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Letters to Domai 1, on Sin

Dear Domai

A lot of your articles explore the difference between porn and domai girls. Here is my take on it. According to some people:

Porn is Sexy
Sex is Sin
Porn is sinful

So far we can all see the logic, we may disagree, but the logic is there.

But then the wires get crossed somehow. 'Sex is sin' turns into 'sin is sexy'. Not logical, but it happens. If you don't believe me look at a porn movie.

How much of the movie is just 'gratuitous sin'? 4-letter words, forced or anal intercourse, domination and other taboo breakers.

And how much of the porn movie is actually sexy? Precious little as have been already stated several times here at DOMAI.

Is it sexy to run a red light? A little exiting if you are 15 in a stolen car I guess, but sexy? Why should sin be sexy? Surely that is not the parsons intention as he preach.

Sin is sexy. That idea is a large part of porn, without it there is not much left.

Actually it was a porn movie that inspired this view, A movie so very lousy that 10 minutes into it I had to ask myself a question: "What the hell is sexy about this?".

The scene was a guy F***ing a girl behind some furniture. All that could be seen were her head and his legs (neither pretty). A totally null scene.

Until it struck me: the actors were of different race. In America where this film is made many people consider sex between a black man and a white woman to be sinful and unnatural. That was the porn content of that scene, the 'sinfulness' of it, nothing else.

I sat though another 5 minutes and had the theory confirmed by another scene where the sexiness was the womans dead husband lying in a coffin in the same room. Then I gave it up and went home.

For the final climactic scene maybe the corpse developed a severe case of localized rigor mortis; but that is just guesswork. I missed it (without regret).

And that then is the difference between porn and DOMAI. With the domai images there is no sin, and so no need to turn sin into sexiness.

Definitions of sin differ, so in places where 'naked is sinful' domai girls really are pornographic. We should remember that, however sad.

Could that be the name for the '3rd kind of nudes'? "Sinless nudes". No, it might be appropriate, but it would not be politic. Religions would object to the use of 'their' word in that way.

'Innocent nudes' maybe, but then I object to the implication of ignorance, weakness and virginity; not appropriate for domai girls. (It fits exceedingly well with Eolake's "without evil" definition though.)

Regards Jakob A, Denmark

Letters to Domai 2, flower power times

It was the turbulent 60's, and the war in Vietnam was hanging heavily over my senior class. Few boys in our remote little community in the heart of the Appalachians could afford college, and most were being drafted into the Army upon graduation from high school.

The outlook was bleak for a tall, lanky country boy who worked evenings and weekends at the local gas station just to keep his old Ford on the road. My only extracurricular activities were occasional dates with girls, hiking in the woods and playing guitar and singing folk songs with my best friend and his little brother.

My friends and I didn't play sports or join school clubs, and our occasional performance in talent shows and intermurals was the only thing that kept us from total obscurity. We had limited success meeting girls; we didn't like the ones who smoked and drank.

Just months before graduation, a gloomy winter day was transformed into something else when Andrea, our school's head majorette, approached my locker to say how much she enjoyed folk music. We had attended the same elementary school, but since I was a year ahead of her and extremely shy around girls, we had seldom spoke. Now, this very pretty and popular girl was inviting me to her house to play the guitar and sing. Andrea ("Andy") introduced me to her parents and led me down the steps to the basement which her dad had remodeled and furnished especially for her. We sang a few songs, talked about the war, civil rights and the peace movement, and we quickly became good friends. Andy ran with the popular crowd; in addition to her high profile with the school band, she dated the quarterback and was a top student. I knew I wasn't worthy of her affections. Perhaps a lack of self-esteem had convinced me I couldn't compete on that level.

Although we would meet in her basement at least once a week that winter, and I was totally taken by her charm and beauty, I never made a romantic move. Andy said I was the only boy her parents would allow to visit her when they were away.

Winter had been especially dark and cold, and the first signs of spring stirred us into a conspiracy to skip school and hike around the old reservoir on Bays Mountain. On the appointed day, I picked up Andy in my Ford and took her to my house where she changed into her hiking clothes. We drove to the mountain and embarked on a day of hiking and communion with nature. It was a beautiful day. We spent the morning hiking along the old dirt road around the lake and we ate our picnic lunch on the upper landing of a fire tower. The view of the valley was panoramic; we could see our school in the distance and our delinquency made our moments together in the warm sunshine especially sweet.

We had hiked barely halfway around the reservoir when we realized we were unlikely to make it home before her parents. I told Andy how my friend and I had once swam across a long, narrow lagoon, cutting at least an hour off our hike. Andy seemed excited about the idea and quickly agreed to the shortcut. When we reached the crossing, I stripped to the waist, tied my shirt and sweater into a bundle with my boots and pitched them to the other side. I slipped into the freezing water and paddled across, lifting my shivering self onto the muddy opposite shore. When I turned, Andy was balanced against a tree, removing her white socks and stuffing them into her boots. Then she stepped into the sunlight... totally naked.

My shivering suddenly stopped. My heart too. Just across the rippling green water stood the first naked lady I had ever seen. I could hardly believe the perfection of her beauty as she reached upward to tie her long, brown hair. Her breasts were the perfect size and shape... they extended almost straight out.

She was smooth and lean from head to toe. Now I could see her familiar, perfect legs converging into a thatch of brown curly hair... the only cover she needed. Her skin was tight and smooth, even when she bent over to pick up the bundle that was her clothes. "I'd better not throw this into the water," she said loudly, her laughing voice echoing across the reservoir.

"Throw underhanded..." I yelled back in a cracking voice characteristic to the males of my family when we get excited. "... I'll catch them!" Andy swung the bundle behind her and stepped forward on one foot to make the throw. Her bare foot slipped on the muddy bank as she released the clothes, sending the bundle high into the air and her naked butt splat into the muck at water's edge. Her screaming laughter echoed again as her clothes splashed down into the lagoon in front of her. "Now what am I going to do?," she screamed. "...And this water is COLD!"

"You come on across and I'll get your clothes," I said as I jumped back into the water.

She was slipping in the mud again as I helped her out of the water. She stood dripping and stiff with hands fisted as I climbed onto shore with the bundle of wet clothing and waterlogged boots. "Come on," I said as I grabbed up my sweater and put it around her shoulders. "Lets get in the sun where it's warmer."

Andy's goose-bumped body shivered as I jumped up onto a large rock and pulled her up into the sunshine. I held her close and tried to dry her off with what little dry clothing I had. I felt the heat of the afternoon sun on my bare back and her nipples against my chest. "Andy," I said. "Lie back on the rock. It's really warm. Can you feel it?" Still shivering, she loosened her tight fists and slowly unfurled herself onto the warm, smooth rock, where she lay for a few moments without speaking. "My skin feels like it's on fire," she said with a quivering voice. "It feels amazing! I've never felt anything like it! I don't care that my clothes are wet and I'm naked! I don't care if we don't get home in time! I could just stay here!"

We lay on the rock for what seemed like a long time, me in my wet blue jeans and Andy in her birthday suit. I watched her turn over onto her stomach as I spread out her clothes in the sun. Like the rest of her, her bare backside was smooth and perfect. Andy was in a trance-like state, enjoying the moment to the fullest, communing with God and nature. "I've never been naked with a boy before," she said finally as she turned over and sat up. Her shivering had stopped and she spoke slowly in a deep, soft voice. "I feel totally comfortable with you. You're not like the other boys. I totally trust you because you understand me and you respect me, even when we're alone and I'm not wearing anything. You are a special friend." Still enjoying the warm afternoon, and reluctant to put on her damp, cold clothes, Andy completed the hike wearing only her white socks and leather boots. She marched along the dirt road with the posture and purpose of a majorette. Had we met other hikers that day, I'm certain she would not have broken stride.

We did make it home in time, and so far as I know, her parents never knew we laid out of school that day. Andy received an excused absence, but the principal was not so easy on me. I told him I had spent the day with a special friend. He subtracted three points from all my grades and threatened to expel me, but didn't.

I graduated that spring and was soon drafted into the Army, which I survived. I returned to the Appalachians, married a wonderful, intelligent, beautiful girl and we soon started a family. Andy graduated college with honors, then traveled the continent for the next 10 years as a flower child. Every now and then, usually after ending a relationship, she would pass through to visit her family and old friends. She would always give me a call and we'd go hiking in the mountains where she often discarded her clothes and swam gloriously naked in the pools beneath her favorite waterfalls.

Andy went on to become a teacher on an Indian reservation, and later a university professor. Nearing middle age, she finally found a man she wanted to keep.

And we have always remained the best of friends.

John B

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