A breeze wafted in from the ocean, ruffling the pages of The Demon-Haunted World. I slipped a bookmark in and set it onto the warm, eburnean sands around me. Waves lazily marched towards the shore, only to crash and dissipate once they reached their goal, their rhythmic susurrus a natural lullaby. The scent of the tropical sea surrounded me with a brisk, briny, clean perfume. In the clear, cerulean waters, two young women played a game of their own devising, the object of which, so far as I could tell, was to fail to hit the ball in such a way that you made the biggest splash and the most noise possible. I sighed.
I had to admit, I was surprised that their nudity no longer even registered as something noteworthy to me. After just a few days at the Kutná Hora Resort, I no longer felt any trepidation at being nude. No longer did I fear the other guests would point and laugh. I had even stopped worrying that I was going to walk outside naked, only to realize I had made a huge mistake and this wasn't a nudist resort after all.
I had decided to travel here to celebrate the end of my freshman year of college, my first year on my own, living as an adult. Growing up, my family had always been inhibited about nudity. Even just to walk from the shower to the bedroom, my parents would first get dressed. I don't think I ever saw my father without a shirt unless he was swimming, and for my mother, bikinis were off-limits. Every trip to the beach came complete with a litany of comments about how cold those poor young women must be, and how their mothers must have raised them, her tone of voice making it clear that she believed the answer to be "poorly."
I had wanted to try out nudism for a while, but never had the chance to. I was too shy to ask my parents while still in school. I didn't want them thinking they had raised a voyeuristic pervert or anything. Asking friends carried the same risk. There wasn't a way to ask a friend, either male or female, that you wanted to get naked with them without opening up myself to myriad rumors.
So I did my research online. I found out the Kutná Hora Resort was just a few hours away. The pictures entranced me. Here were people having fun, walking around, playing games, all without clothes. It looked like paradise. I told my parents I was going to stay with a college friend for a week, packed my unusually light bags, and set out.
The first day had been the hardest, in more ways than one. My teeth tingled the entire drive over, my chest a cold, gaping void. Had I made a mistake? Various nightmarish scenarios played in my mind to the soundtrack of Queen. What if I got caught? What if something happened and they called my parents, telling them they had found me at the nudist resort?
I had never been naked in public before. What would it be like? I wasn't exactly a star athlete. "Lanky" probably would have been the first word to come to mind a year ago, but I was starting to fill out a bit while at college, at least. Would people judge me? What if I contracted priapism as soon as I arrived and it didn't go down all week? Would they kick me out? Ban me? Call security? Set up a guillotine with a distressingly small hole?
After the longest two hours and change of my life, I arrived.
From the front, it looked no different than any other resort. The building was a pristine ivory, its roof dull red. If not for the name embossed in brass letters, I would have doubted I was at the right spot at all. It wasn't until I followed the bellboys inside that it became very clear that this was a clothing-optional resort, and everyone had evidently optioned against clothing. Aside from the bellboys, I was the only one wearing enough to walk through a neighborhood without the police getting a call. I walked to the front desk and checked in. While the employee tapped at their keyboard, I observed as discreetly as I could.
Everyone looked ... well ... normal. No movie stars. No models. Just regular people, indistinguishable from those I had left behind at home except in dress: fat, skinny, young, old, white, black, Asian. With my sunglasses concealing my eyes, I took advantage of the opportunity before me to people-watch. Most of the guests were either children or middle-aged, but there were a few young adults that were about my age.
I drank them in. Eighteen years of seeing fewer breasts than elephants in real life crashed into the dirt and exploded into ashes. Small breasts and large melons, pert tits and drooping hooters, ta-tas and bazongas, sweater puppies and air bags, all of them parading before me.
"Your keycards, sir," interrupted the desk clerk. She explained some details, including the fact that a tour that would be starting in just twenty minutes, and pointed me towards the elevators. I left the lobby and entered the elevator with a statuesque black woman. I prayed that she wasn't telepathic as I cast sidelong glances at her bare and buxom bosom and the swelling curves of her tight, firm backside. All too soon, she reached her floor and exited. I soon did the same.
I unlocked the door and entered. After I unpacked what little I had, I checked out the room. Everything was unusually usual. Same bath, same bed, same television and cough I had come to expect from this sort of place. From the window I could see the entire resort below me. Like tiny, naked homunculi, an entire hotel's worth of humanity scurried about, swimming in the pools, lounging on the beaches, and walking across the lawns. I checked the clock. The tour would be starting soon.
I stripped down to a pair of trunks and stepped outside my room. It was odd walking through the halls, seeing naked men and women passing me by, but each staring guest I passed further reminded me that I and my swimsuit were the odd ones.
There were four or five others waiting for the tour. Two of them had elected to stay at least partially covered, although one of the women had gone topless. The others had already decided to do as the Romans do.
We passed by the pool, the beaches, the restaurants, the courtyard, and the games area while our tour guide described how much there was to do and see. I was mostly interested in what there was to see. Everywhere, people were naked: eating naked, sunbathing naked, swimming naked, and playing chess naked. I was just glad I had my swimsuit to conceal my tumescent cock. "Women! Naked women!" it screeched at me.
Soon the tour ended. Our guide walked off, and the other tourists scattered in ones and twos. I was alone. Nothing left to do but bite the bullet.
I went back to my room to disrobe. I slid off my left them on the bed while I stared out the window at the pool and the naked men and women around it, swimming and sunbathing. It looked like a safe enough place to start. I could always jump into the water or tan on my stomach in case of any emergencies.
I grabbed a towel and my keycard and walked to the door. With a final, deep breath I opened the door and walked out into the empty hallway nude. I was officially naked in public. The door closed and locked behind me with a deafening click. What if my card broke and I was stuck outside naked? What if I wasn't supposed to be naked here?
I clenched my eyes shut and focused on breathing steadily. Everything was fine. It was alright to be naked. No one would screech at the sight of me. Without my clothes, I wouldn't even warrant a second glance.
I walked to the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. The contrast of the luxurious brass and mirrors of the elevator with my own primal state of nudity was ludicrous. I felt like a streaker in a stately mansion. I chuckled.
The bell dinged on the twelfth floor. I held my towel in front of my crotch, backed into the corner, and lowered my eyes as a young couple entered and turned their backs to me. I looked up. The woman's bare ass was only a foot away from me, plump and firm, jiggling as she shifted her weight while she waiting for the elevator to reach its destination. I tightened my grip on my towel.
The doors opened. The couple left, my eyes locked on her ass as she walked outside. I peeked outside the elevator. Everyone was still naked. No one had told them to put their clothes back on now that I had been successfully fooled into nudity.
I scurried to the pool and sat down on an available chair with my towel on my lap. Next to me, an older man tanned in the sun, his flaccid penis drooping between his legs. I looked around. Everyone was in a similar state of apathetic and unashamed undress. Here and there, a top or bottom might be found, but by and large people preferred their birthday suit to anything else. And despite it all, everyone was acting as though it were perfectly normal to be naked in public. Perhaps it was. Confident that my reaction from the elevator had subsided, I stood up, flung the towel onto my chair, and leapt into the pool.
The cool water enveloped me. I had never swum nude before. It felt ... freeing. The novel sensation of swimming without trunks, the soft, silky pressure of the water directly against my crotch, was invigorating. I felt natural, I felt primal, I felt, well, naked. I was exposed, I was vulnerable, but I was exhilarated. I felt a connection to millennia of ancestors who swam without suits, naturally, just as I was now. I swam a few laps, passing by my fellow nudists, none of whom gave the naked man grinning like an idiot a second thought.
I climbed out and lay down on my stomach, keeping my legs pressed together. The sun evaporated away the water from my back, and soon, I began to feel its heat. What would have been idyllic with a gentle breeze soon became uncomfortable otherwise. It was time.
.... There is more of this story ...