When I was a student some years ago I would, between classes, in summer, jump on my motorbike and head off to a remote section of the main surf beach north of the city I was living in and get naked. As this was during the day, and generally in the morning there would be absolutely no one around save for myself. The beach itself was windswept, but in the dune country behind there was the opportunity to walk naked literally for miles. I had many delightful mornings, and sometimes afternoons, sometimes walking, sometimes not, listening to the sound of the sea and the wind in the pine trees. The area was known for its nudity during the weekend and had been for many years. Several years later, prior to one Christmas, I went back to my old "stamping ground" just to see what was happening. I had hardly got there and was still dressed on top of a sandhill when a man naked, except for a cock ring, approached and started up a conversation. He invited me back to meet his friends. So off we went into the dune country and eventually came across a group of naked males, who funnily enough hid themselves as we approached. It turned out that they spent most weekends there in summer and had been doing so for some time. I was amazed at how brown they were, all over, and even had suntanned dicks. We talked for while. I declined their invitation to join in as I was of a much younger age and was only on a very short visit to my home town which meant relatives first, socialising distant second. More recently I came across a young man from my home town, who had a similar interest in nudity. It was good to hear him say that the tradition of nudity had not been lost. He was one of a number of young people who got naked eack weekend in the sandhills of my youth. Howard.
being nude among dressed people is such a great feeling ...
