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Here’s What a Day in America’s Only Full-Nude, Hedonist Sex Resort is Like

Here’s What a Day in America’s Only Full-Nude, Hedonist Sex Resort is Like:

DESERT HOT SPRINGS, Calif. _ As I sat naked in a lounge chair by the pool, talking with a Southern California fire chief we’ll call Mike (not his real name) about our mutual loathing of Pope Benedict, framed just over Mike’s right shoulder from my point of view a 20-something dude ate out his girlfriend while other guests ate lunch and sunbathed. That was 15 minutes into my day at the couples-only Sea Mountain Lifestyle Resort. It only got weirder, and I only got drunker from there.

A few months ago a married friend of mine told me about a nudist resort in the desert where couples just hung out naked by a pool, drinking, banging, sucking and pretty much doing whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Honestly, I didn’t believe such a place had existed since the 1960s, so I set out to see it with my wife.

The first thing I did was Yelp the place to see if I could confirm what my friend had said. For the most part, everyone on Yelp was pretty vague:

What a nice little resort tucked away in the desert. A true gem, the only reason to go to Desert Hot Springs!

Sounds like the kind of place your parents might go for their anniversary, right?

If you have issues about nudity or PDAs, do not go there.

OK. A tad racier, but it still doesn’t really tell you much. PDA? You mean kissing and light butt taps?

And then I saw this one-star review:

Went for my Birthday. Totally disgusting. Bunch of people that you do not want to see naked having sex. Total ripoff!

Yes. What is this place, and how can I see it?! I picked up the phone and called the resort, fully expecting to get a room and some answers for only a couple hundred bucks.

The receptionist I dealt with was rude, but it may have been all the penis whispers coming through the phone that made her sound like such a dick. I tried to make room reservations, but every single weekend they seemed have some kind of event going on, so it was either a two or three night minimum at around $500 a night. I really wanted to see this place, but not for $1,000. I ended up getting the day pass, which was good for 12 hours at a cost of $219 per couple.

In the weeks leading up to our trip, I looked for information beyond Yelp. The official website was vague, but I found a Reddit thread in r/swingers that seemed to confirm what my friend had said. I got worried our stay would end up like the orgy scene in Conan the Barbarian and felt a little nervous.

One nice thing is that we didn’t need to pack much, seeing as we’d be buck-ass-naked all day. All I ended up bringing was some sunscreen, a hat and glasses.

In the car on the way out my wife and I practiced saying no to swingers’ more advanced advances:

“Were you born and do you want to swap partners?”

“Yes. Wait, no! That was one question. I’m not falling for your swinger tricks!”

I was feeling prepared and confident that the place wouldn’t be that crazy and we’d just hang out naked by a pool for a few hours and go home. But when we pulled up to the resort, all my fears came rushing through me faster than a Beefy Fritos Burrito from Taco Bell.

The resort is located smack in the middle of a residential neighborhood, and the first thing I said when I saw the place from the outside was, “Look at this dump.”

My wife replied, “At least they’re blasting a techno remix of Simon and Garfunkel’s Sound of Silence.”

View of the resort from the street

View of the resort from the street

As we walked up to the front door I noticed a house across the street from the resort’s entrance was setting up for a child’s birthday party. Nothing gets that hedonistic mood started like watching an old man pour chips into a bowl as a bouncy castle inflates.

Kid

Kid’s party directly across the street from the resort

Here I am about to ring the bell to get into the place. If I look excited, it’s because I am. But I also have the nervous farts. This is the face of a gassy man who has no idea what he’s about to witness.

Me, before going inside

Me, before going inside

I rang the bell and a woman answered and asked for my name and said she’d be there in a second to get us. When the door opened a cute woman wearing nothing but a see-through sarong welcomed us in. I let out as many nervous farts as I possibly could while she led us through the winding walkway towards Garfunkel’s majestic vocals.

We turned a corner and bam, like a flash of flesh lightning, a pool full of naked people of all ages came into view. Before I could take stock of anything we were pulled into the reception area, which was a small room with a desk, a computer and a couch. Then a jolly, in-shape 40-something-year-old dude-bro in board shorts introduced himself as Dewey, the owner.

Behind Dewey was a wall covered with pictures of him hanging out with celebrities as well as promo shots of him in bands from the 1980s with names I’d never heard of and didn’t think to remember. I figured I could research the bands when I got home, but the bands and Dewey yielded very little in a Google search. I did find this video of Dewey on the resort’s YouTube page (he’s the one yelling “Dewey”) in case you want to know what he looks like.

Owner Dewey Wohl - YouTube

Owner Dewey Wohl - YouTube

We were given margaritas and asked to sign a paper that said we wouldn’t sue anyone if we got injured, which makes sense, seeing as there was an open bar. After that Dewey told us we’d love it here, he handed us some towels and walked us to the pool where he introduced us to 26 naked men and women as “his friends from India.” We waved from the safety of our clothes as Dewey gave us the tour of the “playroom,” which was a small dance floor with a circular bed in the middle. He then showed us the spa and left us at the bathroom/lockers to get undressed.

My wife went to change in the bathroom, but instead of waiting I said screw it and got undressed by the Jacuzzi and shoved my clothes into a locker.

Once I was naked it felt weird as hell. I looked over at one of the more secluded areas by the pool, where I saw a guy fingering his wife next to a couple with that look on their faces that I get when I eat an entire frozen pizza by myself. It was at that point that I realized I eat a ton of frozen pizza by myself and started to worry about being the fattest guy there.

My wife came out and threw me the sunscreen. After half a bottle I was fully protected, well, from the sun, and all I could think about was how I should have been more careful with my junk, because sunscreen in the peehole stings like no other.

We grabbed two of the least cum-stained lounge chairs, put our towels down, and I went to go grab us more booze from the “dining” room. Food and drinks are included, and outside the reception desk is a room stocked with both.

As I waited in line for booze I noticed that the table with the majority of the food was about knee high. All I could think about were how many dicks had grazed each food item I would later be drunkenly shoving down my gullet. There was also a rotating hot dog machine, but I feel like that’s too easy of a joke to make.

I came back to our spot with more booze to find that my wife was already talking to Mike, the fire chief I mentioned earlier. He and his wife were there with a recently divorced friend, and it was painfully evident they wanted to bang the woman they brought, but I genuinely believe they also wanted her to have a good time.

We talked about why they liked the place so much, and it turns out that their story was just about the same as everyone else I talked to there: They never really talked about sex, had kids and now that their kids were older they finally started exploring their sexuality. There were only about four or five couples in their 20s like my wife and me. The rest ranged from 30 to 70, and they came in all shapes and sizes.

After we’d settled in a bit and gotten used to being naked, I just started to look around. Besides the guy nomming on his lady, it was pretty tame for about an hour. Mostly saw wives tease their husbands by sucking their dicks when the men got up to get something. Then I noticed that I was looking in the wrong place. All the action was in the pool.

There were about 30 people in the pool, and at first glance the couples lining the sides of the pool were just making out, but given a second look I realized they were full-on humping. Once they finished, they’d usually get out and another couple would fill their place.

When we were finally drunk enough to ignore the fact that the pool was full of cum, my wife and I went in. Neither of us would put our head underwater, but we did chat with a few more couples, all of whom were regulars and swore up and down they were very conservative people. I still don’t know if that’s true or just an inside joke. We had another drink and ended up banging in the pool as well, and it was not nearly as weird as I thought it would be.

Around 6 PM, just as the sun was going down and the booze was starting to hit everyone, things got more interesting. People started having sex outside of the pool whenever and wherever they wanted, and because it was “Sexo de Mayo” weekend, they held a lingerie contest, which seemed pointless but was enjoyable to watch.

We then got in the Jacuzzi, which was a HUGE mistake, but not for the reasons you’re thinking. While in the hot tub, we met Ben and Ashley, two marketing executives from the Bay Area. (For the record, all of the guests’ names in this story have been changed.) They were married with kids, were in their late 30s or early 40s and told us that they’d come here a few times before. Ben pointed to the only black couple there and said that he wanted Ashley to bang him last time, but she wouldn’t. They also assured us that the hot tub was the place to be at night.

As we sat and waited for the action, I started not feeling well. The heat from the hot tub was getting me double-drunk, and I was already double-drunk. Nothing was really happening. We small-talked with some couples, including the black couple, Derek and Shauna.

Just as my headache kicked in a woman in her 60s with large, fake breasts and three-inch acrylic fingernails started talking to us. When I asked why she has such giant nails she said, “They were popular in the ‘70’s, my husband likes them, and this…” at which point she grabbed my balls and proceeded to caress my taint with her nails.

After that they opened the dance floor, which is right next to the Jacuzzi. Two very drunk women attempted to have sex with each other but ended up just kind of mashing their vaginas together before giving up. It was around this time that I got up to puke in the bathroom and then lay down over by the pool.

Forty minutes later I thought I was feeling better and walked back to the hot tub. It was now packed, and around the outside were eight men getting blown by eight women who kept switching men they were blowing. Mike and his posse were sitting on a bench watching and yelled to me, “They’re having a blow-off! Come watch!” I honestly wanted to see how they determined a winner, but as it turned out, I was not feeling better.

I grabbed my wife and our stuff from the lockers. We got dressed. I puked four times, and then we headed for the door. On our way out we passed the blowjob contest, and in the middle of it was Ben and Ashley, except Ashley was blowing Derek, and Ben was making out with Shauna, and even though my brain felt like the sun was throwing up on it, I was still happy for them.

My wife helped me stumble past the bed on the dance floor where couples were sexing, only realizing once we were almost out that the DJs were also naked. Out front was a now-deflated bouncy castle that served as a metaphor I didn’t have the brain capacity to understand.

My wife shoved me in the passenger seat, which is where I took this picture:

Here

Here’s what I looked like three minutes after we left

The day after, I nursed a wicked hangover and thought about the entire experience. I now know for a fact that my friend definitely wasn’t lying. And though I’m not exactly sure what I expected to get out of this trip, I think what I really walked away with was the fact that there’s a place in the desert where kind, like-minded people can express their sexuality with other understanding, like-minded people and that I cannot hold my alcohol for shit anymore.


Alex Sargeant is a contributing writer for Playboy.com.

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