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Guest Website by: George S Mycroft Running around naked and free as child: The mill had long since stopped its sincere business, had fallen into disuse, and had afterward been converted into a private house, owned by a local surgeon of some repute as I remember. His wife was an artist and, at her behest, a studio with big northlights had been accommodated in part of the construction. Running around Naked and Free in the Gardens Below the house, with its becurtained french windows gazing blankly over the formal gardens nearby, the diverted waters fell in a gay cascade under the balustrade of a terrace, into a holding pond surrounded by yards, before meandering their way back to their mom-flow, the nearby river. The whole house and gardens lay quietly by the end of a lengthy drive between some fields and, although situated on the outskirts of a small market town whose modern, developing housing estates had encroached to the very edge of its domain, it still retained the quiet and solitude which was much beloved by the wildlife of the region. The river formed one border to the whole property, with wild, unkempt and frequently waterlogged land beyond. Wild bunnies, ducks, hedgehogs and the occasional fox seen and appreciated those green yards of the old mill, skirting their way around the ever-present earthen domes of molehills, which lay like brownish, bulging pustules on the yards' overgrown faces. It was old now and in need of some tender, loving care; a slightly careworn house with drooping, rotting outbuildings and an old-fashioned, draughty cottage which we hence let for a song. On the other hand, the dearth of human habitation had enabled nature to re-colonise the place, as she always does.

http://labelexpress.com/__media__/js/netsoltrademark.php?d=beachnude.xyz... was a quiet, joyful, tranquil, secret place afterward and an absolute joy to live alongside - which somewhat compensated for the bungalow's less-than-perfect interior and draughty doors and windows. Moving in during late winter, those freezing jets were all too fast uncovered and endured, but the coming of springtime brought undreamed-of joy.

http://angielists.com/__media__/js/netsoltrademark.php?d=beach-photos.ne... dawning day and the birds' morning chorus used to wake me early. Stealing nude from underneath warm and snuggly sheets and blankets, the night-cooled atmosphere of the house nipped every tactile point on my air-clad skin and heralded a fleet awakening! Moving silently downstairs, missing those inevitable squeaky steps, I padded barefoot through the family room, smelling the dead coals' aroma from last night's open fire.

http://welcomemoshiach.org/__media__/js/netsoltrademark.php?d=beach-phot... was to silently stand and use all my senses to absorb every aspect of the new day. I listened intently, detecting distant noises from houses and roads close by, but divorced from this secret world, for they were as though intruding from another dimension. They merely impinged on one's aural senses. More immediately, there was birdsong, and rustles in nearby bushes; a blackbird tugging determinedly at a recalcitrant worm in a nearby bed of earth. Afterward that

http://www.transitaire.info/cgi-bin/erawan/smartframe.cgi?https://beach-... , damp, practically-fecund smell of just dawning day. I breathed it in deeply and savored its musty flavors its earthiness, feeling its chill flooding into my welcoming lungs. Fully alerted to my environment, I then trotted forwards towards the old factory, reveling in my own physical independence and my nakedness in the cool air, sensing the small pebbles of the driveway on the balls of my feet sending sharp reminders of my barefooted-ness rocketing to my brain. My eyes scanned the driveway as I moved forward, alert for any signs of unwanted business on the driveway to the house, an early morning walker perchance, who might see me going pink-skinned and clothing-free away from the cottage. Reaching the safety of the hedgerow at the far side of the drive, my feet encountered the wet grass of the garden pathway -- and I was off!! It was a very big garden, mainly laid out to lawn, open and wide and uncut, and it was here, unseen by the external world, that I ran in utter and entire naked liberty as fast as my legs would carry me, feeling the cool earth pounding beneath my feet and the trickling droplets of heel-kicked dew hitting my bare buttocks and coursing their way down my backside and legs. http://arasset.com/__media__/js/netsoltrademark.php?d=beach-photos.net/c... was absolute and complete sensation, a total aliveness; pure, delightful, enveloping, sensory contact -- and, god, it felt good!!

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