Featured Image Credit: Getty Stock Images
Topics: Sex and Relationships, Dating trends, Travel
Anish Vij
Topics: Sex and Relationships, Dating trends, Travel
A woman spontaneously went to the world's biggest swingers village with her boyfriend and has shared the strict rule everyone had to follow.
During a post-lockdown European road trip, the pair decided to do a three-week stopover at Cap D’Agde, a massive naturist and 'lifestyle' village in the South of France.
Originally created in the 1970s as a family-friendly nudist destination, Cap D’Agde has evolved into a global hotspot for the swinger scene.
"An hour or so into the drive there and my bravado was diminishing. I couldn’t quite get my head round the logistics of a naked village," she said in a piece for Grazia.
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"Did you strip on entry? Were you made to surrender your clothes at some kind of barrier and get them back when you left? What strength SPF did you need on your bits?
"Would I have to sit on a chair recently occupied by a stranger’s sweating scrotum? Would everyone be merrily playing naked volleyball, throwing caution - and genitalia - to the wind?
"If you’re curious btw the answer to most of these is no, with the odd ‘maybe sometimes’ and always Factor 50."
As the traveller discovered, the village operates on one key rule: sex is officially banned in public areas, with a hefty fine for anyone who breaks it 'and on the whole people stick to that'.
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Her arrival, however, was less glamorous than expected. While the entrance gates resembled a car park, the hotel set the tone for their stay.
"Our room was what I’d describe as porn-you-pay-for-chic," she explained.
"Stylish, luxe, sexy and thank god scrupulously clean, but if something could be fashioned from leather it was, and there were enough mirrors to make you feel like there were at least 15 of you in the four-poster bed.
"Which I imagine at various points there had been."
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She also spotted a notice reminding guests that nudity was compulsory at the spa and pool, but clothes were required for breakfast.
Though after a few hours, the awkwardness sort of went away. “When you’ve seen 50 penises on your walk to breakfast, the 51st doesn’t feel like a big deal,” she joked.
“But just as I’d got used to making eye contact with nipples and making sure the person before me at the café table had been sat on a towel, night fell and the village transformed.”
At night, the village transformed as the promenade turned into a catwalk of fetish fashion — latex, lace, and lingerie everywhere.
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"Trying not to be prudishly British and splutter into my Aperol as I witnessed a man being led along by a leash connected to a sort of testicle dog collar or a woman wearing a cut-out detail skirt which solely focused on heroing the vagina, was a challenge," she added.
"But as I got over my schoolgirl embarrassment (a second and third Aperol helped) it started to feel incredibly inspiring.
"Here was a place where everyone was just being exactly who they wanted to, and no one cared."