Photo Ch 04

It had been quite some time since the third mysterious photo arrived in my mailbox, so I was quite surprised to return from work and find yet another manila envelope bearing a cancellation mark from Milwaukee.

I purposely waited until after dinner before sitting in my small office to open the envelope. Inside was yet another five-by-seven photograph, with still no letter of explanation stating why I was receiving these seemingly-random photos.

...not that it really mattered much to me.

It happened that the photograph had been placed "backward" into the envelope. As I retrieved the photo, I noticed something written in faint pencil, and studied it more closely:

"Another special treat from Ayumi."

I turned over the photograph to gaze upon the image, and was stunned by the extreme contrast.

At the center of the scene was Ayumi, my beautiful yet unmet Asian goddess. In this particular image, she wore a school-style uniform, although it was not the "sailor suit" kind so well known in the West thanks to anime such as Sailor Moon. As she knelt upon the soft-looking grass with her legs spread apart, she wore a navy-blue pleated miniskirt with a matching blazer. Her legs were spread just enough that I could just barely discern her "innocent white" panties beneath the miniskirt. Underneath the blazer, she wore a white blouse with a bright-red tie, although the uppermost button of the blouse was (purposely?) undone. Ayumi was not wearing shoes in this photograph, and her white socks fit well enough that I could almost discern the detail of each toe of her left foot; the angle of her right foot in relation to her right leg and the position of the camera kept her right-side toes hidden from my scrutiny.

As in the previous signed photograph I had received from my mysterious teaser, Ayumi's hair was shorter than I would typically like, but it did at least reach to her shoulders. Her eyes held a glazed, unfocused look and somehow seemed larger than usual, and those two elements made the exhaustion of her expression even more emphatic. A deep, intense redness covered her cheeks, and it was clearly not from any make-up she could have worn, for her blush descended down her face and neck and descended inside the white blouse toward her chest, subsiding subtly as the blush cascaded down her beautiful form. The Sawa earrings almost perfectly matched the color of her cheeks while delicately enhancing her flawless, exotic beauty. The soft pink coating of her lips seemed quite pale in comparison to the blush and the earrings, but her slightly-parted lips somehow added to the atmosphere of exhaustion which surrounded her. Her hair was stringy and partially covered her face, which seemed quite fitting for this particular situation.

With the fingers of her right hand pressed to the grass behind her and the fingers of her left hand in a similar position between her thighs, I had a sense that if not for the particular position of her fingers upon the ground, she would topple over – such was the extent of her apparent exhaustion.

The photograph portrayed a beautiful day. It was clearly late spring, with the leaves thick upon the trees in the background, and a plethora of diverse flowers behind her providing a rainbow of beautiful colors to the image. The grass in the yard was a gorgeous green, cropped rather short and free of any stray weeds. Not a single cloud could be seen in the crystal-blue sky, allowing the sunlight to bathe the scene with perfect brilliance. The photographer had clearly been "lucky" with this photograph, as a cardinal could be seen at the left side of the image, flying through the background.

Yet, from head to feet, this exotic goddess was thoroughly drenched. Once again, Ayumi had been the center of attention for a bukkake party. The gooey white seed of unknown scores of men was splattered across the top of her head, dripping down her hair and her face to her shoulders and chest. If the stream of white above her right eye descended any further, it would likely "glue" that eye shut. Even her left Sawa earring was obscenely marred by the whiteness which trickled downward to Ayumi's shoulder. It was clear that at least one volley had made its way down the front of her blouse. Multiple streams of sticky white essence flowed down the sleeves and the front of the blazer, almost certainly ruining the garment and preventing it from serving as anything other than a tangible reminder of this particular event. Additional streams of the sticky whiteness flowed down the miniskirt and along the exotic beauty's legs, anointing the manicured green grass beneath her. Even against the white color of the socks, the male essence was distinctly visible.

What made this particular photograph all the more endearing and artistic was that Ayumi was the only person appearing in this image. There were no men to be seen anywhere; there were not even any human-shaped shadows indicating that other people were in the general area when this photograph was taken. In my opinion, the complete "lack" of other people made this particular photograph priceless and worthy of display in the Louvre.

"So beautiful," I whispered reverently to her, even though she was several hundred miles away... assuming that she actually did live in the Milwaukee area. I so desperately wanted to travel to Milwaukee, to roam the streets in search of this goddess, to finally be able to meet her and come to know her personally.

As much as I immensely enjoy receiving these unexpected photographs of this beautiful young woman, I would love to know her as a person, as a friend.