A Week in the Catskills

A hot day in July finds me lying in a poolside chaise lounge at a resort in the rolling tree covered hills. My girlfriend Denise had pitched this vacation to a woman and her husband who were very reluctant to come to any such place. It’s not that we don’t enjoy living in the trailer. Such had always been our favorite way to spend a vacation week over the past 20 years. Now 51 and 52 respectively, we are nude at a popular Catskills resort and not bashful about it

One week ago..

It’s 8 o’clock in the evening on July 4. The four of us are sitting on ten year old folding chairs under the night sky. A crackling fire is casting highlights on the patio. The moon glows above trees across the road. The other guests have long since gone home.

We had talked about vacations on a few occasions over the years. Places to go and see had been mentioned.

Denise took one final sip of her Poland Spring then began the pitch.

“Camp Catskill a fun place. You’ll enjoy it.”

“I’ve never even heard of it.”

“Neither have I,” said Paul.

“Jack and I went there for the first time last summer. We wanted to try something different.”

I asked, “what’s different about it.”

“It’s nude.”

You’re joking.

“What kind of amenities does it have? Are there Tennis courts, hottub, pool?”

“It has all of that.”

“You’re joking about nude, aren’t you?”

She did not reply.

Our husbands discarded their now empty beer bottles into the almost full collection bin.

I said, “I’ll go but I want to wear a bathing suit.”

She didn’t reply.

I was referring to my recently purchased sakarya escort one-piece squareneck leopard-print bathing suit. I will make sure to pack it.

At 7 a.m. on a bright July 5th my husband and I watched the black SUV with travel trailer in tow pull up to the curb in front of our house in Springfield Mass. Denise and Jack greeted us warmly as we approached the car. Neither of them said anything about the folding luggage cart that we were pushing loaded with two suitcases.

The two men sat in the front seat. Denise and I each sat directly behind our own husband. We started out on our road trip of 100 miles, most of which is northwest on I 90.

We had been traveling a little over an hour making an average speed of 55 miles per hour in fairly heavy westbound traffic. There was very little chat.

We had made roughly 70 miles when Denise started to pitch the place.

“All you actually needed to pack is towels.”

That was all I needed to hear.

“WHAT?”

“It’s strictly nudist.”

I spoke for my husband and me.

“Why did you not tell us before we left the house? We wouldn’t be sitting in this car.”

“We wanted you both to experience something new.”

As disgusting as that statement sounded we could not be mad at our longtime friends. We certainly could not dump them after the way they’ve treated us over the years.

“Really, something new,” I replied.

“Listen, no one will judge either of you. No one will care. After a while nudity will feel completely comfortable.”

“Right! No one will make any unwanted advances.”

“No they salihli escort won’t,” said Denise.

“Completely comfortable?”

“When no one else there is wearing clothes, no one is gawking and making unwanted advances you will be very comfortable. Plus, such rules are strictly enforced. That person would be evicted.”

“Really!”

“Learn to not be ashamed of your body.”

I’m not not going to win this argument. I’ll talk to my husband later.

The SUV crept about 100 feet to resort gate then stopped. Denise gave her name. The gate swung open letting her drive onto the parking lot.

“Jack and I will get undressed here.”

Having said that, Denise pulled her Sunset pink t-shirt dress off and left it on the seat. Meanwhile, Jack had stood up beside the car and undressed.

Paul and I looked at each other speechless for a second. Denise and Jack started for the office. We followed about 10 steps behind.

Behind the counter stood a dark-haired brown-eyed women who looks to be my age, 51. She’s my height 5 4 and has size D boobs.

Paul and I are reluctant to get naked. We don’t care how many guests are walking about in the buff.

My husband, though not terribly overweight, does have a paunch and not the best muscle tone that a guy can have. I don’t care about that.

“Clothing is prohibited here. If you stay you must be nude.”

What could we possibly say that would change the rule?

Denise and Jack had moved to the right but kept eyes on us.

At 51 Denise is a slim vase-shape. I noticed for the first time that she shaves down there as does samsun escort her husband.

Jack is 5 9 and reasonably well toned for a man of 52. His blond hair and blue eyes match that of his wife.

By mid morning Paul and I got naked in public for the first time. Having left our clothes in the trailer, we headed for the picnic tables where we would socialize with other naturists.

Our week at the resort passed into history. By 11 a.m. we are eastbound on I 90 in moderate traffic. A lawn that needed to be cut, and bushes that needed to be trimmed awaited us, not to mention the workplace.

I would definitely go nude again. Why was I so bashful?

Wednesday 13 July was to be like any day at the bank, except for a change in my attitude. Regular customers, including some whom I know from the neighborhood, came to the the teller’s window.

I love wearing office attire. This day saw me wearing a Pinkin’ of You (POYO) belted suiting set with a white scoopneck that shows just a hint of cleavage.

Nature has blessed me, or is it cursed me, with size D boobs. They were nice to have when I was a boy crazy teenager. Now they just make my back ache.

Anyway my week at a nudist resort has left me with a desire to take it all off no matter where I am. Should I be modest or totally uninhibited? It’s a Tough question. A particular scene from “Seinfeld” comes to mind, the scene with the fat guy sitting naked right across from Jerry on the subway.

Anyway I sauntered to the rest room, ostensibly to pee, and came back to my window a minute later. Neither the management nor the bank tellers cared that I came out naked.

This feels good. I should work like this every day. So what if it’s having an effect on me.

My mind is creating the image of giving my husband a lap dance and giving him a blow job. I’m enjoying my daydream. That’s an anticipated effect.