Thank you to those faithful readers who write to me and remind
me that they miss the newsletter.
I very much enjoy the letters from your readers and thought it was time to share my own Domai story.
Marti is a copy editor in my office, a cute, somewhat tomboyish girl with an impish smile, wide brown eyes and short chestnut brown hair. Our department’s Monday morning meetings always start with sharing details about our weekend, and she always took a particular interest in accounts of my hiking exploits. Eventually, after about the 20th time she said “that sure sounds like fun,” I invited her to tag along. We started hitting the trail together about once a month and, although I’d tended to hike to get away from the crowd and be alone with my thoughts, I found I did enjoy her company and quiet humor. On our 5th or 6th outing together, we had hiked about 45 minutes when the sky clouded up and started sprinkling. We were having too good a time to be deterred by a few drops of rain, so we were over an hour into the woods when the sky really opened up. We rushed back down the muddied trail in a full downpour and were soaked to the skin by the time we reached the car.
When we got back to her place she insisted I come in to dry off and warm up, and we went in through the garage. She opened her washing machine, peeled off her soaking wet sweatshirt and tossed it in. “Come on,” she said, “I’m not letting you in the house like that.” So we both started stripping and tossing our clothes in the washer. I expected her to stop when she got to her underwear, but she only hesitated a moment, flashed me a small shy smile and then reached behind her back, unhooked her bra, peeled off her panties and tossed both in. I stood for a moment in stunned disbelief, and then as if in a dream, I followed suit.
I felt that I shouldn’t stare, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. Her breasts were full and swayed sweetly as she leaned forward to load the washer. Her nipples were surprisingly long and dark, no doubt elongated by the cold. Her bottom was full and round and especially delightful. And protruding from between her thighs and spreading halfway to her belly button, was a mound of thick dark pubic hair. I joked that I didn’t know what it was, but I’d never seen her look lovelier.
She said we should shower and warm up before she started the washer, and I followed her and her mesmerizing bottom into the house. I insisted she shower first and she gave me a blanket to wrap up in while I waited. After a few minutes she called that she was done, and she was still toweling off in the bathroom as I got into the still-running shower.
When I finished I walked back into her bedroom wrapped in a towel. I was surprised to find her still completely naked. She had lit her gas fireplace and was gathering up dirty clothes off the floor (it was somehow comforting to see she was as bad a housekeeper as I am). She brought the laundry basket over and held it out to me. It took me a moment to get her meaning, but then I unwrapped the towel from around my waist and tossed it in. She went off to start the washer, then came back and made lunch.
We were both a bit awkward at first, but soon our conversation was as relaxed and natural as usual. We spent a delightful afternoon together, hanging out and talking and laughing and openly enjoying the sight of each other’s naked bodies. I moved past her more obvious attributes and began appreciating the curve of her belly, the roundness of her thighs, the dimples behind her knees, the small of her back, her ankles and toes. It was a couple hours before she even bothered to go move the laundry to the drier and a couple more before she retrieved it and we, reluctantly, got dressed.
Marti and I still hike regularly every couple weeks, though we’re careful to double-check the weather forecast now. If our destination is remote and secluded enough and the weather is warm enough we’ll skinny dip or sunbathe nude. And though we leave out a lot of details in our Monday morning meetings, our routine often includes the post-hike shower and a lazy naked afternoon together.
There were earlier times, such as amcient Sumer, when the temples were
for sacred sex, to be closer to THEIR gods (and goddesses). They acted
on the "words of their gods" too!
Pictures are available in 6X size for
members, and forty times the numbers for the newsletter period!
Have you heard of our "naughty" sister-site GoddessNudes?