Cap d’Agde, thousands in the swingers village. The Italians: “Come to the beach, you will be breathless”
Small family quarrels, early August, Maremma.
«I didn’t understand: where is it that they send you?».
In Cap d’Agde.
“Does the newspaper send you to Cap d’Agde?”
“And does the director know?”
But do you think he doesn’t know?
“Oh well. But a costume, for safety, wear it. “
Blazing sun, hot sand and palm trees blowing in the Mediterranean wind, in Languedoc, where France hosts the most grandiose amusement park of sex existing on our planet, un gigantic holiday village in which the naturism it slowly became mass swingingfor straight / gay / bisexual, in short, for everyone, beautiful and ugly, young people, milfs and ladies complete with dentures, the hairy ones like bears and the perfectly shaved ones, the bellies with the turtle mixed with cellulite pouches, with or without tattoos , in an extraordinary packaging that holds together even pure exhibitionism And bdsm happy, curiosity and perversion, decadence, abysmal loneliness and contagious transgressions.
Now, however, calm down.
Let’s go in.
To hide, to allay the astonishment, to remain a reporter.
It’s not exactly like walking on nudist beach of Formentera: because here I am naked by the thousands (aged between 25 and 80 years). After a brief inspection of a couple of hours, these first notes remain on the Moleskine: the aforementioned costume is obviously superfluous; the village is fenced and accessible only through two gates, one for pedestrians and one for vehicles, controlled by Guantanamo-type vigilantes; registered, the daily entrance ticket varies – depending on the season, low or high – between 10 and 20 euros (those who stay inside get a season ticket); calling it a village, however, is perhaps an understatement: there is a huge Valtur style residence (the Heliopolis), there are apartments, villas, two hotels, an immense four-star campsite and a marina; a mayor is missing, but the rest is all there: pharmacy, laundry, tobacconist’s, cinema (porn, of course), bars, restaurants, shops (those with a fetish / bondage orientation are very well-finished: exceptional offer of rings, caps, gags, ropes , chains), two banks and a supermarket. Buying a bottle of water was pretty fun.
The bakery corner sells penis-shaped baguette. They also sell Biscuits to have breakfast in the shape of a penis. Men and women shop completely naked (which, frankly, still helps them withstand today’s 39 degrees). Only a few women wear curious pink plastic leaves that, mysteriously, stick there. Queuing for the cash register with some caution, a wire spaced apart. Front: a forty-year-old with blonde hair faded at the nape, piercings everywhere, even where you would not be able to imagine (or maybe yes, but you have to try hard). Behind: a stocky guy, in his sixties, wearing a wolverine look, a bag of tomatoes and salad, also naked and with a pair of boots on his feet. He stands in the middle with the bottle of water. Cost: 3 euros. First sensation: prices, on average, high. Second feeling: it is full of Italians. «Germans, English and Dutch – confirms the cashier, in a sober transparent tank top – in June and July. Spaniards and especially Italians now ».
Half an hour later, at the bar.
Italians drinking spritz. Good morning, nice to meet you, usual introductions. They are three friends who have been coming here since 2012, “one week a year, blessed money”. They skipped the last two sessions for the pandemic, this summer they are back: and a friend has joined them. They present themselves with the nicknames they gave themselves to make these raids: «I’m Birillo, and you understand it for yourself why they call me that. I am 54 years old, I am an entrepreneur, I have some clothing stores between Padua, Vicenza and Brescia. He, on the other hand, is a Little Chemist… ». Like the board game when we were kids? «Eh eh…» – this 51-year-old Paduan dentist allusive replies. Then there is Ringo: «When I decide to tow one, I don’t miss a beat“. However, in short: since here, mainly, we exchange, the company has been joined by Vale, who would be Valentina, an enchanting saleswoman in a shop that Birillo manages in via San Fermo, in Padua. “Listen up: these are three beautiful braggart. Rather, you are a journalist: aren’t you hot yet fully dressed?“.
The italiens company greets, they go to one foam party, but they invite me to a little party they organized tonight, at home. Tip: in the afternoon I absolutely must not miss the show down on the beach. “You will see, the “clock” game will leave you breathless»Blows Little Chemist. Here, wait, don’t go away: but this nickname of him? “They make fun of me because I invented a protocol to make a good impression.” I don’t follow her. “My friend: we are no longer boys, and we must help each other. In a place like this, seven days a week, more than ever ». Got it: so? «A dose of Cialis 5 mg at 11 in the morning. At noon: one gram of Korean red ginseng. Around 3 pm, a double coffee. Then, when you think it’s time, whether it’s afternoon or evening, you shoot yourself a good dose of 100 mg Sildenafil orodispersible, and get the turbo in. ‘ Works? “Guaranteed. But you don’t have to overdo it. A few years ago, Ringo overdid his Cialis, got a little cuddly, and we were forced to take him to the Narbonne hospital. ‘
The best restaurant is considered the Waiki Beach. It’s at Port Nature, the most chic area of the village (ruthless agencies: apartments rented for even a thousand euros a week; and, in any case, sold out). On the driveway, behind the last hedge, there is a guy on all fours. Grizzled hair, the face of someone who might be your accountant, he’s wearing a thick black leather briefs and has a studded leather collar. The collar is secured to a leash, tied to the fence. I look at him, he looks at me. I come out with a: “Hello.” And he: «Bau! Bau! ». Holy God. Not only did they tie him up like a dog: he barks like a dog (it is clear why taking pictures is strictly forbidden).
I start to continue, and I hear a voice: “You caress it as well, it doesn’t bite“. I turn around: a plump lady, with reddish bobbed hair and freckles, a fishnet bodysuit, cork rafts. It’s a whip. «It is Oreste, my slave. Nice specimen, right? ” (actually they are husband and wife, both employees, they come from Lecce). Then an elderly French couple pass by, two skinny, nice-looking grandparents – naked, of course, apart from the official Birkenstocks – and they seriously caress, tenderly, Oreste. That sketches a half smile. Mistake. His mistress immediately gives him a terrible lash. Slang! Lady, softly. “No plan! She deserved it. He must laugh when I decide“. It goes like this.
Of course, it’s not exactly what the brothers Paul and René Oltra imagined it was in 1974. Legend: children of a winemaker, one afternoon – after hours of hard work – instead of throwing themselves in the shower, they decide to go for a dip in the sea; arrive and discover dozens of Germans sunbathing naked. The vineyard makes, but a great one naturist campsite – they think – it could be the right bet for those seventies, still so revolutionary. It worked for many seasons: then, inexorably, the libertine tide. Now,
nudist families (some jokers also bring children) are relegated to the right side of the beach. On the left, the Bay of Pigs (that’s what they call it). Umbrellas and towels and hundreds of genitals of all ages, social classes, grades of beauty. A crazy mix-up. Now: explaining what happens, in detail, is not possible. But, in short: we understand each other. As for the famous game of the “clock”: leaves as soon as a couple starts getting busy. Then, from the dunes, dozens of hungry men, backpacks and sunglasses drop, and put themselves in a circle. Point. For the rest, go fancy (consider that these scenes follow one another uninterruptedly until sunset, sometimes even in the water: which, however, being freezing, does not help but, at least, disinfects).
Here, speaking of hygiene: it foam party. Everyone talks about it with enthusiasm. It seems to be something unmissable. It would be reserved for couples only. But then Gerard, a very little fat and peaceful Maghreb in the role of bouncer, accepts 50 euros for a coffee: and so he goes in to take a look. Basically: a trap. With DJs and ball music, everyone against everyone, inside a huge white mousse that covers the pool. On the Moleskine it says: total, insane contempt for the danger of infections (Covid, frankly, would be the least of the problems). At aperitif time you arrive with a beautiful sky and the smell of grilled food, the sweetish smell of after-sun oils and in a sensational erotic / carnival rub (and it really amazes that all of this has so far only inspired one writer, Michel Houellebecqwho in 1998 published for Bompiani, and with considerable success, “The elementary particles” – although at the time here the naturist imprint was still prevalent).
: triumph of sandals with 16 heels and thongs, phallic earrings and leopard-print corsets, poor Oreste always carried on a leash, beer, wine, light blue lipsticks, silver nails, a pair of phosphorescent drag queens, a “Beddamaaatri!” launched by a Sicilian boy at the passage of two wonderful Dutch twins, a great show of winter plastic surgeries, a diffused light-heartedness that, however, gradually turns into turbid looks, savannah silences, the hunt for pleasure. The clubs are numerous. The most beautiful privé is the Glamor (but get here to close yourself in a private room, boh). Then there is the Tantra, where individuals are also admitted. This year is going strong as well a BDSM club. The saunas close late. However, a classic – they explain to me – remains there stroll in the narrow streets of Port Naturewhere the funniest private parties are organized (and where it can happen to be involved in parties: as it is clear, a lot – if not all – is played on the thrill of unexpected libertinage, thrilling emotion, gambling).
The hot dinner
Here, in fact: let’s go and see how it is there little party of the Italian party known at the bar. Just to frame the scene: small garden, torches, a table with a plastic flowered tablecloth, a tray full of sausages, empty glasses, a candle with vanilla essence, the warm voice of Barry White, that of Ringo: “Ah , good … you arrived just in time … ». Excited laughter from inside: there is Piccolo Chimico uncorking a bottle of prosecco and toasting with two other couples. They are all naked. I am observed casually. I also toast. Ringo: «Oh, nice… you need to relax a bit, huh? There is not only work ». The Vale emerges from the corridor. “With Birillo we are playing over there … there are two very nice Spanish couples … if you like, you can join”. She then she winks, takes the bottle of prosecco, and disappears. Ringo says this is Cap. She is absolutely this. And it is crazy to fall asleep on the most beautiful. Outside, in the driveway, the yellow streetlights, the cicadas singing, that prosecco was bad. Enter a whatsapp. From the Maremma. “Just to know: are you there on August 15th, or do you plan to stop there?“.
August 14, 2022 (change August 14, 2022 | 07:45)
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