Chapter 1

The weather was perfect for Gina's seventeenth birthday, and the day was a welcome break from the hectic pace at the end of the school year. More than that, it was the first time any of our friends from school were attending a nudist social event. Heather, of course, had known our families' secret for some time. Gina had recently told Shannon so Scott also knew. They were the only three of our classmates who knew, however.

Scott and Shannon were getting a little more comfortable, having made two joint trips to the bathroom to "take care of things." We were sitting on the side of the pool with our feet dangling in the water, our bellies happily full of grilled steak and chicken. I was between Gina and Heather, enjoying the touch of their bare skin against my arms.

Erin and Leah were sitting near us, eager to listen in on our conversation. I guess, now that we were about to be seniors, it was exciting for them to feel like part of our group. We talked about what we were going to do over the summer, and our upcoming senior year. Gina and I were going to Susan's camp with our families for the summer.

"So that's why," Scott said.

"So that's why what?" I asked.

"When we started wrestling practice in the fall, you didn't have tan lines. Everybody had them after swimming and things all summer long. All except you."

Shannon thought about that. "Yeah, Gina didn't have them either. I just thought it was because of her complexion."

"We never had them," Gina explained, "because we didn't wear bathing suits."

"Ever?" asked Shannon.

"Well, during that time of the month I wear my bottoms, but that's all," Gina explained.

"The whole summer?" Shannon asked.

"Yep," Gina said, smiling brilliantly, "the whole time. I mean, this does feel nice, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does," Shannon said. "It's still a little strange, sitting here with all of you, like this, but it is nice." She scooted a little closer to Scott, their thighs touching. I had to stifle a laugh at Scott's look of concentration. I knew exactly what he was doing; trying hard not to get hard.

Shannon and Scott had more questions about what life at camp was like. Gina and I explained as best we could, but Shannon's next question came from out of the blue.

"So how did you two really meet? With all we've learned about you lately, there has to be more to the story."

I looked to Gina, who held my eyes. After a moment she gave me an almost imperceptible nod, a smile lighting up her expression.

"You were such a goof back then," she reminisced absently. Then she turned serious. "You're the better storyteller, Paul. Go ahead and tell them about that first summer."

"Okay," I began, "so you really want to know, huh?"

Shannon nodded eagerly. Scott leaned a little forward, his hand still in her grasp.

That first summer, I mused. When we met. The memory brought a smile to my lips. We were so young, so insecure. Susan sprang to mind, so I decided to start there.

"Okay," I said, "you know how I go to camp with my family every summer, right?"

"Yeah, your aunt's place." Scott said.

"Right, Susan's camp. Well, you know it's a nudist camp..."

Eager nods.

I gathered my thoughts, remembering the summer of 1976.

It was my second visit to the Pines. We were staying in a room across the sandy road from the clubhouse, just like the previous year. After we checked in and unpacked the car, we all shed our clothes. It still felt a little strange, getting undressed like that, even though it was my second year. Erin took off for the lake with me right behind her.

Just as we reached the screen door, my mom called me back. I needed sunscreen. Unlike Erin. I hated the ritual—and I hated that my sister didn't need it. I endured it, but as soon as Mom finished, I darted out the door.

I turned left and headed down the hill. Little things about being a nudist stand out. As soon as I stepped off the porch, I encountered one. My dick flopped as I ran. I wasn't wearing pants or underwear. It reminded me of where I was.

I didn't find any kids I knew at the lake, but I did see some older girls. I liked watching them (and their mothers) when I was pretending to read. I thought that was the best part of being at a nudist camp. I didn't have a lot of experience as a nudist, so the whole experience was still new and naughty. For now, I went for a swim alone. The cold water was refreshing. It felt nice slipping against my naked body and softly caressing my skin. After a trip out to the raft and back, I got out and dried off. I walked up to the clubhouse but still didn't find any of the kids I knew from the year before. I sighed at the prospect of being alone all summer.

I walked over to the volleyball court but no one was there. Later in the week this would be a busy place, but not today. The swings were, well, for little kids. I walked back down to the lake and lay on a towel next to the lake. I watched the older girls and pretended to read, lying on my stomach to conceal the reaction to what I was really paying attention to.

By lunchtime the next day, none of my friends had arrived; I went looking for Aunt Susan, and found her in the clubhouse. She always seemed busier at the beginning of the summer, getting things going and helping to get people checked in.

"Aunt Susan?"

She always seemed to have a smile for me. "Yes, Paul?"

"I've been looking all over but I can't find any of the kids from last year," I said, not even making an effort to not sound as disappointed as I was.

"Who are you looking for?" she asked.

"Billy? Do you know when he's coming?"

"I'm sorry... the Simpsons won't be coming this year. They moved out west. They called a few months ago and asked me to recommend a camp in Arizona."

My shoulders sagged. Billy and I had been inseparable and I knew that the summer wouldn't be the same without him. "How about the Carters?"

"They haven't made a reservation so I don't think they're coming either."

"Oh, okay," I said, sullen and dejected. I was just turning away to go find a better place to sulk when she spoke up again.

"Jeremiah?" she said to the older man looking over some papers at her table. "Can I see the clipboard?" Taking it, she scanned the list, the pages rustling in the warm air as she flipped them. She tapped the page. "Yes, here. There are two new families coming this year who have children your age: the Erikssons and the Coulters." Her expression warmed as she at last found a way to help me. "They're both due to arrive today."

"Thanks," I said, standing straighter. I even managed to give her a smile.

I was so excited by her news that I practically skipped out the screen door and back down to the lake to swim some more. I felt better knowing there were going to be other kids my age. I was still disappointed that my friends from the year before weren't going to be there, but at least there was hope. It would mean making new friends, but somehow that was easier at a nudist camp.

About mid-afternoon I went back up to the clubhouse to get something to drink. I bent over and reached for a Coke in our section of one of the refrigerators. The cool air flowed out and hit me as a wave of refreshment. I grabbed the drink, hearing that new slogan (Coke adds life) in my head, and walked away as I took a sip with my eyes closed. I opened my eyes suddenly when I bumped into someone.

I looked up, then up some more to see a boy who might have been my age, only he was much taller. Skinny and taller—he certainly didn't have to worry about baby fat like me. He had pale skin, blonde hair and he was wearing a t-shirt. He was standing at the end of the counter, facing me and looking foolish in just a shirt.

"How's the weather down there, little man?" he said.

I might have been offended by his "little man" comment but I felt guilty for bumping into him, and his grin disarmed me.

Taking his grin as a cue, I tried to think of a good comeback to his remark. "Look! A walking stick snuck in here, and stole someone's shirt. This is supposed to be a nudist camp."

"That's me—Stick," said the tall boy, gesturing to himself with a thumb against his chest.

"Want a Coke?" I offered, as a means of apology, since I still felt bad for running into him.

He nodded and I got another can from our refrigerator. He looked around as we headed for the door.

"Air hockey! Cool!" he exclaimed as we passed the game tables.

I frowned. "It's broken. It's always broken."

We walked around while we talked. Stick's real name was Manfred Eriksson, one of the two boys Aunt Susan told me about. He'd just arrived in camp and she'd told him where to find me. His shirt was for the obvious reason—sunburn—a problem I sympathized with.

"Last year I sunburned really bad. I had to wear a shirt the first few days," I said. "My mom still makes me wear sunblock everyday."

"I feel like such a dork walking around in just a shirt. I hate burning so easily."

We commiserated about our fair skin as I showed him around. After we finished the Cokes, we dumped the cans in the trash and walked down to the lake. At the water's edge, he dropped his towel.

"Race you to the raft!" he yelled.

Without waiting, he dove in. I did the same but never managed to catch him until we were both holding on to the raft. Then, with a shared grin, we climbed up onto it. That early in the afternoon we had the raft and the lake mostly to ourselves.

Manfred started pulling off his shirt.

"Don't you need to keep that on?" I asked. I remembered how quickly I burned in the sun.

"I'm just taking it off to warm up. I'll put it back on in a few minutes."

I nodded. The lake stayed cold, even in the summer. I was just about to lie down on the raft when I noticed a family walking down to the edge of the lake.

"I wonder who that is," I said. "I don't recognize them from last summer."

Manfred shaded his eyes with his hand and squinted at the new family. "It looks like they have some kids. Girls."

"Oh," I said. "I thought it might be the Coulter family I heard about. They're supposed to have some kids our age. I guess they didn't get here yet. These people must be some other new family."

We watched them get settled on the shore. One girl who looked about our age caught my eye. I glanced at Manfred sidelong and caught him looking at her, too.

"She's cute," Manfred said.

I nodded and we shared a smile. Manfred's expression looked serious and maybe embarrassed.

"Paul... , this is the first time... I mean, I've ever been to a place... you know, like this."

I looked at him, my brow furrowed.

"You know, a nudist camp. I was wondering..." He grew silent and looked like he was starting to blush.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, looking away.

I turned back to look at the girl on the shore. She was shading her eyes with her hand. Her mother was pointing to us and telling her something. She jumped into the water as Manfred spoke up again.

"What happens when... ," Manfred began awkwardly. "I mean... um... what do you do if your... uh... it has a mind of its own, you know? Do you ever have problems with..." Manfred asked.

I turned back to him and he was blushing now. I couldn't figure out what he was talking about.

"Problems with girls?" he finally managed to get out.

The girl on the shore was swimming now, headed for us and the raft.

"Do you mean talking with them?" I asked. "Yeah, I get all nervous around them, too."

Manfred shook his head. "No, not talking. With your... ," and with that his face turned pink.

I tried to figure out what he was trying to ask. Then, a revelation hit me. I hoped he wasn't asking about that.

"Does your... does it... um... get..."

That confirmed it. I felt my own face heating. This conversation was getting too weird. I had to stop him before he said it.

"Sometimes, it just happens. I usually just roll over on my stomach... or jump in the water."

I really hoped he would let the subject drop since I wasn't about to tell him what I did to relieve that problem.

Manfred stopped asking questions because the girl had just about reached the raft.

She sure has a good tan, I noticed. I bet she doesn't have to wear so much sunscreen — or even a t-shirt—when she goes in the lake.

When the girl reached the raft, she struggled to pull herself up. She stood up, water glistening on her tanned skin, droplets trailing down a perfect body. Well, as perfect as a thirteen-year-old girl can have. Breasts starting to develop nicely, nipples erect from the chill of the water, it was perfect enough for me. I felt that familiar twinge. Uh-oh. Too perfect.

She squeezed some of the water out of her short dark hair as she looked warily at the two of us.

"Mrs. MacLean said I'd find you all here. Which one of you is Paul?" she asked.

I looked her over. Looking lower, I enjoyed the slight curve of her waist, the dark triangle at the top of her legs, and that was all it took. I felt it happening and I could do nothing to stop it. There wasn't even a bush in sight to hide behind. I did the only thing I could.