nude pics, photos of nude woman and models

In case you hadn't noticed, in recent times, not only am I using different pictures for the newsletter and and the Beauty Of The Day (thus giving you twice as many free pictures), but I also for the newsletter now tend to use landscape-format pictures, which are larger and fit better on your computer screen for desktop decoration ("wallpaper"). All for the benefit of the visitors who are between memberships. Tell your friends. :-)

Eolake Stobblehouse

Letters To DOMAI


I was lucky enough to have a Domai moment when I was fairly young. I know the first three letters of Domai stand for Dirty Old Man [well, close enough. - Eolake], but I think the philosophies of Domai, and the idea of natural beauty can be appreciated by anyone at any age [indeed. Gender too. - Eolake]. And so, with that qualifier, I present my story.

Growing up, I've had the privilege of spending my summers on a quiet lake way up in the woods of Maine. Members of my extended family share the property, which consisted of three cabins by a private lake. Though each family was given two weeks time at the camp, the kids would sometimes bounce around from family to family as a way to stay longer. This particular summer, when I was 14, I went up with my parents, stayed with my grandma, then finally with my Aunt Hannah and Uncle Roger, and their two daughters Cait and Ann Marie. In the middle of their two weeks, Aunt Hannah invited her friend Margaret to stay with them.

Margaret was their neighbor from back in New Hampshire, but she was originally from Scotland. She was fairly young, maybe in her mid-twenties, and amazingly beautiful. At 14 years old, you notice a beautiful woman. She was a bit tall, with flowing brunette hair, and a fit figure. She wasn't particularly curvy, but she had her hips, and roundness in her chest. Her husband needed to stay behind in New Hampshire to work, so it was just Margaret and her two year old son. The little boy was a complete distraction for my cousins. I was old enough to be included with the adults, so as Margaret arrived in the evening, we all sat around talking. She had interesting things to say, in an accent that made all of it seem exotic. She wasn't afraid to push some taboos, and would sometimes blurt out something that very obviously made Roger and Hannah a little uncomfortable.

I liked Margaret immediately.

The next day was a nice sunny one, so everyone was to be down at the beach. The beach there is very secluded, and very private. We all casually made our way down there, with Margaret taking her time. I was desperate to see her in a swimsuit. I was 14, after all. When she finally came down to the beach, she was wearing a light robe, tied at the waist, covering whatever she was wearing. I was waiting in anticipation in the water, throwing a Frisbee with my cousins. I was not at all prepared for what I saw. Margaret untied her robe, and opened it, and there was not a swimsuit of any kind on under there. She dropped the robe on the sand and sat down, totally naked.

This did not sit so well with Hannah or Roger, whom I'm sure were worried that Margaret's freewheeling attitude would somehow corrupt their daughters, or even me. They tried their best not to make a scene, but Hannah very strongly suggested Margaret head back up to the cabin and borrow one of her swimsuits. Margaret just laughed it off. It was just our American attitude, she said, assuming that nudity was unnatural. It was a private beach, so why couldn't she be at her most comfortable. The adults grudgingly accepted, and Margaret sat back, taking in the sun, watching her boy splash around naked in the water, and looking like she just belonged there.

For so long, as a teenager with raging hormones, I had been desperate to see a nude woman. And now that I had one right in front of me, I could see that nudity was not about sex. I didn't see an object, but rather a beautiful woman comfortable with herself, with her surroundings. She was the embodiment of confidence and personal empowerment. My teenage curiosity was subdued. Now all I saw was the woman.

For the few days Margaret was there, I was grateful. I was able to absorb her beauty, not just physical, but her intellect and wit. I saw a glimpse of the world outside what had become so familiar to me. An enlightening that has greatly enriched my life, and I owe it all to one open minded woman from Scotland.


Newsletter archive

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