Chapter 1: Growing Up Enlightened

I doubt that very many teenage boys would get to experience what I did back in the summer of 1995. I'm Haldor Berglund, and at that time I lived in Hull, Quebec, just across the border from Ottawa, our nation's capital. I am the only child of Ragnar and Eleni Berglund, formerly from Oslo, although my mother is originally Danish. My mother's English is still somewhat formal and accented while my father's is much more fluent from his early frequent travels to North America.

As a reward for good marks at the end of grade ten, my parents completely stunned me by telling me we were off to Italy for a one month summer vacation. It was a wonderful surprise and led to so much more in my young life, and helped develop who I am today.

My parents had chosen the Mediterranean coast near the border with France and Monaco. It was destined to be an amazing experience for a sixteen-year-old boy. They had booked a small villa on the Italian Riviera in a village just east of San Remo, and for a horny teenager, it was beyond my wildest expectations. Very near our villa was a clothing optional beach area. Naked and semi-naked men and women strolled the sands in pairs or groups, or lay on towels, completely oblivious to my stares. Thanks exclusively to the array of feminine pulchritude, those first few days produced the worst case of "blue balls" I had ever experienced.

The choice of location was no accident. My mother was well aware of the reaction it would produce in me. She wanted me to understand the difference between the repressed sexuality of North America and the more liberal views of our European cousins. She believed it would produce a more mature attitude toward women. My mother had been born and raised in Denmark, but was working in Norway when she met my father. They married in Oslo prior to emigrating to Canada when my father received a promotion and a transfer.

My Norwegian father was a little more circumspect when it came to his views on my personal development. He was a well-placed representative of a major international supplier of forestry equipment and very conscious of his image. However, since we were out of the country and not likely to be recognized, he bowed to my mother's wishes. I am forever grateful that he did.

It seemed like I spent that entire first week in as state of aroused frustration but, after a while, I became accustomed to the nudity and found I wasn't continually staring at the endless stream of beautiful women with unbridled lust. In fact, like most boys I had developed a ten point rating system for these girls and women, with ten being an impossible standard to meet. The beach was littered with sevens and eights and even a few nines, however. It was there that I decided just what kind of woman would be my ideal. After all, I had plenty of comparison models to choose from.

It goes without saying that I enjoyed my time at the beach and wouldn't have missed it for anything. Alas, I was able only to look and had little opportunity to touch. I did take some photos, however. I needed some sort for proof of my voyeuristic days to show my pals when I got home. My Italian language skills were almost non-existent and, aside from a few dances at some of the clubs, I had no luck in finding even a temporary female companion. The competition was just too stiff, pun intended.

When I got home, I decided to write about my trip and my experiences. I had taken a typing course the year before and, with the use of my parents' computer, I was able to transcribe my thoughts about my visit to Italy and what I had learned. Even as a teenager, I seemed to be able to put my ideas on paper in an organized and interesting manner. I was enrolled in an elite public school in Ottawa on the Ontario side that avoided Quebec's French-only education curriculum. My English teachers encouraged me and that sowed the seeds of my future career, although I didn't know it at the time.

I was a normal, perpetually horny, virgin teenage boy before that amazing summer. Like my peers, I had been anxious to "score" with at least one of the girls in my circle of friends but lacked the social skills to do much more than ask for a date and hopefully a bit of making out at sometime during the encounter. It wasn't until I returned from that European summer that everything began to change in both my attitude and my opportunities.

At first, I shared the photos carefully with some of my male friends, making sure I wasn't caught with the evidence by one of the teachers. Inevitably, word got around and I was being approached by guys I barely knew who wanted to see them. I had achieved a status that otherwise would never have been afforded me. Even some of the seniors envied my summer vacation, imagining what they would have done in my place.

What really turned my little world upside down was when one of the girls in my class asked to see them. Virginia "Ginny" Fontaine was a super-hot red-head that I had lusted after in some of my fantasies over the past year or so. I suspected she was the wet dream of many of my fellow males. She was tall, very self confident, and had a body that was beyond her years. In short, she was out of my league.

"Hey, Hal. I hear you took some pictures on your vacation this year," she said, grinning from ear to ear. She had snuck up on me when I wasn't watching and ambushed me when we were alone.

"Oh ... where did you hear that?" I asked, looking to find a way out of the coming conversation.

"Don't be cute, now. We both know you've got some naughty pictures of naked women on the beach in Italy. I'd like to see them."

"I don't think that's a good idea. I mean, we could get in trouble ... if we were caught."

"Oh, come on, Hal. You've been showing them to all the guys. Loosen up. Let's have a look at what we've been missing over here," she giggled. "Are you worried we girls would be embarrassed?"

"No ... no ... I mean ... it's just that ... well ... you know."

She laughed. "You're worried we would feel inferior, is that it?" She turned to show her body profile and made sure to emphasize her breasts. "What do you think? Would I get noticed?"

"Oh yeah, no doubt," I answered quickly. "No problem, Ginny, especially with your red hair. Not too many redheads in Italy."

"That's not what I was talking about. I mean my body, doofus," she said with disdain. "You think I would look okay on that beach?"

"Oh ... well ... yeah. I mean ... you are kidding, right?" I said, scrambling. Who was she trying to impress. She would be noticed any time any where with the hooters she sported. "Don't hit me or anything for what I say, Gin, but you are stacked. Every guy in school would love to get their hands on them."

I was ready to duck the moment I said what I did. Strangely, she didn't react. In fact, she had a funny looking smile after a few seconds.

"Yeah ... I thought maybe that would be so," she said. "So I take it I could stroll up and down that beach and get noticed, eh?"

"No doubt, Ginny. No doubt," I agreed quickly. Then, I said something I never thought I would. "Why? You thinking of trying it this summer? Maybe at Lac St. Jean?"

Lac St. Jean was a favorite place for teens and older to go to swim, picnic, drink a few beers and make out.

Ginny gave me another funny look, then smiled once more.

"I didn't think of it until you mentioned it, but ... you know ... maybe I will."

"I could sell tickets to that," I said with a grin.

"Yeah, I'll bet you would too, you perv," she snapped, but followed it with a smile. My flattery seemed to be working.

You have to understand that this conversation wouldn't have taken place a year earlier. I was now almost seventeen and I had thankfully experienced a growth spurt during the past year. I had gone from being a five-foot-five-inch blonde-haired dweeb to a rather gangly six-foot blonde haired guy, now finally taller than the girls I lusted after. I may have had raging hormones but they led nowhere since up until then I couldn't get a date with any of the girls I really wanted. Now ... after my summer in Italy, a nice tan, and sun-bleached hair, I was beginning to attract attention.

"You've changed a lot, Hal," she said, examining me carefully. "A few more pounds and you're going to be a hunk."

I looked at her in astonishment. "Are you kidding?"

"Nope. You're just a little late developing ... just like some girls are."

"I hope you're right. I'm tired of being rejected when I'm looking for a date."

"I don't think that's going to happen any more," she smiled. "I think you should try your luck again. You might get a surprise."

"I might? What makes you think so?"

"Oh, I've heard comments from a few of the girls. They're beginning to notice you."

Hot damn! This was definitely good news. I was no longer the dork of grade ten. Maybe grade eleven was going to be better than I had expected. If Ginny Fontaine thought I had a chance, and she was a solid nine, then maybe I could snag a seven for a girlfriend. I had to give this some thought. I would have to carefully select some potential candidates and rank them in order of desirability. I just hoped she wasn't stringing me along, trying to make me feel good.

When I showed her the pictures she was quite surprised.

"Hey ... there are little kids ... families on this beach too. That's gross!" she said.

"Well, you have to understand, their outlook is a lot different than ours. They don't think nudity is dirty. I mean, they don't walk around town naked but, where it's allowed, they act just like it's an everyday thing. The kids don't seem to notice one way or another. Even teenagers like us are mixing together and it isn't like an orgy or anything. More like what we would do. You know, listen to music, talk about movies ... that sort of thing. Besides, not everyone goes naked."

"That is so ... weird. I don't think I could do that here," she said thoughtfully.

"Well, there are nudist clubs and camps here too, you know. Whole families belong, so it's not that unusual."

"Yeah, I suppose. Just the same, if I was going to do it ... you know ... walk around topless or something ... I wouldn't want to be recognized. My parents would kill me."

"I guess that's what my mother was trying to teach me," I said. "She said we are so much more uptight about ... you know ... sex and stuff. In Europe, they don't get all worked up about it ... the nudity and things like that."

"What about sex?" she asked. "Do those kids have sex all the time?"

"No ... I don't think so. I mean, some of the girls went topless as you could see, but only on the beach. I didn't see any making out in public, but I guess they could when they were alone, you know."

"I've got to go to Europe and see for myself," she announced. It was as if she had suddenly made up her mind.

"You'd enjoy it, Ginny. It's very different from here. The whole lifestyle is so completely different. I was wondering what it would be like in their schools."

"Yeah. So, I guess I better start working on my parents to let me go next summer. I'll be eighteen and legal," she grinned. "Perfect timing."

"I saw lots of kids from other countries travelling together. Both boys and girls together. I think a lot of them stayed in hostels and were backpacking. That looked like a fun way to go. Maybe you can find some kids who would want to go too."

She looked at me again with a wrinkled brow. "That's a hell of good idea, Hal. Safety in numbers. I'm going to ask around and see who else would be interested. Thanks for the suggestion," she grinned, anxious to get going.

"Ginny ... uhhm ... about me getting a date ... uhhm ... any suggestions on who I should ask?"

She looked at me oddly, as if I was asking a foolish question.

"What's the matter with me? Not up to your new standards?" she scowled.

"No ... hell no! I just didn't think you'd be ... I mean ... I'm not exactly in your circle of friends," I stammered.

"Well, I can fix that. We're having a party at Sally McNeill's house on Saturday. You'll be my date," she said, not expecting to be contradicted.

"Your date? I thought you and Rick Baker were ... you know ... going steady."

"Past tense, Hal. I'm looking to replace him, starting now. You interested?"

"Yeah ... oh shit ... hell yes!" I said. "You aren't just setting me up, are you?"

"Don't be so suspicious. I'll introduce you as my date. You'll have to take it from there if you want to make some new friends. Bring your pictures along. Those will be great for getting a conversation going," she laughed.

"Thanks, Ginny. I won't forget this. Thanks a lot," I said, already counting the hours until Saturday night.

Ginny gave me specific instructions on how and when to pick her up on Saturday evening. I borrowed Mom's not-too-ancient Volvo and arrived right on time.

"You're all wound up and ready to fly, huh," Ginny grinned.

"Yeah ... I guess I am. Look ... I don't want to embarrass myself or you. Let me know if I'm acting like a jerk or something."

"Don't worry, Hal. I'm sure you'll be fine. Just be yourself. You're actually fairly cool, you know?"

"I am?" That was another surprise. The coolest babe in school thought I was cool? Who knew?

I stuck pretty close to Ginny for the first hour, trying not to crowd her or seem like I was being nosy about her conversations with some of her girlfriends. The McNeills had a big entertainment centre in the basement and it easily held all the kids that had shown up. I scanned the group to see if Rick Baker was anywhere around but there was no sign of him. The last thing I needed was a confrontation with him. He was a hell of a lot bigger than me.

I was standing off to one side, nursing a cola when Sally McNeill sidled up to me.

"Having a good time, Hal?" she asked with a smile. I think that might have been the most she had every spoken to me in our three years of being in the same school.

"Yeah, I am thanks. You have a great place here for a party."

"I know. Everyone wants to hold their parties here," she laughed. "We should charge rent."

That pretty much exhausted my repertoire for conversation, so I shut up.

"Ginny said you were going to bring your pictures tonight," she said, checking to make sure she wasn't overheard.

"Oh ... yeah. She did ask me. But this isn't a good place for that, is it?"

"No. She and Bev and I are going to look at them in one of the bedrooms. At least we know Bev and I won't blab it all over the place that you have them here. But pretty much everyone knows you've got them."

"Oh great. I'm just waiting for the day one of the teachers or the principal demands I hand them over. I'll get expelled for sure."

"They won't hear it from us, Hal. Besides, Ginny said you were real cool about them. I mean, you weren't drooling all over them ... or worse."

I laughed. "Yeah, well, I guess I got used to nudity after the first week. Most women don't look anything like the women in Playboy, especially the older ones."

"How old is older?" she asked.

"I saw women in their sixties going naked," I said.

"Eewww! That this last thing I'd want to see ... my 'gramms' naked," she said, her face scrunched into a twisted mask.

"Yeah ... I know what you mean. But, after a while, you get used to it. They all can't be pretty like you," I grinned.

She smiled her thanks. At that moment, Beverly Linden and Ginny appeared.

"You guys ready to go?" Ginny asked.

The girls nodded, but I wasn't sure where we were going.

"Follow us," Ginny instructed me.

"Won't your boyfriends notice us taking off?" I asked.

"Nope. All looked after," Sally said. "They're watching the football game on TV. We've got a couple of hours to ourselves."

All their boyfriends were on the school football team, including the missing Rick Baker. I followed the girls up the stairs to the main floor, then to the second floor bedrooms. I patted my shirt pocket, making sure I had the pictures.