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Letters to Domai


I was 14 years old and it was my first visit to one of the infamous "nude beaches" in northern California. (Near San Gregorio Beach, by Pescadero). Having hitchhiked over, and wearing jeans and t-shirts, my friend and I felt very out of place on the sparsely populated beach, but neither of us was brave enough to drop our clothes too. As we walked self consciously along the sandy shore on this mildly overcast day, we came upon a vision that would burn into my memory with such clarity, that today, over 30 years later, I still see it as vividly and clearly as I remembered it later that night.

She was on horseback, in front of us about half a football field away, and was riding slowly toward us a few feet up from the gentle surf. She had long, slightly wavy brunette hair hanging about her back and shoulders that danced lightly on her chest, above and around her bare breasts. She rode a chestnut colored mare and wore nothing. She held the reigns lightly, almost nonchalantly and as she came into fuller view, I took in the whole vision in stunned awe.

She had larger breasts than some of the few women we had seen as we sauntered up the beach that afternoon. They hung ever so naturally as they gently bounced and moved with the horse's rhythm. Her nipples were about the size of silver dollars and pigmented a dark pink color, which made them stand out in contrast with her white, just ever so slightly tanned skin. She was not slender, but not heavy either and her well balanced proportions were very pleasing to the eye of a young teenager! An untrimmed patch of brown hair adorned her pelvis between smooth toned thighs and it moved forward and back with the rythm of the horse. Her pretty face had a kind of Ali McGraw look, but not quite as heavy in the eyebrows, with a high forehead and cheekbones, full lips and graceful jaw line. She rode leisurely and I watched her casually take in the scenery as she sat back easy in the saddle, barely giving us a glance.

As she came closer, and on our left now, my eye continued to travel down her curving waistline, rounded hips and shapely leg to her bare foot within the leather stirrup at the horses side. Totally naked right down to the toes! Unbelievable! (On, the closest resemblance to her can be found by checking the photos of Sascha. Also, Mari-ann or Olida come close. Take a look, and imagine one of them nude on horseback-and imagine yourself being a young teenager seeing that sight for the first time.)

Wishing, at that point, that somehow she would stop and allow us to absorb her beauty for the longest time possible, another lucky break was about to happen.

There was a guy, maybe mid 20's, in jeans, dark t-shirt and dark jacket and boots off to our right who was walking along near the cliffs. She saw him, apparently recognized him and called out to him. As he walked over and they began to engage in conversation we saw our opportunity to "inconspicuously" hang around and "innocently check out the surf and the scene". Thankfully, neither of the two seemed to notice us, and, trying to be inconspicuous, we milled around the area (never more that 10 feet away) and took in our full eyeful of her as they talked. We stayed for almost half an hour. It was great!

As they conversed, I was struck by the contrast. She was stark naked looking down at him from her perch. He was fully clothed. But both of them carried on a conversation as if they had just met on a street somewhere and it was like the most normal thing that they did every day. "How could he keep is eyes only on her face?," I wondered. My friend and I casually circled the horse and took in every possible view of its beautiful rider. Our "Lady Godiva" had the most beautiful, smooth, shapely, derriere and it was more pronounced as the saddle pushed against it. As the two continued in conversation we tried to avoid the appearance of staring but soon our embarrassment left us as they were obviously paying us no mind at all. This was just too good to be true!! I wanted it to last forever. How I wished I had a camera. I'm sure she wouldn't have minded a bit.

After awhile my friend wanted to move on down the beach to see "more sights." I was frozen. I just wanted to stay and stay and look and look. I was sure the moment would never come again. But, reluctantly, I began to move off down the beach with him, glancing continually back to catch every last glimpse I could until she became just an indistinguishable figure on horseback off in the distance. We did see more girls that day, one in particular who was playing in the surf, tossing a Frisbee. (Maybe I'll write about her later).

In an uncanny coincidence we also came across our 8th grade homeroom teacher on that beach-wearing a swimming suit-with his girlfriend---not wearing a swimming suit--and he was mortified that we saw them there! (And we had thought WE were busted!) Later on, we saw them again in the parking lot and my friend told him we'dnever tell anyone and could he please just give us a ride back to San Mateo? He agreed. It was a quiet ride.

Strangely, later that night as I thought about the beautiful girl on horseback and visualized her, I was not aroused. (No, a "20 something" blond that I had seen that day, with her light jacket open, revealing perfect c cup bare breasts, did that for me) Rather, I was reflective and appreciative of the experience and just laid back in the dark and went over every image of her beautiful face and body from every angle and remembered all the sounds, sights, smells and feelings of those moments as she sat so gracefully, comfortably and immodestly on her horse. It was one of those "firsts" in my life. You know the kind. They're milestones. Whatever they happen to be (first love-first birthday party-first plane ride, first nude girl, etc.,) they are so easy for all of us to remember because they fall as "firsts" within a series of similar events that happen in our lives, but because of the "new" experience, none of them have the same emotional impact as that "first time".

I remember it like it was last week. I want to take up nude photography


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