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This Is What It's Like To Holiday At A Nudist Resort (NSFW)

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Photo: Courtesy of Hedonism II.
Imagine the iconic "YMCA" dance. Only this version is being done by two women scissoring the letters in an ass-in-the-air performance on the side of a nude pool. Bathed by Jamaican sun, they laugh through their unorthodox, though spot-on performance.

This scene epitomises my recent stay at Hedonism II in Negril, Jamaica: fun, exposed, and full of girl power. Located on Negril’s famed Seven Mile Beach, Hedonism II is a spot where nudist, bisexual, heterosexual and "lifestyle" folks (a.k.a. swingers) can live out their fantasies — however mild or wild they may be. As a sex-positive female, my booked-on-a-whim trip was a perfect fit. I had no idea how well I’d take to a nudist/lifestyle resort experience, though I suppose the writing was on the wall.

My journey to this trip was complicated. I first self-explored between ballet lessons, The Brady Bunch, and bedtime. I was six years old. Later, my fact-based sex education began as a preteen listening to Dr. Ruth’s late-night show on my Sony Walkman. A few years after that, I lost my virginity to a smooth-talking lacrosse player who tutored me in French. When my mother found out I’d been deflowered, she called me a slut. My father was convinced I’d been raped. Neither would accept it was a consensual act, nor did it spark any conversation about sex.

In my early 20s, I engaged in a few bouts of clumsy college intercourse before I started to think that the only person capable of pleasing me was… me. Thus the purchase of my first vibrator at the age of 18. This gift from the Big O gods taught me that sexual pleasure meant power.

Fast-forward to gigs penning porn reviews for a major adult website. The more I talked about sex and my pursuit of satisfaction, the more I was shushed and shamed. Apparently, polite women don’t talk about sex, orgasms, or what they want between the sheets. Or so I was always led to believe.
Photo: Courtesy of Charyn Pfeuffer.
So I met my recent invite to Hedonism II with unabashed interest. “Hedonism II has always been a place where people can let their hair down and have adult fun in a safe, sensual, protected environment,” said managing director Kevin Levee. The resort’s “Be Wicked for a Week” tagline and scantily clad web imagery present themselves as every hot-blooded guy’s wet dream. After visiting, this anything-goes mentality does ring true — for both sexes. Though when stripped down, the Hedonism II experience is all about the women.

Prior to my trip, the most common question from my female friends was, "Are you going to get waxed?" A few wanted to know if I’d have my period. Guys wanted to know: "Are you going to have sex?" As a fish-belly-white Seattleite, I had more important concerns, like SPF and sun exposure.

Still, I packed flimsy, lacy things and my vibrator for any moments wanting of instant gratification. More importantly, I did my homework (AdultTravelForum.com was particularly helpful) and kept an open mind.
My first night on the property, I dressed up in a see-through, black teddy for the Leather & Lingerie Night and stumbled into an exotic dance show at something called "Club Hurricane". The event was part of a private birthday bash that brought its own entertainment: Ginuwine’s “Pony” and a stripper with plentiful tits and ass, undulating on the floor. She grinded up against male and female audience members while her body was showered with fistfuls of dollar bills. The next performer doubled down, revealing herself to have a flashlight tucked in her vagina. She teased one man on the floor with a close-up of her, um, unique skill set. These women exuded confidence.
Later that night, in the nude hot tub, I met a woman who worked in property. She and her husband first came to Hedonism II for their 20th anniversary. They’d been back six of the last eight years. As he evangelised the benefits of joining a group (the resort attracts large groups of like-minded guests, with events like Young Swingers Week), it slipped that the woman was bisexual. “Too much information,” the mother of two snapped. Her husband warned of creepy single guys jacking off. (I didn’t spy any offenders.)

Participation was optional, rather than required, at the hotel's nightly themed parties. Costumes ranged from leather breast harnesses for Fetish Fantasy night to a Katy Perry-esque LED light-up rainbow tutu for the "Rocking Rock Stars night". During Rock Star Night, a Jon Bon Jovi double tried to cop a feel of an entertainment coordinator’s breasts. Sure, the "X"s superimposed on the woman’s skintight tee were appealing — but his grabby advances were not. “Your hands are too big,” she scolded. The wannabe mega-star scurried away.


“It’s very important for ladies to feel comfortable,” said Levee. “Anyone who interferes with that comfort may get a first warning, but will most likely be asked to leave.”

Public group sex is also fairly common at Hedonism. One afternoon, on the Tortuga Catamaran (an activity booked through the tour desk), one woman got fingered, while her friend received slow, oral sex on the deck. The third had a hungry mouth on her breasts. After all three were happily finished, the group of women got up, bent over the boat’s railing, and lifted their asses in the air triumphantly.

As I watched them, I chatted with another guest, a woman who decided to come to Hedonism II despite a recent split. The voluptuous woman seemed to be doing alright in the rebound department, reclining next to a handsome, lean Jamaican man. Then, a booty-shaking twerking demo broke out as Miley Cyrus’ “Party in the USA” blared on the speakers.

Was I hit on during my stay? Yes, but it was always done with deference. Even in a clothing-optional, sexually charged, drug-and booze-fuelled environment, I never saw any suspect behaviour or felt unsafe. Security staff was ever-present. During the last breaths of dusk on my last night, I sipped Champagne while staring at the sea from my ground-floor room when a middle-aged couple walked by.

“Hey, I see nakedness!” the trim blonde laughed before bending over, showing off her below-the-belt goods, and walking away, flashing the most mischievous of smiles at me. The moment could not have been more picture-perfect. I’ve travelled the world as a journalist, but in its own way, this tropical playground was one of the most powerful celebrations of women I’ve ever seen — and I’m counting down the days until I can return.
Disclosure: Charyn Pfeuffer travelled to Negril, Jamaica, and stayed at Hedonism II as a guest of the resort. Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.
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