I was just a twenty year old, twink when I made my first visit to a nude beach. Actually, considering I’ve wanted to go to a nude beach since middle school, in hindsight, I’m surprised I didn’t go earlier. Fact is, I didn’t even think about there being a nude beach less than an hour from my home.
Now, to be fair, the swimwear that I routinely wear to the beach, either in Ft. Lauderdale, or South Beach, is typically just enough to keep me from being arrested. I have a collection of string thongs, mostly in light colors, that are fairly revealing when wet. But this day, I left those at home and wore some rather (for me anyway) conservative white board shorts, cut just above the knee — très cute with a nice little Greek square pattern.
The beach is Haulover, and it’s north of Miami, and south of Ft Lauderdale. At the time, I didn’t know any other nudists, so I went alone. Oddly enough, I had learned about the beach when I hooked up with a couple of tourists staying at a gay resort. There was a loose leaf book in their room that listed out all the amenities in the area. It’s funny how we miss things right in our own back yard. Everyone should take a moment to view their city as a tourist views it.
Anyway, there was a page that mentioned Haulover Beach and stated that the gay section was the far north end. Wow. Not only a nude beach, but even a gay section. I could finally meet other gay nudists!
On a weekday off from work I decided to go. Being somewhat nervous about this new experience, I figured it might be best to venture there on a weekday when it was less crowded. I drove over and took with me, my usual beach kit — a bag with typical sunblock, towels, snacks, water, etc. and a straw mat.
Parking was not free, but not too expensive either; Expect to pay $5-6 per car. It’s a long walk to the beach, especially when you don’t realize exactly where you should have parked to be nearer the nude part. Only after I got there, did I realize I had forgotten my flip flops back at the house.
I stepped quickly and gingerly on the lava hot asphalt, and made my way to the grass and sand. I’ve since learned the best parking spots to get quick access. Also, I am much less likely to forget my flip flops or swim sandals. Ouchies!
I strolled along the beach. The heterosexual section was sparsely populated. There were a few families and I was so jealous because I wished I had been a nudists as young as those kids. As I walked by, I heard them speaking German. That explained it — they weren’t an uptight American family, carrying the baggage of Puritan body shame!
I reached the north end and there, I saw a cluster of men. While the heteros were all spread out, it seemed like the gays staked out the spot just south of the sign warning about nude bathers beyond that point. There’s a fence running part of the way, but it’s open sand closer to the water.
I carefully picked a spot and set up, while still wearing my trunks. I was nervous because, while I was used to sunning nude in the back yard at home, I’d never been nude around strangers and in public before, (well, except for that one party, but that’s another story and copious alcohol was involved.)
I set up in a spot that was in the middle of things, but not too close to any of the others. There were a mix of singles, couples and groups. Various ages, from some around my age to guys who were probably well into their golden years. All body shapes and sizes too — from little twinks like me, to big ol’ bears.
I sat down and slid my shorts off. I was naked except for my sunglasses and a leather anklet. I got the sense that I was being watched, surreptitiously. I was used to this sort of thing on the beach, being a cute (yet humble) blond twink, usually in a thong; Where I would set up, other men would gravitate. I remember one time, a guy plopped his chair down between me, and another gawker, and the gawker actually got up, and moved so he could resume his gawking. I have a love/hate relationship with gawkers. And I’m self aware enough to know that the cuter the gawker is, the less I mind it.
If you’re going to gawk, at least be subtle about it unless you’re in the same ballpark of cuteness as your victim. If you’re as cute as he is, then it’s called flirting, not gawking.
Speaking of cute, I was there only a few minutes when another blond guy shows up. He was not a twink. In fact, he was quite the hunk. Now it was my turn to stare. He didn’t have sunglasses on and he looked right at me as I was checking him out. Next thing I know, he’s laying out his beach towel about six feet from me. He was pale enough that I took him for a tourist, not a local.
I pretended to be uninterested and stared out into the ocean, while leaning back on my elbows. I did sneak a glance or two at him, out of the corner of my eye. After he got comfortable (as in naked), he got out his sunblock and slathered his legs, arms, and neck. Next, he laid down on his stomach. Just as I was thinking to myself, he’s gonna burn his back and pale ass, he speaks to me.
“Excuse me. Would you mind putting this on my back?” He held up the bottle of sunblock. “I can’t reach.”
Gulp! “Sure,” I said.
I hopped up and took the bottle. It made the most horrid fart sound when I squeezed it. I rolled my eyes, but he wasn’t looking at me. I spread the lotion onto his back. He tensed up when I first touched him and I felt all those beautiful muscles under my hand. I also looked at his ass. I knew it needed sunblock too and that he hadn’t put any on it because he was sitting on his ass when he applied it himself.
I wondered, would he want me to put some there? I had trepidation about it, but I really wanted to touch that fine bubble butt. As I pondered the situation, a problem arose — ‘arose’ being the operative word here. Mr. Happy was becoming quite perky. And not to brag (I am humble after all), but when Mr. Happy is perky, there is no hiding it. I realized that literally, all eyes on the beach are watching me rub this hunk down, and now they are watching as my boner rises and there was no way to hide it. Quickly, I splorted out a couple of huge globs of sunblock, and wiped it around as fast as I could, making the split second decision to go ahead and cover his cheeks too. I didn’t bother to spread it enough, so there were still puddles of lotion here and there, but I was turning red, not from the sun, but embarrassment.
I hastily dropped the bottle and zipped back onto my mat, face down! I saw all the guys staring and smiling at my predicament. I buried my face in my arms. I wanted to crawl under the sand.
The hunk thanked me and I returned a muffled, “you’re welcome” while I glanced at him. He had a sly smile on his face. Without even seeing my cock, he must have sensed what he’d done to me.
We didn’t say another word to each other. Perhaps he was just teasing me. I sure deserved it, as many times as I’ve been the teaser. Later, he went into the water. While he was gone, a guy came over to me and spoke. He was deeply tanned, a local for sure. He was older by a few years, and despite a basketball belly, he was otherwise decent looking and very cute. I’d noticed him with his partner, who was much older.
“Don’t be embarrassed about what happened,” he said softly. “He’s hot and everyone on the beach was jealous of you.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“And they weren’t just jealous you were touching him. They were jealous because you are fucking huge.” He winked at me and then left me alone.
I stayed on the beach for a little while longer — not as long as I normally would, but I’d had enough adventure for one day. I guess it would have been a great opportunity to make some nudist friends, but I was just too flustered. I regularly go there now, and have made several friends among the regulars, and I’ve never again had any issues with Mr. Happy.
So, that’s the story of my first time at a nude beach. Tell me about yours in the comments below!