Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click hereI returned home from work to find yet another manila envelope with a Milwaukee cancellation in my mailbox. Thinking back on the previous photographic surprises I had found inside similar envelopes sent from Milwaukee, I smiled greatly.
Once inside, I made a pot of coffee, then sat at the table with the mail, reading a letter from a longtime friend and sorting through the junk mail before finally reaching for the manila envelope, essentially saving the best for last. Inside was a lone five-by-seven photograph, with no letter of explanation stating why I was receiving these seemingly-random photos.
...not that it really mattered much to me.
She lay on her back in a shallow pool of water, her arms outstretched, her eyes closed, her red-painted lips parted just enough to attract the viewer's eye. The same Asian beauty wore a silver bikini, the bikini panty held in place by a tie-string at each hip, the triangular cups of the bikini bra leaving the base of each succulent breast exposed. Through the thin silver material, it was quite evident that she was wearing an O-ring in each pierced nipple, momentarily drawing my mind back to the first photo I had received of her.
It appeared that she lay in only an inch of water, likely in a park's wading pool, an observation further heightened by the arch of her back rising up out of the shallow water. The sunlight reflected off the water in a way which served to further highlight this prime example of feminine beauty. She was definitely wet, as if she had been rolling around in the water shortly before the photo had been taken, causing me to focus momentarily upon her flawless exotic skin before returning my gaze to her face.
She had cut her hair since the previous photo had arrived in my mailbox. Gone was the waist-length hair, now cut so short that it would not even reach to her shoulders. While the "lack" of hair was slightly disappointing to me, it was a nice cut, a style which suited her quite well.
Given the slight parting of her lips and her closed eyes, her facial expression was one of innocence, like that of a sleeping infant. If anything, she could be having a pleasant dream, perhaps a dream of strolling along a secluded tropical beach at sunset. Even with her arms outstretched in this manner, it was a pose reminiscent more of someone sleeping upon a large bed than laying on her back in a wading pool.
Around her, the ripples of the water could be easily seen, the sunlight creating minor shadows and shimmers on the floor of the wading pool. At least a dozen red flowers floated in the water around her, their large petals opened fully; in fact, a bee had alighted at the center of one of these flowers, gathering the nectar within.
This beautiful woman looked so innocent, so vulnerable, so trusting, so sexy. It was such a stark contrast to the two previous photos I had received of her.
...except for the trail of white emerging from the edge of her mouth and running down her left cheek to the water in the wading pool. This one "minor" detail was the only thing preventing the young Asian woman from being truly "innocent" in this photo. I was a little amazed that there was not any male essence anywhere else upon her face or her body – a very sharp contrast to the original photo I had mysteriously received of her, in which she was bound and completely nude, and may as well have been drowning in semen.
"She is such a beautiful, artistic slut," I whispered to no one in particular, my eyes expertly studying the totality of the photograph and wishing I had been there to personally witness the taking of this most unusual picture. Either this mesmerizing beauty had an excellent artistic sense, or she had a highly-artistic manager.
I continued to study the photograph for a few more minutes, then went to the den. For years, I had collected digital images of beautiful Asian women, both famous and amateur, from numerous sources online. My scanner had received quite a workout over the past few months as I scanned images from magazines to add to my large collection on one of my external hard drives.
And now, I had another such image to add to the massive collection.
When I placed the photo face-down on the glass of the scanner, I was surprised to see something written faintly in pencil on the back of the photo:
"From Ayumi, with love."
At last, my exotic Asian goddess was named.