I was once again interrogated by the keepers of Paradise, who were fully dressed for some reason. They reiterated the day tour rule, and I was happy to agree, to sit in a golf cart with a guy who had probably met Abraham Lincoln in person, and be driven around the resort, which was more like a neighborhood.


He appeared definitely suspicious of me, nonetheless, likely wondering why a young guy would desire to see a location full of retirees, remarking at one point, “You know, there are not many single women here . . .”
I figured too many men my age were looking for the Playboy Mansion, a location full of giggling girls with bouncing boobs, and after taking the tour and seeing none of that, would definitely be high tailing it out of there. But for me, roaming around as God meant-along the sidewalks, to the crappy restaurant, and even to the crappy gymnasium-was exhilarating. It was as if I Had stepped into another world where body taboos did not exist.
I could be nude wherever and whenever I pleased and nobody cared! Certainly one of my personal favorite things was the open air shower, where I could soap my naked self in sight of…

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