What's in a Name? Beth

Everybody who participated in sports had a larger locker and a more open changing area, which we also used for PE. For PE, non-athletes tended to be more modest (a few girls went to the extreme of changing in the bathroom stalls) and would rarely be caught without a towel. Athletes were more open. Like most, I (as Joan) wore a towel under my arms that covered me from boobs to pubes walking to the showers. After showering, I was more like Dad, using the towel to dry myself, modesty be damned. Maybe half of the girls would dry off in the shower with the curtain closed, and wear the towel back to their locker, and wouldn't remove it until they had at least underwear on. Athletes would generally neither flaunt nor hide their bodies.

I had nothing to be ashamed of, but there were more than a few girls (mostly from basketball and track) who looked like Michael Jordan (including 6-pack abs) with tits. We all had taken the mandatory class about steroids and passed the piss tests. I knew that the soccer team was clean (the coaches were clear that 'failure is not an option' for the piss tests). I'm not saying that the girls with 6-pack abs used drugs to help get them, but it wouldn't have surprised me. My physique didn't match theirs, but my muscles were still fairly well defined. At the other extreme, there were dancers who were so thin you could count their ribs - another route I rejected. I might not make it on Broadway, but my dancing career (such as it was) pretty much ended when I left high-school anyhow. For now, I'm totally focused on soccer.

When we all started getting boobs in middle school, comments about them (and bras) would fly even among non-athletes, but that was it. Even then, we would be almost fully dressed below the waist. On rare occasions, the subject of periods would come up, but those comments were whispered between two girls who were close friends like, "Damn, I didn't expect to start until tomorrow. Do you have change for the dispenser?" If I didn't have a pad in my purse, I'd generally have change. Every girl's room in the high school had a dispenser for pads and tampons. You could also go to the school nurse and get something for free, but that was always a last resort. My discussion with Dad only covered dressing (or not) when using the showers and the boob comments in middle school. This weekend was perfect for giving him my virginity because my last period ended earlier that week, and my next period would be early (Plan-B would have ensured it was over before next weekend if I had needed it). I knew my period wouldn't interfere with my plans (for the next few months at least).

By this time we had both finished our coffee and stepped into the shower together. The shower in the guest bath is OK. It's a shower-tub so it's easy to shave my legs. The shower in the master bath was better because it has a showerhead mounted to the wall and a second, hand-held showerhead.

As mentioned, he had commented on having someone to wash his back when I suggested showering together. He washed my back first, but his hands soon wandered. First they shifted downward, and he was massaging my ass. I spread my legs a bit, and one of his hands slipped forward between them. I whispered, "Oh God yes!" He responded by sticking his thumb into my pussy and he tickled my clit with a finger. His other hand slipped up and around to wash, OK fondle, my breasts. I started melting and leaned back against him, and he used the opportunity to nuzzle my neck. The next thing I knew, the hand between my legs moved forward to more effectively excite my clit, as he slid his cock into me. I started cumming as soon as I felt the shift. The position was more awkward than last night, but he had all the important points covered. This time my orgasm was more like a wave than an explosion. The hand that was between my legs shifted to the front for better access to my clit, and the hand across my chest helped keep me upright as he pounded me from behind. His cock felt wonderful, but his hands were almost as good. After a few thrusts, I could feel him cumming inside me, and it set off another orgasm. His arm around me was the only thing that kept me on my feet.

When he pulled out, I turned to take him my mouth, but he stopped me. "There's probably a fair amount of soap mixed with our cum." When it was my turn to wash him, my hands wandered as well and I was able to make him hard, but I didn't really know what I was doing. David hadn't taught me about hand jobs, so I wasn't able to make Dad cum again.

After we had dried off, I mentioned bringing my toiletries to the master bath, and the shit hit the fan. He was silent for a second or two before finally saying "We need to talk about this." I had figured that Dad and I would be sleeping together from now on, but he clearly thought that last night was a one-time thing. I was more than willing to spend the rest of my life with him and he claimed that he would like to do the same, but it wouldn't be fair to me. It took some effort on his part to convince me that a permanent partnership wouldn't work, but he made his point. I think it was his comment about my kids (when I had them) that tipped the scales.

We compromised by agreeing to spend this summer together. After I moved into the dorms (with Jackie, Karen, and Shannon), I was to start dating guys my age. He emphasized that I shouldn't compare a boyfriend with him (especially his performance in bed) and suggested that I teach them how to satisfy me. He obviously knew how to satisfy me and promised to help show me how to teach my future boyfriends. After school started in the fall, I was welcome to spend the night with him or Mom, but he and I would no longer share a bed.

He was so pleased that we had resolved the conflict that he suggested we 'celebrate.' He spread his towel on the bed, sat on it, and motioned for me to sit in his lap facing him. I immediately caught on, and reached behind me as I shifted forward to guide his sudden hard-on into me. I looked down between my legs to watch as his member entered me. Through my pubic hair, I could see my pussy lips being spread by his shaft even as I felt the penetration. As soon he was in me, he lay back on the bed. I discovered that I liked this arrangement - I could shift around, so his member was pressing against different places inside me. After shifting my ass a few times, I started lifting myself and slamming myself onto his hips, driving his cock into me. I leaned forward to lay against him and shifted to a back-and-forth movement. My breasts were then being stimulated as my motion pulled them up and down against his chest. In the midst of this, he started trying to kiss me - not an easy task with all my movements. Just having him in me was still a novel feeling but with my entire body involved as it was, I came after just a handful of thrusts. Once again, I could feel him cum with me. It wasn't explosive like last night but, like in the shower earlier, it was far better than any of the times I did myself. Afterwards, I flipped for the chance to suck him that I had missed in the shower and he returned the favor by licking me clean. Neither of us came from the 69 this time, but we both enjoyed it. OK, I know that I did and his cock indicated he didn't mind.

We got dressed, mindful of the weather report for a hot day. As we headed into the kitchen he asked if I had plans for the day. "Karen and I had talked a couple days ago about maybe going to Tanasbourne, but never finalized anything." Actually, the only thing I had planned for the weekend was fucking Dad as much as possible, but I decided to not share that with him. "Did you have something in mind?"

He asked if I would be interested in going to Colin's Beach with him. It's a park on Sauvie Island and is one of two 'clothing optional' beaches near Portland (the other one is Rooster Rock in the Gorge). I was 12 or 13 the first time he had mentioned it, and Joan was mortified. She wasn't sure what was worse, the thought of seeing him naked, or him seeing her. It had only been about 5 years since she had seen Dad naked regularly in the family changing room, but that was before Joan knew the significance of the difference. She was also concerned about him seeing her after she had gone through puberty. In either case, Joan wasn't interested - then. Maybe a year later, I was kinda curious about the place, but modesty still trumped my curiosity. Since my modesty index seemed to have been permanently reset the night before I replied, "Sure, let's do it. I'll text Karen to say I've made other plans."

Dad then explained the 'rules.' The only thing covered by the signs there was where clothes were required and where they were optional. 'Clothing optional' means that people could undress, or not. Nudity was allowed, but not required. He said that maybe half the guys there took off their shorts. The women were about evenly divided between dressed, topless and nude. The signs point out where you will encounter others (male or female) who chose to be nude. The beach was 'family oriented,' which meant that it was open to anybody from infants on up. As such, any behavior that would give a film an 'NC-17' rating (other than full frontal nudity) was prohibited. The only restriction for me was that I not spread my legs (too much) if I chose to go nude. For him, he had to cover himself if he got an erection. Sexual harassment (something I thought would be rampant) did NOT exist. Ever. Looking was allowed, but touching (or leering) was not002E

After breakfast and finishing the coffee, we spent about a half hour getting our shit together. We both changed - replacing our underwear with swimwear. I replaced my bra and panties with a bikini and he wore a pair of running shorts instead of briefs. Dad had a text-file checklist on his phone and he had me collect the dry goods (towels, books and beach chairs for both of us). Dad packed the cooler (I saw several cans and both jugs of filtered water from the fridge, followed by some stuff from the freezer). He then glanced at the checklist, ensured that I had appropriate footwear, and said we were ready to go. It was tight, but we were able fit everything in the back of my SmartCar. Before we left town, Dad had me stop to get sandwiches for lunch and he threw them in the cooler. The forecast for the day was sunny with highs in the mid 90's, which is hot for Portland. Based on this, Dad expected the place to be crowded. Parking is across the street from the beach and all places near any of the half-dozen paths to the beach were taken. He commented that it was a slightly longer walk, but not too bad. I carried the beach chairs. Dad pulled the cooler and carried the bag with the rest of our stuff. There was a thin line of trees that separated to beach from the road (God forbid that someone on the road should see a naked sunbather!). As we came out of the trees, I saw that Dad was right. It wasn't difficult to find a place for our stuff, but the beach was crowded. Dad's story covered a lot of what happened there, but I'll mention a couple things that stood out for me.

When we were set up, I immediately stripped completely, but Dad left his running shorts on. I commented on it and he reminded me what he had said about erections. I glanced and noticed that he definitely had a problem. "Too bad I can't help you with that."

When I was undressed, Dad noticed something I was already aware of. I spend a lot of my time outdoors in the sun, but I'm always wearing a shirt or blouse and at least shorts if not full pants. I had a classic farmers tan. Dad may not need sunscreen, but I did. Without it, I could end up with some serious, embarrassing, sunburns. It wasn't on the checklist, but fortunately, I had some SPF 30 in my car.

Dad took care of my back (and whispered that I'd have to take care of my butt - wandering hands were frowned on). By the time I was protected, he was able to lose the shorts. I hadn't noticed last night, but he had almost no tan lines at all. I'm not sure when he was out here - I was around most weekends - but he clearly did a fair amount of sunbathing without his shorts.

I also had another chance to look at his 'junk.' The first thing I noticed was that it was maybe a third the size as last night. Then I was reminded of the other difference I had noticed. "Unless you've been lying to me for the past 18 years, I know you aren't Jewish."

Dad looked at me as he stepped out of his shorts, immediately guessing the source of my comment. "You're right that circumcision is 'required' of Jewish males. For a few decades in the middle of the last century, it was a common practice for gentiles as well. I don't know the figures, but for guys my age, it's more common to be cut than not. I know all my brothers were snipped. Cathy and I agreed that Paul would probably be more comfortable if he was circumcised as well. At the hospital, they didn't question our decision. I think it's still probably routine enough. I take it David wasn't?"

Still looking at his penis, I shook my head. During the day, I discovered that Dad was right - circumcision seemed to be more common (at least among the guys who shed their shorts).

We walked to the river and waded in until the water was almost up to our navels. Dad made what I first thought was a random comment about the urine content of water near public beaches. Then I realized that it wasn't random. Before we left home he had suggested that I shit before we leave, but mentioned that peeing at the beach wasn't a problem. I realized that this was what he had meant and he was probably peeing right now. I had no interest in using the ovens (excuse me, port-a-potties) in the parking area, or squatting in the woods, so I decided to follow his lead. It felt kinda weird peeing in the river, especially feeling the warmth between my thighs, but there was a side benefit - no wiping.

When we got back to our stuff, a couple in their 20's or 30's was unpacking next to us. They had two kids (one of each, about 4 or 5) with them who were already undressed and running to the water before Dad and I sat down. The father wore baggy swimming trunks and the mother wore bikini bottoms. Her breasts were slightly larger than mine (probably a C cup), but clearly didn't need support. "I hate bras and go without whenever I can get away with it."

We talked with the parents for maybe an hour while their kids played in (or near) the water. The father finally mentioned that it was about time for lunch and they fetched the kids. When they got back, Dad suggested that we go for a walk. He asked the parents if they could keep an eye on our stuff, but not to worry about it if they wanted to leave before we got back. "I've never had anything taken, probably because I generally don't bring anything worth taking."

We first waded into the water to cool off (and pee), and spent the next hour or so walking in the damp sand just above the water-line. As we started Dad commented, "There's a section about half-way down where there's a DJ, and the music is turned up a bit. It's not blasting, and it's easily avoided if you don't care for it. Somebody told me that there was a 'gay' section beyond that. If it exists, it's as subdued as the 'straight' section here. Nudity may be a little more common there, but not significantly." The area he mentioned with the DJ had more people closer to my age, but the percentage sans clothing was lower.

At one point I smelled something. "Is that..."

Dad grinned. "I figured you'd know what pot smells like. If nothing else, there was probably some at the keggers. I honestly don't care if you've tried it. For what it's worth, it's safer than booze, but it takes longer for the body to get rid of it. It's been part of the scene here since before this place was officially recognized as 'clothing optional.' Besides the pot, are there any other differences you've notice?"

I thought a bit before answering. "I don't know if tattoos are more common, or just less likely to be covered. There also seems to be a greater tendency to, how should I put it? Shave?"

He replied "I agree with both points, and I think both are more common here, based on locker-room observations. Last year I shaved myself, but it was such a bother that I quit at the end of the summer. Pubic hair grows as fast as my beard, and a lot faster than the hair on my legs. But then, when I quit shaving it was still a couple months before my bush was close to being normal." Like most 'serious' bicyclers, Dad shaved his legs, starting at about the same time I had started shaving mine. I glanced down, and tried to imagine him without the bush. I failed.

I responded, "A few girls on the team shave, as do most of the dancers." The dance crowd was more modest than athletes, but still sufficiently immodest that I felt safe making the generalization. "Dancers essentially have to shave, or at least trim like I do. Although we generally wear jazz pants or something similar for most performances, if we have a single number wearing leotards we can't have any visible hair down there." I've had a bikini trim almost as long as I've had a bush. I generally trim it when I shave my legs, and don't worry about the stubble between shaving. Since I always do my legs before a performance, the bush is trimmed too.

When we got back to our 'camp' the parents were playing cards, while the kids (still naked) were asleep under a beach umbrella. As with every other time we were at the cooler we grabbed a beverage of some type. This time, Dad grabbed two beers, handing one to me. "Since you're driving, this is the only beer for you, but there's plenty of soda." We ate our lunch while chatting with the parents. By the time we finished, it was late afternoon and they decided that it was time to go home. Soon after that, Dad suggested that we head home as well.

On the way home, we stopped at Winco. Dad told me to pick up a bake-at home pizza from the deli as he headed for the chilled beverage aisle. We met at the self serve check-out. He carried his selection (hard cider) and I carried the pizza. When we got home, we showered together while the pizza was in the oven (so we didn't have much time for roaming hands). He grabbed the sweatpants from that morning, and I pulled a t-shirt out of his dresser.

While eating, we talked about the beach. Sexual harassment isn't the only thing absent. Dad asked if I noticed the litter on the beach, and I tried to think of what he was talking about. He grinned, "That was a trick question. You didn't notice it because there isn't any. In spite of the number of smokers, even cigarette butts are rare. Pot is about the only 'criminal activity' common to that place, unless you count the flagrant disregard for the park rule prohibiting alcohol. I once saw a cop car in the parking area, and he was probably checking parking passes. I've never seen a cop on the beach itself."

I observed, "It's weird how comfortable it was to be naked there. I sure as hell was looking at some of the guys and I'm sure they were looking at me, but I never felt like I was on display. If anything it's less embarrassing than changing in a locker room. I just didn't think it was possible for adult men and women to be naked together without it being sexual."

"I knew you wouldn't go when I offered to take you a few years ago. I only mentioned it then to let you know that the option was open for you when you were ready. The first time I went there I expected to be turned on by seeing naked women. After I was there, I found that I was more interested in the freedom than the sight-seeing. As you mentioned, it's not that I didn't look. But everyone is so casual about it; it isn't the turn-on that people expect."

"You're right that Joan wouldn't have been caught dead there, especially with you. I think the coolest thing was seeing how comfortable those two kids were. Growing up without any of our hang-ups about bodies being 'dirty' seems so much healthier." The comment made me think of something that hadn't occurred to me before. "Is that why you used the Family changing room with me for so long?"