First Nude Beach Exposure

My wife's job as a lobbyist at the state legislature meant that she was more than ready for a vacation as soon as the session ended. This usually occurred in early June. This year Joan and I had traded two weeks of timeshare from our home resort on St. Thomas for two spots in St. Martin. Since June is off-season in the Caribbean, we could more easily find openings, and it was much less crowded than in the winter. Joan had been to St. Martin as one stop on a cruise with her sister and their dad and loved the charm of both the French and Dutch sides of the island. We were looking forward to having a lot of unplanned time to explore the island and its numerous pristine beaches. Having two weeks meant we didn't have to rush to get through our list of "must-sees" and "must-dos" at a frenetic pace. We valued relaxing on the beach and didn't consider it any kind of wasted or down time.

So, beach time in St. Martin was one of our main goals for the trip. Joan had told me that on her cruise stop there they had done a shore excursion with a stop at Orient Bay, with the premier clothing-optional beach. She went to great lengths to assure me they had only been "walker-gawkers" and hadn't followed the "When in Rome..." approach to the local dress-code. Since their dad was along, that didn't surprise me. Her description of much of the beach scene made it a prime destination for me, for all the obvious reasons, but I was really hoping it would allow Joan to first shed some long-held inhibitions and then her swimsuit shortly after.

Public nudity certainly didn't threaten her sense of ethics or personal scruples, nor did she look down on others for participating. She simply was overly self-conscious about her own body image. Now, she's a beautiful woman, with a sexy body, and I think the most beautiful, modest-sized breasts in the world. Of course, she doesn't believe me, having grown up in a "Playboy, Hugh Hefner-inspired" culture about what constituted women's beauty and sexuality. When she'd been at Orient Bay on the Club Orient resort side, she'd seen a lot of what I'd call "professional nudists" who were basically strutting their stuff and trying to fit into that "Playboy" template. That experience had soured her enthusiasm, if not even her receptivity to the whole nude beach idea and certainly to her joining me in that dress mode. The people she saw there were just not ones she could relate to.

In planning our St. Martin itinerary, we talked about Orient Bay, and it definitely was a destination beach for me. When I asked Joan if she was willing to go and to get naked, she merely said, "We'll see." I knew better than to push any further. She had bought a new bikini for the trip that was quite a bit skimpier than any of the suits she had, which I felt was definitely a very good omen. But more importantly, she'd gone to a tanning salon to build a base and tanned totally naked.

The first resort we stayed at was called the Pelican, and we arrived at night. In the light of the next morning, we discovered that it had limited beach access on-site. The largest sandy area with chairs for sunning was mostly away from the water. It was fairly crowded, close to a busy road, and not overly appealing. One woman in the far corner was topless, though everyone else wore swimsuits. That all made it easy for me to push for going to Orient Bay that afternoon, and Joan agreed, though with less enthusiasm than I would have hoped for. We packed some beer in a cooler, took lots of suntan lotion and beach towels, and headed across the French side of the island.

After parking, we wanted to explore the beach before deciding where to rent chairs and spend the rest of the afternoon. We entered at the western end of the beach with the restaurants, bars, and tee-shirt shops, and a few hotels close by. We knew the east end was Club Orient, the clothes-optional resort where many of the "hard-core" nudists stayed. Joan had clearly preferred the more touristy western area and after some scouting, we found a nice bar/restaurant that rented chairs and umbrellas. The young woman helping us was topless with a deep all-over tan matching the color of her nipples which now blended in with the rest of her body. She assured me that it was fine to be nude on this section of the beach, and there was a mixture of people in all stages of coverage, though those completely nude were in the minority.

Once we settled in our chairs and still in our swimsuits, I decided to go for a short swim then take a walk to get a sense of our immediate neighborhood. I was amazed at the number of families around us with children from infants to teenagers. Being this was French territory, I shouldn't have been too surprised. Some of their younger, clearly under18, teenage daughters were sunning topless, which made me feel somewhat uncomfortable given our American culture, mores, and laws. Soon after I sat down with Joan, an American family with two 14-17-year-old sons camped out right behind us, and all of them wore swimsuits. The boys were like kids in a proverbial candy store, looking at the French girls and snickering about what was probably their first peek at bare female breasts, except for maybe their mom's. I had a pretty good idea what boys that age fantasize about, and I knew Joan wasn't about to shed her top and give those boys a peek at her bare tits.

I was tempted to move somewhere more conducive for Joan so she might be comfortable at least going topless, but virtually all the chairs here were now occupied, and moving to another vendor would have meant spending another $30 fee, plus tip. We stayed put, and to be honest, with the young French girls and American boys nearby, I didn't feel much like getting naked either.

After a while I decided to take another walk while Joan opted to keep reading and pulled her chair further under our umbrella, I assumed for both shade and privacy. I went southeast toward the Club Orient side, and quickly determined that there were actually two distinct areas there. The first and closest area was for mostly for what I'd call regular folks who just liked to sun naked; it was the further east zone directly in front of the Club Orient cottages that was used by the "hard-core nudists." Within the area of regular people were mostly couples and virtually no children other than maybe one or two infants. The adults were in their 20s to their 80s with every kind of body size, shape, and tan lines; and everyone was either minding their own business or affably socializing with their neighbors. All were enjoying the carefree and clothing-free atmosphere. This was definitely the area of the beach where we should have come.

I went back and got Joan to walk with me to see for herself the difference in atmosphere at the near part of the eastern beach. She was immediately intrigued and inspired by the uninhibited and nonintimidating vibes we got, and we took our time exploring. As we walked among the rows of chairs, Joan subtly checked out the diversity of the crowd, and how they mirrored the people we knew and met in everyday life. Their comfort, mutual acceptance, and appreciation of each other's nudity was contagious. We eagerly agreed to come back the next day.

We arrived relatively early, at about 10:00 and had our pick of beach chairs. We chose two that were a couple of rows back from the water, so we weren't right in front of the main beach walking path. That's where the cruise ship passengers ambled by just to gawk, or the "professional" nudists often paraded to show off their deeply tanned and oiled bodies. When planning this trip and considering a visit to Orient Bay, Joan was seriously worried we might encounter someone there who we knew from back home, most likely from a cruise ship. While Joan admitted these were very low odds, for her anonymity was a must. The idea of being seen nude by someone we knew was more than embarrassing to her. I sure didn't want this fear to inhibit her.

After paying for our chairs, I immediately stripped-down and lotioned-up. Joan disappointed me by leaving her suit on when she first sat down. I looked around at the mostly couples sitting near us and except for one single, busty, topless woman all were quite naked. I must have stared at the topless woman a little too long for Joan's liking, because she snapped at me with, "Quit looking at that woman's big tits." I hoped that barb was not inspired by comparing that woman's breasts with her own self-deprecating body image, but rather simply feeling my looking was invasive.

I'd read enough about nude beach etiquette, to know the difference between noticing and appreciating, vs. staring and intruding. So, I needed to take issue with Joan's assessment, saying, "If my inobtrusive looking at other women here is going to be a problem, let's head back to the condo right now." And to build her own body confidence, I added, "If you don't think every man here isn't going to look and admire every inch of your inviting body, you're trying to defy gravity."

I casually added that, "You don't go to a nude beach if you don't, at least to some extent, want to see and be seen." I tried to explain that my looking wasn't meant to be invasive and unwanted voyeurism, but merely my curiosity seeking affirmation that people just like us were here and naked too. While I'm not sure she was ready to make that distinction, I did need to confess to appreciating the sights around us. I also reminded her of the excitement she had felt on our walk yesterday and her eagerness to return.

After she looked around and thought more, she seemed to get what I was saying and sat back and started putting lotion on; a good sign she planned on staying here. When she was done lotioning her shoulders, she looked at our neighbors, and after some reflection reached behind and with newfound confidence unhooked and removed her top. There's something extra sensuous about seeing a woman exposing her tits publicly for the first time. I reveled in her newfound courage to make public her previously private parts. She then slowly started applying lots of lotion to her clearly aroused breasts. Another good sign. Those extended nipples belied any second thoughts she had about removing her top. Not to miss an opportunity, I got up and moved behind her chair and reached down to massage the lotion onto her breasts.

"Let me help you with that," I said softly, as she surrendered her hands and sighed. I was careful not to overdo it and risk violating acceptable beach rules for overt sexual behavior.

She left her bottom on, since no doubt she would be much more reluctant to expose her pussy, but I was still hoping she'd be naked before too long.

In 10-15 minutes, Joan amazed me by announcing, "I can't believe how good it feels to take that top off. I feel so incredibly free."

"You'd feel even freer if you took off the bottom too," I challenged.

"Just give me a little time to adjust, will you?" Joan replied, and I knew better than to push when I could see her self-assurance and spunk evolving.

In less than half an hour three people sat in the chairs nearest us. There were two women and one guy, and they were obviously from a cruise ship in port for the day. Their tote bags were from the same cruise line Joan and I had used quite a few times. We couldn't figure out their relationships, but it appeared as though they may have just met on the ship. They all kept their suits on and looked around to assess their neighbors' state of dress, giving Joan and me particularly special attention.

The younger women wore a somewhat revealing bright red bikini and was tall and thin, with long shapely legs. The guy with them seemed to be brazenly attracted to her, but she didn't appear to return the same interest. The other woman wore a chic one-piece black suit with a sarong wrapped around her waist. She was probably 5-10 years older than her ship mates and had a more mature and very appealing body shape.

Joan looked at me teasingly and asked, "Do you want to make a little bet about who shows some untanned skin first?" I relished her progressing sexual playfulness with our public nudity.

"It most likely won't be the guy," I said, "he's outnumbered and clearly not romantically attached to either woman. I think it'll be the woman in the one-piece," I added pensively. "It's a still-waters run deep kind of thing."

"OK, I guess that leaves me the bikini girl," Joan said, not at all convinced I wasn't right, but counting on the more predictable odds that the young, more slender one who was already showing more skin would prevail.

"What should we bet for?" she asked with gamy curiosity.

"What else, your bikini bottom," I deadpanned, making her smile impishly.

The guy kept subtly looking over at Joan, clearly captivated by her no-tan-lines bare breasts. The two women seemed to be teasing him about his voyeuristic interest in her, though they were no less obvious in looking at my exposed male parts. This must have been their first nude beach adventure. I think we looked "regular" and non-threatening enough to be inspirational role-models. After no more than maybe 15 minutes, the one-piece suited woman quietly slipped the straps of her suit off her shoulders and peeled the suit down to her waist exposing both of her modest-sized, seductively shaped, and untanned breasts. "You win," Joan conceded, "I think you read the tea leaves very well."

Instantly, Joan began struggling to slide her sweaty, damp suit off her bottom and down her legs while still seated in her chair. I was incredibly excited to see her getting naked, and even more aroused when I realized how dramatically she had trimmed her pubic hair to fit within her new, much more abbreviated suit. I felt like I was looking at a different woman, with all the excitement and allure a new lover brings.

She caught me staring, and asked spritely, "So, do you like my new coif?"

"Absolutely I do, and it appears someone else does too," I said softly while nodding subtly toward the guy from the cruise ship. His eyes were riveted to Joan's naked body, focusing on her pussy while she had spread her legs widely as she boldly continued to wrestle with her bikini bottom and then get repositioned. That was inspiration enough for him to match Joan's performance by unceremoniously pulling his trunks off. While his immediate goal may have been to impress Joan with the lavish size of his member, I was sure he was also hoping to coax the younger of his ship mates out of her suit too.

As Joan took notice, I was startled by how intentely she was captivated by his fascination in her nearly bare pussy. Like many if not most women, she is not at all immune to being appreciated by a good-looking younger man, and surprisingly to me, even more so when naked. Maybe this was enhanced by the fact that this guy's measure of "appreciation" was visibly growing right before her eyes. This blatantly sexual focus of his admiration ignited an equivalent hormonal response in Joan.

The two women with him had a bird's eye view of his spontaneous, bodily response to seeing Joan, and maybe the younger one was jealous of his sexual attraction to an older woman, or maybe they both just got aroused by what they were seeing. In either case they both got naked in an instant.

This piqued our attention in our new roles as fledgling "students" of people's behavior at clothing optional beaches. Early on, we'd observed that once someone in a group strips, it either gives permission to or puts pressure on the others to join in. With our neighbors, the young "Man from Nantucket's" brazen performance no doubt gave the two women gold embossed invitations to participate. They were both very lovey and sexy women, which caught my attention immediately, and interestingly Joan's too. Seeing other women's bare bodies was giving her much heightened confidence and appreciation of her own.

The five of us had discovered the magic of the beach and all of us were enjoying both seeing each other naked as well as being seen ourselves. This must be the reciprocal relationship between exhibitionism and voyeurism psychologists write dissertations about. We pulled our chairs closer and at angles better to see one another. The more we all talked and enjoyed each other's company, the more Joan and I found ourselves loving the peace and freedom of this place and present company.

No doubt we each were feeling new sensations, spurred on by the relaxed, permissive environment, along with the newfound courage, excitement, and playfulness of becoming anonymous friends. By late morning there were many more people walking along the shore, including some of our immediate beach neighbors, some of the "pros" from the Club, and people from where we were yesterday. There was also a growing number of cruise ship and other tourists here just to leer at a bunch of naked people. Those walking by who were nude didn't bother anyone, but many of those who were clothed were very intrusive and weren't at all discreet in their rubbernecking. I think I appreciated how animals in a zoo must feel.

We were soon met, if not invaded by six clothed tourists sporting cruise ship excursion stickers on their shirts. They were clearly from the same ship as our three friends and to inversely paraphrase an old expression, they did recognize them with their clothes off. Our two new women friends were obviously feeling some of the same anxiety Joan would feel if we encountered friends from home. They looked like they wanted to cover up but didn't want to look like they were either ashamed of their bodies, or guilty of some embarrassing social faux pas. Our guy friend was clearly delighted in the opportunity to show off his "hardware" for three more women.

With our intruders being fully clothed, their staring at each of our nude, private body parts again made me feel not at all unlike those zoo animals. Knowing our new friends were cruisers, we shouldn't have been one bit surprised to see any number of their colleagues walking and gawking at Orient Bay. But Joan, to my total amazement didn't seem at all fazed by their presence and unrestrained sexual curiosity. In fact, it seemed she was most comfortable, if not proud to show off every bit of her naked body.

While two of the men from the ship paid closest attention to the younger of their female shipmates, the other kept giving Joan the "fisheye," and at first, I thought he was simply admiring her lovely and visibly aroused nude body. Then he looked at both Joan and me, thought a second, and announced to his wife, "Look its Joan and Dave!" Then I recognized them as our table mates from our last long cruise. Onboard, he'd persistently ogled Joan in her sundresses at dinner, and in her bikini at the pool, and was obviously pleased or more accurately titillated by seeing her wearing neither now.

Given Joan's previous fear of running into someone we knew at Orient Bay, I had expected her to react with at least some demonstration of modesty or annoyance. But she stunningly continued to sit cross-legged, quite naturally displaying her widely spread and glistening pussy while seeming to bask in the men's lustful attention. Her unabashed bodily spectacle now drew the three men's eyes away from our two new women friends, and I applauded this as an act of charity to draw scrutiny away from the younger women. But the longer she exposed herself to their stares the more I questioned whether she was actually trying to protect their modesty. I was beginning to suspect that Joan had reached an unexpected epiphany in her receptivity to and exhilaration from being seen naked, even by people she knew.

Soon the conversation with the six spectators had run its course; they'd seen every bit of us, and we all were ready for them to leave. They got the not-so-subtle hint and moved on to be voyeurs to more naked bodies down the beach.