Leg-man, Tit-man, Bum-man. I’ve said it before, they just sound like the crap superheroes of kink. I’ve always been a bit derisory about men who describe themselves with one of these. It seems to suggest that a girl is a collection of parts, rather than a wonderful, complete, fully realised human. And suggests that the man is focussed on his own gratification, not focussed on the owner of the leg, tit or bum. Commonplace among the ordinaries, but I think something we strive to grow beyond.
If I’m pushed, I always say I’m a mind-man, because that’s the part of a woman that makes her who she is, it’s the part of her that’s the most attractive, sexy, incredible part. That’s the part of a woman I want to take over.
Of course, I’d be lying if I pretended that I don’t find legs, breasts and bottoms utterly transfixing. Each different, each parts of a whole that’s so much greater than their sum.
With that little disclaimer out of the way, I’m going to talk about bottoms…
A beautiful bottom will inspire in me a rather broad range of desires, thoughts, emotions. Just watching a girl, naked, walking, crawling, watching her bottom, the way her body moves with a feline curl that draws the eye from her waist to her knees. Who couldn’t be entranced by the centre of that movement? Who wouldn’t have those thoughts and desires come to mind?
The desire to reach for her bottom, to touch it, stroke it, hold it in my hands can become unquenchable. Except…
Fighting for space in my head with the craving to reach for her bottom, is a second, no less powerful urge. It’s the one to put her over my lap, to hold her head down, raise her bottom up, and bring my hand to meet it. Hard. Fast. Again. Again. Making the skin I admire so much turn from pink to red.
And where does that lead my mind? Any spanked bottom needs to be soothed, needs to be stroked again, kissed, licked. She’s submitted to my will, she needs to be rewarded. Her wonderful bottom deserves to tended. She needs to understand she’s pleased me. My tongue on her skin, my lips tenderly kissing her bottom. Showing her bottom just how much I feel for it. A feeling not unlike a romantic love for what it has just endured for me.
She needs to understand the other feelings I have for it, too. Not just romantically, or for spanking, but the passion, the desire I feel for it. That I want to take all the pleasure I can from it, and give her all the pleasure she can survive. Holding the cheeks of her bottom and pushing my tongue inside her, kissing her bottom no less deeply than her mouth, licking her bottom no less thoroughly than her cunt.
Every part of her should be turned to her pleasure. Her bottom, her beautiful transcendent bottom can show her that.
And yes, the other thought in there, competing with all the others, the feeling and the sight of her bottom accepting my cock. Allowing it inside, welcoming it. Whether I’m slowly, gently easing it into her, or shoving it hard, pulling her hips back roughly to meet me, knocking the breath from her…
All those competing thoughts, desires, emotions, all crashing in at once just on the sight of her. No wonder in the moment I’m lost for words.
(And, yes, of course I’m going to write about legs and breasts.)
© Charles Rochester 2015