Tight Jeans
She had what was once called an “hourglass” figure — full breasts tapering down to a shockingly slim waist, then flaring out to wide, generously upholstered hips framing that glorious ass. Looking at her rear view in the flickering illumination of the bedside lamp, I could almost picture her as a mythical centaur, with a humanoid torso growing out of a massive equine rump. Those wonderfully sculpted haunches! Now she was down on hands and knees, and those magnificent globes, like twin moons, completely dominated the heavens. Later, hours later, as we lay in each other’s arms, she told me she measured a full 56 inches at the hip, that is to say, around the ass. That ass. I couldn’t keep my hands off it. I savored the soft, cushy feel as I fondled it. The warm, fleshy resilience of her buttocks as I entered her from behind (which turned out to be her favorite position). The freshly powdered scent of wanton femininity tickling my nose when I rubbed my cheek against her plush bottom. I wanted it, all of it. I wanted to plumb its depths. I had a sudden raging desire to *fuck* that ass. ..[continue reading]..
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