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Stevie just thought of them as The Nurse and The Librarian. From the driver's seat their mother called them to order. ") and Knickerbocker ("The beer drinker's beer.") The sun shone on this blessed, protein-fed land, surely the happiest in human history.They were smug and reeked of simmering, slow-burning excitement, taking side swipes every now and then at the little poke in the flies of his dungarees and giggling at one another. They were headed on this Sunday morning, after all, to Oakwood Naturist Retreat, a few hours drive out of St Paul. In an hour they turned off to join the road to Lake Lansing- they could smell it, its lacustrine essences richly distilled- but before they reached it they turned right into a side road.

Why would this evanescence of his 18 year old boyhood- the engorgement of his barely three inch member- even be noteworthy? Without so much as a stitch to protect him from their eyes. In 15 minutes they came to a sign that read: "Oakwood Naturist Retreat" with shilouettes of one male and one female couple naked. A banner read, "Begin the Life of Sun and Health." A family was emptying a car boot of its beach umbrella, fold-up aluminium chairs, picnic hampers.Stevie sat in the rear of Mrs Lanbourne's four door hardtop Sedan de Ville as it sped north on the interstate.The interior of the new 1956 Cadillac smelt antiseptic and nice. Mrs Lanbourne was like that, this elegant lady with her long nose and lambent brown eyes: everything was the best. It'll do him a lot of good." They sped on, past lakes and red barns, past roadside diners, fruit and vegetable stands.No one's gonna notice." Small cock up at 45 degrees, Stevie was first to step out of the door into the glare.In front of him he saw Mrs Lavender holding a clipboard ticking off the male visitors.However our open day is an opportunity for young males by themselves, like you without family and still at school or college, to test your readiness for a naturist life, looking forward to a time when you have wives and children of your own.

This is the reason for this one special annual event.

His pot-bellied Dad hushed them, his mother- an attractive brunette- smiled to herself. There were two log cabin-style locker rooms, marked Men and Women, both built into the palisade. There was Rodney Ricketson, red hair flaming, oiled and brushed back in his Elvis cut; his Adam's apple dancing in his throat; eyes blazing with excitement. A long, wide erection pushed out the front of his jeans. Behind his fly buttons his erection jerked skyward.

Apart from the service entrance for vehicles, they were the entrances, the only ways in or out of the forested paradise where folk went buff naked. Nothing terrified Rodney, or thrilled him, like being stripped off with women and girls. The boys back-slapped and elbowed and jabbed one another into the cool shade of the change room with its walls of lockers. It smelt of a damp concrete floor and the surrounding she-oaks, flavoured unwholesomely with a hint of over loaded septic tank. " asked Mark, standing on one leg and tottering as he struggled out of his sand shoes.

A skinny, freckled faced son in a blond crew cut looked gloomy, his two sisters looked skittish.

They teased their snub-nosed brother about soon losing his pants and boxers.

Carrying her picnic hamper and her girls bouncing cheerfully by her side Mrs Lanbourne waved a fond goodbye to her favorite boy. There was Mark Campbell whose tall, swimmer's physique seemed desperate to fling off white T shirt and shuck out of his dungarees and get naked in the sun. Heard that Sally Pullen's Dad and Mom have enrolled the family in the open day. They started stripping their clothes off, flinging them into lockers. "Their titties gonna be bouncing around on the volley ball court any minute! "Looked kinda nice." The boy just frowned under his blond crew cut, worked on his buttons.