#373) Soft and Squeezable

Soft and squeezable, my lover unwraps the fresh baked bread that she just peddled home through the streets of Paris. Veronique pulls the baguette apart, then decides to slice it with a knife.
“How do you vant yours?” she asks in accented English.
“You know…” I answer.
She butters a hunk for me, eats hers with chocolate. Hungrily, I hold her about the waist, as I accept the proffered appetizer for brunch. It occurs to me that snails might be nice, with a cold bottle of white wine for the main course later. For now, my lover is the moveable feast. I am smitten with everything about this enchantress, along with her name, though I often call her by nicknames, Ronnie, or Nicki, or My Little Bitch… My free hand wanders down to cup a buttock, finds it nude beneath the pleated skirt.
“How did you ride your bike?” I ask.
“Thinking of you…” she answers, as she parts her aroused sex with chocolate stained fingers.
I drop to my knees to worship her, taste chocolate as my tongue finds Veronique’s vag. My hands knead the weighty loaves of her bum. Words bounce about my brain, “Naked need, kneading, lovely loaves, heft, cleft…” I may try to compose a poem later, a tribute to her bottom, my bottom’s bottom.
“Such a naughty girl…” I murmur, as my lips kiss her vaginal ones.
“You think I’m naughty?” she smirks. “Do I need another spanking?”
Never one to turn down such an overture, I turn her around and over the kitchen counter’s edge. Her buttocks show no evidence of the love pats I woke her with, so I give her sets of twelve, hard this time. After the fourth set of spanks, she looks back at me lustily, reaches for a wooden spoon in a drawer.
“Use this,” she pleads, “I know I’m going to be really naughty after…”
I toast her backside thoroughly, but this scorching of her derriere only serves to set us both on fire. Spank-play serves as foreplay, and soon we’re fucking one another with fingers and tongues and even the handle of that butter knife. Her viscous jism drips off my chin and hands like honey, mine off hers. The mental image is as tasty as she is. I file it away for future use on that prospective poem.
As she has on numerous previous occasions, Nicki pops her head up from between my thighs and asks presciently, “Vould you like escargot for lunch?” (To be clear, Veronique has read my mind before. She’s also eaten my pussy before. She’s practiced and skilled at both.)
“Yes, I would, ‘oui,’ very much! But no more ‘pain.’ I have to cut back on the bread!”
Nicki rubs her soft, squeezable, very ruddy rump, and reflects, “I guess you can dish it out but can’t take it…”
We laugh at her word-play, then I try to explain across the language barrier, “No, it’s making my ass too big!”
“All the more to love,” she says, kissing me there as she gets up to start cooking lunch.

(This photo of honey dripping off a woman’s fingers caught my attention and turned me on, especially when I compared/contrasted this one with the actual photo of a woman with jism-coated fingers that I featured with post #362, “Curiosity Killed the Cat…”)

(Once again, I hope that this photo will not alert/upset the WordPress censors, trusting that because panties cover her orifices, it’s permissible. I love the way her fingers sink into her soft and squeezable flesh!)

(It’s funny, but now that I’m having my wants and desires fulfilled by a marvelous man, my fantasies have largely turned to seducing women… I hope that you like this piece along those lines!)

3 responses to “#373) Soft and Squeezable”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: