By Lisabet Sarai
Photo by Adam Laurel
In my past gigs at the Hot Spot, I've taken you on tours of a sex club and a Japanese sex museum. This time, I thought that perhaps you would like to join me in a visit to a nude beach. I've done my share of skinny dipping over the course of my life, as well as indulging other forms of naked recreation including nude hiking, biking, camping and hot-spring soaking. I've been to nude barbecues and dances. And I've loved it!
You might get the idea - hint, hint, wink, wink - that visiting a nudist colony or a clothing-optional beach is a sexually arousing experience. In fact, overt sexual activity is generally frowned upon at nudist (or as they are sometimes known, naturist) venues. Members of the international naturist community spend a huge amount of time and effort trying to refute the general perception that nakedness equals sex. Their promotional literature emphasizes the health benefits of nudism, the way it can increase your self-confidence, the way it erases social barriers when nobody around you is wearing designer clothing or five hundred dollar shoes. Naturism is touted as an excellent lifestyle for people with children, and indeed, I wish I'd been able to run around naked when I was a kid.
This is all true. The fact is, though, that there you are, surrounded by naked people, and it's difficult not to think about sex.
Granted, many of the individuals you'll see have bodies that show the ravages of age. Some are overweight, even to the point of being grotesque. One wonderful aspect of naked recreation is the fact that no matter how ugly you think your body is, or how fat you feel, there's usually someone who looks worse - and who appears perfectly comfortable without clothes anyway.
At the same time, you're exposed (so to speak) to younger, more attractive people as well. Without clothes, you can really appreciate the diversity of body types and recognize that it's a great thing one size doesn't fit all. You can check out guys who are circumcised and guys who aren't, hairy men and smooth men, muscular bruiser types and slender aesthetes. Not to mention (if you're bisexual as I am) the many shapes and sizes of women, from willowy sylphs to buxom goddesses. All in all, the experience can be quite - um - stimulating.
You can't do anything about any of this, of course, unless the nude scene happens to be connected to a sex club or adult resort, but that's okay. Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac. You can stow away plenty of mental pictures for later fantasy (or to be turned into characters!) Meanwhile you can enjoy the fresh air and the pleasant, non-specific buzz that comes from doing something a bit daring.
One of my favorite spots for nude recreation is a lake in southern Vermont about an hour from where I used to live. Actually, it's a reservoir belonging to a power company, a vast sheet of sapphire-blue water surrounded by verdant hills. On a hot summer day, there will be scads of clothed families picnicking and splashing at the official beach maintained by the utility company. Passing them by, you set off down a shady forest path for an easy twenty minute hike to the clothing optional area.
Unlike the public beach, the nude swimming area at this reservoir doesn't have any sand. Instead, there are huge slabs of granite, stretching from the shore into the water. By the time we'd usually arrive, in early afternoon, the sun would have warmed the stone to a perfect temperature. We'd undress, piling our shorts and tee shirts on convenient rocks. Then we'd spread our blanket on one of the smooth ledges, stretch out, and settle in to read, doze, or watch our fellow nudists. When we'd been adequately baked, we'd take a dip in the remarkably clean water. You could slip from the slabs into the lake without having to step on the slimy mud typical of New England water bodies. By midsummer, the water would be cool enough to be refreshing but not numbingly cold. (Some Vermont streams are - even in August!)
People were always incredibly friendly at this beach. That's understandable. We were all in this together, defying convention if not the law. (The legal status of nude recreation is muddy in many parts of the U.S. The power company certainly knew the nude area existed. Generally, as long as no scandalized do-gooder complains, there's no problem.)
There's such a sense of freedom in shedding your clothes. It seems to heighten all your senses. I could get drunk, just from the feel of the breeze against my bare skin. The heat of the sun is more intense. The resiny scent of evergreen, the muffled calls from the official beach drifting across the water, the salt of the sweat I wipe off my brow - I'm there in the here and now, one hundred percent present.
I haven't been skinny dipping in a number of years. Since I moved to Asia, I've actually had fewer opportunities, although the tropical climate here would be far more conducive than New England's. Recently though, I was reliving the glorious experience of being naked out of doors, while I was working on my upcoming Lust Bite, Hot Spell.
My heroine Sylvie flees to the mountains to escape a brutal city heat wave and her own loneliness. She's far more at home in the forest than in an urban environment. She bathes naked in a mountain stream. She hikes to a high meadow and can't resist removing her clothing, especially since she believes there's no one around. And of course, once you're naked, the sensuality of the experience makes it difficult to resist thinking about sex...
*************
Tree shadows told her it was well past noon by the time she reached the high meadow that overlooked Crystal Lake. The lake spread out below, a shimmering expanse of sapphire fringed with emerald. From the city, the hills had looked sere and sun-bleached, but here in the heart of the mountains all was green, save for the scarlet splash of early poppies. Jagged peaks reared in the distance, still clad in snow, almost too bright to look at.
The sun beat down upon her, burning hot but somehow less cruel than in the city. The warmth distilled the fragrances of nature – pine resin and crushed foliage, musty fungus and moist soil. Sylvie filled her lungs. The spicy mountain air was like wine, making her feel drunk, wild, a bit crazy.
She glanced around the clearing. A flock of swifts swirled up from the rippling sea of green into the surrounding trees. Otherwise, all was quiet. She might have the only person on earth.
Her sweaty clothes clung to her limbs. She wanted to feel the sun on her bare skin. And why not? She was alone, and with her tawny complexion, she wasn’t at all prone to sunburn.
Shucking off her shorts and shirt, Sylvie stretched out in the tall grass, exposed to the baking sunlight. A stray breeze stirred her hair and tickled her forehead. An insect buzzed overhead, then disappeared. The delicious heat made her languid and sleepy. She allowed her mind to wander.
Sylvie didn't intend to think about him. She couldn't help herself. With her eyes closed all she could see was burnished muscle, swollen cock, powerful hands gripping and squeezing. She saw the frenzied motion of his fingers, raking over his taut skin as if to torture himself. She recalled the pained look on his face, as though pleasure for him was a kind of agony.
As she remembered, she let her own hands trace her curves down to her pussy. The slick folds fluttered around her fingertips and her ocean smell rose to join the scents of grass and flowers. What if he touched her, with those strong hands, those knowing fingers? Circling her throbbing clit, she imagined it was the stranger who was kindling her, driving her deeper into fierce desire.
Her cunt was a hungry cavity aching to be filled. It swallowed her fingers, bathing them in hot fluid. She strummed her thumb against her clit while stroking in and out, all the while imagining the stranger pleasuring her. His mouth had been firm and sensual. How would those lips feel, pursed around her clit, sucking, kneading, striking sparks? Her pussy was on fire, her sun-heated flesh slick, ripe and screaming for release.
The pressure built in her belly, coiling tighter with each plunge of her fingers into her welcoming depths. Her nipples throbbed with the energy of arousal, crying out for some stimulation. She transferred one hand to their aching points, giving them what they craved. Lightning shot up her spine and fireworks detonated in her clit. She would come any instant, come under the expert hands of the gorgeous man who had wrung such fierce cries from his own throat. She was coming, coming...
A gasp, and not her own. Her eyes flew open.
“Don't stop,” he cried. A man loomed over her, a man with a deep tan, a blond ponytail and eyes flecked with gold. The man from the creek.
*************
I hope you've enjoyed our quick trip. If you've never experienced the delights of being naked out of doors, I encourage you to try, even if it's only in the privacy of your own back yard. You never know where it will lead, in your fantasies - or even in reality.
Here is something I've been wondering about...what about the perfect drink makes us take pictures of it? Is this something everyone does? Or just something those of us into sensual experiences do?
