Ooh. Hang on… Yep. He’s getting a blowjob,” David cheerfully confirmed. We stared, looking aghast to keep up appearances, but secretly fascinated. Up and down went the woman’s head. Jiggle jiggle went the man’s hips.

As they finished everyone looked back at us expectantly. One guy even got up and moved closer to us for a better view. Bemused, we turned back to our books.

It was only later we realised that the only scandal on the field was our crushingly dull form of exhibitionism.

In fact, though maybe it’s hard to believe, we still hadn’t figured out what was going on. I had so taken to heart my naturist research that we genuinely believed we had witnessed nothing more than amateurs getting carried away. It wasn’t until we went for a walk in the woods that everything became unmistakably, glaringly obvious.

The walk itself was disappointing, leading to a non-descript clearing. But, when we turned to head back to the field we were greeted by a naked man who appeared at the entrance of the clearing. Carrying on, we passed two other men coming in. There was utterly nothing to be walked to in this forest, just the clearing, which felt oddly stage-like at this moment. This no longer seemed right. I turned to look at them, and they’d stopped, utterly confused as to why they were being confronted with accusatory eyes.

They’d deliberately followed us. Of course they had. We’d walked to the clearing.

We stood there looking bemusedly at one another for a few awkward moments, then as we pushed passed, their faces looked crestfallen in disappointment. Their prospects of dogging having just trotted away.

And there it was.

The penny dropped.

EVERYTHING became obvious.

Only then did we recall that our “Couples Only” room had four double beds. Surrounded by sofas and boxes of cheap tissues.

Only then did we spot two couples having sex in the Jacuzzi, joined by an audience of men.

Only then did we notice that the bed in our cabin was covered in rubber and that the duvet was actually plastic.

Only then did we understand the meaning of the party being promoted as “Swinging Heaven.”

And that it was to be held in an over-18s club.

Only then did we notice that we were in a sex club, and that I had spent the whole day sitting cheerfully naked among middle-aged single men, oblivious to their intentions, chatting away and making friends,.

It was time, we decided, to get dressed. We holed up in the clubhouse for a Diet Coke to keep ourselves out of the way. But it didn’t take long before two men approached: Sam, a signalman on the Northern Line, and Barry, whose occupation I didn’t catch but who felt familiar enough to share his appreciation of Viagra.

They made chit chat, and asked if I’d been in the field earlier.

“Yes,” I said. And then because my upbringing demands pleasant joviality I added “I guess I look a little different with clothes on!”

Barry agreed that I did.

“You’re the red, aren’t you?” Sam asked. I was blank. “The red.” He pointed to his genitals to indicate which department we were discussing.

“Oh. Um. Yes,” I replied, ill-equipped for this thread of conversation. They nodded with warm recognition.

“Very nice. Very nice,” Sam complimented. Which was kind, but not as kind as it would have been if he’d kept away from the topic altogether. “It’s beautiful to see. Natural, you know? A good red like that. It’s not the same colour as the top though. Is it dyed?” I shook my head with horror. “Very beautiful.” He and Barry glanced at each other, nodded their heads and smiled at the recollection. “Very beautiful, indeed.”

Making our excuses, we slipped off to see if the tuck shop had a copy of the Times so we could do the crossword in peace. It didn’t. So we retired to our cabin, politely declining a last minute proposition from the couple in the neighbouring cabin as we keyed our door. Once inside we turned in for a fully clothed and sleepless night on our rented plastic sheets.

Anne Seymour, La Cuadra’s newest writer, earns her brownie points by working in hospice care during the day. She counters this good karma by getting up to no good around London in her free time and writing about it for www.londondifferently.com

  1. This naturist resort has always allowed single men (and women too). However, most do not. I have not been back for many years, but I was a patron for over 3 years and thoroughly enjoyed myself. In those days the resort was controlled very strictly, and if couples were seen to openly exploit their love for each other, out they went. Single Men behaved and single women were safe. Families were very encouraged and made special guests.

    I’m not saying that once the evening was over, and people started going home, that some private parties did not continue.

    Also, where did the cabins come from – not in my days?

    Anne, a nice write-up. You are not the first journalist or woman to raise the sadder points of this resort, but give it a fair chance. There is a market for this, and if it survives with couples and single people being exhibitionists, that is obviously what they want.

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