Paul and I had been married approximately 8 yrs before my first topfree experience. He had been a naturist attending clubs and beaches before we even met. We were both raised my fairly conservative parents for whom having their body seen in public was taboo. Paul had been on holiday to a naturist centre in France with his mates a few years before we met and had broken free of his trunks so to speak then. He always told me that once you had a taste of bodily freedom you wouldn’t want to turn back. Unconvinced, I would accompany him to free beaches in the UK so he could go nude and I could relax as I pleased (one piece cossie or shorts and top usually, never even a bikini).

Anyway, being fed up of the British climate, we booked of summer holiday a few years ago in Majorca, Spain. I stocked up on 2 modest Bikinis before we left, vowing that was as much of my flesh that was going to see the Spanish sun! On arrival it was lovely and sunny, and we found (luckily) that we had been allocated a top floor apartment in our block with a balcony.

The first thing Paul did, after lugging our cases up several flights of stairs, was collapse on the bed, removing all his clothes ( the excuse being the sweat was pouring from him).
A few minutes later we retired to the balcony, only coming off it in order to buy a few cool beers at the local supermarket and a ‘fashionable’ black thong for Paul for the beach! As you can imagine, the balcony never saw Pauls bum covered for the entire week!

A few days later, after much badgering from Paul, we hired a pedalo out from the local beach for an hour. Once out from the beach, Paul removed his thong and suggested that I try going topless, something I had told him several dozen times that I had absolutely no intention of doing. I had to agree with him however, that you should never criticize anything until you’ve tried it, and as we were on a pedalo over a hundred metres from anyone else, it was now or never. So, with much encouragement on his part and trepidation on my part, my nipples saw sunlight for the first time. I remember hooking my top over my leg in case Paul threw it in the sea. I stayed like this for about 10 mins, unsure if I was enjoying it or not. Anyway, it was soon time to start pedaling in I decided it was no longer the time to be topfree.

A few days later we had booked on an excursion, a boat cruise labeled a ‘Ray Day’ around the island. You can imagine the sort of thing, on the boat mid morning, lunch and wine provided, sunbathing, swim, and return in time for tea.

Anyway, we boarded the boat and a nicer group of people you couldn’t wish to meet. Really friendly, mostly couples around our age (early 30’s). Once we were all on board, probably about 30 people, the captain went through the safety drill and explained that as with the local beachwear customs, topless bathing would be fully acceptable but not compulsory on the boat, but that there was a small deck at the front of the boat which could be used should anyone like to get an all over tan, he also explained that the rules of the boat for that deck was that any men using the area should be nude, and ladies at least topless. Paul and I discussed this for a short while and I decided that it’s his holiday as much as mine, and if he wanted to sunbathe nude, I’d bite the bullet and join him topless. So that’s what happened, and I have to report that after a while on the front deck with about 3 other couples, I lost my inhibitions completely as far as my breasts were concerned and spent the rest of the cruise with my previously covered nipples enjoying the sun as much as the rest of me. It’s laughable to note that Paul even had to remind me to cover up when we went back to shore!

My only regret is that at that time, we didn’t have a digital camera to record the occasion (no way would I send topless photographs to the developers!). As for the rest of the holiday, it was definitely a case of ‘When in Rome’!