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Letters To DOMAI


I grew up in South Dakota. It was a nice place to grow up, no hustle and bustle of the big city. Everything seemed exciting and dramatic, but that could have been because I was young and inquisitive.  We lived in Brookings, a medium sized town that also was home to the state university, which was about a block from our home. My big brother and I both had bikes (his was newer of course) and we would ride them around the block, day in and day out. There was a big flagstone house on one of the corners of our block. The house was surrounded by a wrought iron fence and covered to its eaves with ivy.  

For some reason we knew a witch lived there, maybe we had overheard my mother and her friends talking about the witch on the corner over coffee during one of their frequent get togethers, or maybe it was just something we knew. Either way we were afraid, and whenever we came to that corner we pedaled as fast as we could, because we knew she was watching from the ivy covered windows, just waiting for our misstep.

One night my parents had some friends over, they had three kids, and since there weren't enough bikes we were forced to walk around the block. We were almost around when we came to the witch's house. I looked at my brother and he looked at me. We both blurted out at the same moment "run"! My brother and I took off as fast as we could go, when we looked back the others were just walking, looking at us like we were crazy.

We turned around and ran back to save them, naturally they needed an explanation, and when we told them our story, they still looked at us like we were crazed, and of course laughed, and laughed, and just kept walking. We were almost to the gate of the house when the oldest of our "friends" stopped, looked at the house and then looked at me. I of course, was the youngest, and since I also had red hair and freckles, was a perfect target for his mischief. He along with his two brothers dared me to go up to the house, enter the screen porch, and then go into the open front door.

I looked at my brother for help, naturally he was enjoying the moment, and thought I would chicken out, maybe even start crying. So, I had no help, and I didn't want to be known as a chicken, so off I went up the sidewalk leading to the porch, I opened the door on the screen porch (which as luck would have it squeaked), tip-toed across the porch, and after peeking into the house and seeing no one, I entered.

I got down on my hands and knees and began crawling, glancing this way and that, waiting to be discovered, terrified about the consequences when I was caught. I saw a light coming from a hallway and crawled towards it. As I came to the hallway I looked up and was amazed to see the witch standing in the bathtub, just having taken a hot bath and reaching for a towel. 

There she stood, beautiful, completely naked, and wet... her dark hair, her white skin, her soft full breasts, the glistening wetness of her pubic hair. My eyes couldn't see enough, and I'm sure when I swallowed it made a loud gulping sound, for it was at this point she gazed up at me and smiled, as if she had always known that I was there. She smiled, and my courage left me.

I back pedaled, turned, stood, and ran all in one movement, barking my shin on a end table on my way to the door. In my mind there was a rushing of wind, and a babbling of voices, I was sure she had put a curse on me. What the curse was I wasn't sure, and at that point I didn't care.

I ran out of the house and down the sidewalk, my brother and our "friends" watched as my white, terror stricken face flew past them and down the sidewalk towards home. No matter how hard they pestered me, I wouldn't and couldn't tell them what I had seen, for I knew she would know, and then the damage would be done, and the curse would befall me.

It was a long time until I went by that house again, and when I did, I went by at my highest rate of speed. The curse, of course, there probably wasn't one, but from that moment on I was drawn to women. Their beauty and softness, their strength and their curvaciousness. And that has stuck with me for all these years, DOMAI is just another chapter to add to the story. The women and young ladies, are a joy to behold, and it makes that moment of fear and discovery all the more worthwhile.


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