bulletin board and what Fanny had told me.

“Am I the first visitor to arrive?” I asked.

“You’re the eleventh, actually.” I was told. “When people learned they could enter the camp at sunrise, half a dozen did. Sadly, we’ve had to remove four of them from the camp. They just came to gawk and make crude remarks. I hope you aren’t like that.”

“No, not at all. I’m genuinely interested in what you have here.”

“What we have here,” Naomi stated, “is a community of otherwise normal people who just like the freedom to spend their summers clothes-free and be among like-minded folks. In the late 1960s this area was basically unused land that the camp’s founders bought cheaply. Within two years, it was ready to accommodate up to 100 naturists.”

Naomi interrupted her speech to say, “Oh, here’s Bernard. He’ll guide you to the building where you can undress and store your belongings. It is highly recommended that you wear a hat to protect you from the sun today and keep your shoes on because some of the footpaths have small stones on them. Enjoy your visit with us here at Free Spirit Hideaway.”

When Bernard escorted me to the changing room, I was surprised to see it was unisex—which again made perfect sense once I gave it some thought. A husband and wife, visitors who apparently arrived minutes before I did, were standing side by side completely naked. Upon seeing me and Bernard, the fifty-something woman instinctively tried to cover herself up with her arms. Her husband chastised her. “This is a nudist camp, honey,” he noted. “This is hardly the place for modesty.”

I immediately concluded that it was the husband’s idea to attend the open house, not his wife’s. I said nothing, but I could not help eying her for a few seconds. Like Naomi, she was not too shabby in the looks department, either.

A few minutes later, a young family of four sauntered in. The mother and her two children disrobed swiftly and hustled off to the lake. Her husband said he’d catch up to them after he stored their clothing and valuables. He looked at me with a defeated look on his face and felt compelled to say, “Visiting this place was my kids’ idea. My eight-year-old son saw a flyer and thought it would be a ‘fun idea’ to go somewhere where he could swim and play naked with other children. His six-year-old sister agreed—and so did their mother. They take after their mother’s side of the family, not mine. Most of my wife’s family are a bit odd; some are just plain nutty. Then there’s me: I’m a corporate accountant. I’m about as conservative as you can get.”

“This is a new experience for me, too,” I confessed. “I work in a bank as a financial advisor for our affluent clients. We’re not exactly known for being radical or impulsive, either. I’m sort of bashful myself, but I’m in a bit of a personal rut at the moment, so I figured I’d do something crazy for one day just for the sake of variety.”

We shook hands. I said my name was James Kearns. He told me his was Arthur Hempel. Bernard placed our respective belongings into numbered baskets and locked them in a secured room. We both headed out the door together. We hadn’t taken more than a few steps when three teenage girls passed in front of us. I figured they were about 16 years old. They were all tanned and quite beautiful to behold. I said to Arthur, “I should have brought my 15-year-old nephew with me. He’s a bit of a teenage Romeo. This would be heaven on Earth for him.”

“Are you telling me those girls don’t appeal to you?” Arthur asked me. “I think all three of them are magnificent.”

“Of course, I find them appealing!” I responded. “I just didn’t want to say it out loud.”

Arthur smiled. “I have to catch up to my wife and kids now. Sadly, the lake is in the opposite direction of where those girls were heading. Oh, well…” He waved goodbye as he walked away. It occurred to me that If I were in Arthur’s shoes, I wouldn’t be thrilled about having my wife parade around naked in front of strangers. I only caught a brief glimpse of Mrs. Hempel’s nude body, but what I saw was certainly first-rate.

Without walking too far, I came across a camp employee who was giving a guided tour of the place. I joined a group of five others—three males and two females. It was difficult to tell whether any had arrived in couples. Be that as it may, we were given a thorough tour of Free Spirit Hideaway. We looked at an unoccupied cabin (which was fairly luxurious), the indoor swimming pool (which already was being used by several people), all the recreation facilities, and finally the man-made lake with its accompanying beach. When we got there, I spotted Arthur about 20 yards from me and waved at him. His whole naked family merrily waved back at me.

The guide said the tour was now over, but we were free to go anywhere we wanted until sunset. When we were ready to leave, we just had to track down Bernard to get our clothing and other belongings back.

Four of the six members in our tour group dispersed, but I noticed that one, a shapely, black-haired female about my age, was lingering. I sensed she wanted to talk to me. I’ve always had a policy that if a beautiful naked woman wants to have a chat, I’ll stick around to listen to whatever she has to say.

“This is an impressive place,” she commented to me. “I figured it would be more rustic.”

“I did, too,” I agreed. “Everyone seems to be having a good time running around without any clothes. Hey, as long as they’re not causing problems, I say ‘live and let live.’ By the way, I’m James Kearns.”

“I’m Marlene Fisher.” She paused and then added, “My parents would go berserk if they knew I was standing naked in front of a group of strangers.”

“Well, let’s not be strangers,” I suggested. We shook hands.

Then Marlene did something unexpected, “In for a penny, in for a pound!” she said and embraced me! I quickly responded by wrapping my arms around her, too.

Her breasts pressing against me instantly activated my penis from neutral to active. I could sense an unstoppable erection happening.

“This is, by far, the craziest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” Marlene said as our embrace continued. She said, “Something just possessed me to come here when I saw the flyer for the open house—and something possessed me to throw myself at you.”

“Hey, maybe it was meant to be,” I proffered. “I’m single and I’m currently looking for a wife. Maybe you are the woman I’m searching for.”

“Could be…” she stated.

“What is your occupation?” I asked her.

“I’m a kindergarten teacher,” she told me. “I absolutely love kids. I wish I had two or three of my own.”

I figured this was a perfect example of kismet. I quickly explained to Marlene that my most recent relationship fell apart because my supposed fiancée did not want to have any children.

“She is a damn fool!” Marlene emphatically stated. “That’s why we were put on this planet—to procreate. I’m 31. I’m not getting any younger. My biological clock is running out. I want to have children now!”

Excitedly I declared, “I’m 38 and I think I can help you! Let’s figure out our wedding plans later. Right now, we should work on conceiving that first baby.”

“My God this is nutty, but I completely agree with you, James!” she replied. “I bet if we both go for a swim in that lake, we can find a spot where the water is deep enough for a bit of privacy, but shallow enough for us to do what nature intended: fuck like rabbits, albeit wet rabbits.”

We passionately embraced on the sand for about 30 seconds, then we bounded joyfully into the water. Sure enough, there was a spot where the water was about 4½ feet deep—perfect for standing, and perfect for concealing our genitalia. Therefore, it was perfect water depth for screwing in a place that lacked privacy.

We both enjoyed the simple pleasure of romantic kissing, so we began with plenty of that. Then I began to explore the most interesting parts of Marlene’s body. Her breasts had small areolas and were quite lovely and firm. They were built to be caressed and fondled by me. While I enjoyed her sumptuous tits, Marlene stimulated my growing phallus with her hands, stroking the shaft with her left hand and playing with my testicles with her right hand. The whole encounter was terrifically erotic. It was especially so, considering we had known each other for about five minutes before plunging into the lake to make a baby together.

“Guide my penis inside your pussy, Marlene,” I reminded her. “That’s where it needs to go, and fate says that’s where it ought to go.” She did. I had to lift her up slightly for the best possible fucking position, but I did not mind in the slightest. After a few loving upward thrusts, I fired a substantial blast of jism inside my lover. It felt wonderful—and my passionate groans reinforced it. We stayed conjoined for several minutes, kissing each other in dozens of spots to pass the time.

The water was ideally refreshing, so we stayed in the lake for about 15 minutes for some aquatic cuddling with a bit of swimming thrown in for fun. Then something rather comical occurred. Marlene and I stepped out of the water and onto the sand. We were romantically holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes. Our perfect moment was interrupted when a little girl’s voice rang out.

“Mommy, look!” shouted six-year-old Kristen Hempel. “That friendly man that Daddy met in the changeroom is holding hands with Miss Fisher! She was my kindergarten teacher from last year! Hi, Miss Fisher!”

Marlene turned several shades of red and then acknowledged her former student’s greeting with a slight wave and a terse, “Hi there, Kristen.” It was an awkward moment to be sure, but what else could Marlene do?

Instead of going away, as Marlene had hoped, Kristen moved closer to us—with her mother in tow. The blonde-haired girl babbled, “Miss Fisher, you’re naked today, just like my whole family is! It’s fun to be naked, isn’t it? I really like it. Did you have fun in the water playing with that nice man? Is he your boyfriend?”

“I guess you can say that, Kristen,” Marlene politely stated.

“I’m her fiancé,” I interjected. “We’re going to get married and have many babies together. I hope they are as beautiful and adorable as you are, sweetheart.”

“Oh, he is a nice man!” Kristen opined. Then she said goodbye and returned to building sandcastles with her brother and a few other children she had befriended.

Marlene next turned her attention to me and said, “Yes!”

“Yes, what?” I asked.

“Yes, I accept your marriage proposal,” she told me. “We were obviously meant for each other.”

Still, I wanted to ensure that Marlene Fisher was the right type of wife for me. “You want to have kids, right?” I asked her.

“You provide the sperm, and I’ll keep producing the eggs to make our babies,” she cheerfully answered.

She was definitely wife material!

“Maybe we should make double-sure the first one has been conceived!” I suggested with a naughty grin. Accordingly, we headed back into the center of the shallow lake for another fucking session. My penis was hard and ready for more action. This time I entered Marlene’s vagina from behind. Another orgasm followed soon afterward. It felt wonderful—again. Somehow, we both instinctively knew that we had succeeded.

As we embraced in the waist-deep water, Marlene said to me. “James, I’m really going to have a lot of trouble explaining to my parents that I met my fiancé at a nudist camp and became pregnant by him inside of an hour of first saying hello. My whole family is very conservative and traditional, especially my parents. They aren’t going to like this at all.”

I paused before answering her. “Marlene,” I said in a soft and loving voice, “if you want a different story, just tell them we met at a bar, got very drunk together, drove off to some sleazy motel along the highway, and I knocked you up there when we were liquored up. Actually, that tale is far more believable than the truth.”

Part Three

Within a week, Marlene did one of those at-home pregnancy tests… and it came back positive. We were married on July 14—just two weeks after our incredibly short courtship produced a baby. For fun we held the ceremony beside the lake at Free Spirit Hideaway. Of course it was a nude wedding; it had to be in accordance with the camp’s ironclad rules. Little Kristen Hempel was the flower girl, which was a cute touch. She told everyone who spoke to her that she enjoyed the chance to be naked at the lake again. The whole Hempel family became good and loyal friends of ours. They were all in attendance. Everyone who had a cabin at the nudist camp was invited to observe the service, too. Everyone did. The story of how I met Marlene became part of the folklore of the whole nudist community. After that day, however, we never again set foot at Free Spirit Hideaway. We decided we weren’t really into nudism; we were both too conservative to make it part of our collective lifestyle.

Marlene’s parents could not bring themselves to attend a wedding where no one wore clothes, and Marlene and I totally understood that. However, they did come to a fancy reception that was held in a hotel ballroom about three miles from the camp. There everyone dressed to the nines.

Mr. and Mrs. Fisher actually liked me as a son-in-law despite the strange circumstances that led to their daughter becoming my wife. Mr. Fisher eventually felt comfortable enough to joke with me about the events of June 30, 1990.

“James,” he once asked me. “What was your first impression of Marlene when you and she went on the guided tour of the nudism camp in your birthday suits?”

I thought for a moment and then replied, “In all honesty, I think I said to myself, ‘She’s almost as beautiful and sexy as those naked 16-year-old girls who walked past me five minutes ago.’”