Nudist Retreat for Women Only

I met my friend Maria in town some months ago and we went to have coffee together. I hadn’t seen her for over a year so we had a lot of news to catch up on. Maria told me she was still nursing and I said that I was earning money mainly painting but also doing some supply teaching in art at some of the local schools. Eventually we got round to the question of holidays.

“Booked up your holiday yet?” I asked.

“I haven’t actually booked yet but I picked up a very interesting brochure in the library last week and I’ve now received details of a naturist retreat that’s only for women.”

I was interested. “Oh, sounds good. Tell me all about it.”

“Well, it’s called Robert’s Retreat and is located at a farm on a small island which, of course, makes it very private and suitable for nudist life.”

“I believe in getting an all-over tan,” I replied. “I wouldn’t mind a week or two nude, in the sun.”

“Well, I’ve made up my mind to go. Like to join me?”

I thought for a moment. “OK. If the dates are right I will.”

“Great. Why don’t you come around to my place now and I’ll show you all the details I’ve received.”

So we finished our coffee and I went with Maria. We both sat on her sofa and leafed through the brochures.

“Oh,” I said. “So it’s run by a man and all the staff are men, but no male guests are allowed to stay there.”

“That’s right,” Maria replied. “I thought with men looking after us we’d be quite safe.”

Then I came across some general information about the holiday writtten by the proprietor, Robert, himself. It said: “The retreat is situated on the site of an old farm. The massive old farmhouse has been refurbished and extended to give luxurious accommodation for all our guests.”

“When you arrive at the Retreat you will be greeted by one of my boys in his smart white uniform. He will help you to check in. Then you will be taken to the reception room, the rules will be explained, and if you have any questions, one of my helpful staff will answer them.”

“This is the beginning of your nudist holiday. One of my boys will help you to remove all your clothing which will be carefully folded and put in a numbered box until it is time for you to leave and return home.”

“Then you will be taken on a tour of the retreat by one of my staff. He will show you to your room and take you all over the main building and also the outbuildings so that you can see the many facilities on offer. You will meet some of the other guests and see many of my boys at work around the retreat to make sure you have a good and interesting stay with us.”

“The Retreat is the ideal place for young women to experience the freedom of the nudist life away from the stresses of your workaday life. It is the ideal place to relax, enjoy light physical exercise with our instructors or weight training in the gym, and enjoy a massage or a sauna. Those who like to draw and paint will find the classes run by our professional artist very informal and relaxing.”

“Our nudity rules requires all female guests to conduct themselves naturally and nude at all times during their stay. No sexual services are on offer. The Retreat is a safe haven for relaxation whilst being looked after by my friendly and attentive male staff who will remain fully clothed at all times.”

“Please note that only female guests between the ages of 18 and 30 may book into the Retreat and in order to discourage those looking for a ‘party’ holiday, we cannot book large groups such as teams or clubs. We can, however, accommodate guests who wish to share a room with a friend.”

I looked at Maria. “This sounds perfect,” I said.

“Yes,” she returned. “And you, being an artist, should enjoy the art classes.”

“Mmm, I shall look forward to that.”

“Only one thing wrong with it,” said Maria.

“What’s that?” I enquired.

“All those men waiting on us, and no sex on offer.”

We both had a laugh. “You’ll have to control yourself for once,” I said.

We compared dates and found they were fine, so she phoned and booked there and then. We would soon be off to Robert’s retreat for two weeks.

After a short journey to the island in a private boat, we were driven up to the gates of the Retreat. It was a sunny Saturday morning. One of the security guards stopped us and asked to see our booking passes. This done, we were then directed to the main reception area. We were met by a handsome, smiling young man in immaculate white uniform who helped us with the booking-in forms. Some had arrived before us and others followed us in so that, when we were escorted to the main reception room, there were about a dozen young women all looking around expectantly.

Then Robert appeared. He introduced himself and asked us to sit down while he told us the rules of the retreat, what facilities were available, the meal times and so on. There were a few brief questions and when he’d finished answering them he said, “This is the beginning of your nudist experience. My boys will now help you to remove your clothes and they will be kept carefully in a numbered box until you collect them to return home. If there is anything you need at any time you only have to ask. You will notice that, over the weekend, there will be some younger boys helping out. They are what we call weekend boys. They are sixth form lads who like to earn some spare money at the weekends.”

It was obvious that the staff were used to unzipping dresses and folding them up. In a few minutes all we girls were naked, looking slightly embarrassed and waiting for further information. I must admit that being naked in front of a group of young men is always something of a turn-on for me; I thoroughly enjoyed it.

We were divided into groups and taken on a tour of the house and all the facilities which were available. I was particularly interested in the art studio where a life class was in progress. It seemed rather strange that, not only was the young girl who was modelling nude but also the rest of the class. Only the instructor was clothed.

We were taken to the room which we were sharing and it was noticeable that there were no wardrobes in it. As we didn’t have any clothes to wear there was, of course, no point in having any. It was the first holiday I had been on where I had very little to unpack.

Maria and I had a good look round the room and admired the beautiful country view from the window. Down below we could see dozens of nude women lying in the sun or swimming in the pool while the boys in white served drinks.

We decided to go for a stroll around the grounds to get accustomed to where everything was. From time to time we seemed to get lost but there was always one of the boys in white to help us out as they busied themselves with their jobs.

Finally we decided to go and sit by the pool and get a drink. As we stepped onto the warm paving stones I heard a bright voice behind me. “Hello Miss!” The voiced seemed slightly familiar. I turned around and looked into the wide-open eyes of a lad of about 16 that I had taught two years earlier when I was on supply work.

“Didn’t recognise you without your clothes on, Miss,” he said cheerfully.

I was fixed to the spot. I didn’t know what to do. Here I was, utterly naked, standing in front of a young lad whom I’d taught just two years ago. I couldn’t believe it was happening. I tried to put a brave face on it. “Oooh!... Hello Billy... Fancy seeing you here. Do you work here?”

“I’m just a weekend boy, Miss,” he said. “Gives me a chance to earn a bit of pocket money, and I enjoy the work. Is there anything I can get you?”

I gulped hard. I wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible so I blurted out, “Yes... Um... Two orange juices please... with ice. OK Maria?” She nodded her approval. Billy quickly went on his way.

We selected two deck chairs and sat down. “I gather that was one of your former pupils,” said Maria.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. Being seen naked by a lad I taught in the fifth form is somehow... well... traumatic, to say the least.”

“Yes, I noticed,” she she said. Your face was a study when you turned around. It turned bright crimson with embarrassment.”

Just then I saw the figure of Billy emerging from behind a hedge and carrying aloft a tray with two glasses of orange juice on it. I know it was rather late to do so, but I pulled my knees up in front of me and held them together with my arms. Young Billy must have been well acquainted with my shaved twat by now, but it seemed the right thing to do at the time.

He carefully put the glasses down on a small table between our deckchairs then regarded me with a beaming smile. “If there’s anything else you want, just ask Miss.”

I returned his generous offer with a slight smile. “Oh, I will Billy. I will.” What I added mentally as I said it was: “If there’s no one else around to ask.”

I don’t know why, but just at that moment a horrible thought occurred to me. “Er... Billy, just out of interest, are there any other boys from the school working here with you?”

“Oh yes Miss,” he returned cheerfully. “Fatty Thomas works here as well.”

“Fa... Fatty Thomas...” I croaked “Not naughty Fatty Thomas.”

“That’s right Miss. Always in trouble wasn’t he? Bit cheeky really. He was the one who said he liked your boobs but asked you whether you were wearing pads. Remember?”

Would I ever forget! I had never felt so embarrassed before. And Fatty Thomas was working here. My misery was complete.

“Where does he usually work?” I asked.

“He’s mostly in the kitchen area, Miss. But he does other things as well.”

“Is he serving drinks in this area today?” I asked with some trepidation and preparing for instant flight.

“No Miss. Not today.” I started breathing again.

With a bright and cheerful “Cheerio Miss!” Billy was gone. Maria and I settled down to read the information paper we’d been given at reception.

“I see there’s to be a “Miss Venus” beauty contest on Sunday,” Maria remarked.

“That’s tomorrow,” I said. “It says that all new visitors are expected to take part and that the winner will be awarded a free two-week holiday at the retreat any time next year.”

“Sounds good,” said Maria. “Might as well enter. I wonder who the judges will be.”

I looked further down the page. “Oh, here we are. The contest is to be judged by Robert, the art instructor and the chief masseur.”

“Oh well,” I said, “The last two should know a bit about the female body.” Maria laughed.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. No further sign of Billy and, thankfully none of Fatty Thomas either.

The next morning dawned bright and sunny and it felt rather unusual to be strolling along absolutely naked to breakfast. Maria and I sat down at our table and studied the menu for the day. Out of the corner of my eye I was aware of a figure approaching. I looked up into the bright face of a broadly smiling Billy. I instantly pulled my chair further under the table. At least he could only see the top of me.

“And what can I get you two ladies?” he asked in a most professional manner. We both ordered porridge, cooked breakfast and toast. He was off and back within minutes with the porridge. Maria and I were most impressed with both the food and the service so far. As soon as we’d cleared our dishes, Billy was there with the cooked breakfasts. I decided to pour the tea. I had almost finished when I looked up and saw, with undiluted horror, Billy, and in tow, resplendent in his smart white uniform was Fatty Thomas. His round face was grinning from ear to ear. I almost dropped the teapot.

“Here’s Fatty Miss,” volunteered Billy. “Remember him?”

“Er... Yeeees... I think I do.”

“Remember, Miss? He was the one who asked if you wore pads in your bra.”

Fatty Thomas regarded my chest with considerable interest. “Well, I only wanted to know, Miss. Some women do don’t they?”

“But you shouldn’t have asked such a personal question, Fatty” chimed in Billy raising his voice. Other guests sitting nearby now started taking an interest in the conversation and looked our way.

“I just wanted to know Miss. I didn’t mean to be rude. I can see now that you wouldn’t need to wear a padded bra. I can see that you’ve got a nice firm pair.”

I didn’t know where to look. To be stark naked in front of two former pupils was bad enough, but to have them talking, over breakfast, about my vital statistics in this familiar manner was not my idea of a jolly start to the day.

“OK lads. OK,” I finally cried holding up my hands. “Could we just leave it at that, please?”

Billy collected together some of the dirty dishes in front of Maria, and Fatty came around my side and delicately removed my plate from just under my chest. As he did so he muttered in a confidential voice, “I was dead wrong Miss. You’ve got a really nice pair there.” Then he was off.

I have never been so embarrassed and humiliated before. I felt like screaming at the top of my voice but just managed to stifle it.

A young woman on the next table who had shown considerable interest in our conversation leaned across in my direction. “You know them do you?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, I know them. I know them well.” I almost added “Unfortunately!”

Mid afternoon was the Sunday highlight - the Miss Venus beauty contest. This was to be held on the huge patio adjacent to the pool. A large temporary stage had been erected with steps at each side, and facing it were a couple of hundred chairs.

In the centre of the front row sat the three judges with clipboards on their knees, and in a very short time almost all the chairs were occupied either by the white uniformed staff who had some time on their hands while all the guests were competing on the stage, or by the guests who had taken part in last week’s competition. We all had to wait at the rear of the stage and, when our names were called out we walked around to the steps, mounted them, and then strolled across the stage and then returned to form a semi-circle at the back. We had been given instructions to stop in the centre of the stage, pose, turn around to give a rear view and then continue on our way. As each competitor displayed all her charms in this way, the audience clapped, whistled and hooted to show their appreciation.

When it was my turn I mounted the steps and performed my best wiggle as I strolled across. When I stopped to pose centre stage I gave the judges a beaming smile. It quickly vanished as, with horror, I noticed Billy and Fatty Thomas sitting right in the front row just a few seats away from the judges. I further noticed, with increasing horror, that they were both wielding cameras and pointing them meaningfully in my direction. I had horrible visions of the prints being offered for sale by the pair when they returned to school.

Maria and I both managed to get into the short list of six girls so were were required to display our naked selves across the stage a second time for the judges to pick Miss Venus and also, I noted, for Billy and Fatty to take more photographs. The contest was eventually won by a very excited blonde who seemed to have captured the hearts of the judges and who also supplied the mandatory tears as she had the sash arranged around her by Robert who, I noticed, took rather a long time to do it.

Fortunately all the weekend boys left that evening, so I looked ahead to the rest of the week with something of relief. The weather continued to be bright and sunny and Maria and I started to develop a very healthy all-over tan. I attended two evening art classes and also did some sketching around the site, a painting of the main building and some life sketches of Maria who willingly posed for me.

When I went to the Friday evening life class we had the usual female nude to draw. When the instructor, David, came alongside me to give his criticism and a few helpful hints, an idea suddenly occurred to me.

“Tell me, David, do you ever use a male model for these life classes?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied. “From time to time, just by way of a change.”

“And where do you get your models?” I went on.

“Oh, one of the boys on the staff is usually quite willing to oblige,” he replied airily.

“And do you ever use any of the weekend boys?” I asked. I hoped David had not noticed the edge in my voice.

“Yes, occasionally. They are often quite keen to do it as they generally get a few pounds for being the model and they can do with the extra money.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “There’s one young lad I noticed last weekend that seemed quite an interesting shape, not quite as skinny as some of the lads. I like drawing models who are bit lumpy. Do you think you could ask him to volunteer.”

“I don’t see why not,” returned David. “What’s his name?”

“Well, his surname is Thomas, and I think he’s generally known to his pals as ‘Fatty’.”

“Ah yes, I know the lad,” said David. “I’ll ask him as soon as they all arive tomorrow.”

I left the class feeling on top of the world. The trap was set, and Fatty Thomas was going to be lured into it. I rubbed my hands together with glee. I carefully thought about it. I’d wait outside the studio until I saw Fatty go in and then, once he was committed to doing the job, I’d join the class and do my untmost to see that the little villain was embarrassed. I could hardly wait for Saturday evening to arrive.

Maria and I spent Saturday afternoon lying by the pool and we had the full attention of Billy and Fatty approximately every half an hour asking whether there was any small service they could do for us. Often they departed whispering together, and I couldn’t help feeling that they were still discussing my bust size and firmness.

It seems that the idea of one of them bringing two drinks on a tray had not occurred to the lads; they seemed to like to arrive together bearing a drink each which they placed most carefully on the table set between us. On one such visit, Billy said in a voice fully charged with cheerfulness, “Good to see you both did so well in the Miss Venus contest last Sunday.”

“Thank you Billy,” I returned through gritted teeth.

“All the kids in the school loved the photographs Miss,” stated Fatty making me almost choke on my pineapple juice.

“How nice,” I returned icily.

“Yes... and I told them I said I was sorry for suggesting that you wore a padded bra. I showed them the photos to prove you didn’t need it. I said I’d seen ‘em close up too and that...”

“Yes... OK. Thanks very much. I think that lady over there is calling for another drink,” I lied in desperation to avoid another discussion of my very personal possessions. I looked forward to the evening life class with unsurpassed venom.

Well before the class was due to start I took up a position in a cluster of bushes a little distance away from the studio. Here I could see when my victim arrived. At first I thought he was not going to show. Had he guessed my plot, I wondered. I kept looking at my watch. Then, suddenly I saw him hurrying towards the studio. The trap was closing.

As soon as fatty was safely inside I walked towards the studio door. I went inside and arranged my easel without him seeing me. He seemed to be busy chatting with David who I assumed was telling him what sort of poses he wanted. He glanced at his watch and then mounted the podium to address the class.

“Good evening, ladies. Welcome to another life class. This evening, by way of a change, we are having one of our weekend boys as our model.” I seethed with anticipation. Then David went on, “Of course the Retreat dress rules apply equally to our models so he will be posing fully clothed.”

My hands fell limply to my sides as I realised that Fatty Thomas had triumphed again. Not only was he completely clothed, but I was naked and had to stand in full view while he posed looking in my direction. I was convinced he had a smirk on his face the whole time. But I must admit that he modelled very well and hardly moved while holding his poses. He also looked very cheerful about it. I wished I could have said the same for me.