1.
Ken and I drove our cars through the gates of the Sandilands Nudist Club and parked them up under the trees. Ken and his wife Marion and their daughter and son, Sally and Ian, climbed out and immediately began to strip off their clothes. My wife Linda, my son Christopher and I did the same, including our boots and socks, and, within seconds, we were all stark naked, throwing our unwanted garments into the trunks and locking them securely. Then with our bags slung carelesly over our shoulders, the seven of us trooped up the path to the clubhouse.
There'd been a few other cars in the lot but it was still early on Sunday morning and the club wouldn't start getting busy until lunchtime. One or two naked people were already reclining on their sun lounges in the main field whom we didn't recognise but we waved and greeted each other in the friendly fashion that is so prevalent in the carefree world of the naturist. Social nudity is a great leveller; whether you be a bank manager or a cleaner, everyone is equal when they haven't got any clothes on.
"Great to be back," said Linda as she reached the clubhouse first and opened the door.
"Sure is," said Ken, "there ought to be a plaque up that this is where the Murchisons and the Phillips's met."
Everyone giggled as we went inside. The clubhouse was fairly small, as clubhouses go, but that all helped to give it an air of intimacy and cosiness. George, the middle-aged divorced owner of the club and a supercilious ladies man if ever there was, he wouldn't be seen dead sucking cock - though, if you're dead, I suppose sucking anything would be rather difficult - was in his usual place behind the bar and, needless to say, in the nude too, and he smiled at us as we walked in.
"Good morning, ladies and gents," he greeted us, "long time no see."
"See being what it is all about," Marion giggled.
Three naked ladies were sitting together on a sofa alongside the wall near the door and a young bespectacled man stood in front of them, likewise in his birthday suit, holding his wallet in his hands and staring at the menu which was plastered on the wall above the bar. He was very close to the ladies, his cock almost in their faces, and he was taking a lot longer to decide what to have than was strictly necessary, after all the Sandilands Nudist Club is not The Ritz and most of the refreshments on offer were ready meals that George would sling in the microwave and. we often joked to each other, guaranteed to give one instant botulism.
My family and Ken's selected a set of chairs and sofas on the other side of the room and the ladies and Christopher and Ian parked their bare asses down while Ken and I grabbed our wallets and went over to the bar to get some coffee, forming a queue behind the naked young man. Ken and I raised our eyebrows at each other as a knowing look passed between us; it didn't take that long for someone to choose what they wanted especially with such a limited selection on offer. What the young man was actually doing was enjoying standing there naked in front of the ladies and letting them get a good long look at his cock and his balls while Ken and I had a great view of his undraped ass.
Not that there was anything wrong in the young man letting everyone ogle his nakedness, after all the club was and is an exhibitionist's paradise and Ken and I were doing exactly the same. Seeing and being seen is what its all about and I have to admit, it did feel nice standing there with the women eyeing up our cocks with very appreciative looks in their eyes.
George knew that his club existed primarily for exhibitionists interested in meeting others for sex, yet masquerading under the false pretence of a club simply for sun lovers. He was, of course, completely aware of what went on in the woods which were extensive and where there were lots of secretive little copses where people could go for a good time but, apart from Saturday nights when adult-only parties were held, the clubhouse was a no-go area for sex and men with hard-ons. George was and is a very open-minded guy, he used to run strip joints in his younger days, and was happy for people to fuck in the woods just as long as it didn't happen in the clubhouse, except, as I just said, on Saturday nights.
As long-standing naturists, my family and Ken's have abided by the rules of the club and, in case you are wondering what us men do if we feel ourselves getting aroused, we quickly go outside though, in all the years we have been visiting the club, that has happened on only a very few occasions. Ken, Ian, Christopher and I are adult enough to control ourselves when in the clubhouse and keep our cocks flaccid but in the woods, of course, it is a completely different matter.
The young man in the steel-rimmed glasses, which looked like a pair of the late tragic John Lennon's cast-offs, finally decided that all he wanted was a cup of coffee and George poured boiling water from the kettle onto the instant granules and took the man's money. The young man then moved away from the bar, smiling at us as he passed. It was a very nice smile and from having had a good look at his ass when he was standing in front of us, Ken and I now had a mouth-watering view of his uncut cock and I could see why the women on the sofa had been giving him such rewarding looks. His cock must have been about six inches long as it dangled over a pair of big sweaty-looking balls, his knobhead completely obscured by an amazing foreskin.
I glanced over my shoulder as Ken ordered our drinks and smiled as I noticed my wife and son and Ken's wife, daughter and son also giving the young man a good going over with their eyes. The young man realised he was being stared at and smiled across at our families as the three ladies he had been showing off to, finally realised the cock show was over for the time being, grabbed their bags and went outside to find some different men to ogle.
The young man sat down on a chair facing my family and Ken's and smiled. "Hi," he said, certainly not backward in breaking the ice, "not seen you here before."
"That's 'cause we haven't been for awhile," Linda replied, smiling back at him as the young man took a sip of his coffee, "and I don't remember seeing you here before neither."
"That's because I've only recently joined," the young man said, "I usually visit with my parents and brother but I live away from home though mom, dad and Luke should be along a bit later."
"I'm Linda Phillips, by the way," I heard my wife say, "and this is my son Christopher," she added, indicating our son who lifted his ass off the seat and quickly shook hands with the young man.
"Ryan Sheldrake," the young man said as Ken and I returned with the drinks on a tray.
"Hi," I said, "looks like you're all becoming well acquainted."
"Alan, this is Ryan," Linda said and I shook hands with the young man. "Ryan, this is my husband Alan, Christopher's father."
"Pleased to meet you, Ryan," I said. "This is my mate Ken and his family."
"I was just about to introduce us," said Marion, giving me a look so much as to say that introducing her family to Ryan was nothing to do with me. "This is my daughter Sally and my son Ian."
"Hi Ryan," Sally and Ian chorused together, "what do you think of it here?" added Ian.
"It's great," Ryan replied, "being naked sure beats having to walk around cooped up in clothes all the time."
"Sure does, Ryan," I said, "have you been a naturist long?"
"Ever since I was a kid," Ryan replied, "mom and dad brought my brother and I up as nudists so we've no shame in our bodies or of people seeing them."