Will she go ahead or dive back in conventional classic moral relations? I arrived in Tokyo The previous November 78, fought for a living place, not as postal stamp size as it it usual for japanese, but at a price acceptable with my not yet big future salary.
After some flashes shooting Yooki in her elegant dark blue
throusers with a perfect purple-ish blouse, I suggested to undo...
like a pro... she started.
It was the start of a not ended story today.
A never ending story as long as we live. Maybe!
The top first
Then the bottom.
It was a not so difficult start as she did not yet realized that I was really taking photos and she had so many layers on
At least my lens can focus on some bare skin.
But, hushhh, I try to be an transparent as the surrounding air.
Unfortunately, the camera is noisy, and the flash? What a disturbing monster.
Second layer: an almost virginal (a bit too late but...) very light beige cotton Tshirt.
Under it, the glints of a satin bra, white of course, the type of things our grand-mas weared in europe that was absolutely up to date and fashionable in the late 70's Japan.
Now, it is a difficult moment: take away this antique decoration hiding her lactation tools and her so juvenile look became a challenge.
Full view on the undulating plain, apreciating her wide (forced smile) to the camera lens, if not to me.
At that point, I knew she was ready to go far and that I wanted to have her as wife. (Sorry to say but the "slave" concept was not and still is not part of my mind.
But, please, reader, understand that if I may give her or any other woman some importance for me, I never accepted the stupid concept that men and women must be equal.
Respect is personal, stupidity is social and legal.
At that point, Yooki's last protection against my camera view is at stake. The pose is protective, the smile is tense, the look uncertain.
I moved in mid December, found reasonably priced furnitures, had them delivered a sunday afternoon while I was not working: a bed (the one on this pic), a low table (japanese style), another kitchen table european style with four chairs, plus some other things like a large sofa/armchairs set and decorative shelves I installed in the living room.
Yooki came to help, but my luggages were a cantine and a suitcase, not a lot to do. When we left Japan for France 12 years later, We had a 20 cubic metres container, plus her and the kids
That day, when she came, just out from the suitcase, I had my EDIXA camera available.
"I'll take some pictures of you. OK?"
She agreed, not knowing yet where it will lead.
After some flashes shooting Yooki in her elegant dark blue
throusers with a perfect purple-ish blouse, I suggested to undo...
like a pro... she started.
It was the start of a not ended story today.
A never ending story as long as we live. Maybe!
The top first
Then the bottom.
It was a not so difficult start as she did not yet realized that I was really taking photos and she had so many layers on
At least my lens can focus on some bare skin.
But, hushhh, I try to be an transparent as the surrounding air.
Unfortunately, the camera is noisy, and the flash? What a disturbing monster.
Second layer: an almost virginal (a bit too late but...) very light beige cotton Tshirt.
Under it, the glints of a satin bra, white of course, the type of things our grand-mas weared in europe that was absolutely up to date and fashionable in the late 70's Japan.
Now, it is a difficult moment: take away this antique decoration hiding her lactation tools and her so juvenile look became a challenge.
Full view on the undulating plain, apreciating her wide (forced smile) to the camera lens, if not to me.
At that point, I knew she was ready to go far and that I wanted to have her as wife. (Sorry to say but the "slave" concept was not and still is not part of my mind.
But, please, reader, understand that if I may give her or any other woman some importance for me, I never accepted the stupid concept that men and women must be equal.
Respect is personal, stupidity is social and legal.
At that point, Yooki's last protection against my camera view is at stake. The pose is protective, the smile is tense, the look uncertain.
Look that panty! See through? If you think so you either dream or need new glasses.
But no importance. What was important was that she dared in spite of the camera clicking and of the lightnings
But no importance. What was important was that she dared in spite of the camera clicking and of the lightnings
No cheating, the bush in view (not the BUSH senior or junior that were less than nothing and perfectly unknown at that time)
No a simple pubic bush, symbol of her nudity that day.
But nudity concept changed with time. That's progress.
Again that embarassed smile and her immediate reflexes are to hide her centers of interest, an arm here, a thight there.
She needed to relax, I granted some minutes, but I refused her request to put the EDIXA aside.
Raising hands to heaven was the only mark of her surrender
To be continued
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