First Visit To A Nude Gay ResortIt may be hard to believe now, but once I was a shy, conservative guy who had never visited a nudist resort. I was employed by a conservative communications firm in a major city, but found my upward mobility to be blocked, so I was on a cross country drive to visit a smaller firm for an interview. It didn't work out, but it did give me an opportunity to explore.
I had found the World Nude Beach Guide at the bookseller across the street from my home firm, and flipped through it to learn of any resorts along the road that I was to take to the interview. There were only two, one listed as a clothing optional rustic resort, another off the beaten path that was a full blown nudist campground.
After planning out my trip, I called in sick on Thursday and left on my drive. The farther I got into the next state, the more rural and rolling hills I saw. At the proper point, I turned off the divided highway and followed the directions into the winding roads of the hill country. Finally, I drove up to a lodge with a dirt parking lot and no one in sight. I walked up and knocked, but didn't find anyone behind the counter.
The glass counter contained many sex toys, some ******, some **** rings, lube, scarves, belts, lots of packages of condoms, and some leather harness with **** rings. There was even one leather mask over a mannequin head and a ball gag. I was worried what this place was, but walked deeper into the lodge, past a black and red finished leather bar that was darkened, and out the rear door, where I found an unshaven workman in blue jeans up a step ladder working on some rain gutters.
I introduced myself and asked if they were open. Yes, he said, remembering my phone call earlier, but not many were around. He said he had to work on the gutters, but maybe Mike would help show me around. He called over to a blonde man who was sunning himself by the pool, and I realized that the guy was totally naked, laying the sun. Beads of water from the pool glistened all over him, and the waves in the pool told me he had just climbed out recently. The workman walked over to him and after a low conversation, the nude man swung his legs off the deck lounger and donned a pair of cut off jeans and a muscle tee shirt. He walked over in sandals and shook my hand firmly offering to show me the place.
He seemed confident, even if I wasn't, and I admitted this was my first visit to a nude resort, having found it in the World Guide at a bookstore. I had committed the directions to memory. Mike told me there might be more people around during the weekend, but that he could show me around. We walked the grounds, which wasn't much, just a few benches in the valley, and some rocky hills that the lodge was nestled between. Some landscaping and gardening with white nude athletic statues abounded... more than one might have expected. I was starting to get the drift but said nothing yet.
I mentioned the waterfall from the guide, and he said he could show me if I didn't mind walking a bit. We struck off on a path past a sign pointing to "The Glade" and through a stand of young trees. The light was green and soft under the canopy of leaves, and the path was well worn. As we chatted, our voices carried under the trees. I told him a little about myself, single, college grad, working in a major city, and hoping for a job in the area. He listened but didn't offer too many details about himself. I realized we were doubling back and that the trail was forming a large s-shape under these trees, more as a pleasant garden walk that a straight trail to the waterfall. Mike said couples enjoyed walking out here to be alone. I hoped he wasn't getting the wrong idea.
We dipped across the valley and started into another thicker woods that climbed into some rougher hills. Rocky outcrops were becoming visible and shortly I realized we were coming to a drop off, as the rocks plunged down to what appeared to be a dirt roadway. But there was no rushing stream.
After a few mossy carpeted outcroppings, we came to a bench overlooking a dry ravine that dropped down to the roadway. "What road is that," I asked, and Mike said it was the one I had just driven in on.
"Can't they see us up here?" I asked.
"No, you'd have to know exactly when and where to look and most people are too busy."
(Which people he meant, the drivers or the guests, I didn't know.)
"Where's the waterfall," I asked?
"Oh, it dries up, but with a little rain running off the hills, it will be back," he explained. The moss between the rocks testified to a moisture source nearby.
I looked around and spotted an empty condom wrapper on the ground nearby. I pointed it out to him, and an empty used condom not too far away. Mike said that it wasn't that uncommon, that this area used for "turning tricks with your Johns." I didn't understand, I was so naive, and Mike hesitated and then explained that when I wanted to turn a trick, we could walk out here for some privacy and use the bench. I started to get the picture, that this was expected, and not unusual.
The light slowly dawned on me as I looked at his bronze arms and perfect tan that he was talking about gay tricks, not straight prostitution and that all I had seen here was all male related. No hint or mention of women at all.
Mike said, "You've never been to a gay resort before, have you?" And I admitted that I hadn't.
"Well," he said, "you could learn a lot here." If I got the job nearby, he said college kids from the town where I was applying sometimes came up on the weekends.
We walked back to the lodge and I realized that all the grounds were shaped in a bowl that focused on the pool and the lounge chairs around the outside edge.
"When do people start arriving," I asked?
"Oh, they'll start rolling in Friday night and stay in some of the overnight rooms upstairs," he explained.
I started to get the picture that this was a weekend gay destination where rendezvous and pick-ups occurred, and the clothing optional listing wan't entirely accurate in the Guide. I asked him where he stayed, and he said he just came in early to relax this week and to help the owner out a bit.
I thanked him for his time and headed back through the lodge toward the door.
"You're welcome to stay for awhile, if you like," he said.
I had to get farther down the road to check into a hotel for the interview the next morning, so I declined, but said maybe I'd be back.
I walked past the glass display case and looked more carefully at the contents. There were some items I didn't recognize, but the Mr. Peter ice mold caught my eye. Maybe someday I might return and buy it, but it was doubtful if I was going to be hanging out at a gay resort cause I was a practicing straight. Still, it was the closest campground or resort listed in the guide.
I got in my car and drove down the dirt road, peering up at the rocks. There was no waterfall that I could tell, and if Mike or anyone else was up there, they could be screwing in pleasant concealment. I wondered how common these places were, and if this was typical of nude resorts, as I regained the highway.
45 minutes later I checked into the hotel and prepared for the interview the next day. I didn't get the job.
But on the way home, I swung by the other traditional nudist camp, but that's a tale for another day. ( It went better.)