First time

I discovered naturism by accident, possibly how many people get into it. I was travelling up the west coast of France and stopped at Hossegor beach. It turned out to be clothing optional, and there was roughly a 50-50 mix of those with costumes on and those without. I started off the day as I had at every other beach in my life - fully costumed up. They happened to be particularly long, baggy board shorts, and after a dip in the incredible waves I strolled back up the beach to my towel. The wet shorts were now proving to be very heavy and uncomfortable. Damp and clingy, I started to look around me and wonder why I was persevering with them. So I whipped them off and hung them out to dry while I laid back, naked on a beach for the first time in my adult life, surrounded by strangers. And it felt great. I read my book for a bit, then decided it was time for another swim, but this time I'd leave the shorts behind. Leaving the safety of my towel and clothes behind me, I strolled naked down to the water's edge. It felt exhilarating and natural at the same time. Unfortunately nature has a way of bringing you back down to earth. The waves had picked up and were now huge. One minute I was happily body surfing through the water, the next I'd been picked up by a massive swell and dumped unceremoniously back on the beach in front of a group of French holiday-makers. It wasn't quite the suave, sophisticated impression I might have hoped for but at least I made them laugh. By now I was hooked. The next day I found another naturist beach further up the coast. Why had I never done this before? All those wasted years wearing shorts when I was missing out on this feeling of freedom. When I found myself a couple of days later back on a 'textile' beach it just felt wrong to be wearing clothes again. Swimming with heavy shorts on, and then continuing to wear them wet after getting out, is clearly ridiculous. I was now officially a naturist, and there'd be no going back...