Chris Santilli, an award-winning freelance writer and inveterate naked gal, has visited Hedonism II 60+ times since March 1985.
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My wholesome, traditional parents convinced me to go to Hedonism II when I was 24, after they were faced with my other choice of the Club Med in Phuket Beach, Thailand.
They had been to Couples in Jamaica; how bad could Hedonism II be? Little did they realize at the time they had a hand in encouraging my lifetime of bawdy naughtiness.
Strangely, on my first trip to Hedonism II I didn’t realize the resort had a nude beach because the prude beach was hopping in the ’80s. But I saw people at dinner who I never saw all day. They dressed in exotic ensembles (a.k.a. slutwear). Did they sleep late?
Their outfits knocked it out of the sexy park even more for PJ night (the back-then must-do Tuesday event in the disco). I wore my mom’s short slinky nightgown because I had heard guests needed to wear something appropriate for bed. A guest tried to tie up the side of my nightie to show more thigh; I refused. Ten years later I walked into the disco as Lady Godiva with just a wig.
My nudist social training was slow because I had mistakenly equated nudity with being a woman of easy virtue. I spent my first four trips clothed on the prude beach (now clothing optional), until I could no longer ignore the noisy fun at the other end of the long beach.
Body painting on the nude beach at Hedonism II often leads to a fun removal process afterward.
Having a tiny skull has its advantages when blowing up a condom. But remember that Magnums seldom break so you’ll miss the climatic pop.
Now I do demos of the Inverted Pile Driver (an athletic nookie position) on the beach with the clothed entertainment staff, when I’m not instigating a car wash or listing all 14 Jamaican parishes during the pool-side trivia contest to win oodles of Hedo Bucks.
Being a gal with a penchant for flesh and singing off-key in the piano bar, I had found my place in the world. I’m never more comfortable with myself than when I’m at Hedonism II, even with its warts.
My father said I’d outgrow Hedonism II. I still go at least twice a year and met my future husband there.
When I published the 1st edition of The Naked Truth About Hedonism II in 1998, the resort sued me in federal court. After reading the book, though, the judge said he wasn’t in the business of banning books, and the then-owners of Hedonism II and I settled out of court—I needed only to add the word unauthorized to the cover and a statement of non-affiliation within. Nothing else changed. Editorial was and is all mine.
Later the resort even sold the book in its boutique. I’ve never felt unwelcome. The resort has a new owner since 2013 so I’ve updated The Naked Truth About Hedonism II with this 3rd edition to reflect the evolution of the resort, its guests, and ambiance since its last 2nd edition update in 2010.
All Hedonism II rooms were updated by 2018. Some have a bed for a third person instead of a window seat or patio walkout.
Chris Santilli is from Chicago’s western suburbs but lives in the San Francisco Bay area with her husband. She holds a B.S. in photojournalism from Northern Illinois University, an M.S. in magazine journalism from Syracuse University, and a MLIS (Master of Library and Information Science) from Dominican University.
She teaches writing at a local university and her portfolio includes her first book, Opportunities in Masonry Careers, and more that 200 bylined newspaper and magazine articles. She has twice won the Robert F. Boger Award for articles from the Construction Writers Association. She enjoys hearing from her readers by email.
By 2017 the top-side pool became yet another center for nekkid nudititty.