Going Barefoot And Going Nude
This story begins more than a year ago, late in the summer before the one that’s just gone by. It was a sunny Saturday in mid-September, almost as hot as any day we’d had in August, but really lovely, so I’d brought my boys out for a day of hiking; my own Dan and Eddy, and Jimmy, who’s been homeschooling with us for the past few years. Jimmy’s slightly older that Danny, but they’ve been best friends from the start. We’ve always all been avid hikers. Jimmy’s mom and older sisters had been with us too on most of our hikes until that summer, but the girls were getting older now. They’d gone as far as homeschooling could take them, and so they’d started High school, and were now becoming quite involved in the things that occupy most girls of 15 and 17. It was just the four of us this time.
We’d been on the trail for maybe twenty minutes when we were greeted by two enormous yellow dogs. Then we saw their mistress, the lady who was about to change our lives, sitting on a big round rock enjoying a cigarette. She was about ten years older than me, as I would guess, maybe early forties; and she was completely nude, a walking stick and a shoulder bag beside her, but no sign of any clothes or shoes, just a deep, dark, seamless tan that I couldn’t help but envy. I don’t remember how she greeted us, or much of anything she said in those first hours. I was simply to enthralled by her honest friendliness, and by how totally natural she made it seem for both of us that I was happily clothed and shod, and she was just as happily nude and barefoot. If anything it made us better friends, that contrast; and friends we were, from the very start. Her name was Sarah, and we hiked together all that day, enjoying every minute, every mile, until the sun began to set. We parted with the warmest hugs, and she made me promise that we’d let her lead us on another hike when summer came again and we could all go nude. The idea made me tingle -- I knew I’d love to be as nude as she was the next time I hugged her -- but of course I was scared of it too. Timid as I might’ve been, though, there was no way I could deny the boys. They’d loved Sarah just as instantly as I had, and they’d never have let me even think of not accepting our invitation from “the barefoot lady”, as they called her in their homebound chatter.
Yes, they were indeed more impressed by her bare feet than her bare bottom, and it’s probably time I explained: The boys themselves had always all gone barefoot, not just on all our woodland walks, but always and everywhere from mid-March till at least late November. I’ve always insisted on that for Dan and Eddy, and Jimmy’s mom has always insisted on the same for him. Jane and I are rebels in some ways, yes, but we also share some perverse attachments to old rules still half remembered in the places we grew up, including the once firm rule that boys went barefoot, while girls, by contrast, were always expected to have shoes. You’ll never see Jane outside without her shoes, and you’ll never see Pam or Deb without theirs either. “Boys go barefoot. Girls wear shoes.” had always been the rule for all of us. It was definitely Jane’s rule, and until this past summer, my rule too. I’d never have let any girl of mine go barefoot, and I’d never have even thought of going barefoot myself.
With me it went back at least as far as my grandmother. My dad would wait for that magic morning in mid-March when her call of “Up and dressed for school,” would end with “…and no shoes for Ted.” My aunts would be as delighted to hear those last words as my dad was. They always talked of the pride they took in walking to school with the first boy to show up barefoot. They’d never have even thought of going barefoot themselves, though, and gran would certainly never have let them. By the end of April just about every boy you’d see would be barefoot on his way to school; but barefoot as he’d want to be himself, no self-respecting boy would ever want to be seen walking with a sister -- and certainly never with a girlfriend -- who wasn’t wearing shoes. A boy who wore shoes after April ran the risk being seen as a sissy; but even if she could get away with it, the girl who hid her shoes behind a tree and showed up barefoot like a boy was sure to be seen as a tomboy. By the time my mom got out of school (a year or so later than my dad did) things were changing, and half the girls she knew had started going barefoot. Her best friend Lilly (who’s now our town librarian) was almost infamous for never wearing shoes -- but mom kept hers on just the same.
I always kept my own on too, through high school and college, even when most of the girls I knew went barefoot. My boyfriends all went barefoot -- I insisted on that -- but I kept my shoes on. Most of the time I only wore the very barest sandals, but I still made sure my soles were totally protected. I was proud of how soft they were, and I never wanted them to toughen like a boy’s, so I only went barefoot indoors. My boys had always known and respected that, so when they met “the barefoot lady” it was only natural that it was her bare feet they noticed most, even though the rest of her was just as bare. My oldest, after all was only 10, and only beginning to notice girls, though his interest in girls was to be very happily short lived.
Another fall and winter past, though, and soon it was spring again. It seemed the boys were barely back to going barefoot when the call came from Sarah in what must have been late April to invite us for our first nude hiking adventure on the second Saturday in June. Of course the butterflies came back, but I’d made up my mind: We’d be going, yes; and yes, I planned to go completely nude. That of course included my going barefoot. It may sound funny, but that was the part that was hardest for me. Not going nude – I could deal with going nude, I thought – but going barefoot? My boys knew their mom didn’t go barefoot. Everyone knew that I didn’t go barefoot. Girls didn’t go barefoot. “The barefoot lady” went barefoot, though, and there was simply no way I’d let myself be seen with anything at all on my feet if there were nothing at all on my rear end. I’d simply have felt like far too much of a fool if I couldn’t bring myself to have the bare feet to match my bare bottom.
I put it off somehow until the first morning of June, when at last I took those silly little sandals and stuffed them in a bag on the same shelf with the boys’ shoes. I also put my hiking oxfords up there, next to the Mary Janes I wouldn’t wear again till winter. I started going barefoot that day, and I’ve been barefoot ever since, just like my boys. Those first days felt really odd. I’ve always driven barefoot, but I don’t drive unless I really have too. We walk almost everywhere, and I was really determined that that wouldn’t change at all just because I’d be barefoot. My first barefoot walk was to the Library, a walk we do at least twice a week in nice weather. I’d always taken off my sandals when we got inside, but this time I had no sandals to take off.
We met old Lilly at the door. “Hey, barefoot like the boys, now, are we? Good for you, girl.” She grinned down at my toes as one of her own bare feet snuck out from under her skirt to touch them. Lilly still never wore any shoes, and no one ever cared that she didn’t.
“Yeah, I finally just got tired of sandals, so I guess it’s barefoot for me now too.” I tried to make light of them, but those few lovely words from my mom’s old friend had made me feel so totally at ease that I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. It really shouldn’t have surprised me that the rest of the week went by with almost no one else even noticing my feet at all. The priest noticed when we came out of Church on Sunday, but that too was totally positive. He said I reminded him of St. Claire. My feet felt a bit tender the first day or so, but by the morning of their proving day they felt just fine.
I was also, despite my understandable misgivings, just as ready to go nude. I’ve really always loved to tan, and I’ve always done my tanning in the nude. I have a tanning deck atop my roof, and not only had I already been up there myself every sunny day for weeks before the day I started going barefoot; but I also made sure both my boys (who’d been shirtless anyway for the past month) were up there nude beside me for at least some of my tanning time from that day on.
At last the long awaited morning came. I’d thought we’d have our shorts on for the ride -- but then we stopped to pick up Jimmy. No shorts for Jimmy. Jimmy ran out to us completely nude -- which surprised me enough -- but he was also totally tanned. His mom was grinning at me and laughing as she ran after him with the shorts she’d insisted he carry in his shoulder bag. That totally surprised me. This was Jane, who’d at first been about the only friend who’d expressed concern about my going barefoot, Jane who’d assured me that neither she nor her girls would ever be seen going barefoot, much less going nude; and yet here she was, grinning at me with a mother’s delight. She was apparently not only happy to send her boy out totally nude for a day of hiking, but she’d obviously had him tanning in the nude as well to get him ready. After roundly commending Jimmy (and his mom) for what really was a beautiful tan, the rest of us decided to throw our own shorts in the back along with his, and simply go without. I wore a sarong for the drive, but the boys wore nothing.
The drive took less than an hour, but we were all anxious. Then there they were at the trailhead, our lovely nude friend Sarah, her two dogs from last time, and the delightful little family of equally avid nudists she’d promised she’d bring to meet us this time. There were two gorgeously nude boys, lean and tall and tanned a deep dark golden brown all over, so you could tell they spent countless hours just as they were then, delightfully naked in the summer sun. They both had the kind of sun-bleached blond hair that makes you think of lifeguards, or surfer boys, or maybe just gay boys; and whether natural or not, the lovely curls above their perfect penises were of the same golden color. The one boy had the most impressive pair of testicles I’d ever seen. Apart from that distinction, they might almost have been twins, but they were really just a pair of lovers who had grown, with perhaps a bit of glamour, to resemble one another quite remarkably. There was no such vanity in their words or manners, though. They were warm and open, and went out of their way to be friendly with me and mine. The one who spoke first was Sarah’s nephew Tim, and the one with those totally gorgeous testicles was his boyfriend Jack. Both were 17.
Finally there was Emma, Sarah’s niece. Nude and tanned just like the others; her most interesting quality to me was her being the same age as Eddy, so she and Eddy just naturally fell into step with each other. I never got around to asking whether Emma were Tim’s sister or only a cousin, but I was very glad, for Eddy’s sake, that Sarah had brought this last little nudist along.
It was a wonderful day -- all that I’d imagined. I was totally comfortable going barefoot, and I totally loved going nude. We all had fun, especially the boys. For Dan and Jimmy, though, it was more than just a great day out. It was a day their lives would change.
We stayed out hiking until sunset. Then we all went back to Sarah’s house to spend the night. She has a huge house with all kinds of room, and I got the impression that Tim and Jack pretty much lived there with her, and that Emma was there as often as not. I sort of imagined that Sarah’s family more or less pushed all the nudists off on her so as not to have to deal with them, but nudist or not, I could hardly imagine anyone ever living in, or visiting a nicer house, or having a nicer aunt, or nicer friend for that matter. Anyway we had a lovely dinner, and when Tim and Jack found out it was Dan’s birthday, they insisted on baking him a lovely cake. Of course we all stayed nude. I couldn’t imagine anyone ever wearing any clothes in that house anyway. It would’ve felt wrong somehow. After supper Sarah and I drank a bottle of wine and curled up together for a nice warm snuggle and a nice long chat, eventually just falling asleep. Dan and Jimmy ended up in a room with the two older boys -- and apparently another bottle of wine. They said at the time that they were watching movies. I really do regret to say that I had no idea at all where Eddy and Emma ended up, or what they got up to; but then again, they were only 8, and when we found them again the next morning, they were fine and apparently scrounging a breakfast for themselves before any of the rest of us were up.
It was a great day and night for me, and one I’ll always remember. It was the first of four nude hikes we’ve had so far with Sarah and her gang (the same eight of us each time) and I’m sure we’re all looking forward to more such times next summer, but the first of anything is bound to be remembered as the best. It was not until a few days later, though, that Dan and Jimmy came to me and told me just how special a day it had been for them.
Jane had warned me in a last minute whisper that her soon to be teenaged boy would probably have a pretty much permanent erection. So it was, and yes, we had all noticed; but Sarah, wise old nudist that she was, managed to pay Jimmy a complement about his penis that made him feel as proud of it as it seemed to be proud of itself, and put most of the rest of us at ease.
There’d been no putting Dan at ease about that penis though. He’d noticed it more than anyone, and he began to want it. By the end of the day he knew exactly how he wanted it, and so did Jimmy. Jimmy told me how the older boys had motioned them upstairs to the “naughty room” as soon as they’d finished their cake. Then Danny told me how he’d knelt to suck his best friend’s penis, and clutch the precious testicles that were giving him their first.
“How… romantic…” I replied, at a loss for better words. “Holy ****!” My mouth hung open for a moment, as the two boys stood in front of me, completely nude, and hiding nothing. Then I quickly hugged them both, and smiled with counterfeited confidence, determined now to hide my panic, and play the progressive parent; though I knew very well that there could indeed be a very unpleasant downside to these two naked boys so guilelessly being so openly gay. I thought about looking to find them a closet.
The boys from that time on were always nude, both at home, and whenever we went hiking, but I was still more comfortable keeping my shorts on, and only going barefoot -- unless of course we were with Sarah. No one could have made me wear any shorts (or anything else) on those weekends when we joined up with her gang, and the next time was only two or three weeks later. I was so pleased we were all eight of us back together. We had another great hike, and shared more nice nude hugs; and of course, just like the first time, we stayed the night and Sarah and I shared a glass of wine and a really nice nude snuggle before we fell asleep together.
The one thing I’d still worried about was my friendship with Jimmy’s mom. I somehow felt I’d been avoiding Jane, in part because of my bare feet, but in part as well because I’d been afraid of how she’d react -- or perhaps already had reacted -- to Dan and Jimmy having gone from being friends to being lovers. As things turned out, though, I really needn’t have worried at all. I got an unexpected call from Jane near the end of the summer, saying that Pam, her older daughter, had asked to go on a hike with us again before she went away to college, and that she and her younger daughter Deb wanted to come too. We decided to meet at a nearby place we all knew well from the days when we’d all gone out together. It was a really easy trail, which we knew would be better for the girls as they hadn’t hiked in so long. Dan had spent the night at Jane’s with Jimmy, so I’d really expected to see both of them at least be wearing shorts for this one hike with Jimmy’s mom and sisters -- but I was wrong. Jane happily ran round to open the back of her mini-van, and grinned at me as she presented the boys completely nude. It was the same grin I’d seen on Jane the last time she’d sent Jimmy out in just a tan. Pam and Deb seemed just as happy about the clothing arrangements. They and their mom were fully clothed and wearing shoes as always, but they all grinned again as they assured me that they were quite at ease with Dan and Jimmy going nude. Eddy had come wearing shorts, but asked to take them off as soon as he saw the other boys, and Jane was quick to assure him that he’d be fine without them. Apart from being barefoot, though, I stayed as fully dressed as Jane and the girls. Jane noticed my bare feet, of course; but she told me they now suited me.
“I’ll still be wearing shoes myself, no matter what,” she assured me, “but I don’t want you ever wearing any, you’re my barefoot friend now, Sue, and that’s the way I want you to stay.”
Then finally I asked her about that grin I’d caught her wearing the first time she’d sent Jimmy out wearing nothing but a tan. I told her I’d seen right away that she must’ve really worked with him on that tan. It’d been far to perfect a tan for a boy his age to have acquired just by happenstance.
“Well, Sue, your right,” she grinned again, “I told him how to tan himself for Danny. I told him a lot else too. I’d been watching those two boys together for months. I knew full well what could happen if they spent a day together in the nude, and I meant to do all I could to make it happen. I wanted them to be lovers all along, and I got what I wanted, now didn’t I?” She smirked rather wickedly.
“What a naughty girl you are, Jane,” I scolded her, “but they do make a perfect pair.”
Pam and Deb were giggling behind us. Then one of them sang out: “There goes Jimmy and his bare-*** boyfriend.”
I watched as Jimmy turned around and shouted back some insult. Those woods were ten miles out of town, far enough, I was hoping. I love my town, and don’t feel much like moving.