You can do it with a good text editor that allows you to change the hidden characters. I use Notepad++,
https://notepad-plus-plus.org/downloads/Initially, set it to show all characters so you can see the return-linefeed pairs,
OK, now you have a three-step search & replace. First you have to convert the double-lines between paragraphs to something unique, then you convert all of the single lines to spaces, then you finally convert the double lines back to a real double line. In the REPLACE window make sure you check the
Extended [\n, \r, \t...] option.
1) replace \r\n\r\n with \n\n
2) replace all remaining \n\r with a space
3) finally, replace \n with \r\n
That gives you this:
THE DAY I BECAME A NATURIST (CHAPTER 1)
The Adventures of Roy
Hi, my name is Roy. Compared to most people, I suppose I have had a very privileged and in many ways unusual upbringing.
I live in a rather dry but beautiful Mediterranean country with a lovely climate, born into a rich family and living in a large house set on a two-acre plot. But, to me, one of the most special parts of my life is that I am a naturist.
My parents are not naturists. They are fairly normal people of modern British stock, with a few inhibitions as far as nakedness is concerned. When I was small, I bathed at times with my parents and was allowed to play naked in the privacy of our garden, protected from the wicked eyes of the world by the high walls that surround most plots in our affluent suburban area of town.
High walls are not really necessary nowadays, but have become something of a status symbol for the rich. Apparently they sprang up overnight among the rich during the revolution forty-odd years ago, along with security guards, but are really superfluous nowadays in a country notable far more for its easy-going character and lethargy than for any crime or violence.
By the age of about five I was considered too old to indulge in any unnecessary displays of flesh in the open air, and on visits to the seaside was always expected to change under a towel rather than allow any unauthorized viewing of my quite unremarkable reproductive organs. I still did what most children do when they are sure they are unobserved by adults, though, and urinated out of doors when caught short. The local population is notorious for this, and it is not uncommon to see them, mainly male and even adults, relieving themselves into walls or hedges without showing any real desire for privacy.
Of course, I had to put up with all the baby words that most families use for parts of the body and bodily functions that cannot apparently be named without shame – wee and poo, and their like. Nowadays I am embarrassed to use such words, and it is more natural for me to use the correct terms. So in these stories, if you don't mind, I will toss out terms like penis and vagina where they apply, rather than the baby words of the family or the dirty words of the schoolyard.
Naturally, with such an upbringing, I rarely saw girls of my own age naked. Perhaps when I was very young I did play naked or change into swimming costumes along with girls of a similar age, but I don't remember any instances. When I was five my cousin Shelley, who lives about a kilometre from us, was born. Her mother, my Aunt Sue, is much more liberal than my parents, and I was soon familiar with every part of little Shelley's body, to my keen interest that I had learned to hide from adults.
When I was seven years old, my sister Jenny was finally born, my mother having had a couple of miscarriages in the meantime. My parents did not seem to mind my seeing her naked at such a young age, and even taught me to change her nappies, a task I performed only briefly without protest, until my curiosity had worn off. My interest had been aroused when I was five, when I had a few adventures with a girl next door, about which I shall write on another occasion.
By the age of seven and in second grade, I was just beginning to develop a greater curiosity in female anatomy. I had already become aware of the fascination of feminine underwear, thanks partly to Alison next door and also to another incident that took place at school about the same time.
Like other Mediterranean lands, most of our rain comes during the winter. One morning I went to school after overnight rain wearing Wellington boots, as did most of the other children. On the veranda outside my classroom was a long trestle table for us to put our belongings. I was one of the first to arrive, so I went to the table along with another boy who was also early.
We sat down on the benches beside the table to take off our boots and put on our school shoes, as was expected of us. We fooled around a bit as we did so, and the other boy in fun threw my boots under the table.
I crawled under the table to fetch them, while my friend, in typical second-grade fashion, called out, "Good doggy, nice doggy," laughing all the while at his joke. I kept up the game, pretending to be a dog and snuffling around under the table.
At that point several girls arrived, and took it as quite a joke to see me crawling around under the table. They had a good laugh at me and tried to pat me, while I growled and barked at them. Then they sat down to take off their boots.
As girls of that age of innocence so often do, they simply sat on the benches and, instead of reaching down to remove their boots on the ground as streetwise older girls would, they lifted their legs, one by one, to pull them off. They were quite unaware that they were revealing to me, in my privileged position under the table, the full glory of their underwear.
I still can't imagine how I failed to give myself away as I gazed in open-mouthed awe at the splendid display of panties on offer under their long blue school skirts, only just in front of my eyes. Had I not been paralysed with wonderment, I could have reached out and touched them. They were mostly white, some bordered with edgings of lace, and I was intrigued to see how soft and delicate they appeared when compared to the utilitarian underwear that I and most other boys wore.
I was also fascinated to see how smoothly the thin material ran under the crotch, without the little bulge that was evident in my own underpants when I wore them. Some panties appeared quite tight, as if whatever they were covering was rounded and convex, but it always appeared so smooth and even. I had some idea of what a girl looked like between her legs, although I couldn't really visualize it when I tried, apart from baby Jenny's rounded little slit, but I wanted to see more.
This desire was encouraged the next time we had class swimming. For the first time, as I changed along with the other boys, I meditated on the fact that boys and girls always changed separately, and came to the logical conclusion that they must have something to hide, something that boys were not supposed to see. Naturally, in line with non-naturist thinking, I was curious and wanted to see it. Only later did it occur to me that perhaps I had something the girls should not see either.
I noticed again, as we were beside the pool, that the girls' swimming costumes curved neatly under the crotch in a tight little V, while the boys' costumes were more rounded, and some indeed actually bulged slightly when viewed from side-on. I found it quite fascinating.
An incident at home a few weeks later heightened my interest still further. While I was very conscious of the underwear and potential nakedness of girls my own age, it had no connection with older females. At the age of seven I had no sexual thoughts whatsoever about adults or even teenagers and nothing of that kind ever crossed my mind, until one evening at home.
Aunt Sue was round at our house and playing with me in the garden. I always loved her because she was so much fun. She was quite unconventional, and my parents seemed to regard her as an eccentric, but with good-humoured tolerance.
I had just begun to take an interest in football and was begging the adults to play with me. My dad had knee trouble and wasn't often able to play that sort of game with me, while my mother was willing at times but very feeble. Aunt Sue was happy to volunteer, and we gave it a full go. What she lacked in skill, she made up for in gusto, and we were having a wonderful game.
Then we both went for the ball at full tilt at the same time, and we collided. I crashed right into her midriff, which fortunately was very soft and well padded, and we both crashed over in a heap, rolling over together.
For a moment I didn't know where I was. It had gone half-dark all of a sudden as I lay there on the ground. I could see something over my head, and I could feel my face was pressing on something soft and fleshy. I moved my head, and could see a bit more. There was a large white expanse just in front of my nose, and a funny sort of powdery smell that I didn't recognize. And I could hear peals of laughter from just beside my head. That had to be Aunt Sue.
There was still something pressing against my head, and I dragged myself free. I found myself half-sitting, half-lying on the grass with a pair of large plump thighs in front of my nose. I shifted my eyes upwards and saw that large expanse of white again, set against a dark blue background. Then the legs rolled over, the white disappeared, and I recognized the lower half of Aunt Sue's body.
As her laughter continued, I began to realize what had happened. Somehow I had got my head thrust up Aunt Sue's dark blue dress. I could not imagine what that white mass I had seen was.
"Are you all right, Roy?" Aunt Sue burst out, still laughing. I nodded vaguely, and she went on, in affected indignation, "You naughty boy, just fancy putting your head up a lady's skirt like that!" She burst into laughter again.
I began to realize that the white mass I had seen had actually been my aunt's panties. It couldn't be anything else and it had disappeared when she put her legs down. Suddenly I had an appreciation of the fact that adult women wore panties, too, although I had seen my mother's before in the laundry. It also occurred to me that it was considered very naughty to look up a lady's skirt and quite shocking to have my head up it! Aunt Sue was treating it as a huge joke and teasing me, pretending that I had actually been as naughty as that.
"Did you see him?" she exclaimed to my parents amid gales of her laughter. "I find myself lying on the ground, and there he is with his head up my skirt! Roy, I really am shocked at you! That's no way for a well-mannered boy to behave!"
My parents grinned in an embarrassed, sickly way, and I didn't know what to do, but Aunt Sue obviously thought it a huge joke, so I laughed along with her, although at that age I didn't really appreciate why. But, as so often happens with small children, I got a thrill of excitement from doing something supposedly naughty and causing amusement by it. I might well have arranged to do it again, but knew my parents would disapprove, so I was wise enough to use no more than my eyes.
Looking back, I think it was really a silly thing for Aunt Sue to say, as it got my mind working and made me conscious of something I had never been aware of before. Aunt Sue wore her skirts quite short, as was the fashion among the young, while my mother, of more mature years, wore hers rather longer. I found myself, whenever I saw Aunt Sue, thinking back to our football accident and watching the edge of her skirt to see if her panties would become visible again.
Sometimes they did. It was difficult to see anything when we had our rough-and-tumbles, as we did sometimes, as my head was usually the wrong end, although I could sometimes see down the top of her dress. There was something white there, which I naively assumed to be her vest, and I was not particularly interested in that. As far as I knew, girls did not worry about people seeing their vests, and in this hot climate in fact very few people wore vests at all.
Sitting down I discovered was Aunt Sue's most vulnerable point. Flamboyant and impulsive by nature, she was not the sort to keep her hands demurely in her lap. Especially when she sat with me on the grass, as I often persuaded her to do, a flash of white was evident as she sat and then crossed her legs, cutting off my view, but no doubt without any idea that she had either exposed them or covered them.
Aunt Sue's silly joke had set off a new train of thought in my impressionable mind. It did not at that stage develop into any thought of seeing her naked at all, though had I gone to her house and walked in while she was having a bath or with a towel around her, it might have done, especially had she made a similar silly joke of it. I'm not really blaming her, as she was that sort of person, but her comments were quite unwise and I've learnt to avoid saying anything like that or making jokes about underwear or nakedness to small children. It can so easily make the sort of wrong impression on them that it made on me.
(To be continued)