How I knew Meghan is a familiar story.  Childhood friends who lived on the same block growing up, who played together, went to the same schools, and now were now at the same local college.  I saw her there, we’d chat, have lunch.  Just old friends of many years. 

I was always drawn to Meghan, as she is a free spirit, extroverted, and funny.  Definitely a lure for a shy fellow like myself.  I won’t say that I didn’t notice how her body changed over the years, with full breasts and a woman’s curves.  But I never dwelt on that, or viewed her romantically.  Our relationship predated her blossoming into a woman, so it seemed somehow inappropriate to think of her sexually.  How do you date someone so much a part of your youth? Instead, we’d commiserate with each other over our checkered dating history with others.  Almost brother-sister-like.

She recently broke up with a boyfriend, and said she was done with men for a while.  I was there to hear the sad story, and knew a lot of her personal life, and she mine.  There wasn’t much about her that would surprise me.  Or, so I thought.

“I really need to talk to you,” she told me over the phone.  “I have a favor to ask, in person.”

“Sure, I’ll come over to your dorm this evening.  Whatever you need,” I said.

“Don’t agree just yet.  Hear me out first.”

The dorms are apartment-style, each room shared by two people.  Her roommate was away for the weekend.  Meghan had me sit on the couch.  She sat across from me. 

“You know I’m a psychology major,” she began.  “Well, each student has to choose a topic for a major research paper that’s 50% of our grade.”

I nodded; nothing new there.

“I hope to become a therapist.  I’ve come up with what I think is a killer topic for research. The psychologic impact of men’s and women’s clothes.  How the type clothes each sex wears, and clothes themselves, influence our behavior.”

“Yeah, that sounds interesting,” I said, encouragingly.

“Great!  I’m glad you like it.  I’ve got lots of plans. I’ll be going to New York during Fashion Week, hopefully to interview some designers.  My Dad used a connection to get me a meeting with the head of Women’s clothes at a big department store.  And I’m going to spend a weekend at a nudist colony, to talk with people there about what clothes mean to them and why they reject wearing them.”

Huh?  What did she say?

“Yeah, that sounds interesting,” I said because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Meagan smiled her 1000-watt smile at me.  “And that’s where you come in.  I’m sure it’s safe and all, but I’m not comfortable being a young woman there by myself, talking privately in the nude with naked men I’ve just met.  I need a guy, a friend, to come with me.  Just as reassurance.”

My eyes got wide.  It wasn’t hard to see where this was going.

“Would you be willing to come with me?  I’d be eternally grateful.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded.  Of all the scenarios I had thought of as to what sort of favor Meghan needed, this wasn’t one of them.

“Would I have to be naked?” I asked.  (What a stupid question.) 

“Of course,” she answered.

Now, let me acknowledge that the idea of being in a setting full of naked people, especially women, has a lot of appeal to the average healthy male.  And who hasn’t wondered what really goes on at a nudist camp?  You might even say being invited to such a place is a male fantasy ripped from the pages of a cheap novel. 

“So, will you do it?” Meghan asked, again warming me with that wonderful smile of hers.

“We’d see each other naked,” I said meekly. 

“I suspect neither of us has any unique body parts,” Meghan laughed.  “You’re familiar with the female body, right?”

“Yeah, I’m actually a fan,” I said.

That made her laugh, which lightened things for me a little.

“What are you worried about then?” Meghan asked.

“I don’t know.  Things could be awkward, I guess.  We’d be naked.”

“Will you think about it?” she asked me.

I agreed and got up to leave.  Meghan came and gave me a hug.  She’s a hugger, and we often hug, but this one seemed different.  It lasted a little longer than usual and seemed more intimate.  Maybe I was imagining it.

I said I’d think about it.  In fact, I couldn’t think of anything else.  My mind raced through problems: from an immediate and permanent erection on seeing her naked, to how this intimacy would change our friendship, to whether the few extra pounds I had around the waist made me ugly.  I’m sure I look okay naked in a dark bedroom, what about in broad daylight?

I couldn’t talk to any of my male buddies about this decision.  I knew every guy would think I was daft to even linger before accepting.  A weekend in a nudist colony with a pretty woman?  What’s not to like?

I didn’t call Meghan for a few days.  She was facing a deadline and called me Friday evening.

“So, Alex, have you been thinking about going with me?”

“Yeah, Meghan, I’d like to help you, but I’m nervous about how this would affect our friendship.  I mean, we’ve never been boyfriend-girlfriend.”

“I’m not asking you to marry me,“ she laughed.  “And it’s not even a date.  We’ll just share a room for a few days and talk with people.”

“I just worry that it could be awkward.  You know, between us.” 

“I tell you what,” she said.  Why don’t you come to the dorm tonight?  I have an idea how to make you more comfortable with this.”

I was a nervous wreck walking to her place.  I didn’t have the courage to tell her no, but I didn’t have the courage to say yes, either.

Meghan greeted me warmly.  Another tight hug. 

“I gather you’re still undecided about this,” she said.

I nodded meekly. 

“I think it’s because you’re nervous about being naked in front of me, right?”

I nodded. 

“Well,” she said, “That is a fixable problem.  We’ll just rip off the band-aid.  Get it over with.”

Huh?

“We’ll find out if this is something you can be comfortable with.  If it doesn’t work, fine.  At least we’ll know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Take off your clothes now.  We’ll spend Saturday naked together.”

Without waiting for an answer, Meghan began to unbutton her blouse.  She pulled it off, revealing a light blue frilly bra.  I could see her nipples through the thin fabric.  Was she really doing this?  She reached behind her back and unhooked it.  It fell to the floor.  I stared at two beautiful, full, firm, milky-white breasts.  I had often wondered about them.  Now she had displayed them in front of me.  She wanted me to look!  I was so tempted to reach out to feel that soft skin. 

“It’s your turn,” she said.

Of course, it was my turn.  What was I waiting for?  Isn’t it a guy’s fantasy for a beautiful woman to strip in front of him?

“Are you sure?” I asked, timidly.  (Even in my shock, I knew I was being a dork.  Advice to self:  Man-up!)

“I’m standing here bare-breasted, and you ask me if I’m sure?” she said with a smile.  Not waiting for an answer, she began to unbutton my shirt.

She completed the task and pulled the shirt off.  Then she unfastened my belt.  I guess I surrendered then, as I kicked off my shoes and let her pull the pants to the ground.  I was just in my briefs.

“That’s better,” she said.  And she unfastened and removed the skirt she was wearing.  Naked but for her panties. 
I hesitated.  Who would completely expose themselves first? 

She did.  Meghan’s panties went next.  Her vagina revealed, the groin covered with soft curly brown hair.  Unshaven, with a full luxurious bush.  I lowered my briefs.  My genitals were exposed.  My penis stiffened; not a full erection, but not flaccid either.

We were both naked.  I reached out to touch her breast, but she swatted my hand away.

“We’re not lovers.  We’re just going to spend time together naked, to see if it’s too weird for you.”

It took all my willpower not to jump her, but I didn’t.  She went into the kitchen and got some snacks and some beer.  We sat on the couch and watched TV.  In time, my erection subsided.  Just two people – friends – watching TV together.  Just without clothes.

That initial jolt of sexual excitement on seeing a naked person can’t be sustained without more.  As time went by, the fact of our nudity lost its sizzle. It just became how we were. 

I slept on her couch that night.  In the morning, she cooked breakfast for us (wearing an apron when near the stove – I almost felt that was cheating.)  But she removed the apron as we sat down to our bacon and eggs. 

We put on clothes when we went outside, but as soon as we returned to the dorm room, they came off.  Clothes are a requirement until they aren’t.  I observed her breasts jiggle as she reached for items on a high shelf; she watched me scratch my crotch when it needed scratching.  It became normal.  And it was okay.

“All right, I’ll do it,” I said.  That earned me another hug.  This one was bare skin against bare skin.  A better way to hug.  My penis reacted.  Meghan felt it but didn’t say anything.  We’re not lovers, remember?

It was a few weeks later when we pulled up to the gate of the Garden of Eden Nature Camp.  I had no idea there was a nudist camp just 10 miles from the college.  I guess they kept a low profile for those not part of that community.  We went into the reception area, where the receptionist (to my surprise and disappointment) was fully clothed.  After taking our credit card, we were given keys to our room, strapped to the wrist with an elastic cord.  Of course, we wouldn’t have pockets.

We walked to the camp’s garden-style apartments, passing a few nude middle-aged men and women along the way.  I was quick to judge them. Were the bellies too big, breasts hanging too low, bottoms too fleshy?  Yikes,  I hoped there would be young people here.  I didn’t come to ogle old women.  Once inside our room, we shed our clothes.  I’d only seen Meghan without clothes that one ‘rip-the-band-aid’ time, so there was still awkwardness as we assessed each other.   But beauty doesn’t go stale.  I loved to look at her trim body.  She seemed okay with mine, too.

“Let’s walk around the grounds,” she suggested.  “We need to meet people.  Camp management was okay when I told them I would be interviewing as part of my coursework, but I still have to get everyone to talk voluntarily.”

Walking naked outside was a new experience.  I’m not an exhibitionist, but there was a freedom in having all one’s skin exposed to the air and to others’ gaze.  We came upon a pool and decided to sit on the lounge chairs.  Meghan selected chairs near two reclining nude men.  I mentioned she’s outgoing, and she soon was chatting them up.  It turned out they were a married gay couple.  They were friendly and agreed to meet Meghan later to answer the set of questions she had prepared. 

“Let’s move on,” she said.  She needed volunteers.  We weren’t there to enjoy the sun. 

We found a fountain surrounded by chairs, near a kiosk that served beverages.  We took chairs next to a younger couple (younger, as in their mid-30s.  No one our age, yet.)  Meghan flashed her smile and asked them if they had been here before.  Yes, this was their retreat when their young children were visiting the grandparents.  They liked to shed their clothes as they de-stressed from the obligations of children and work.  Freeing oneself from the strictures of society, if only for a weekend. 

Meghan explained her research paper for the college course, and they agreed to a later interview.  Things were going great, at least for her.

For myself, I was ambivalent.  Yes, being outdoors in the nude was a new and exciting experience, but my erotic fantasies of seeing cavorting Playboy models were quickly dashed.  Everyone was older than Meghan and me, and time takes its toll on the body.  Long, dangling, flaccid penises aren’t the best look for guys.  And women after their childbearing years don’t have that Greek goddess shape.  Maybe this is why clothes were invented?

But I did have Meghan to look at.  I admired her firm, nicely rounded backside as she napped on her front, the breasts squished and bulging out.  How had I not fixated on her body before?  I guess growing up as friends obscured the full reality of her transformation into a beautiful, grown woman.  Maybe I needed to rethink the brother-sister attitude. 

We returned to our room.  It was very small, essentially consisting of a double bed, a dresser, and a TV.  There was a small bathroom.  As there was no couch, I would have to sleep with Meghan in the bed.  That won’t be a problem, right?

When we got ready that evening, Meghan took a shower.  When she exited the bathroom, she was wearing pajamas. 

“You’re wearing pajamas!,” I stated the obvious.

“Yes, I always sleep in pajamas,” she said.  “They keep me warm.”

I hadn’t brought mine, thinking that if one didn’t wear clothes during the day, one wouldn’t do so at night.

“I didn’t bring pajamas.  I’ll have to sleep in the nude,” I told her.  Apologizing?  Seeking permission? 

“I’ve already seen you naked,” she said.

“It doesn’t seem right that you get to wear pajamas,” I said.  I realized how silly this line of argument was even as I said the words.

“You’re jealous of my pajamas?”

“No,” I stammered.  “It’s just that we’re in a nudist colony.  It’s not following the rules to wear clothes.”

 “Oh my God,” she said.  “All right, if you’ll stop pouting, I won’t wear pajamas.”

I felt quite foolish ‘demanding’ this of her, and immediately backtracked.

“No, it’s okay,” I said.

But Meghan knew me better.  She crawled into bed nude.  We sat up for a while, with blankets pulled up around us, and watched TV.  When it was time, we turned off the lights to sleep.

Except that I in no way was able to sleep.  The knowledge that a nude woman was inches from me in the bed overtook all other intelligent thought. 

“Can I get a goodnight hug?” I asked her.

“What?”

“We normally hug each other when we separate.  It doesn’t feel complete to go to bed without one.”

I recognize, in the light of day, that that was a pathetic, transparent, even feeble ploy on my part.  But Meghan took pity and slid toward me in the bed for a hug.  She put her arms around me, pressed her bare skin against mine.  I felt her nipples press into my chest, the warmth of her body flowing onto me.  My own pointed object pressed against her.  She didn't release the hug as would normally happen.  We clung to each other.  And then we kissed.  Not the peck on the cheek that we’d done before.  A real kiss, one that lovers do. 

“So where is this going, Alex?” she asked.

“I know you said you’re taking a break from men.  But this is different.  We’re friends, right?  Can’t friends enjoy each other?”

“Friends with benefits?” she asked, with a smile.

“God, I need you,” I said.

“Me too, Alex.  I’ve had a crush on you since elementary school.  I never thought this would happen.  Let’s give ourselves to each other tonight.  No commitments, and no regrets afterward.  Okay?”

“Okay”

With that, we moved even closer to each other, as if propelled by a force.  My hands pressed her buttocks against my middle.  My penis rose up, and she greeted it, guiding it inside her.  We made love that night.  Long, tender, ‘where have you been all my life’ love.  We slept late the next morning and missed breakfast.  We walked the grounds holding hands, drawing smiles from many we passed.  The sight of two young lovers made it easy to engage others in conversation, and Meghan soon had a cadre of people to interview.  Which she did while I lounged at the pool.  Her fear of talking alone with naked men dissipated quickly; there were no perverts at the camp.  Just ordinary people who didn’t wear clothes.

Meghan got an A on her research paper, which emphasized the truth that a clothing-free lifestyle imparts.  Truth, because clothes are designed to conceal the body underneath, or at most, to hint at it.  But not to reveal it.  Without clothes, such artifice is removed.  And without the barrier of clothes, emotion can be revealed.  Including that of a couple who were meant for each other, but didn’t know it, who got to discover their future.