A few years ago I let curiosity get the best of me. There was a fairly famous nude beach not far from where I was staying. I hemmed and hawed for the afternoon (a Sunday) and late in the day I decided to go. I have since developed a few indisputable laws of nude beaches. One: don't go at the end of the day! It is sort of like going to an all you can eat buffet at closing time. You probably wont like what is left there, in both quantity or quality.
So, the first trip was kind of a bust. I went past the "beyond this point you may encounter nude sun bathers" sign into a less sheltered life. Upon reflection, I decided on Law Two: If you wanted to know what your grandparents looked like, go to a nude beach. And Three: when I see a guy who looks like beef jerky with eyes, well, NUDIST.

On trip two, we both find ourselves there. The weather is perfect. There are a few more people you might WANT to see nude wandering around, but more QUANTITY of dudes playing volleyball and any other sport......I/we am a stranger in their strange land after all. I decide that the few things make you feel more out of place than to be clothed at a nude beach. I slip out of my clothes and I assume the nudists see the neon sign of body hair and white skin as a sure sign of AMATEUR!!! I take a stroll around and then sit back on my towel and as the sun warms my skin, I fall asleep. The kind of sleep that results in an odd all over sunburn line.....

Little do I know, you are across the beach going through a similar type of self realization. Fish out of water, needle in a haystack, scratching an itch. Any way you look at it, we both now have answered some questions like what is it like, will I ever go back, my gawd there are easier ways to see naked people (that you WANT to look at).......maybe we meet at our cars and share a glance that says something, a seed is planted.......

What happens next.......