Thursday, March 07, 2013

Where Do Cape Cod Nudists Go In Winter?

If you've known me long enough, you've unfortunately probably heard the story of the time my then girlfriend and I went to a nudist colony on Cape Cod. Specifically, in the village of Marston Mills, which is a small part of Barnstable. It was my idea for us two fat people to go to a nudist colony, and we weren't particularly happy about it, but neither of us wanted to back out and look like a Puritanical New England priggish school marm. Basically, we dared each other.
People pretending that they're not acutely
aware that they're buck naked.
Obviously, this was before I met my beloved wife, Nancy. I've asked her if she would like to go to Sandy Terraces with me, the aforementioned nudist colony, and she said, "While I appreciate and admire the tenets of nudism, and would like to explore it some day, I'd rather not go at this particular time. Soon, though, perhaps next summer."

If you know Nancy at all, you know I'm full of shit. When I asked her to go, she said, "There is no fucking way I'm doing that. If someone wants to see me naked, they'd better pay me, a lot. No way I'm ever going to do that, so don't bother asking ever again. Nope. It's fucking stupid." So she didn't exactly leave the door open to the possibility of one day frolicking naked in the salt water pond, or enjoying the warmth of the nightly fire pit.

Incidentally, hanging around a roaring fire when naked is a perilous proposition. What with the sparks and all. A floating ember near a naked body is like a lottery with no winners. One hopes to get away without any little burn marks, but most get a tiny burn on their ass or back. I suppose that would be a, "winner." An unlucky loser gets a burn on one of the bodies' delicate pink spots. But I digress.

 James "Jimmy" Durante
Honestly, though, one time was enough. The experience was interesting, and I can scratch it off my bucket list (if it was ever on there, I'm not sure). Swimming in the nude is delightful, as is walking through the woods with just socks and sneakers on, or flip-flops. When one hates his body, it's gratifying to just whip everything out and mince around. After a few hours, though, one starts to feel like an idiot. And the rules are a little disturbing and gross. Everyone has to carry a towel, to sit on when in the cafe, or at the fire pit, or just for any chair. Simply put, they don't want uncovered ass rubbed on anything, or low-hanging testicles. Also, if a man gets an erection, it's considered courteous to cover it up. And there are mosquitoes, and snapping turtles (and God knows what else) in the salt water pond, and there are dozens of people pretending that strolling around naked is normal. It's the naked elephant in the room during every conversation. One fellow we spoke with was a chiropractor, who approached us while we were sitting on beach chairs and stood there, introducing himself and engaging in small talk. All the while, his crooked penis and low hanging balls were right at our eye level. We couldn't stop staring at it. I thought it was going to say something. When he walked away, I said that his cock looked like Jimmy Durante. It did. In that case, it should have broke out with a show tune. A-cha-cha-cha! Meanwhile, my penis looked like an "inny" belly button. It was cool out, and I'm shy, so it took to hiding. By the way, his penis didn't look like Durante's nose, it looked like Jimmy Durante.

It's worth noting how well concealed this place is, down a dirt road, amid the hedges and scrub pines. A very large wooden gate stands shut, and one has to knock and provide the "code phrase" that is given to you when you make your reservation. When the gate opened for us, a very skinny and very old man greeted us, wearing a brown loin cloth, which came off when we entered and the gate closed. In the office, there were several pictures of single white men who were not allowed to enter; local sex offenders, mostly, and a few who did God knows what the previous season.

Are you really a nudist if you wear a hat?
That was our cabin, the blue one in the distance.
After we checked in, and it was clear that I didn't look like anyone on the Wall of Deviants, we went to our small but lovely cabin. Most places like Sandy Terraces don't even let single men in, just gay and heterosexual couples, women, and families with children. White men are creepy, apparently.

At the cabin, it took us about 5 minutes to decide who would walk out of the cabin first, nude. Naturally, it was me. We were being watched by the old couple who let us in, probably to make sure we weren't there to just look at nude people. We had to prove our nudiness. The gauntlet had been thrown down. After that, we were in the club, as it were.

It's snowing out right now, and the town of Barnstable, along with the little hamlet Marston Mills, and Sandy Terraces within it, are getting nailed with 25 foot waves off the ocean and temperatures around 30 degrees Fahrenheit. So naturally I feel compelled to ask, "Where do all the nudists go?" People like these, all looking for their lost shaker of salt while hopefully not bending over in front of you...

Most people are fairly unattractive, which nudism accentuates.
They can't be down there, as Sandy Terraces closes for the winter. But that doesn't mean there isn't some guy still down there, trying to get his groove on...

Good times.
And, of course, someone has to keep up the place while the flakes fly...

Oh, the humanity
I kid, of course. I'm sure that the nudists of Cape Cod are clothed, warm, and anxious for the warm weather to get here so they can re-enact the ritual and engage in the magic of public nudity. Either that, or they went south for the winter, to be nude somewhere Canadian Geese. You can't throw a wet blanket on the passion to do this in public...

A "chubby" with a man attached
To be fair, Sandy Terraces is beautiful. This was the view from our cabin, which was cheap...

Pleasant enough
And that's my nudist colony story. Be sure to tell your friends and family to stop by!


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