nude female, photo female, model female

The "old guard" is discovering and even supporting the Simple Nudes movement. Witness this scan from the French edition of Playboy Magazine. I would like to say thank you to the editors for this nice article. It can feel sort of nice to be a misunderstood underground rebel, but if you have an important mission, it feels even better when you are getting results in the world.

Another thing: The first letter of this week mentions a thing which is a minor tragedy: girls thinking their bosom is too small. When I was in Prague photographing blonde Jenny, she told me that she wished her breasts were larger. Horrified I told her she was perfect, and got strong support from everybody there.

Women, just like men, need to realize that it is only to buffoons that size really matter. "Quantity is quality" was after all the motto of one of the worst dictators ever (Joseph Stalin), and leads to tragedies like this.

Eolake Stobblehouse

Letters of the week, from Briz and James


Probably the most sensual experience of my life did not involve sex, but did involve nudity. This was with a young woman named Cindy, and it occurred twenty years ago.

Cindy was my girlfriend. She was a petite, teenage brunette with the prettiest emerald green eyes I have ever seen. I was in my personal physical prime at the age of twenty-three.

Cindy was spending the summer with her grandmother on her grandmother's farm. After work in a nearby city I would go visit Cindy. Often we would spend the evening or weekend playing billiards on a table in one of the outbuildings on her grandmother's farm. Sometimes Cindy's uncle or cousin, both of whom lived within a couple hundred yards of the pool table, would come to shoot pool with us. But this fine summer day was unbearably hot under the tin roofed, little building, so we had the shed to ourselves. I myself complained to Cindy that it was too hot to shoot pool that day.

Instead of agreeing, she sauntered over to me, slowly unbuttoned my shirt, and slid it off my shoulders. Then she walked back over to the billiard table to take a shot with her cue. I waited for her to take her shot, then I walked over to her, turned her to face me, and began unbuttoning her shirt.

"If you can take off my shirt, then I can take yours off too, " I told her playfully.

"I'm not stopping you," she replied.

Between shots Cindy and I continued to undress each other, and then we played nude billiards for awhile. The risk element of her uncle or someone walking in on us made the billiard games all the more interesting. But mostly we just enjoyed each others bodies with our eyes.

Cindy's body was so firm and curvaceous. She was quite the little hardbody. She had a really nice tan too. Work and play on the farm certainly had her body in fine shape.

And I loved her round little breasts which were about the size of oranges. She later confided in me some of the girls in her high school gym class had made fun of her petite size. How awful! I tried to convince her those young women had no idea what most men would find attractive. She was hot, hot, hot!!! Cindy was hotter than that little shed we were in on that scorching summer day. Her breasts were truly exquisite, as was her entire body.

Her scrumptious, round behind was so firm and taught I could have framed it on my wall as the delightful work of art it was. The memory of her overall shape still makes me shake my head in disbelief. Sometimes it seems to me it is women who are hung up on the size of breasts more than men. Cindy was very pleasing to the eyes. I miss her sometimes. And I still think of her often after all these years.


I admit to being a "Dirty Old Man" since I was a teenager, but like so many of us I could only steal glances at the Pretty Young Girls and then turn away, hoping no one saw me looking. There were instances where I afforded myself long leisurely stares, but mostly from a distance. Back then, I knew that I could 'get in trouble' for looking, but never did I realize just how much trouble being a Dirty Old Man could get me into!

One afternoon, back when I was twenty, I went to visit my friend Stefan at the department store where he worked. I asked one of the PYGs that worked there to let him know I had arrived, and settled outside the stockroom doors to wait. It was only a few minutes later that the Prettiest Young Girl I had ever laid eyes on emerged from those doors. She must have been around eighteen. I did not peek. I did not glance. I looked. I was met with long brown hair, a trim waist, and hips. Beautiful, curvy hips. She had full lips, and wonderful light blue eyes, and when I looked into those eyes I wanted to curl up and disappear. She had one of the harshest 'eat crap and DIE, you pervert' expressions on her face. I couldn't help watching her walk away, though.

My business with Stefan concluded, I was on my way out when yet another friend stopped me. Glenda wanted to chat for a minute, and we were quickly joined by another PYG that I knew from school. It only took a few minutes for Glenda to get around to calling someone else over for me to meet, a young lady named Diana. I froze, for before me were those lovely hips again. I was relieved to see that the harsh look had been replaced with a cute smirk. We all talked for a few minutes, then I had to be off or else be late for work.

That very evening, I met up with Stefan again to shoot pool. Much to my delight those hips were present, though they did nothing for my game. Dinner followed, as did other nights and afternoons with this wonderful girl.

The trouble I mentioned. Where might it be in this story? Had I peeked and not looked, I might not have seen. Had I not seen, I would have gone unaffected, unaware and perhaps just a tad guiltily on with my life. But I looked, and not two months after that day I asked those wonderful hips and the girl that possesses them to marry me. I've been in trouble ever since! But it's a good kind of trouble, and we've been happily married for over twelve years now. She knows that I am, and always will be, a Dirty Old Man. I still look at Pretty Young Girls, and sometimes my wife even points them out to me.

My message is simple, and it echoes one of this very site's basic principles. Open your eyes, do not be ashamed, and use them for what they were given to you for in the first place: LOOK! Look at everything and everyone. For if you don't, you are very likely to miss something that is very worthy of notice, something beautiful, someone beautiful. Be proud of the Dirty Old Man that you are!

With many thanks, Britz

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