Precum
There are two hazards a male can fall foul of amongst nudists - erections and precum. We can usually tell if the little fellow starts growing and can hide him before he stands to attention (unless we've been asleep). But precum is more insidious. We get a gentle stimulation when the breeze and the sun kisses our naked skin and we spy lovely females showing all. We may be naturists but quietly, secretlyour hormones are working. We can't see it but others can. The first we know is when something wet hits our leg. Looking down there it is - a long sticky dribble. How long has it been there? I'm prone to precum in all sorts of situations. Very embarrassing. Does this afflict any other men?
I don't think it will be a surprise to many here that women often have a similar problem. Despite the ridiculous mantra endlessly repeated on this and other sites, for me nudity is not an asexual condition. If I am happy with the prevailing circumstances, nudity makes me feel sexually stimulated, and that creates a healthy flow of natural secretions. The current trend to all-over depilation tends to make that more obvious - in the natural condition a woman's pubic hair would tend to absorb a certain amount and also hide the view. I think I can also probably speak for the majority of women when I say that sexual arousal invariably makes my vulva engorge and swell - once more this is more obvious in women who shave off their pubic hair.
Anatomical differences do of course mean that the situation is not really comparable between men and women - men do not have the option of discreetly absorbing their secretions in their pubic hair. There is also a physiological difference which comes into play - a man's erection tends to be fairly swift and also, I believe, relatively easy to manage. "Manage" is an interesting word, because I think it points up another difference - speaking from personal experience, the idea of managing my sexual arousal seems rather an alien concept. My state of arousal can, and often does, increase over a period of hours, so that by the end of an afternoon on the beach my labia will have expanded to truly voluptuous proportions. Even with pubic hair, my state of arousal will be plain to see, but if I am shaved or trimmed I am told that my display can be quite spectacular. Here the woman is treated much more kindly by society than the man - she can can lie on the beach or parade around, very clearly in a state of heightened libido, with no evident expressions of disapproval.
Contrast that with the poor man inadvertently and uncontrollably displaying his state of sexual arousal - disgust will be heaped on him from all around.
Funny world! Makes you realise that "equality" is a rather complicated concept.
Pamela
I don't think it will be a surprise to many here that women often have a similar problem. Despite the ridiculous mantra endlessly repeated on this and other sites, for me nudity is not an asexual condition. If I am happy with the prevailing circumstances, nudity makes me feel sexually stimulated, and that creates a healthy flow of natural secretions. The current trend to all-over depilation tends to make that more obvious - in the natural condition a woman's pubic hair would tend to absorb a certain amount and also hide the view. I think I can also probably speak for the majority of women when I say that sexual arousal invariably makes my vulva engorge and swell - once more this is more obvious in women who shave off their pubic hair.Anatomical differences do of course mean that the situation is not really comparable between men and women - men do not have the option of discreetly absorbing their secretions in their pubic hair. There is also a physiological difference which comes into play - a man's erection tends to be fairly swift and also, I believe, relatively easy to manage. "Manage" is an interesting word, because I think it points up another difference - speaking from personal experience, the idea of managing my sexual arousal seems rather an alien concept. My state of arousal can, and often does, increase over a period of hours, so that by the end of an afternoon on the beach my labia will have expanded to truly voluptuous proportions. Even with pubic hair, my state of arousal will be plain to see, but if I am shaved or trimmed I am told that my display can be quite spectacular. Here the woman is treated much more kindly by society than the man - she can can lie on the beach or parade around, very clearly in a state of heightened libido, with no evident expressions of disapproval.Contrast that with the poor man inadvertently and uncontrollably displaying his state of sexual arousal - disgust will be heaped on him from all around.Funny world! Makes you realise that "equality" is a rather complicated concept.Pamela
In my libidinous state my breasts swell up and my nipples go rigid. All in all, it really is a bit like those apes you see on TV, but women can get away with it dead easy, but men can't.
Pamela
It is interesting to hear that women show potentially embarrassing signs of arousal. I must be due for a visit to Specsavers as I had never noticed. I'm tempted to think that a man's arousal is more obvious. I doubt any of us spend time looking at our owngenitals when we are naked. Sometimes I feel my member swelling and I sit down or hide it in some other way. At other times it can be stood out and dripping for all to see before I realise it. Of course there may be times when I might want my member to show my appreciation for a favour or display for my benefit. The trouble is it has a mind of its own. I can't rely on it to do that either!
I don't think it will be a surprise to many here that women often have a similar problem. Despite the ridiculous mantra endlessly repeated on this and other sites, for me nudity is not an asexual condition. If I am happy with the prevailing circumstances, nudity makes me feel sexually stimulated, and that creates a healthy flow of natural secretions. The current trend to all-over depilation tends to make that more obvious - in the natural condition a woman's pubic hair would tend to absorb a certain amount and also hide the view. I think I can also probably speak for the majority of women when I say that sexual arousal invariably makes my vulva engorge and swell - once more this is more obvious in women who shave off their pubic hair.Anatomical differences do of course mean that the situation is not really comparable between men and women - men do not have the option of discreetly absorbing their secretions in their pubic hair. There is also a physiological difference which comes into play - a man's erection tends to be fairly swift and also, I believe, relatively easy to manage. "Manage" is an interesting word, because I think it points up another difference - speaking from personal experience, the idea of managing my sexual arousal seems rather an alien concept. My state of arousal can, and often does, increase over a period of hours, so that by the end of an afternoon on the beach my labia will have expanded to truly voluptuous proportions. Even with pubic hair, my state of arousal will be plain to see, but if I am shaved or trimmed I am told that my display can be quite spectacular. Here the woman is treated much more kindly by society than the man - she can can lie on the beach or parade around, very clearly in a state of heightened libido, with no evident expressions of disapproval.Contrast that with the poor man inadvertently and uncontrollably displaying his state of sexual arousal - disgust will be heaped on him from all around.Funny world! Makes you realise that "equality" is a rather complicated concept.Pamela
In my libidinous state my breasts swell up and my nipples go rigid. All in all, it really is a bit like those apes you see on TV, but women can get away with it dead easy, but men can't.
Pamela
Can we see example pictures of such phenomenon?
Pamela has not been shy in the other posts she has put in this group. If you want to see vulva I suggest you try my Pussy Lovers Group in TS. One thing is for sure. Men cannever have any experience of what it's like to be a woman and vice-versa. I have found the discussion enlightening. How typical is Pamela's experience to that of women in general? Or mineto (older) men?
Sorry to have let things hang a little on this one!
When I wrote that post I really thought that most people would at least have an idea that women experience a similar sort of tumescence, but thinking back to my early days of being nude I was reminded of when I first became acutely aware of it myself.
If it had only been me that was noticing it, it would have been interesting to say the least, and also probably very pleasurable. The problem I was facing was that I was completely nude, and becoming increasingly aware that what I could feel and see happening to me was also becoming very obvious to the group of club photographers gathered around me.
It had all started when I was leaving the changing room after one of my nude club sessions. I noticed one of photographers hanging around in the studio. That was usually a sign that some sort of proposition was coming, so I was all ready with a polite but firm put-down. True to form, he told me how much he would like to take some "portraits" of me. I had an inkling of the sort of portraits he had in mind when he started extolling the virtues of his "secluded patio" which he said would be a perfect setting for photographs. The secluded patio bit didn't seem to ring true either - I was pretty sure he lived in a flat, not a house with a patio
All in all, I was in little doubt that his intention was that the session would culminate in fornication. Although I would never deny the attraction that fornication has always had for me, ever since the first once or twice I have always been very choosy about who I fornicate with. On that front, the proposer of the session was to my mind a distinct no-no, and at that moment he was beginning to annoy me - the main thing on my mind after any session was to get home and enjoy a leisurely hour or two of masturbation, while reliving the evening's high spots. At the same time, I was also finding the prospect of an open-air modelling session very tempting, and on an impulse I decided to go along with him just a little. Putting on a show of being pleased and flattered, I said that it all sounded great, and asked when he suggested we should do it.
He looked in his diary and suggested either of two consecutive weekends. Both would have been OK, but on the basis of "the sooner the better", I threw caution to the wind and said I was free for the earlier of the two.
Seeing him beam with anticipation gave me a sudden fit of panic. I thought "oops, what the hell have I done?" and tried to think of something to get myself out of the rather large hole I had just dug myself into. I looked down as he made a note in his diary and just caught a glimpse of the words "dog sitting" along the edge of the diary page.
And then realisation dawned - it wasn't his house and it wasn't his patio - he was looking after someone's dog ther for a eek or so.
"OK, Sunshine", I thought, "if you can tell porkies*, I can be devious."
* for colonial readers, Cockney rhyming slang - look it up.
For the second time in a couple of minutes I found myself in full disingenuous mode. I think he was so sure of himself that he had never anticipated the way the conversation was about to turn. He tried very hard to retain his rather smarmy attitude, but I saw his face crumple when I said with a smile that I thought the patio would be a bit crowded with all the usual group of photographers there and suggested we limit the session to four photographers. I put forward the names of three good friends to make up the group. They were three boys much the same age as me, and I knew with them there as my mionders none of his options for an orgasmic termination to the session was going to involve me, at least not in any physical sense.
I waited for his decision - I knew it could go either way, but I didn't really care - I had already had a lot of fun at his expense and would have been happy to to walk home to my cosy bed whatever might happen. All the same, I was pretty sure that he would agree to having the others present - although he was rather arrogant and self-satisfied, he was clearly in a trap. If he were to decline my suggestion and say he had wanted it to be one to one, he would effectively be admitting that his aim had been to get me into bed - I thought he was too much of a coward ever to admit to that.
And I was right in my estimation! I was much more excited by the prospect that I had expected, and the next few weeks seemed to go by very slowly. I was already feeling distinctly libidinous the night before the session, and in my desire to put on the best possible show, I settled myself into the bathroom with a pair of scissors, a comb and a razor.
The sun was pouring in the wondow as I got up the next day, and everything seemed perfect for my first outdoor session. I walked across my bedroom, and stopped dead as I saw myself in the bedroom mirror. My trimming the previous evening had been much more radical than I had thought, and in the full glare of the sun my pubis, almost shorn of its concealing veil, looked like some gynaecological display - full, plump, and clearly still engorged from a night of stimulation and dreams. I was close to panic. My first reaction was was to call up the photographers and cry off the session, but I quickly realised I couldn't make the phone calls with any degree of privacy and there was no way I was going to give my parents any inkling of the activity I had planned for the day.
Forced into rational thought, I decided to review my options: insist I had only agreed to clothed portraits, keep my knickers on and just do a topless session, or....
...just be brave and go ahead.
The first two options seemed so limp and lame that I dismissed them entirely.
And then followed one of the most exciting modelling sessions I ever had.
So, just for a start, a couple of photos to give an idea of how things looked:
Before trimming I had always been able to conceal any view of my pubis by crossing my legs just slightly. Here you can see that was a hopeless task.
Fully frontal, legs apart - no way of hiding anything. Made worse of course, as the day progressed, by my ever-increasing degree of engorgement.
Pamela
Pamela. What a brilliant story. I wonder if any of the photographers noticed the changes - the engorgement. I doubt it. I learn something every day, even at my age. I doubt I would get away with observing thedifferent vulvas that closely on a nudist beach. Meanwhile any dangling precum or other sign of male excitement will be plain for all to see. Oops!
It looks lovely, guess it was very obvious back then,,seems hidden in more pubic hair than we are used to seeing today...but no matter what year, it's a great series of pics for sure...such lucky mento be in that photography club!!!
I don't really want to make it sound more traumatic than it really was. The truth was that I was feeling immensely proud of what I was showing off, and very much overwhelmed by the fact that I couldn't really believe what I was doing. I did in fact have some real concern about what I had done - I was delighted by the enthusiatic response of the photgraphers, but I was very aware that my pubic hair was going to take weeks to regrow and I knew that if my parents happened to get a glimpse of me nude there would be lots of questions along the lines of "why on earth would you want to do that?"
To get back to the story:
I briefly toyed with the idea of calling the whole session off, but as I studied the view in the mirror more calmly I found myself feeling increasingly proud of the unashamedly carnal view in front of me; I realised that my voluptuous display was probably due as much due to my night of somnolent libido as it was to my activity with scissors and razor, but whatever the cause, I found myself hoping that I would be able to maintain myself in that degree of arousal until the photo session started. One thing I had quickly realised when I started posing at the club was just how enjoyable it was to be able to maintain a high level of sexual arousal for long periods, and I thought of that when I found my fingers straying into my vulva as I watched myself in the mirror: "stop, it, girl! You can do all that tonight!"
Experience had given me some skill at maintaining my libido at a high level; I remember particularly how I had managed to relieve the boredom of religious studies lessons at school by the exercise of imagination and judicious squeezing of my thighs. At that time I had been constrained by school uniform, but with a bright sunny day in prospect I decided I could reduce the constraints of clothing to an absolute minimum.
My first priority, however, was to use the sunlight streaming into my bedroom to correct some of the now obvious deficiencies in the previous evening's efforts in the poorly-lit bathroom. My new hair style could be described as trimmed short all over, with selective shaving to strategic areas. From the front the most notable aspect was the inner edges of my outer labia, which were shaved completely, allowing a completely clear view of my inner labia protruding between them. I was pleased with that - I thought it would make my photographers happy, particularly of the boys one who had flattered me so nicely and shyly after his first session photographing me by saying he would like to see me shaved. What wasn't immediately obvious from the front view was that I had also shaved completely from somewhere in front of my vagina, right back to my anus. That was, if you like, a reserved view which I could, more or less, allow or withold depending on the way I posed. As I completed my trim that morning my feeling was that I would be very happy to allow my three real friends to enjoy the full view, but I would try to do it when our rather creepy host was busy elsewhere.
The final adjustments to my trim gave, if anything, an additional boost, or, at least a greater emphasis, to the rather spectacularly engorged state of my vulva, something which I was very keen to maintain until the session started. You can put it down to vanity - I really wanted to start things off with an utterly memorable flourish.
With the trim complete, I turned my attention to clothing. My first decision was no underwear - none at all. I would be aware of that fact all the time; that would help to keep me feeling sexy, I would feel the cool air on my vulva and would be able to feel my secretions making me wet and slippery as I walked. It would also mean that I would have no compression marks from underwear when I appeared on the patio. With that decision made, I had absolutely no doubt about the rest of my outfit - my very short, very fine, loose fitting blue dress; the sense of danger would be a real boost for my libido. I already had excited several boyfriends (and maybe some passers-by too) by wearing it without a bra, but now I was going to have my first outing in it with no knickers. My problem was getting out of the house without being spotted by my mother.
Pamela
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