My (ex) husband and I agreed to go to the nudist beach in Portsmouth today. It’s only about a forty or fifty minute drive from Southampton. The sea there is beautiful and the beach clean, but you don’t want to look inland because it’s right behind a derelict factory. But I suppose that also limits what kind of extra activities you might get to do – perhaps the location was selected for that very reason!

The drive was awkward. I tried to chat, but he was in a silent mood. I felt unable to relax, and remembered what happened last time we went to that nudist beach.

I was also oppressed by the other things that I have been doing – meeting up with Patricius and arranging play time with him being a big one. I wish that I could share that with him.

We bought some bits for a picnic, which we set to as soon as we arrived, since it was lunchtime. I love being naked, but I don’t like to eat naked: the sight of my belly puts me off eating somewhat. Perhaps, eating topless would be a good way for me to better control how much I eat!

One of the things I love about this beach is that it really does attract all sorts – all ages, genders, and body types. Mostly it is older people, and the majority are men (perhaps at a 3:1 ratio of men to women).

I wonder if older people are more accepting of their bodies, being past the point in their lives where they judge themselves for saggy skin or excess weight. It’s probably for that reason that the beach has a completely non-sexual feeling.

That feeling of this beach is a true leveller because women are finally able to take their tops off and enjoy getting the sun and wind to their chests. Why should women be oppressed into wearing tops when men are not?

Having said that this beach seemed to not have a sexual element, there were a couple of lone chaps walking up and down the shoreline or the top of the beach. There was the pretty boy, skinny but shapely with a light dusting of dark chest hair over a gorgeous caramel skin. And there was the otter guy, maybe in his thirties, with a fabulous dark fur over his chest and belly.

People watching is interesting on this beach!

There were muscle dudes some tattooed from their necks to their ankles or as clean as a white canvas, and there were plenty of old dudes, dignified in their refusal to hide their aged bodies and insistent on enjoying the sunshine on a par with everyone else.

At one point I am afraid I stared rather strongly at one chap wondering “is that a nullo?” – I felt excited that there might be one of the genitally divergent on the beach as well as myself. It wasn’t.

There was one fellow with a bright metallic blue Prince Albert. It was quite a chunky piece of jewelry adorning quite a chunky piece of equipment.

If being naked in the fresh air is liberating, being naked in the sea is too, although in a different way. The water, which was plenty comparable enough once one got over the shock of emersion, has a touch that is very different from the air.

Talking of emersion, why is it that we try to postpone getting water above the navel? We know that we’re going to be bobbing along with everything submerged eventually. It’s so funny watching people getting into the water. If course, some do just throw themselves in, but most seem to want to detach their torsos from their legs. There was one very beautiful woman who really was wonderful to watch: she was larger in all ways and watching everything jiggle as she tried to avoid the water was hilarious.

My punishment for enjoying the discomfort of others?

Well, I have done a bit of nude sunbathing in the garden, day in a deckchair … but deckchairs only allow you to tan on one side. Leaving me with a pearly white bum …which is now as red as a sexually available baboon’s …

… except my butt isn’t advertising sexual availability, its on fire! 🤣🤣🤣