My First time at an all nude beach

There’s a scene in the movie Eurotrip where three American guys and an American girl go to a nude beach. The girl strips off her crochet cover up, and, in slow motion, the nostrils of the European men flare. In an animalistic stampede, the lusty Europeans chase the four Americans off the beach. End scene.

I hate to rain on Hollywood’s parade, but European nude beaches are not like this.

However, that said, my first nude beach experience was semi-daunting nonetheless. The first weekend I got to Italy, my hosts took me camping in their RV on Italy’s east coast, next to the Adriatic Sea. The first night, I adapted to the language barrier, the new food, jetlag exhaustion, and sleeping in the back of a cramped van with four complete strangers and two dogs, just fine. The next day, it was sunny.

“Potty, we go to the beach?” my hosts asked me. Sure, I replied, I love beaches, and I came to Italy for sun–why not.

We hiked about three quarters of a mile through a jungle-like thicket on a cliff-side down to a rocky under-hang along the shore. And then I saw it. Out of breath, sweating, and still jet-lagged, I wasn’t sure I read the sign correctly until I did a double take.

Spiaggia frequentata dai nudisti.

Did it seriously say what I thought it said? “Dona, what does this sign mean?’ I gestured to my host..

“Is a naked beach, you have in America? “Not really, topless maybe, secluded, skimpy outfits... semi nude?" I was not sure what to expect.

So I went with it.

I sat on a huge rock near the waves next to Donatella, who by this point, had tossed all of her clothes, and her pink sparkly headband in a pile next to her feet. Her bare bottom was turned upward to catch the best rays of the sun. She laughed at my visible apprehension and said, “Tan lines Potty, are no good. In two months, you have no tan lines, you’ll see.”

Right. Okay.

I could see the two men had by this pointed also emerged from the jungle area completely naked, along with the other women of the group. I was unsure of the protocol, do I look, try not to look. One of the men was visibly much larger than the other. I was intrigued now by these naked bodies, and he women I was surprised to see had small breasts, that must have been a push up she wears I surmised.

I scanned the beach and saw naked bodies as far as the eye could see. Every shape and size one could imagine.
I gingerly took my shirt off and untied the back of my bikini string. Dona, looking as Italian-glamorous and naked as ever. I bit my lip, took the rest of my clothes off, and untied my bikini. This was my full-on embrace of the Italian/European thing…oddly, any discomfort was delightfully thrilling and liberating.

Until I saw him.

At first he was a speck on the horizon. Then, as he walked closer and closer, I made out his Italian, muscular chiseled figure. I scrambled to throw my suit on, and made it just before I was in eyesight. He didn’t break his stride but as he passed by, he said, “Ciao, bella.” On reflex, I looked up, and there he was, all Italian naked glory, I glanced at his cock, a well sized good looking one as he continued striding right by me. A fit, well tanned, dark hair, movie start face and eyes, he continued on.

It was a short encounter, and if my shirt wasn’t on backwards and he wasn’t stark naked, we could’ve be standing in an ordinary grocery store. As I watched his back muscles and butt cheeks flap away into the distance, I groaned and rolled over. Italy was going to take some getting used to. I have been naked 1000s of time but not in the open.

I finally got the nerve to walk with the girls down the beach stark naked. I was amazed at how casual everyone was. No rude comments, little staring from the men at all. In fact I wonder how many might be gay, I thought to myself hey fellas come on take a good look!

The guessing game was over for women regarding a mans package on this beach, however there still could be the surprise of would it grow. I saw more than one erection and the locals seemed to pay no mind at all. I almost felt bad for some of the men as they stood near each other and talked, one man would be clearly larger than the other. My two male hosts a prime example. Both women married to the other, I wondered if the women married to Mr Small wanted to take Mr. Bigger for a ride. It seemed as though just like more in America breast size on women does not overly define sexy or attraction. All these different size cocks flapping around seems to have done the same thing.

Many of the beaches we visited where nude during my stay, and soon I felt like I understood the disassociation with sex and nudity towards the end of my stay. I soon realized the liberating feeling of nudity as they embraced all aspects and shapes of the human figure here and two months later, Dona was right. When I boarded a New York bound plane, I didn’t have any tan lines.