It was our fourth day on the road. Cruising into Ohio along the desolate midmorning highway, there was an air of stifled anticipation between me and my best friend Lee. I broke the silence: “How naked should we be when we get there?” The remainder of the ride was spent passionately debating the issue, with Lee advocating for the fully clothed approach and me insisting on complete undress. We settled on wearing only our boxer briefs.
We arrived at the campground and gave our names through an intercom. As the large metal gate slid open, we exchanged a wary glance. I pulled into the office lot, then we stripped down to our briefs and walked inside. We were greeted by a fully clothed older woman.
“Well, you guys look ready to go,” she laughed. We learned that it was a family-friendly nudist community. No last names, no phones or cameras, no creeping. Nudity was optional in all areas except the pool, where it was required. She gave us a walking tour of the campground, its inhabitants frolicking nude. My feeble mind struggled to adjust.
Lee and I slowly pitched our tent. When we finished, I gave him a somber nod and removed my underwear.
“Well here it is,” I said, wiggling my hips. “In all its glory.”
“I guess it’s my turn, then,” Lee said, pulling his boxers down and kicking them into the tent.
“Nice,” I said.
“Nice,” he said. Then a pause. “Wanna smoke a joint?”
“Affirmative,” I replied.
Lee ducked into the rental car to roll, and I sat my bare ass on a log. A middle-aged man emerged from his RV and approached our plot.
“Welcome!” he said, planting his foot on a log. He had three scrotum piercings and two nipple piercings. “First timers?” he asked.
“Yeaaah,” I said sheepishly. “We wanted to try something different.” Lee emerged from the car with a joint tucked behind his ear.
“Well, good for you. I’m Jim, it’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Jim went on to extoll the virtues of the nudist camp. He also mentioned his wife and her recent boob job multiple times. He told us they were G cups now, with a wink that was mildly discomforting. We could meet her later, he said, but she was at the hospital with their son, who had broken his arm earlier that day. Jim hung back and was on his third margarita of the day. He suggested that we visit their RV for drinks—they had just gotten a new blender.
We parted ways with our newfound friend and wandered into the woods to smoke. Our walk was cut short by the sheer number of spider webs that we walked through, a particularly skeevy experience while naked. Upon our return, we decided to take a dip in the pool. It was almost completely empty when we arrived. We dove in and swam laps around the pool, reveling in the pleasure of mandated skinny dipping. I grabbed a beach ball and we tossed it back and forth, but the fun was soon spoiled as I realized that a small crowd of observers had gathered around the pool. Besides Lee and I, the average age at the campground was probably fifty. We were fresh meat, I realized with a tinge of horror.
“Hot tub, now.” I whispered to Lee. As we eased ourselves into the hot tub, I turned to Lee and asked, “Did you see that? We were like fucking zoo animals in that pool.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“We drew a crowd, man,” I said. “Doing our little backstrokes and playing with the beach ball. We’re the youngest people here. I think that they might want to get at us.”
“Isn’t it a family-friendly nudist camp?” he asked.
“I dunno man, I’m getting a weird vibe,” I said. We vacated the hot tub and returned to our tent. We tried to get a fire started for some time, swearing liberally and setting half of a roll of toilet paper ablaze before giving up and cracking some beers. As we sat awkwardly around the firepit, we were approached by another visitor. Now excuse me, dear reader, for my brashness, but I must say this man had quite possibly the largest penis I will ever encounter in my life. He stood before us as we sat, his member at eye level, and asked if we needed help. We gladly accepted. He returned with a bag of charcoal, some lighter fluid, a small blowtorch, a pack of hotdogs, and a bag of buns. He built a blazing fire and told us that he’d be back shortly. The man returned with two sticks that he had whittled for us to roast our hot dogs and then sauntered off.
“See,” Lee said. “Everyone here is so nice. I could get used to this.” Both Jim and the woman who showed us around had suggested that we extend our stay one more night. Tomorrow was the community potluck and the naked disco. I could tell that the idea was growing on him.
“Have you ever heard of the lotus eaters, Lee?” I asked. “We might spend the rest of our lives staying just one more night. I wonder if these people ever leave.”
“Right,” he said. “Except the flower in this analogy is looking at wrinkly old balls.”
We ate a few hot dogs and finished our six-pack of beer. In the distance, a plume of smoke filled the air. It was coming from the community center.
“Party time,” I said. We wandered over to see a tubby white-haired man adding wood to a bonfire and a woman, fully clothed, sitting on a bench beside him.
“How you boys doing,” the man said. “The name is Buck, but you can call me Pyro. I get all the fires going around here.” He had a nice load on and bent to light his cigarette in the blaze before him.
“And I’m Darla,” the woman started.
“My lovely wife,” Pyro interjected. We had a nice chat with the couple about the camp and retirement and our time in college. We were introduced to many other couples throughout the night, many of whom made an earnest attempt at convincing us to stay. Throughout the night, two things became clear: (1) the crowd, despite their approach to nudity, leaned MAGA and held some pretty conservative views and (2) they were all swingers. At first, Lee and I perceived this as an excessive friendliness among the couples—some kisses on the lips, a little grab-ass here and there, but as the hangout devolved into a communal makeout session with various configurations, we got the idea.
By this point, Lee and I were blitzed, so we just rolled with the punches. Who were we to yuck their yum? We were roped into a game of cornhole with Pyro and a man named John. Lee’s partner took the liberty of helping him perfect his form, getting behind him, pulling his arm back and forth, and so on. Lee shot me a look of pure awkwardness as he finally tossed his bean bag. The lesson had failed to improve his performance.
A newcomer had stepped onto the scene and took note of us immediately:
“Oh you boys must be new around here,” she laughed. “We gotta work on those tan lines.” She pointed at my pasty white butt. Lee and I laughed shyly. His cornhole partner had stepped away to greet her. They kissed. They kept kissing. Pyro smoked two whole cigarettes before interjecting.
“Alright, alright,” he said. “We got a game going here.”
“Oh forget the game,” she responded. “You boys wanna taste my peaches?” Lee and I stood dumbfounded. “I’ll be right back,” she said.
I walked over to Lee and said, “We’re gone first thing tomorrow. This is getting too freaky for me.”
“Agreed,” he said. The lady returned with two mason jars filled with clear liquid and peaches. “Home-distilled peach moonshine,” she said. “You’ve gotta try it.”
Lee and I hesitated, citing our early drive tomorrow, but we were just scared. Moonshine, especially the homemade stuff, can really mess you up. Having never been peer pressured by old people, however, it was hard to resist. We passed the two jars around in a small circle, letting out choked “Fuck me’s” and “Goddamn’s” after every sip and then eating the moonshine-soaked peaches. Fortunately for us, couples and threesomes and fourways were making their way back to tents and vans and RVs. We stumbled off without any goodbyes and fell face down into our tent, the whole world spinning around us.
“Tomorrow, 7 a.m.” I slurred to Lee. “I’m leaving with or without you.”
We were jolted awake the next morning by our alarms. The next half hour was spent in untold positions on and around the nearest porta potties in a state of utter desperation. We pulled ourselves together enough to break camp and peeled off, never once looking back.
*Names were changed to preserve the anonymity of characters
