Nudist Girls With Nothing To Hide
Nudism: Anatomy Lessons
FAMILY NUDISM, OR ANY NUDISM FOR THAT MATTER, IS MORE THAN A RECREATIONAL PURSUIT. IT'S ALSO AN EDUCATION.
A stunning young teen, naked as at birth, rises from the surf and heads to her towel on the beach. You’re fixated. Nothing could be more aesthetically pleasing than this nude girl before you. You could look at her all day. Fine, firm breasts, an athletic physique, buttocks as if cast from the most perfect ever created mold of nubile buttocks – you get the idea. She gets to her destination, shakes her hair out a bit, and then she bends over, and your line of sight gives you the Full Monty. Oh, Lord! She has a rectum! And it’s staring at you like a one-eyed monster!
Clearly, life can be hard and cruel and full of surprises.
Yes. Women come fully equipped, though a few of the parts are different or absence compared to men. If you grew up in an era when these were netherworld sights and went unseen until marriage, or late college, adjustments to reality could be jarring. On his wedding night, the poet Pushkin couldn’t handle the sight of his wife’s pubic hair, and the marriage went down hill fast. He had grown up with Greek marble statues as his template for a naked woman. They had as much pubic hair as Barbie dolls.
When I was in grammar school in the Sixties a field trip took us to a community pool and several mothers came along to chaperone. They wore prudish swimsuits, of course, common at the time for older women (bikinis were strictly for loose teens). Their breasts, fully covered, were held in place with a sort of scaffolding meant for far heavier structures.
One of the moms, lying on a chaise lounge next to my mother’s own, had her legs somewhat open, and I noticed an angry snarl of dark curly hairs escaping both sides of her bathing suit crotch. I was horrified. What was going on there? Fortunately, no nightmares ensued and I was able to completely put it out of mind.
Until I started dating girls, that is. In eighth grade, I dated a girl named Connie of fair hair and heavenly body, puberty having been extremely kind to her. We had done the “making out” of heavy kissing and fumbled with petting, but no beneath the clothes stuff.
Then, one night at the movies, tucked away in the balcony (this was an old-timey theater), our making out took a step toward something more serious. Without thinking, while kissing her deeply, my hand fell to her knee and starting inching up her thigh. I noted no protest. In fact, she seemed to shudder in a good way, which ramped up my enthusiasm.
I finally reached the panty line, explored the general area, noticing it had a rather “cushioned” feel and also that she was really responding favorably to this investigation, with her legs opening more widely. I learned later this was always a good sign.
With this encouragement, I slipped a finger under her panties. Instead of flesh, I encountered a snarl of pubic hair of course, and for the second in my life, though this time it was to the touch and, though not horrified, I was deeply confused. I powered through but in a puzzled state, quickly overcome by the inevitable tide of my yearnings.
A few months later Playboy, a publication my father secreted beneath his bed, featured its first edition with pubic hair revealed. No more handy plants or bedposts to block the view. The pubic hair belonged to a black woman and was artfully displayed in a modest fashion. No pink, as they say.
You can see how this relates to what a young person might learn on a nudist beach, male or female. If at ten or eleven, I was accustomed to public nudity (or even nudity within the household), I would have suffered no shock learning that girls had pubic hairs growing out of them, just as mine had begun to do.
And instead of knowing only of a general absence “down there” I would have developed a veteran’s awareness of how things were arranged in a girl’s genital area. Given the opportunity, after a day on a well populated nudist beach, I would also have an idea of the anatomic variations involved, which are numerous (as are the general design specs on males appendages). I would have learned that girls have itches on their bums and touched themselves performing general maintenance routines, just as we boys did (brushing sand off their private bits, for example). I would see them lacquer their budding breasts with sun lotion (or on older teens and women, their mature breasts) with an insouciance I would never be able to muster if offered the job, even though at the time I wouldn't have been sure why this was exactly until later.
Too much is said of saving the “mysteries” of love’s physical side for later revelations. In Victorian times that was the norm. Girls got their periods without any forewarnings or prior instructions for coping with them, unless they had sympathetic older sisters or an enlighten spinster aunt with a grudge against the unkindnesses of womanhood. Even today, in Bible Belt America, girls receive little or no instruction.
(BTW: I have known grown men my age who look at a naked woman and say something like, “nice vagina.” Ah-hem. You can’t see a woman’s vagina. You can see her vulva [note top picture].)
When my girlfriend Connie had the opportunity to view my full erection (in the dim light of a basement), she shuddered, having never seen one before. She couldn’t imagine it ever being a good idea to put it anywhere inside of her. Of course, we figured it out, but it could have gone better. Had she grown up in a nudist family, erections wouldn’t have come as a surprise. I thought my own erections were some sort of late-onset deformity until I connected the dots. That's no way to enjoy puberty.
The kids in families where nudism is enjoyed don’t have problems adjusting to their bodies as they change or in how the other sex looks nude, which is the case in much of Europe, where nudity at home is common and community pools offer coed nude swimming and saunas. Even their locker rooms are often coed, and no one seems to mind dressing and undressing in front of each other. If you’re an American, imagine your junior high having a coed locker room and shower. Would you have ever have skipped P.E.?
Not likely. And you would have exited your puberty fully informed on the opposite sex with no great shocks as you stepped into adulthood. Pushkin would be envious.