Naturist Weekend

If it's just the sex you're after, skip to part 3 of this series. If you're OK with some literary edging, and happy to invest time in the people and the setting first, read on.

*************

Emma picked her way between the benches outside the pub, busy and noisy with drinkers this warm summer weekday evening, eyes fixed on her precious cargo of glasses, making it back to our solid wooden table with only a few drops spilt. She deposited them in front of Lucy and me, a neat group of two ciders and a beer, and resumed her seat opposite us.

"Busy!" she informed us. "But at least I didn't get ID'ed this time." When we'd first got to the pub, after I'd met her at the station, the woman behind the bar had asked for evidence that my 23-year-old niece was over 18 before serving her with the cider I'd ordered for her. It was fair enough, as Emma was short and slightly built, and had a clear complexion suggesting youth, though to my mind her features and expression were obviously older. The looks she'd attracted while manoeuvring through the crowd with our drinks also marked her out as a full-grown adult.

"Be grateful while it lasts!" advised Lucy, ruefully. "Long time since anyone thought I was under age." My colleague Lucy was in her mid-thirties, attractive because of her attentiveness and ready laugh, always upbeat and interested in what others were saying; though also due to her pretty face, long dark hair, strong, slim figure, and twinkling green eyes. I'd admired her across our desks for years, just a gentle appreciation kept to myself, and supressed when we worked together. It wasn't serious or hopeful, simply a casual awareness that she was good-looking and good to be around.

We sipped in unison and I cast my eye around the tables, but couldn't see any of our other colleagues who'd come for after-work drinks. "I think we're the last ones left."

Lucy looked around too. "Did James and Sal go?"

"Ten minutes ago. They said goodbye."

"Ah, I missed them." She looked round at me and smiled. "Always the last to leave the pub!" she teased.

"Yeah, but the reason you know that is because you're usually second-last."

"Hah! I'll drink to that - cheers!" Lucy raised her glass and sipped again. "And here's to a long, hot summer. You got plans, Emma?"

"Not really. No money. And if I get this job I don't know when they'll want me to start. I'll go and stay with some friends if I can get away." She was serious, slightly disconsolate.

Emma was a couple of years out of university, working off and on at temporary jobs, but beginning to seek out more permanent employment in something aligned to her interests and skills. She was staying with me because she'd got an interview for a job here in a couple of days, and also wanted to look at the city as a potential place to live. I hadn't seen much of her growing up, as we'd not been close to my partner's brother, and since my partner and I had split up it had just been Christmas cards, and then a chat at a family wedding six months or so back. But we'd got on OK there, and when she'd called me a week earlier I'd been happy to offer her somewhere to stay for the interview and her reconnaissance. Her arrival coincided with this work social event, so I'd expected not to be coming, but asked if she'd like to as it was such a gorgeous evening. She'd chatted happily with some of the younger members of staff for an hour or so before the numbers had thinned out.

"It'll work out. You'll look back and laugh," I offered vaguely, and Emma gave a wan smile.

"Guess so. Feels tough at the moment. Harder than university, that's for sure." She paused, then looked around at the trees and open space beyond the pub tables, and the elegant Georgian buildings beyond. "I'm liking it here, though," she said brightly. "Nice to have places like this so close to the middle of town. It feels less intense than London."

"Definitely," confirmed Lucy. "It's much more relaxed than London, loads more space." Lucy had lived in London for a number of years, and they swapped stories of places they knew for a few minutes, before moving on to places here which Emma might consider living in if she got the job.

We looked up as a woman approached our table, smiled, and dropped a flyer in front of us from the bundle in her hand before moving swiftly to the next table. "What's this, then?" Lucy slid the leaflet towards herself, and I saw a photo and some vibrant lettering. Her mouth widened into a smile as she read. "Here." She slid it across to me.

World Naked Bike Ride! it proclaimed, above a picture of half a dozen nude cyclists, smiling and waving for the camera as they passed it, all with their nearer leg on an up-pedal, protecting their modesty, although some boobs were on show. It gave details of a nearby meeting place, and a time this coming Saturday, and some further blurb about the annual event. I passed it to Emma without comment, and watched her eyebrows shoot up.

"So yeah," started Lucy, directing herself to Emma, "this is on every year. Very relaxed city! I saw them all ride past once, couple of years ago, loads of them. Quite an eyeful!"

Emma laughed. "Bloody hell! That would take some bottle!"

"Yeah," continued Lucy. "All different ages, and shapes and sizes. Looked like they were having fun, though."

"Oh yes? You ever been tempted?" asked Emma.

Lucy contemplated her answer for a moment, lips pursed, eyes lifted upwards. "Honestly... yes. Just for the hell of it. But I never could, not where I live. Someone you know would be bound to see you."

"Wow, really?" I looked at her in a new light. "They run it in other places, you could go elsewhere," I suggested, teasingly. She looked at me and wrinkled her nose.

"I dunno. It is tempting... I don't mind the nudity, as such. I've been on nude beaches, with friends..."

"Well, they know you!" interjected Emma.

"Yeah, but they were part of it, that's different. And anyone else there was from another country, so that's OK too, you'll never see them again. Does that make sense?"

"Kind of. I've been topless on a beach... a couple of places... with friends. Don't think I'd do that around people I know, like you say, not if they weren't part of the group. I mean, just to have people looking at your boobs, and then you have to face them at work or something."

"I liked being on the beach," continued Lucy. There were guys as well as girls, and we could kind of look at each other, which was... interesting..." She smirked. "Not staring though. But it was sort of nice to be looked at as well, just in that context, like it was a fair exchange. Feeling appreciated, without it being creepy. And the fresh air on your body..." She looked wistful. "Have you ever been in the sea naked? That just feels great. Ooh!" She gave a little shiver, which made us smile.

"Would you do it again?" asked Emma.

"I think so, with the right people. The naked bike ride is tempting, but it doesn't feel quite right, not sure how. I've got a friend who's more into it, bit of a naturist. Maybe I should talk to her." My gentle appreciation of Lucy was under strain as my imagination set off in a more colourful direction.

There was a lull in the conversation, broken by Lucy, who turned to me. "What about you then, Dan? You're keeping quiet! You've heard our confessions - have you ever had your kit off in public?"

I'd seen this coming, of course. "Well, at risk of scandalising you both, I have, err..." I trailed off and tapped a finger on the flyer a few times. "... Participated."

"What?!" squeaked Lucy. "Here?!"

I nodded. "Uhuh. A few times."

"Really?! Wow, what...? How come no-one's seen you?"

"Lots of people saw me, Lucy. But no-one I know. Or if they did, they kept quiet about it. Maybe they weren't looking at my face." The women laughed, and I went on more modestly, "Or maybe they weren't looking at me at all. Some good-looking young men there to distract a woman's gaze."

"Don't be hard on yourself!" objected Lucy. "You're pretty handsome, and you're in good shape. From what I saw when they all went past, half of them were flabby middle-aged blokes who looked like they didn't go on bikes very often. At least you're a cyclist! There were some younger guys, but you'd have been one to look at." I was flattered: I was in my early forties, and although I've looked after myself, time has had some impact.

"Definitely - a handsome older man!" threw in Emma, to my greater surprise, and Lucy's, to judge from her gaze and half-smile across the table.

"You're both very kind," I replied, ironically rueful. "You've made an older man very happy."

"Oh, stop it!" said Emma. "You're not old, I just meant a bit older than me. You're my hunky uncle!"

"Not sure that's as wholesome as it sounds, Em," I mused.

"Well, maybe. But we're not blood relatives. And you weren't even married to my dad's sister. Does that even count as an uncle? I think I can call you hunky."

"Anyway," Lucy persisted, "how was it? Pedalling around the city centre with nothing on, in front of all the shoppers."

"It's brilliant, actually. It's like you said, there's a sort of quiet conspiracy amongst the riders, having a bit of a look, enjoying each other's bodies. Enjoying some more than others, to be fair. But not staring, and I didn't notice any hassle like that, no-one abusing the trust. Though if I'm honest, I think the guys are more enthusiastic about looking at the women than the other way round." I thought for a moment. "There's more to it than a bit of a thrill, though. It's genuinely levelling, once you've got no clothes to hide behind."

"Yeah," interjected Lucy, "you have to be yourself, that's what I thought when I did it! Your clothes are kind of your persona, so when you haven't got any the only persona left is you. I felt like I knew my friends better afterwards."

I nodded. "Maybe we're all the same underneath. A bit vulnerable, happy to be with each other, polite, interested in what other people have to say - it's funny how easy it is to talk to people you don't know, far easier than when you've got clothes on!" The women smiled at this. "So... everyone's got a big grin, because we're all breaking a taboo, and it's interesting, and we're being forced to be ourselves." Lucy and Emma were thoughtful, maybe imagining themselves into that scenario.

"What's the proportion of men to women?" asked Emma. Her interest in all this was apparent, she wasn't asking just to be polite.

"More men, maybe double. More women when it's hot and sunny, more than half, I mean."

"Hmm, not sure about that," said Lucy. "I like the levelling thing, and being yourself - that's how it felt on the beach, that's what I liked about it. But that's too many guys, and then with the risk of being seen.... And the photos. Not sure it's for me."

"Shame," I said, with a smile.

"Wait, photos?" asked Emma.

"Yeah," said Lucy, "seen them online. Inevitable, really."

"S'pose so," conceded Emma. "That makes it awkward. I'm out!"

"Were you in?" I asked, surprised.

She smiled. "No, not really. Like Lucy said, too many guys, risk of being seen by your uncle..." We all laughed, though I winced too.

"You going this year?" asked Lucy. "I can make sure I get a good place to watch."

"Nah, I'm busy, won't be here."

"Shame!" returned Lucy.

After a pause Emma had another question. "Have you ever seen anyone you know?"

"Kind of. First year I went I got talking to this girl, young woman, very pretty. We chatted for a few minutes. She was lovely! Anyway, couple of months later she walked into the office! She had a job - on our floor, with the department next to us, you know?" I indicated where in the office with my hands, and Lucy nodded. "You might remember her - Sophie? I spoke to her, definitely her, she remembered me. We chatted in the office now and then."

"I think so," said Lucy, thinking. "Slim, collar length red hair? Pretty!"

"Yep. What are the chances, eh?"

"I remember her. Very nice!" Lucy gave me a knowing look. "So, hidden interests, Dan! Who'd have thought?"

*************

Later that evening, after I'd sorted Emma out with her bedroom and we'd said goodnight, my mind turned over the conversation, and our revelations. I was finding it difficult to get the idea of Lucy on a nude beach out of my head. And her interest in repeating the experience, albeit not at a bike ride, was very engaging. It was sexy to consider how she might look, though I didn't feel any urge to progress beyond that to some sort of fantasy. I suppose my subconscious was reminding me of the need to sustain a professional relationship with her without that kind of distraction, and of the simple respect I had for her as a friend. But the image was in my mind as I went to sleep, and it was very pleasant.

The next couple of days were busy, with work and talking to Emma about her interview, and about living here. She was fun to have around the house, bright, willing to help, interested. Again, my mind went back to her "hunky uncle" comment, and her disavowal of the closeness of our relationship. It was flattering that this attractive and much younger woman should appraise me that way, even if it was expressed light-heartedly, and it did me good. And her obvious interest in the bike ride got me seeing her in a new way: my misbehaving mind planted pictures of her behind my eyes, also at a beach, with her top off, and more, and more than once I glanced at her chest, before dragging my gaze away to focus on a household task.

All went well, and I put Emma on a train on Friday afternoon, and returned to my more simple life. On Monday I received an excited message to say they'd offered her the job, and wanted her to start in a couple of months. I called her to give my congratulations, and offer my house as a base while she sorted things out, if she needed it. She'd definitely be getting a flat - the money was good, and she'd want to build her own life here - but there was no rush.

A couple of weeks on, she was back for a meeting with her new boss, and staying with me again. We arranged to meet in town afterwards, when I'd finished work, for a quick drink and a wander round the centre. Lucy was in the office that day, and overheard me making the arrangements, and kind of invited herself along too, to give her own congratulations to Emma and to help with the city tour.

As we ambled through a park, Lucy changed the subject of our conversation. "Oh, I was talking to my naturist friend the other day." She said it casually, but had our attention straight away. "She agreed about naked bike rides, great fun, but maybe not everyone's cup of tea. She likes being somewhere where everyone's in it together, and there's no spectators, so there's no one-sidedness, and you aren't thinking about any consequences of being seen. I could relate to that."

"That would be a naturist resort, with a big fence round it," I observed.

"Got it in one!" replied Lucy. "She, Maddie, she's called, she and her partner go to this place in Devon, basically a holiday camp, but high-end. Lots of trees, beach, swimming pool, posh chalets, little shop with sourdough and coffee...."

"Sounds like you're already packing your bags," interrupted Emma.

"Sorry, yeah, I do sound a bit enthusiastic. If I was going to do that sort of thing, it seemed like the place I'd want to do it, that's all. It just follows on from what we were talking about before."

"And do you think you are going to do that sort of thing?" I asked. "Maybe you could go along with your friend? Does sound like a good place."

"Well, yeah, I think I'd like to. I told you I was tempted by the bike ride. I was thinking about it after we talked, and it feels like unfinished business, an experience I haven't finished exploring."

"Brilliant, there you go then!" Emma put in. "Would they have you along? Have you asked?"

"No, haven't asked - problem is I don't like Maddie's partner very much, he's a bit full of himself, and a tiny bit of a lech. He's not awful, but he does look at my tits a bit too often - and that's with my clothes on! I'd be uncomfortable spending time there with him around."

"Can you go with just Maddie?" continued Emma. "Or with another friend? On your own: that might be interesting!"

"Not on my own, that feels a bit sad. Although, another good thing, they don't allow men unless they're staying with a woman, so there are no single blokes walking about taking advantage."

"Oh, that's really good," said Emma.

"... But Maddie and Jake are already booked in, and she wouldn't be able to get away again. So that's off, for this year at least."

"No-one else you can ask?" suggested Emma. "Any friends who are interested in that sort of thing? I suppose it might be tricky to bring it up in... conversation..." Emma trailed off as Lucy just looked at her, eyebrows raised, and it dawned on Emma what that look meant. I was maybe ten seconds ahead, and suddenly aware of my heart beating faster. There was a silence, Lucy smiling as she watched the realisation reach us. We were near the end of the park, and she stopped, so that Emma and I had to turn towards her slightly as we too halted.

"Well now," she began, "I do know one person who's done something similar before, and might be up for it. It's a bloke, nice guy, older than me but good-looking..." I blushed, I could actually feel the pinkness rising to my face as Lucy looked me in the eyes, but I was incapable of either speaking or looking away. She turned to Emma. "There's also a woman who might be into it, but I'm not sure. We've talked about it, and she asked a lot of questions. She didn't say she'd never do it, but she didn't say she wanted to either. I don't know her that well, and she's a fair bit younger than me, so I definitely don't want to put pressure on her." Emma was similarly fixed by Lucy's gaze, unable to look away, blank faced, almost in shock. "So, do you think I should ask them?" she finished, innocently.

Emma looked at me, and I realised that it was up to me to answer while she got her thoughts in order. My own mind was scrolling through scenarios for how this would fit into our lives, looking for downsides because I was a bit of a worrier, but that image of Lucy on a beach kept flicking in, and I knew very well what I really wanted. I'd suppressed my instincts before, but now that Lucy was actually, unbelievably, suggesting that we make it a reality, my desire to see her naked, to pass long days that way, was powerful. And to be fair, I was genuinely interested to stay at a naturist camp. But Lucy was my friend, and I wanted her to be sure, and if we were seriously considering this I wanted it to enhance our friendship, not threaten it with complications or misunderstandings. Added to that, the possibility that Emma might come too was clattering around my mind, to be worked through later. I was struggling to arrange all this into a sensible answer. "Lucy, I... You..." I took a breath. "It sounds as if the bloke might be keen, so maybe you should ask him. But are you sure you want to do that? It's a big deal, it might affect your relationship. Could it go wrong? He might get the wrong idea, see it as a come-on."

She smiled at me again. "It is a big step, and the thought of it makes me nervous, but I'm confident that he'll take it the right way, not as a sex thing. He considers how things are for other people, not just himself, and I think he cares about me as a friend."

"Then definitely ask him."

Lucy simply tilted her head and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"He says yes," I answered, and we both broke into wide smiles.

Emma smiled too, and looked from one to the other of us. "Aah, that was gorgeous! You two really understand each other. Are you sure you want to ask this other woman along? Seems like she might just get in the way."

"Yeah," affirmed Lucy. "She's cool, and good fun. And I reckon it would work well with three. But like I said, no pressure, and maybe you shouldn't decide now. Dan and I are grown-ups, and what we do doesn't depend on you."

"OK," said Emma, seriously, "I'll think it over. I haven't thought about anything like this before, so I'll have to get my head round it. Flipping heck, a nude holiday!" She laughed. "If I was going to do it, and that's a big if, I would feel safe with you two, though."

"Let me or Dan know, in your own time," Lucy finished quietly, and we walked on.

*************

Emma and I didn't discuss it further that evening. I was slightly embarrassed, given our relationship, and aware of the dynamics of being that much older, and having known her when she was younger. It didn't make me uncomfortable, because of the distance there had always been between us, geographically as well as emotionally, perhaps legally too. I recalled how I'd recently been thinking about her topless without trying to, and my instincts told me this was OK, a natural interest in an attractive young woman, with an attractive young body. Nevertheless, I was aware that what I thought was less important than what Emma thought, all of her perceptions, beliefs and instincts, and she needed to work those through for herself. I would say nothing, let her come to me if she wanted to talk. And she had Lucy's contact details too.

It was the following morning - Saturday - when Emma looked at me across the kitchen, where we'd convened for a cup of tea, and I knew from her face what she wanted to talk about. I was sitting at the table, and she was standing, leaning back against the sink, half-facing me. She was wearing pyjama shorts and a T-shirt with nothing beneath it. It wasn't revealing, but it dragged across her slight breasts when she moved, describing their form appealingly, and making me conscious that what she was about to say would determine the difference between my seeing them and not seeing them, in the fairly near future. Not that that was a huge deal, but it was interesting.

"So this naturist camp thing," she began, and I nodded for her to continue. "Do you think it's OK - for us, I mean? I like the idea, I like Lucy..." She looked at me: "I like you, too! I've thought about it. I think it's something I might want to try, and you two could be good to try it with. It's probably better to be with... let's say, people who are a bit older than me. If I think about doing it with my friends, I can see it could degenerate quickly, boys with the wrong idea, girls over-thinking, me included... So it's an opportunity, the timing is perfect, I only have to say yes. But..." She looked at me again. "Is it OK, you being my uncle? What do you think?"

I'd been half-expecting the question since Lucy spoke to us. "I think it's OK. You said it at the pub, and I agree - we haven't been close over the years, and for me that means it's not an issue. I'll be honest, I see you as an attractive young woman I happen to know, the same as... well, I don't know many other attractive young women, but you get the idea. You're smart, good to be with, you're fun, and you're nice to look at. I've got other nieces, and it's a different relationship."

Emma looked at the floor, embarrassed by the compliments, though with a half-smile. "Thank you. I think the same - you're someone I know, not an uncle I look up to." She looked back at me and our eyes met. "So... shall we?" She bit her bottom lip.

"You're sure? Not being swept along in the excitement? You know, we won't think any the less of you if you say no. We'll still be your friends!"

"No, I'm sure. That's what I've been thinking through, whether I'm doing it to please you, 'cos you've both been so helpful to me. But I'm not, I'm sure. It's because I want to try it, and I think you'll look after me."

I smiled and nodded slowly. "I think we'll all look after each other."

Emma grinned. "So I don't know about my being nice to look at, but I guess you're going to find out." She brought her hands to her mouth, and suddenly looked shocked through her smile. "Oh my God! What have I agreed to?! Am I going on a naked holiday? With you?! Oh my God!"

*************

The wind through the open windows of Lucy's car toyed with the women's hair as we wove through the Devon lanes, so that they both reached repeatedly to their faces to brush strands away. It was warm, hot even, and the forecast was mostly for the same for the few days we'd be away. I sat in the passenger seat, half-turned round so I could speak to Emma in the back, as well as to Lucy. Three weeks had passed, and we were on our way, booked into a self-catering chalet for a long weekend, three nights. I was excited, and nervous, and they were too - it was easy to tell from the babble of silly conversation we'd kept up most of the way there.

In between the bad jokes and giggling, Lucy told us more about the place we were heading to. It had found an interesting business niche: up-market, carbon neutral, with progressive policies - such as the no single men rule - to differentiate it from "normal" naturist spots, and to appeal to the liberal middle-classes, to women and to families in particular, in the hope of finding untapped markets. It had cost quite a bit, but Lucy and I could afford it, and I'd heavily subsidised Emma, who'd been embarrassed, then grateful, and had charmingly offered to do all the cooking and housework while we were there, which we'd of course declined.

For the previous three weeks I'd under-performed at work, unable to focus for any length of time, particularly if Lucy was in the office too. We'd catch each other's eyes and smirk, and have to look away. Working with her was almost impossible.

I'd been messaging with Emma fairly frequently, about arrangements for when she started her job, staying at my place while she sorted out a flat, and of course to organise our forthcoming trip. She'd come down the night before to make the journey today easier. It was strange in the morning to come out of the bathroom holding a towel round my waist, and meet Emma on the landing in her night clothes, and realise that in a few hours we'd be dispensing with those layers of modesty. We'd both laughed without exchanging any words, having the same thought.

And now we were nearly there. I looked at Lucy as she scanned the road ahead, probably for longer than I would have normally, but it felt OK, and Lucy's little smile told me she'd noticed and was fine with it. She wore a cotton summer dress, just above the knee, and buttoned down the front, exposing some thigh where it parted a little further up her leg when her feet moved on the pedals. It was comfortably loose, and the broad shoulder pieces bunched up to reveal just skin where there might have been a bra strap. The neckline was modest, but the material obligingly gathered itself tightly around Lucy's left breast for most of the journey, showing it to be below average size - a good thing, in my opinion - and well-shaped.

I turned to Emma as she commented on her view across a valley. I was taking a pointless interest in what her clothes were revealing, too, given where we were headed, but looking at her body was irresistible. She wore a short skirt, the kind only young women can carry off well, showing significantly more of her thighs than Lucy, pressed together, the flesh spreading, and just occasionally affording a glimpse of the dark blue knickers stretched over her groin. On top she wore a T-shirt, as usual, dark and tight, its smooth shape across her slight chest interrupted by two small bumps where her nipples showed through, demonstrating that she too wore no bra. This had been one of the more interesting lines of conversation on the journey, the girls comparing notes on their decisions to do without, so that they had no strap marks at the big reveal, but also because it felt good, slightly daring, and got them in the mood.

Around 3.30, when Lucy pointed out that the satnav was saying we were three minutes away, we fell quiet. I had butterflies in my stomach when we turned at a discreet sign and swung into a tree-lined drive. A large Victorian country house could be seen across a lawn, the grounds of which now formed the camp. We pulled up in a rough car park behind what must once have been the stable block but now housed administration and maintenance functions, and the reception office. Cars weren't allowed any further, and we made use of one of the large-wheeled trolleys for our bags and food supplies.

A smiling, middle-aged, blonde woman emerged from behind a desk as we entered the building, calling a warm greeting to us, but we only mustered mumbled responses, all three of us startled by the fact that she was wearing just a pair of knickers, and presented a splendid bosom, large and self-supporting, crowned with generous nipples. She waited a moment, perhaps used to the impact she had on new arrivals, while we gathered our wits. Lucy had made the booking and led on the formalities, though they weren't that formal. There were no real rules, the establishment trusting its clients to work out how to live alongside each other respectfully. We were given a map and directions to our chalet, and told it wasn't necessary to undress before we reached it, this being our first day.

We trundled along a path between mature trees, past a grassy clearing with play equipment, and past solid-looking timber-framed chalets set back from the path and well separated. We glimpsed people through the trees, distant but evidently naked, and glanced at each other, silently acknowledging that this was real. Happy shouts and youthful screams from the swimming pool further on reached us as we found our own home for the next few days and went in. It was lovely, though compact. Chalets for three were really just studio chalets for two with an added sofa-bed. There was one large room, with a living area, including the sofa-bed; a small kitchen and dining area, with a little table next to sliding doors out to some decking at the back; and a sleeping area, comprising a wide double bed, a chest of drawers and a cupboard. The bathroom was round a corner and through a couple of doors. The floor was a bamboo laminate, with rugs here and there, and the furnishings were new and expensive-looking. It was very comfortable, though we were going to be, metaphorically, on top of each other.

Lucy and Emma carried their bags to the "bedroom", while I deposited mine behind the sofa-bed, as we'd agreed. We put away food and drink, and moved about the chalet, pointing out to each other what we were finding, and getting a feel for the place, but also, I thought, nervously delaying the inevitable. Eventually we drifted to the living area, by unspoken mutual consent, and stood a couple of yards apart, looking at each other. The butterflies in my stomach were now competing with a drumming in my chest, but I managed to croak a question. "OK, are we ready?"

Lucy was wide-eyed and looked how I felt. Emma spoke. "I'm ready, but I'm scared!"

"Do you want to wait?" I offered. "There's still no pressure."

"No, I'll be OK, it's just..." she came to a halt.

"Here," said Lucy, stepping forward and opening her arms. Emma looked small as Lucy enveloped her. "I'm scared too, but I think it's going to be fun." She looked round at me and held out one arm, inviting me into the hug. As I moved in, Emma also looked up, literally in her case, being almost a foot shorter than me, and she smiled and held her own arm out for me. I joined them and we stood together, feeling each other's excitement and nerves, comforting each other, Emma and Lucy cheek to cheek, my chin resting on Emma's head and my nose in Lucy's hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. After a minute or so we broke off and stepped back, all smiles.

"How are we going to do this?" I asked.

"How about we just start, and see how it goes?" suggested Lucy. No-one moved for a moment, until Lucy took the plunge. "Right," she proclaimed with a confidence I wasn't feeling, and reached for the top button of her dress. We watched, powerless, for a few seconds, and then I reached for my T-shirt and Emma for the fastening of her skirt. My shirt came off in a moment, followed by Emma's skirt, and we threw them on to the sofa next to us. I admired Emma's soft, pale thighs and her small satin knickers, snug around her hips, a lace trim inviting the gaze towards the mound pressing through them. The women both looked at me, at my torso it seemed. I didn't go to a gym, but I had a routine of press-ups and crunches which maintained my pecs and abs, though I was no Tarzan. I ran a bit and ate healthily, so I was slimmish, but my vanity had made me eat less those last three weeks, to lose a couple more pounds around my middle.

Meanwhile Lucy had undone buttons to her waist, and the bare skin of her chest and belly showed through the widening gap in her dress. The drumming in my own chest was louder as I reached to undo my shorts. Emma fingered the hem of her shirt, hesitating to reveal herself first. I dropped my shorts and stepped out of them as Lucy reached her lowest button, breathed out heavily, and drew the two sides of her dress apart, looking between Emma and me as she did. My mouth fell open as I saw her breasts, not because they were beautiful, though they were, but because she was showing them to us so deliberately, and that was astonishing. I sighed audibly. She smiled at the effect she'd had, and pulled the dress wider and off her shoulders, so that it slipped down her back. She caught it, deposited it on the sofa, and stood before us again in only her plain white knickers. Her breasts were fairly small, as I'd thought, firm, nipples pointing slightly upwards and slightly apart, flawless, lovely.

A movement from Emma caught my eye, and I tore my attention away from Lucy. She was raising the hem of her T-shirt over her flat stomach, her face expressionless. As it was tight around her chest and shoulders it was a bit of a wrestle, and her progress slowed tantalisingly, but suddenly her arms were free and she pulled it over her head, to stand before us as Lucy did - and me, now I thought of it - in only her knickers. Her petite body was fabulous: certainly short and slight, but straight, square shouldered, and slim, though with a soft curve to her hips and waist, her breasts no more than gentle swellings on her chest, her areolae modest, her nipples small but prominent. Her body was as pale as her thighs, her skin smooth and unblemished. I'd noticed before that it was her demeanour that marked her as an adult, and seeing her young form now confirmed that to be so. She smiled coyly at me, and at Lucy, who was also admiring her, and jiggled one knee quickly back and forth in her nervous excitement.

Now it was time for me to reveal something intimate, as the women had. I slipped my thumbs into the waistband of my pants, and noticed Lucy and Emma watching attentively, eyes aimed at my groin. In that split second two thoughts zipped through my mind: firstly, the realisation that I wasn't nervous about showing myself to these two friends, and was in fact flattered and exhilarated by their attention; and secondly, the absurdly useless observation that this would be the last time I undressed for several days.

I looked down to lower my pants to my knees and free them from my feet, lobbed them on to the sofa, and stood again, naked. Lucy was looking me up and down - mostly down - and when I turned to Emma she, by contrast, made eye contact, and held it unnaturally, embarrassed to look, or to be seen to look. I glanced down and saw with relief that my penis had its normal size, neither shrivelled with fear nor swollen from excitement.

Lucy now focused on my face, and spoke almost seriously. "I didn't ever expect to see this, Dan. But I'm glad I have. You look good with nothing on, you've got a good body." Her gaze drifted slowly down my body, and back up. "Are you doing OK, Emma?"

Emma still seemed embarrassed, and looked back at Lucy. "Yeah, I'm OK. My heart's going double speed, though." She looked back to me, and allowed her eyes to flick down briefly.

"Hunky?" I teased.

Lucy laughed, and Emma managed a smile. "Yeah. You look fit."

"Thank you," I replied politely. "And, err, are you two going to join me?"

Lucy straightened, smiled, and repeated my actions with her thumbs in the top of her own knickers, swiftly sliding them down and off, and faced us looking surprisingly relaxed. Although there was one obvious point of focus, the effect of her whole body was fabulous. She was tall and well-made, and her regular netball and gym regime gave her good muscle tone. Her stomach and belly were flat, and her abdominal muscles formed a series of faint undulations between ribs and groin. Her moderate boobs were right for this sporting physique, as were her slim hips. She had a naturally small triangle of dark pubic hair, trimmed a little, so it was just possible to see her outer lips showing through.

It was my turn to be caught looking at Lucy's body, but she was smiling when I made eye contact. "Wow, Lucy!" I offered, quietly. "Same to you. You look fantastic. And you look comfortable with... all this."

"I wouldn't go that far. I'm just thinking we have to get on with it, so..." She held her arms wide to indicate her conclusion. "This is why we came!" she grinned.

She looked at Emma, and I turned too, to find her smiling, and nodding lightly, as she looked back at both of us. "Yep, OK, this is why we came." Holding our gaze she grasped the sides of her satin knickers and bent forward to pull them down her legs. Her small breasts filled out as she leant over, and I felt a sudden, instinctive, sexual jolt as I looked at them, so smooth, so perfect to stroke. It passed - fortunately, because an erection didn't feel like the response the women were looking for from me, and to be honest it wasn't what I wanted either. I wanted - I think we all did - to experience our nudity together, to enjoy being with each other, to look and admire, though not to the exclusion of normal life, and not to treat our time as a sexual adventure.

So when Emma had extracted her feet from her underwear and faced us again it took an effort of will to refrain from imagining what her body might be capable of, and instead just to enjoy what I could see. She was stunning. I'd admired the shape of her before, and her skin, but now seeing all of her without the horizontal line through her middle created by her knickers, seeing her from top to toe, my eye gliding over her smooth form, young and vibrant with health, my resolve to avoid sexualising her was tested. I drank in the sight of her nipples, dark against her skin. However the greatest test came from between her thighs, where her pubic mound bulged as gently and as smoothly as her other curves, entirely hairless. Her labia met in a neat valley, but were prevented from touching by a thin strip of her inner lips just visible, tucked between them.

I probably looked for slightly too long, forgetting our delicate etiquette, but was saved from embarrassment because when I looked away I saw that Lucy too was taking time to survey Emma's beautiful body, her eyes roving all over it.

"Emma..." she started, but hesitated, reaching for the words. "You're lovely. Just beautiful." She seemed as smitten as I was.

"I think you're the winner," I declared, "... as measured by the longest silence while the two of us stared at you. Sorry about that." This slightly lame effort to introduce some humour was a veiled attempt to distract myself, but I couldn't keep it up. "I love your skin, you're so pale and smooth..."

Emma was embarrassed again, and drew her lips between her teeth, before looking down and speaking to the floor. "I don't have the muscles you two have, I was worried I'd just seem a bit weedy."

I shook my head, but now Lucy seemed embarrassed. "I'm..." She paused again. "You... you've shaved. It looks really nice."

"Thank you. It's a wax, actually." She looked down at herself, happier. "Bit of a luxury, but I prefer it to shaving. Is it OK? Not too... in your face?"

"No, I really like it. It looks so smooth, and soft!" Lucy giggled. "Like the rest of you, to be honest. I used to shave, for a while, but I stopped bothering. Can't imagine a wax, though. Doesn't it hurt?"

Emma looked brighter, and smiled. "Hurt like hell the first two or three times, but not so much now.

"It does look good," I chipped in. "It's like... you have this perfect complexion, and it carries on all the way... down. But really, can I say you both look amazing, and I can't believe I'm here and seeing this?"

Lucy nodded. "It's good, isn't it? This." She gestured to the three of us. "We all look amazing, and it's going to be so interesting, finding out about each other!"

*************

Emma suggested we go down to the beach, and Lucy suggested a quick dip in the sea while we were there. I was glad it was Emma who proposed this: if she was comfortable enough to venture out in public, then she must have overcome her shyness before we'd undressed.

We gathered towels and headed out. The women walked ahead of me along the narrow path which the map said would take us to the sea in a few minutes. As well as taking in the surroundings - more chalets amongst the trees, to begin with - this gave me the opportunity to appreciate Emma and Lucy from a new angle. Emma's bottom was in proportion with her hips, rounded, immaculate, as unblemished as the rest of her. As she walked I noticed daylight through the gap at the top of her thighs, and the silhouette of her vulva. Lucy's rear was clearly somewhere she kept important muscles, rather than a fat store. The ripples as she walked were from her glutes working, and a privilege to watch.

Within a minute or so we met an older couple coming the other way, who greeted us cheerfully, just as they might have had we all been clothed. The chap held his gaze at the women for a couple of seconds longer than necessary, but I couldn't blame him. After they'd passed, Emma looked round, laughing in wonder that she'd just openly exposed herself to strangers for the first time in her life.

She didn't have to wait long for the second time, as a group of five, three men and two women, in their late twenties or early thirties, emerged from a side path and passed us. The greetings were less formal this time, but equally warm. These guys also gave Lucy and Emma a discreet look over, though to be fair I did the same with the two women in their group. It struck me how relaxed they all were, and how good they looked - all five - with no clothes on. This time after we'd passed them, Lucy and Emma commented to each other on the good looks of one of the men, and the large penis of another. It turned out that enjoying naked bodies wasn't just a men's sport.

There was a short section of woodland before we passed through a locked gate in a solid fence, using the key we'd been given, and emerged into bright, warm sunshine on the naturist beach. This was public, not part of the resort, but clearly associated with it. It was small, maybe a hundred yards across, and separated from a larger beach - not naturist - by an outcrop of rocks down one side. It was pretty, sandy all the way to the sea, with low cliffs to the other side. There were only a few other people there at this time, and we dropped our towels and strolled down to where the waves were licking over the perfect sheet of sand.

The water was warm near the beach and we waded out confidently. By the time we were beyond the small breakers and thigh-deep, however, the more usual English coast coolness had reasserted itself, and there were a couple of squeaks, including from me. The swell was gentle, but powerful, and Emma reached for my hand to help her stay upright. Lucy pressed ahead, and at waist depth launched herself forward and swam out ten yards with a practised stroke, before treading water and calling us to follow. Emma declined, and I was happy to stay with her as my swimming wasn't to Lucy's standard. Lucy swam away, parallel to the shore, while Emma and I retreated a little, summoned our courage and ducked down to shoulder depth, puffing with the shock of the cold; but with our legs drawn up we rose and fell, bobbing pleasantly with the waves.

I was looking to where Lucy had gone when I received a faceful of seawater, and looked round to find Emma laughing and splashing me again. I retaliated vigorously, and we both rose to our feet as a better defensive position, splashing madly for a minute or so. My offensive effort was blunted by the vision of water cascading down Emma's body, causing me to waste time looking at the way the sun reflected off one wet hip, and water ran over her slightly rounded belly and between her legs. We stopped because we were laughing too much, and I noticed how the cool water had made Emma's nipples larger, hard, and surrounded by bumpy, tight-looking areolae, and how good that looked.

"Thanks for staying with me, and not swimming off with Lucy," she said.

"Honestly, I don't swim as well as that, so it's fine," I replied. I could see Lucy making her way back to us with a steady crawl I couldn't have kept up with. "How are you doing? OK being naked with your old uncle?"

She laughed and splashed me again. "Yeah, getting used to it pretty fast, actually," she returned, a glint in her eye. She held her hands out and I took them. "You and Lucy are brilliant." She stepped towards me, put her hands on my shoulders and reached up to offer a kiss - I had to stoop to receive it - which she planted on my cheek. We smiled at each other at close range, and she slipped her arms round my back for an affectionate hug. I reciprocated, and we took up a warm and chaste embrace - chaste in that it was between friends, with no romantic intent, but not chaste in the part of my mind which registered her cold, wet skin against mine, her nipples pressing into my lower ribs, and my penis pushed against her belly. It didn't last long enough for my ardour to reveal itself, and the cool water helped, but my pulse raced.

Lucy returned, long hair plastered to her shoulders and discharging water to course down her body. As we made our way back to the beach the light breeze brought out goose bumps on her skin, and her nipples too hardened, becoming larger in proportion to her breasts, prominent, drawing attention to themselves, certainly drawing my attention. Her boobs quivered mesmerisingly at each step. Meanwhile the water had not only saved my embarrassment with Emma, but had also shrunk my penis to significantly below-average dimensions, bringing interested glances from the women, and eliciting a smile and an ironic "Aaahh!" from Lucy, as if she were admiring a small puppy.

We towelled ourselves dry and wandered back to the chalet, discussing who'd be first in the shower, and looking forward to using the well-appointed bathroom. I volunteered to open some wine while Lucy went in. I poured three glasses and called out to Lucy that it was ready when she was, and she asked me to bring it in for her, another boundary breached. She was under the shower, squeezing shampoo into her hand as I entered, and threw me a smile when I briefly appreciated her nude, wet form before leaving her wine by the sink and slipping back out.

When I'd finished my own shower, and Emma had gone in, I found Lucy by the bed, hair in a towel, rubbing body lotion into her upper legs, twisting and bending to reach the back of her thighs, and, unabashed, smearing more across her buttocks and working it in, her fingers pressing into the firm flesh as I sipped my wine and watched.

"Enjoying the show?" she enquired.

"Yes, sorry," I apologised, aware that I'd looked for too long, but also that Lucy had been stroking her thighs and bum in front of me, knowing I was looking.

"Don't mind, actually," she added. "Would have stopped if I did. Could you do my back?"

I almost spluttered out my wine, and she laughed. However, I quickly put it on the table and stepped forward, and Lucy handed me the lotion bottle and turned around. When my hands made contact with her back I felt the muscles give way slightly, and glide beneath my slick palms. I spread cream around liberally, and then moved up, thumbs at the base of her neck, to massage her strong shoulders. Lucy moaned her appreciation and I moved down her spine with my thumbs, fingers pointing up her back.

"Aah, that's good," she moaned again. "Didn't realise I needed a massage." I spread more body lotion across her back and round her sides, and down, so that I held her waist between my hands and stroked gently, further down to her hips, now conscious of our positions, and how easy it would be to pull her back to grind against me, and how good that would feel. As before, I tried to banish the thought, to avoid the risk of an erection, and so as not to overreact to a moment when Lucy was certainly pushing the boundaries, but wasn't inviting me into any kind of sexual activity. I too wanted to learn about this, to live for a few days in a state of nature, without it necessarily being a prelude to sex. I wanted the three of us to synchronise, to feel the same, to enjoy the liberty and examine our boundaries together. But it was going to be difficult not to project sexual ideas into these situations.

"Can you massage my lower back too?" It was as if she was trying to get me into trouble. To achieve this, to get my thumbs in the right place, I had to sit down on the edge of the bed, my knees either side of Lucy's, almost face-to-face, as it were, with her admirable bottom. My interpretation of "lower back" extended to the top of the outward curve of her bum, and my thumbs were working just into the softer flesh. Lucy seemed quite happy with that from the moan she let out. Touching her, running my hands over her back, feeling the softness and the muscles, looking at her beautiful backside from about a foot away, hearing her moans as I pressed into the right places, was erotic, despite my best intentions. My prick was swelling - not to maximum effect, not hard, but noticeably.

Emma emerged from the bathroom, naked of course, rubbing her hair dry with a towel, and on seeing us expressed both shock and amusement with her drawn-out "Oooohh!" followed by, "Not interrupting something, am I?!"

Simultaneously, and a bit too quickly, I replied, "No, just putting body lotion on!" and Lucy "No, just a back massage!"

Emma laughed loudly, believing neither of us. "Oh, busted! Do you want me to pop out for a bit?"

"No, no really," insisted Lucy. "Dan was putting lotion on my back for me, and it turned into a massage."

Emma smiled wryly. "OK, if you say so." She looked down to where I sat, and at my penis, not a semi but getting there, and Lucy followed her gaze. I supposed I was going to be seen this way at some point, so I grimaced, but didn't hide myself. "Hmm, hello!" said Emma. "Maybe I was interrupting something for Dan."

Lucy laughed. "Well it was good for me, so it seems fair that it was good for you too!"

I was slightly embarrassed, but it appeared my minor reaction wasn't an outrage. I looked from Lucy's tall, strong form, her boobs, her groin, to Emma, small, slim, smooth, nipples still pointed from her shower, the beautiful curve of her pubic mound, her smooth lips revealing a hint of the flesh within.

"So do you need some body lotion?" continued Lucy. "'Cos I can recommend a good masseur for your back." I really did think Lucy was trying to get me to embarrass myself now.

Emma smiled. "I will need some on my back. Would you mind? I don't need a massage, though."

This was going to be lovely, but there was the possibility of further enlargement. I swallowed, from nerves. "Yeah, sure, whenever you're ready."

She stepped in front of me and turned her back, dropping the towel to one side and picking up her damp hair with both hands to keep it out of the way, so that her arms were raised, elbows pointing outwards. Lucy squeezed past us. "I'll go and make a start on dinner. Don't be too long, now!"

I stood and took up the bottle, and poured some of the thick cream into my hand. I was inches behind her, my swollen penis very close to her pert behind. "OK?" Emma nodded, and I laid my hand on her shoulder, smearing the lotion across and bringing down my other hand to begin easing the liquid into her skin, rubbing with gentle pressure. I worked around the fine hairs at the back of her neck, and into her shoulders, smaller and more delicate than Lucy's, and softer, and squeezed gently in a light massage.

Emma sighed. "Mmm, that's very good. I see what Lucy was saying." After a minute on her shoulders, my hands moved down her back, rubbing in cream and massaging gently, and out around her ribs to her sides. Here I almost brought on an erection, when the thought arrived in my head of how it would feel to slide my hands further round her ribs, to the front, to grasp and massage her small breasts and hard nipples. I felt a surge in my penis and saw it enlarge further, and stepped back in time to prevent it making contact with Emma's bottom. By moving my hands back to her spine I was able to regain conscious control of my thoughts, and after another minute it relaxed to an acceptable size and angle.

I still had to negotiate sitting to stroke her waist and hips, the curves so sensual, her skin so pliable, her occasional sighs and deep breaths so sexy, and I slid my fingers across the top of her buttocks, desperately banishing half-formed ideas of our bodies pressed together again, and trying to think instead of preparing dinner, cricket and spreadsheets.

When I'd finished - with some relief - Emma faced me to say thank you, now standing between my spread knees, small, naked, beautiful, happy. She bent to plant another kiss on my cheek, smiled and stepped back.

We spent the evening sitting out on the decking at the back of the chalet with a couple of bottles of white, the fading light gradually masking both the details of our nude bodies, and the direction of our eyes. We talked about this astonishing day, the extended shock of being naked with our friends, being admitted to a new level of intimacy with each other, how we liked and trusted each other all the more because of it; and simply how enjoyable it was to show and to be shown.