I love www.domai.com. They send a free newsletter with 5 or 6 naked women per week. Duh, yeah Mike, we understand why you like it, you say. But there’s more. Most of those women would never make a Playboy mag and, although some undoubtedly come from the Eastern block, they seem normal…well, yeah, except for the lack of clothes, you snigger at me:) Admittedly, half true. It is playful with the girl-next-door fantasy.
What is the difference between beauty and sexuality? Intellectuality versus base desire? Can they be combined?Â Thoughts such as these lead to my bizarre take on attraction, lust and the fickle, superficial mind of humans – here. Then again, we’re animals, albeit beautiful animals, so nothing should be bizarre.
Domai also reminds me of my own self consciousness, that ill-defined, societal, word “modesty” that is less relevant than my own shyness, albeit both linked to sociology. But rather than me indulge in my own psychology as i regularly do in this blog, i simply ask you to enjoy their newsletter (comes with the pics), which always includes a mail from a reader, and consider joining up:)
This from their latest:
I grew up in a suburb of Toronto, Canada; my parents and my 2 siblings lived next door to a couple of about the same age as my parents and their 2 children. My parents and the couple next door were good friends, and we knew them as â€œuncleâ€ and â€œauntieâ€, even though we werenâ€™t related. We considered their children as our cousins, and in fact, we saw them far more often than our own â€œrealâ€ cousins. As neighbours, we fully lived up to the old adage about good fences â€“ so much so, that the fence that separated our backyards had a gap in it, so that we kids could retrieve a ball or Frisbee that had missed its intended receiver, without having to go all the way around.
I still remember how, even with that gap, weâ€™d never play in each othersâ€™ backyards, unless the other kids were already out playing and we decided to play together â€“ that was the kind of respect that we had for each othersâ€™ homes. To both sets of parentsâ€™ credit, even though theyâ€™ve long moved out of that neighbourhood, they still get together for dinner every now and then.
The subject of my story, though, was their younger one, a daughter named Angela, who was a little less than a year older than I. She was a typical cute girl, who loved to run around the yards, playing tag or hide-and-seek. We went to the same school and often walked there together (it was pretty much across the street from our houses), even though she was a grade ahead of me. During the summers, that school had a pool that offered swimming lessons, and we both learned to swim there. After the lessons, weâ€™d come home and our moms would hang the towels and swim suits on the clotheslines in the backyard, so the chlorine smell wouldnâ€™t always be in the house.
One lovely Saturday summer morning, my dad finished watering the vegetable garden using a sprinkler, and was about to put it away when I asked if he could leave it in the grass so I could play in it. We took down the towels from the clothesline first, then he moved the sprinkler and adjusted the spray so it would make a fine mist which was perfect for cooling down in the growing late-morning heat and humidity. He then went inside to take care of some other chores. Angela saw me taking the laundry basket into our big garden shed, and I invited her to come play in the spray with me. She took her swimsuit down from their clothesline, came into our yard, and followed me into the shed, where she started to undress.
I must have paused a moment â€“ thinking I should go inside to my room to change â€“ but as she was undressing, she told me something like, â€œBoys and girls arenâ€™t sâ€™posta see each other without clothes, but itâ€™s ok for you and me â€˜cause weâ€™re family.â€ I must have thought that made perfect sense, because I undressed as well, put on my swim trunks, and then we went back into the yard and played in the spray until lunchtime. That was the first time that I saw what was the difference between boys and girls, which I had only assumed was clothing.
Flash forward now a long time. Itâ€™s now the last week of August, back-to-school season. For me, about to enter my last year of high school; for Angela, her first year of University, out-of-province. I had a summer job that year, but had the last week off so I could relax and â€œbrace myselfâ€ for the school year. It was a weekday, my parents were at work, my siblings were already living on their own, so I had the house to myself. After sleeping in, I woke and found a note my dad left, asking if I could water the garden for him. So, after an afternoon breakfast, I set up the sprinkler and gave the garden a good soak. Since it was another one of those hot and humid late-summer days, I figured Iâ€™d do some relaxing outside.
A little while later, I saw Angela in the backyard, taking down some of the laundry left to dry by her mom the day before. I knew she would be moving out soon, so I asked her to come over and chat a bit. After we talked about how it would be a big change to not be neighbours anymore (we had by then understood we were not cousins, but we were still good friends), I got up to turn off the sprinkler. I then turned to Angela and asked if she remembered the time we played in the sprinkler together; she said of course she did. I playfully asked if sheâ€™d like to play in the spray once more, for old timesâ€™ sake. She laughed at first, but then â€“ given the weather â€“ she said sheâ€™d love to.
She went back to her yard to get her swimsuit out of the laundry sheâ€™d just taken down from the clothesline, then helped me take down our laundry (which included an old pair of cut-offs I used as swim trunks at the beach the weekend before), and I brought it into the shed. As I was moving the sprinkler from the garden to the grassy yard, I then asked her (and only in a slightly naughty manner) if she also remembered how when we were kids, weâ€™d both gone into the shed to change, and the advice sheâ€™d told me all those years ago…
Thatâ€™s when I saw her in the shed, already down to her white cotton panties. Again, she saw me hesitate. â€œYou donâ€™t expect me to go all the way back into my room just so I can come all the way back here, do you?â€ Keeping as cool as I could, I said â€œNo…I guess not.â€ And at that, her panties came off as well. She started to get her swimsuit together, which was consisted of a pair of red Adidas shorts and a candy pink bikini-top, while I undressed as well. I am sure I must have been shaking, because she gave me this big smile, which was equal parts â€œI bet you canâ€™t believe I just did thatâ€ and â€œI canâ€™t believe I just did that.â€
Her body was just lovely, and although she was nude for no more than a few seconds, I drank in as much of her beauty as I could. Her breasts were small, but plump; I could only imagine how soft. Her rosy nipples reminded me of those little strawberry gumdrops that were popular back then. Her shoulders and hips were still slender, but I got lost in their curves. And peeking out from between her legs was a tuft of chocolate brown hair that was a marvellous contrast to her creamy skin. I was in a state of absolute admiration, and I secretly hoped she had the same admiration for me, as I clumsily put on my swim shorts.
We then went out and cooled off in the spray, and had one of those afternoons you wish would never end. Shortly after, her mother came home from work, so I knew that an encore performance was not to be. She saw us and started laughing. â€œKids just donâ€™t grow up nowadays!â€
Angela would go on to University, and years later she married a very nice man and started a family with him. Iâ€™ve remained single, but weâ€™ve kept in touch by various methods; even more so now with the Internet. That late-summer afternoon romp has been our happy little secret all this time, and when I told Angela that I was thinking of writing it down for your website, she was very enthusiastic about it. After she read it, she reminded me about the little exchange we had before she returned home for dinner…
â€œHey Angeâ€, I said. â€œYou know, you were the first member of the opposite sex I ever saw naked.â€
â€œMe too,â€ she said.
â€œAnd the second,â€ I said.
â€œMe too,â€ she said.
â€œIâ€™m going to miss you.â€
Now i may admire those that do it but i’mÂ not going for a nude jog in the garden just yet:) But i’m not ashamed to say that i have 100s of Domai pics on my computer so choosing water as an example theme was a pleasant process: