Marjorie's Nudist Beach

Marjorie's Nudist Beach

Copyright Oggbashan May 2019

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

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Thirty years ago Marjorie and I had first gone skinny-dipping from this beach. At the time the only access was from the sea or by abseiling down the cliffs. We had paddled three miles from the nearby town's central beach, rounded a point with dangerous currents and crossed the shallow sandbar, dragging our kayaks across its lowest section. The sandbar blocked access from the sea except at the highest tides and during a storm.

The small sandy beach was backed by steep cliffs with a small stream tumbling down in a series of waterfalls. Unless anyone stood at the edge of the cliffs, which would have been difficult because the bramble overgrowth, nobody could look down on the beach from any direction.

It had been a hot day and we had exerted ourselves against the currents to get to the beach. We heaved our plastic kayaks well above the tide line and sat in the shade of the cliffs for about quarter of an hour but we were still hot.

"Sod it!" Marjorie said suddenly. I'm going for a swim, naked."

She stripped off her t-shirt and swimming costume and ran into the sea. Inside the sandbar the sea was calm unlike the white caps we had been battling further out. I saw her white backside as she swum before she rolled over to show her white breasts cutting through the water.

"Come on, Henry!" she shouted. "It's great."

I soon joined her. We might be close to our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary but Marjorie's naked body still excited me. After a short swim we made love standing waist deep in the warm sea. That was possible. It would have been impossible on the fine sand of the beach with nothing between us and the sand. We had to sit in the sun to dry off because we had no towels.

After our coupling, Marjorie said:

"I've decided what you can buy me for the wedding anniversary."

"Yes," I said. "What?"

We had been discussing that for months. We had considered a new car, an expensive cruise, or a substantial modernisation of the house but none had excited Marjorie. Despite funding our two children at university I had enough available money for all three proposals. I was still startled by Marjorie's request.

"This beach," she said. "I'd like to own this beach and turn it into a nudist beach."

"But there's no access," I protested.

"There could be. Those cliffs are stable," Marjorie said, pointing at them. "We could put in a stairway and a car park on top..."

"If that's what you really want..."

"It is," Marjorie said, pulling me into a hug that ended with another coupling in the water.

Getting back to the main beach was difficult. The tide had changed against us and the sea was rougher. We were nearly exhausted by the time we had loaded the kayaks on the car's rood rack. Once home we made a coffee and collapsed on the settee.

That night in bed Marjorie repeated her request for the beach. I agreed to try before she rode me until I was snoring beneath her.

+++

Later that summer we had borrowed a friend's shallow draught punt and demountable small outboard. We had gone to the beach on a very calm day taking a plastic blanket box that was waterproof when sealed. In it we had some sun cream and several towels to dry ourselves and to spread on the beach when sitting or lying. After our previous visit we had sand rubbing us as we had paddled our kayaks. We were too sore to make love for several days.

We had intended to drag the punt over the sandbar. It was too heavy. I had to swim, pushing the plastic box ahead of me. We left it in a small cave at the back of the beach. Whenever we came by kayak, we could dry ourselves and make naked love on a spread towel without being impeded by sand. As long we made sure that the towels had completely dried in the sun before putting them away in the box we could use the beach by ourselves, coupling naked all summer.

Of course, buying the beach for Marjorie wasn't that simple. Buying the land that backed the cliffs was the easier part. It was poor agricultural land rarely used for anything except occasional sheep grazing, but temporary fencing had to be erected to stop the sheep straying over the cliff edge. The coastal road was about five hundred yards away and there was a public footpath about two hundred yards from the cliff edge.

The real difficulty was getting planning permission for the stairs, the car park and the access from the coastal road. There were several objectors complaining about overdevelopment. When we added that we intended it to be a nudist beach there were several other objectors who complained that it would offend public morality and lead to naked orgies.

The local paper loved the controversy. They had several weeks' headlines, a frenetic correspondence for and against the proposals and interviews with both sides of the argument. Some of the weirder naturist fanatics did more damage to our cause than the opponents.

Eventually I had to compromise with the Council. They would not approve a public naturist beach but they would accept a naturist beach for registered club members subject to severe conditions on access and visibility.

We had to erect a nine foot high solid fence and planting to obscure any possibility of a member of the public seeing into the area where people would be naked. That also meant a nine feet high electronic card-operated gate and a fence behind that when it was open, covering any view into the car park. The club could only operate on Monday to Saturday, never Sundays, but we as the owners, could use it on Sunday for ourselves and invited guests, not exceeding ten people in total.

It took ten years from Marjorie's request to us opening it as a beach for a Nudist Club, wholly owned by Marjorie and me. We had planted the top of the cliff, inside the high fences, with numerous trees and shrubs which designated discreet areas, each equipped with a wooden gazebo. Anyone wanting privacy could put a chain across the access path and make love, or whatever they wanted to do, in between the bushes on the soft grass. If the weather was inclement inside the gazebo which was open on the side away from the access path. The gazebo kept the rain off but no more.

As each gazebo had been erected, Marjorie and I had used it for a naked coupling, much more comfortable than on the sandy beach.

The formal opening of the club's facilities was on Marjorie and my thirty-fifth wedding anniversary for which we had to extend the drinks licence beyond midnight. Even though all the new club members were present, stark naked, the alcohol and food meant that inhibitions were lowered and every gazebo, and the beach, were well used that night.

Five years after opening, and many couplings later, the Council were asked to approach us to see whether the club could become open to the general public. Attitudes in our town had changed that much, particularly as there had been no incidents offending public morals or decency that could be seen by any passers-by. What was not seen had led to many pregnancies and births among the club's members.

As it was a club, even if wholly owned by us, we had to consult the membership about the Council's request. The members were not averse to extending the membership more widely but would not agree to the public being allowed free access. There had been too many unfortunate instances of bad behaviour on our town's central beaches.

I had to reply to the Council but mollified the Councillors by offering membership to all the Councillors and the Council's officers. What they did at our club had to remain secret or almost every Councillor would have been criticised for immoral behaviour.

Immoral behaviour was wanted Marjorie had wanted when she asked me for the beach. Even now, if the weather is at all reasonable, we make naked love somewhere on the club's area at least once a week. I think that is what keeps us fit and young, and expecting to celebrate fifty years of marriage by yet another naked coupling. It was expensive but has provided us and the club's members with years of naked sex.