Elysium Fields


Woodland Hills, California

Saturday, May 10, 1986

Well into the thirtieth year of our marriage, I do not remember how it started or, actually, when it started, but once again Lisa and me were into one of our, seemingly, never ending, ongoing arguments...

Well, actually, by this time the argument had generated into the silent period.

Now, to be honest, I know I'm as much at fault as Lisa because I have the universal husband's or, actually, the universal male's "foot'n'mouth disease," meaning, at least for this husband: a thought would come to mind. The thought, at least to this husband, might be clever or funny or just a retort to something she'd said. I would then ponder the thought a moment or two, thinking: Don't say it! Thinking, Let it pass, don't say it! However, alas, I would open my mouth and, as the spewing of lava from a volcano the words would come and usually, although in my mind the thought now brought to the light of day might be clever or funny, however, alas, said aloud, the thought was usually not quite as clever nor quite as funny as it was in my mind and, if not immediately, within moments of my wife's first verbal sally, my thoughts would go back to my earlier thoughts and I would think: Why the fuck did I say it! I knew I shouldn't have said it!

Because I would usually feel extremely stupid for actually saying what I knew I shouldn't have said, but, stupidly, said it anyway, in self defense I would respond to Lisa's retort and she would respond to my retort and words would lead to more words... and yet more words then the words, along with the upturning volume would very shortly turn hateful, then more hateful, then we would evolve into silence... thick silence.


A bit of a word pertaining to some of our characteristics .

As for me, once the harsh, hateful words are said, my mind always shifts in the opposite direction and I want nothing more than to apologize for what I'd said -- and maybe even for what I didn't say -- so as, as a means to end the argument, at this time I would become remorseful and do or say whatever possible to ease the animosity.

Lisa, on the other hand, would never just "let it drop." The hatful words -- at least my hateful words would be stored within the "Rolodex" of her mind to be dredged up and spat forward whenever she felt the need.

With me, all arguments should end with the "goodnights" of that day.

With Lisa, the end of an argument would come "over time." Sometimes the time stretching into weeks.

Always on a short fuse, her anger easily ignited, Lisa was the original "make a mountain out of a molehill" lady.

A beautiful woman wanting to live the life of a Jewish American Princess (J.A.P.), Lisa's expectations of me somewhat exaggerated because, to say the least, I'd always been a very moderate income earner.

In addition, Lisa was stubborn; not, "change my mind later or occasionally stubborn." Lisa's unrelenting, unbending stubbornness was an inbred characteristic.

Also, because she did not monitor herself properly, being an eternally thin woman that felt she could eat whatever food struck her fancy, due to her own lack of proper care, being diabetic Lisa did have constantly shifting blood sugar levels which continually left her tired and, at least from my point of view, minimally, "out of sorts"


In essence, take a fifty-two year old guy that has a hard time keeping his mouth shut and a, to say the least, easily angered, stubborn, fifty year old woman and, "voilà" we have explosive conditions.


The above information is the rationalization for doing what I did on...

Saturday, May 10, 1986

At this time being a rather avid bicycle rider, "Doing a bike ride today at the beach and don't know when I'll be back!" I spat out.

"Don't give a damn if you ever come back!" Lisa spat back.

Going into the kitchen to make a brown bag lunch, "Fine! Maybe I won't!"

"Don't threaten, Leonard, do it!"


The lunch, along with a beach towel and my bathing suit snuggly packed into a pannier -- a canvas bicycle bag made to fit behind the seat -- the bike hung onto the bike rack over the trunk of the car, my harshly said, "Goodbye!" met with silence, I left.


Once again I must digress.

Working as a Real Estate Associate in the eighties, at that time my license hung in the Woodland Hills office of "West Valley Realtors".

Woodland Hills is located in the far south-western end of the San Fernando Valley.

Though sounding quaint, located north of, and actually part of the City of Los Angeles, with distinct boundaries, "The Valley" is three hundred, forty-five square miles in size and in the eighties was home to almost two million people.


Going back one day to...

Friday, May 9, 1986:

"Today, we've a home in Malibu to caravan!" Said Glen Harris, the owner and "Broker" of West Valley Realtors.

"Malibu!" One of the associates questioned, "Really?"

Most of our "listed" properties were located in the mid to western end of "The Valley."

So, when on our weekly caravan day, Glen said, "We've a home in Malibu to caravan," the statement was met with more than a slight bit of surprise.

Having a total of eighteen people, including himself, "We'll head to the coast in three cars," Glen said, adding, "by way of Topanga."


A bit of geography here: Located on the far southern side of the valley, Ventura Boulevard is the main east/west street running from the far western end to the far eastern end of the valley and Topanga Canyon Road is the far western road going from the valley to Pacific Coast Highway.

Driving Topanga Canyon Road, as the crow flies, it is eight miles from Ventura Boulevard to Pacific Coast Highway, however, with numerous cutbacks, the actual miles are closer to twelve and having but one lane in each direction, though a beautiful drive through the Santa Monica Mountains, the time spent covering those twelve miles can become rather tedious.


Returning to...

Friday, May 9, 1986:

Approaching a, not too large, but noticeable sign on the east side of the road reading:


814 Robinson Road"

"That's a nudist park!" One of the guys said.

"Yeah? Really!" Someone said, adding, maybe, jokingly, "How do I get in?"

"I've a friend that goes there," the first guy said. "He says, you go there and for a few bucks they'll let you in for a day to see how you like it."

Really! I thought. Further thinking, I need a change in my life! Never too bashful but always too horny, the thought of being naked along with a bunch of naked people, particularly naked women people... Really! I thought.

So, after caravanning the house in Malibu, after returning to West Valley Realtors in Woodland Hills, into my car to:


814 Robinson Road"

Taking a left turn into the densely wooded area, driving about an eighth of a mile on a twisting, gravel covered two lane road, coming to a large opening, the road ended at a asphalt covered parking area before a wide, one story redwood structure.

Leaving the car, I looked about the flat, tree and grass covered area that covered, in my untrained estimation, one or two square acres.

Not really knowing what to expect at one thirty on a Friday afternoon, I did see a number of scattered blankets along with a number of, Oh, yeah, really naked people.

Entering the building, becoming somewhat excited, thinking, Am I going to see you naked? "Hi," I said to the fairly attractive, oh, maybe thirty-five year old woman wearing a light colored caftan sitting behind the desk.

"'Afternoon," she said in a friendly tone. "I'm Elsa, can I help you?"

"Uh, yes, Elsa," I said haltingly, "I'd, uh, like to see how I might like, uh, being here."

Smiling at my bumbling, "You'd like a one day trial membership?" she asked.

"Yes." I answered. "But not for today. Can I come back tomorrow?"

"Of course." Taking a pre-printed form from a drawer. "But we like to know who we're letting in," sliding it across the desk. "So if you'll fill this out."

Leaning over the desk, looking at the form: Name; address; phone number; marital status; reason for wanting to attend Elysium.

"This is private, isn't it?" I questioned. "I mean, she doesn't know I'm doing this, but I am married and want to try this first to see if my wife would like it here. But, no offense, but if I don't think she'll like it here, at a, uh..."

"Nudist Park."

"Yeah. If I don't think she'll like it here, I don't want her, or, actually, anyone knowing that I'm even thinking of joining here."

Having heard this before, many times before, smiling, "Of course we understand your reluctance, and absolutely everything you say," gesturing to the form, "is one hundred percent private, and I promise, if you decide against joining us here," now gesturing towards the doorway, "this will be destroyed and you'll never hear from us in any way."

Relieved because I really wanted to do this, I wrote my information onto the form.

Looking at what I'd written, "Thanks. Len. That'll be fifteen dollars."

Handing Elsa the money, "And I'll be okay for tomorrow?" I asked.

"Yes." Writing a receipt, she handed it across the desk, then, flipping one page in a loose leaf binder, opening to, "May 10"... "Leonard Gold," Elsa wrote beneath a number of

other names.

"Whenever you come, Len," partially standing, leaning forward, reaching her hand across the desk, "just come here first so we can check you in."

As she leaned forward, noting -- by the swaying motion of her unencumbered tits beneath the summer-weight material of the caftan -- noting that Elsa was braless, shaking her hand, "I will, thank you." I said, thinking, Great tits! Can't wait to see you naked!

May 10, 1986: 10:33 AM

Feeling excited, but at the same time a bit queasy over what I was about to do, driving to the administration building, parking the car, I went inside.

"Hi," I said to the homely, exceedingly corpulent woman wearing a vividly colored, floral caftan that sat behind the desk.

Caftans, I supposed, being the uniform of the day for Elysium office personnel. "Is, uh, Elsa around?" I asked.

"Elsa? No, she's off today. Can I help you?"

Having absolutely no desire to see this woman naked, "I, uh, came in yesterday and paid for today."

"What's your name?"

"Gold... Leonard Gold."

Looking at the loose leaf binder... "Oh, yes, here you are! Give me your hand."

"My hand?"

Removing a hand stamp and ink pad from the drawer, "Yeah, ultra-violet waterproof stamp," the woman said, reaching for my hand, "This'll get you into the parking lot. Also we have monitors that check for this to see if there's any one here that shouldn't be here... Also," smiling, "the monitors make sure people don't get too friendly, if you know what I mean."

Wondering how, 'being too friendly,' might be controlled, nodding my head, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"I've my bike with me." I asked, "it'll be safe in your lot?"

"Yeah, Moss... The attendent'll sign you in as having a bike. Then cars leaving the lot with bikes are checked to be sure they came in with a bike."

"Yesterday, did Elsa give you the grand tour?" the woman asked.

" 'Grand tour'? No."

"Okay." Swiveling, then laboriously lifting herself off the swivel seated chair, "I'm Gwen, by the way."

"Hi, Gwen," I said, following her outside.

"This building," gesturing, "is both the office and housing..." walking to the side and alongside the long structure... "for two 'live in' families, and..." now behind the structure... "here's our swimming pool."

A typical Southern California spring day, the temperature at this time in the morning standing at near eighty. Sensing a twitch in my cock...

"Morning, Gwen!" One of the women waved.

.... there were five people standing in the shallow end of the fairly large pool: three men and two women, all nude.

"Morning, Shelly." Gwen answered back.

Backtracking, following the waddling Gwen, walking across the circular area before 'Administration', to a larger building, "Here's the bathrooms," Gwen said, gesturing to a 'Men' and a 'Woman,' with a communal three stall shower between.

"And here..." entering the structure, "is our meeting and lecture room."

Sitting on dark planked flooring, chairs and lounges scattered about, the large, knotty pine paneled room had a open beam ceiling and a huge, floor to ceiling rock fireplace.

Turning to the left, into a hallway containing three doors, "And here... shhh!" holding her index finger before her lips, two of the doors were open showing sun-lit bedrooms, while, the third door closed, rhythmic, telltale sounds of the movement of bedsprings came from within.

Glancing at her watch, giggling, "Guess someone got started early today," Gwen whispered. "This is where people go when they feel themselves becoming very friendly; where they can have some privacy, because we... Here at Elysium," she said sternly, "we want everyone to enjoy their day and have a good time, but we have families with children that come here and we do not allow open displays of sexuality."

Nodding my head once again, continuing the tour, outside now, facing the tree dotted grassy area, there must have been thirty or more scattered people sitting on blankets individually or in groups of two, three or more people.

"I don't feel like walking there now, but," Gwen said, pointing south-westerly across the field, "See the flagstone walkway there?"

Following her pointing finger, "Yes."

"That walk leads to a little incline where there's a level area with a wading pool and a Jacuzzi big enough..." smiling again, "for a lot of people at the same time."

Thinking, 'a Jacuzzi big enough to hold a 'lot' of naked people at the same time'? This, I further thought, is a way to keep people from becoming 'too friendly'?

"And there," Going on, Gwen now pointed to the north-west, "is our tennis and volley ball court."

Looking in that direction, seeing two nude men, I could now hear the distant 'ponging' sound of a volleying tennis ball.

Walking back to 'Administration', "On the way up, did you notice the road leading to the right?"

"About half way down?" I asked.

"Yeah. That's the road that goes to the parking lot. Just show Moss the stamp on your hand and he'll let you in."


Strange, now that I was here, my towel spread, thinking I wouldn't, strange that I felt apprehension at the thought of undressing before a field of strangers, the closest, by the way, about twenty feet away.

Actually, apprehensive and excited at the same time, sitting on the towel, I kicked my shoes off, then removed my socks... Stalling, I guess, I then pulled the shirt over my head and off. Okay, now sitting, should I wiggle out of my -- cycling -- shorts or bite the bullet and stand as a man. Screw it! Standing -- sure everyone within sight was staring at me -- I lowered my shorts, and as I did sun warmed air and the slight breeze hit my cock and, sensing the uplifting sensation there, I quickly sat.

Sitting now, my knees drawn upward to partially hide myself, and my hard-on, I looked about and guess what? Not a person, no-one was looking at me, or even in my direction....

But now I'm looking.

The couple sitting closest, a man with his back to me, the woman facing me, I could see was older and, her tits easily visible, curiously, did not excite me. Looking towards the next closest blanket, at two women, both facing me, for some strange reason, did not excite me either. Matter of fact, looking downward, amazingly, I'd shrunken and, sitting as I was with my legs bent at the knees, retracted into the hair there with none but about two inches and the glans visible, surprised me further because I'd truly felt that I would be nothing but, but as it was, I was anything but 'horny'.

Thinking, I can't sit screwed up like this all day! So, fuck it!

Straightening my legs, stretching my legs forward, sitting upward with my arms held behind me with elbows locked, allowing the sun and breeze to touch all of me, glancing about I saw that, still, not one person was looking at me.


Approaching from the parking area, walking in my direction, a man and woman, possibly my age or a bit younger, coming towards me, caused my knees to bend upwards once again...

" 'Morning," the man said. "That your car," nodding his head backward, "the one with the bike on it?"

"Yes?" I answered questioningly.

"Thought so," reaching his outstretched hand to me. "You new here?"

"Yeah." Feeling ill at ease sitting naked with another man looking down at me. "Hi." I shook the offered hand.

"Hi!" Somewhat good-looking, dark completed, about 5'10" and a bit on the chubby side, "I'm Ken."

"Len," I answered.

The dark haired, fairly attractive woman at his side, also a bit chubby -- which didn't bother me in the least -- said, "Hi! I'm Sandy,"

Pulling the T-shirt over his head, "Mind if we park here?" pointing to a spot about five feet to the right of me.

"No," rather surprised that I'd met some fellow nudists so soon, "not at all!"

Then again, 'wife swapping' a somewhat current practice, the thought flitted through my mind, but then again, I had no wife or, for that matter, anyone with me.

"Thanks," Ken said, dropping his shorts, along with his underpants, revealing a rather long, thin, dangly cock.

Flapping the blanket open, it dropped much closer than five feet. Unbuttoning her blouse, she tossed it onto the blanket, now reaching behind her back, revealing moderately large tits with small, dark nipples, the bra fell downward then, stepping out of her shorts, without the slightest hesitation, off came her panties.

Feeling my cock hardening, trying not to look at Sandy, or trying to look like I was not trying to look...

Sensing my predicament, making a sweeping movement with his arm, "You new to this, Len?"

"Yeah," looking at my watch, "I've been here, including 'the grand tour,' about a half hour."

"It's okay," Ken said, "this is only our third time and I know how you feel. If you want to look, it doesn't bother her." Now speaking to Sandy, "You don't mind if Lenny looks at your tits, do you?"

"A few weeks ago it would," smiling at me, "but now I'm so much at ease here that being naked," looking downward, at my cock, then back at me, "I don't mind you looking," adding, "and, trust me, I've never admitted it before," glancing at my now upstanding cock, "but I like seeing..." Sandy's eyes now locked with mine. "...naked men."

My heart quickening, not knowing what to make of this statement, especially with her, assumed, naked husband just feet from me and, still not wanting to gawk, smiling back, I forced my eyes away... to another couple that were in the process of claiming a five by seven piece of Elysium for the day.

Bringing my attention back, "Sandy and I ride bikes, too," Ken said, "that's why I noticed your car."

Sandy now sitting with her legs crossed. Feeling my heart thumping, again bringing my legs into a crooked position to, again, hide myself, my eyes moved from her pretty, though moderately sized, sloping tits to the hairy, black 'V' of her pussy, then quickly away.

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