Letters to Domai
First of all, I want to thank you for an outstanding site, and for the clarity of your vision. I have to agree with many others: You have unveiled something that was there all along, but very rarely recognized as having intrinsic value. Most either run from the female form or attempt to consume it, and there is little room in our society for drinking in the beauty of it, and appreciate it for what it is -- an expression of the glory of all that is good, that was made to be enjoyed by all.
Beauty has always held me in thrall -- whether it is an unspoiled mountain stream, a star-spangled sky, a mother nursing a child, or a young woman giving the gift of her beauty for others to enjoy. A few weeks ago, I was thrilled to discover two of these things brought together.
I was exploring in a national park of great beauty (but nearly devoid of people,) while sorting out many things in my own head and life. I had driven down a dirt road about a mile from the main road, and parked by a small stream. From there, I had hiked down a trail, not knowing where it went -- just that it was farther away from roads and people. The Fall colors were in full swing. The trees were Maple, Aspen, Birch, and Hemlock, weaving a tapestry of reds, yellows, white, and light and dark green, that all contrasted with the vividly cloudless sky. The evergreens and fallen leaves combined to make a heavenly smell that was both earthy and sweet. Walking all alone through this perfectly silent wood, it felt as though I were walking through a holy place.
In mile or so, I came to a larger stream, which was rippling and laughing gloriously in the morning sun. The trail stopped at a stream, for I could see the trail rising on the other side of the stream, about fifty feet away. Someone had thoughtfully built a wooden bench in this empty park, perfect for viewing the bubbling stream. I waded around in the stream for a while -- that water was COLD! -- looked at a couple of beautifully colored stones from the stream, and sat down on the bench to appreciate the scene. I thought that if perhaps I were lucky, I might have the chance to spy a moose or deer coming down to drink, even though it was mid-morning. I was luckier than I knew.
I had been sitting there for some time, feeling absolutely content simply to be, when I heard the sound of voices across the stream. Two young women in sweat shirts, jeans and hiking boots, looking to be about college age, came down to the stream on the other side -- perhaps 70 feet away. I was at first a bit annoyed at the intrusion on the perfect solitude of the moment, then as they laughed and talked coming down to the stream, I realized that they fit, being there, even more than I did, and they were a part of that place, too. I was a part of that scene by being still, and quiet, and not disturbing anything, but they were a part of that same scene by being noisy, and laughing. Somehow, they carried a joyful energy that echoed the laughter of the stream. I couldn't hear what they said, and the occasional snippets of words I heard were in French, which I do not know.
When they got to the stream, they put down a couple of small bags, and then began to pull off their boots and sweatshirts. I could understand why, as I had taken off my jacket a while before, and I was still quite warm. When they got their sweatshirts off, however, they did not stop. The first one to pull off her t-shirt revealed a slender but *very* fit body, with very small breasts, tiny nipples, and no bra. Just as she got her shirt all the way off, and began to wriggle out of her jeans, she caught sight of me. She gasped and held her shirt up to her chest, and said something to her friend, who looked over at me. I had already been smiling, but I gave a little wave that I hoped would be reassuring, and she smiled and waved back, and hollered "Allo!" Then, looking directly at me, she pulled her t-shirt off over her head, revealing a large sports bra. Still looking directly at me, she cupped her hands under her breasts and slid the bra off them, then over her head. It wasn't so much a provocative action as an unveiling -- I don't think she was trying to turn me on; I think she was just inviting me to enjoy the sight of her. She seemed to give a sigh of pleasure as they came free. Come to think of it, so did I. They were worth the wait. Very large breasts, with large nipples and dark areolas, pointing outward to defy the inevitable pull of the earth.
She put her shirt and bra down on a rock, and then, with her back to me, pulled her jeans and panties down, and put them on the same rock. She had a magnificent figure, with a touch of love handles, but a perfect rear, and those wonderful breasts. She stood up straight, still with her back to me, and then turned around slowly to face her friend, but turning around three quarters of the way so that she did almost a full turn in front of me first. It was obvious she was enjoying putting on a show.
Her friend was still standing there, staring at me and then over to her friend, with both hands holding her t-shirt all bunched up and covering her breasts but nothing else under bare shoulders in the sunlight, and a long expanse of what looked like a dancer's body, with well-defined muscles, jeans open and all the way unzipped, and just the very top of her panties showing.
The larger girl put her hand on her friends hands and said something, motioning toward me with her head. The other girl nodded, smiled shyly, and then, also looking at me, slowly put her shirt down, then turned and put it on the rock with the other clothes. In a moment, they were both down to their birthday suits, and putting water shoes back on, began to wade into the stream. As they got into that cold water, they did a lot of gasping, laughing, and giggling while they played together in the stream. They looked over at me from time to time, but it was clear they did not want company. They were just enjoying being out there, being beautiful in the beauty of nature. It was also clear that they were ejoying the fact that I was watching them -- as if beauty is enhanced with somebody to appreciate it.
The two of them frolicked in the sun and the stream, and I just kept smelling the earthy air, looking at the trees and sky, and looking -- always -- back to them. The one had medium-blond hair, nipples that seemed to get even more pointed as they grew in the cold water, and that dancer's body. The other had much more rounded curves, big nipples, not as much grace as the other, but more strength. The dancer was, I was surprised to see, entirely shaven everywhere but her head. The other seemed to be natural everywhere, with hair as dark below as above.
After only about ten minutes or so, they climbed back out and returned to their rock to dress. Dripping wet, and still bare of anything except the cold water still running off of her body -- even pubic hair -- the dancer who had been so shy turned back to face me across the stream, and with a huge smile, gave a slow, full-body stretch in the sunlight, that revealed her *entire* self to a stranger. When she finished the stretch, she looked over to see me applauding. Her friend had scooped up their clothes by then, and with a final smile from them both and an "au revoir!" they headed back up the bank, wearing nothing but their water shoes and carrying all their clothes.
I continued to sit on that bench by that stream for another half hour or so, before heading back up to my car. Somehow, the problems I had been facing were insignificant in the face of such beauty.
Here's an odd thing. Neither of them were up to the standards of the DOMAI models, yet the gift they gave to each other and to me that day had such power that they were transformed, and so was I. Never in all my life have I seen such beauty as in that mountain stream. I would not have believed such beautiful women existed anywhere, yet they were quite ordinary, physically. It was the gift of themselves that made them so glorious. Their beauty and their joy was far greater because I enjoyed them, too.
I've always thought it a bit odd that the stories people write about encounters like this one always seem to be about people with movie-star like beauty. People talk about wood nymphs and goddesses, and I give a little snort of incredulity. Now, finally, I begin to understand. It is not exceptional physical characteristics that make a woman truly beautiful, it is her willingness to open her heart to another. The gift those two women gave me of being able to enjoy their uncovered beauty was what made their uncovered beauty so beautiful. (I know that's circular, but I can't describe it any better than that.)
In fact, it made me think of something. If you decide to publish this (and you are welcome to,) I would very much like to hear the point of view of some of your female readers on the following.
Given the power of the unveiling I saw, could it be that the reason many women (a) work so hard to look beautiful, and (b) have such a hard time with honest male appreciation of their bodies, is because the women want to give their beauty away, so to speak, knowing themselves to be art to be enjoyed, whereas the men are speaking honestly of sexual union, and seek a possession rather than an enjoyment? (That still doesn't feel as if I said it right, but I'm trying to ask if women feel they are somehow *made* to be looked at and enjoyed, including appreciation of their unclothed body by strangers male and/or female. The second thing I'm trying to ask is if they find it difficult, frightening, or offensive when the assumption is made that because their beauty is shared freely, their sexuality is also freely available. The REAL question I'm asking by implication is, would most women enjoy giving the gift of their unclothed beauty to strangers, if it were truly safe?)
Whatever the answers are, and no matter what anyone else thinks, I will remember the gift of that day forever.