My vacation at a nudist camp.
I went to the AANR Web site (one lobbyist for the organization later told me, “We’re the NRA of nudity!”), and I found a club within a few hours drive of Washington, D.C. I phoned Hidden Bush and said I would like to come for a solo visit (the club allows couples and single women as visitors but not lone men), and was told an upcoming Saturday would be particularly good because there would be a tropical-themed dinner that evening.
On the appointed day, I was buzzed in at an electronic gate, which opened onto a camplike, woodland setting. I went to the office, and the man behind the counter handed me some paperwork, which I filled out while I tried to act nonchalant about the fact that I could see his penis. He told me a tour was assembling and that I should go back to my car, strip, and join it
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