Arse

"Mmmm, you have such a gorgeous arse." You squeeze it while you're saying this. You're not the first person to compliment me on my bottom. Most people who want to compliment a specific part of my anatomy pick that. It's round and pert and fleshy and good for people to grab on to. And it wobbles nicely. Still, it's only my bum.
"It's nothing special."
Well, it's okay, but hey, what can I say? I live with it every day. I know exactly how it curves round, how it feels when a lover runs hands over it, how it reacts to being hit.
Surely it's the same as everyone else's?
"Oh it is! Trust me."
Oh. What can I say to such insistent compliments? A similar scenario flashes into my head. This is like those times when someone tells you how lovely you look that night, when to be honest you look perfectly normal. But at least I know what to say then, so I use it now.
"Thank you," I say.

You can tell I'm not too convinced of the superior beauty of my bottom. I can understand people wanting to look at it when I'm naked. It's a nice curvy area. Like my breasts, only on my backside. Curves are aesthetically pleasing. And it looks like fun to play with, to nuzzle up against, to grope, to knead, to stroke over ever so gently once it's been made scarlet. I admit all that. But I find it hard to believe that people find my bottom more fulfilling of all these requirements than any other average arse. All bums are curvy. Even bony ones have curvy bits, all the more special for being small. And some people have huge fleshy bum cheeks, wiggling independently as their owners walk away. There's the tight buns you find on a fit man, fun and furry. The softer, squidgier smooth buttocks of a woman. All great fun, all very nice, I like them a lot. But really, my bottom's just an average one.

"Oh no. Your bum is really something. It's the way it swells out of your tight jeans. How it pushes against them. How you wear baggy tops which hide all your beautiful body, and as you move, as you sit down, we get a glimpse of this wonderful arse underneath and it makes us speculate... and then, one day you wear something which shows off your figure and it drives us wild, seeing this amazing bum which we've fantasised about for so long. Maybe it's the way you're so unconscious of what a babe you are that makes you so special?"

I really don't know how to respond now.
"Who's... 'we'?"

You laugh, to yourself. A small, secretive laugh.
"You have many admirers, you know, sweetie. And your arse has even more, trust me."
Yeah, right. Like people are falling all over themselves to sleep with me or even chat me up. I may be notoriously oblivious to people trying to seduce me - low self-esteem and all that - but if there's crowds of admirers around me, all gazing onto my bum, I really think I might have noticed.
"Like who?" Not just sad old creeps, please! One can be fussy about one's unknown fans.

"Well... I obviously can't say some people, I mean they'd get embarrassed.
Or there's a couple who aren't looking for a new partner or anything, but they certainly recognise beauty when they see it..."
Beauty. Me. Blimey.

"But. Okay, remember when we were in that new bar place last week?"
I do. Bright walls, chrome and overpriced drinks. Very mixed clientele. A nice crowd. "Mmm?"
"Okay. And you were with a different bunch of people, you weren't with me."
Correct. We'd said hello, then stayed with our own parties.
"Right. Then there was this point when you stepped down from the balcony and squeezed through the crowds to the loo, right. You were wearing these fitted jeans and some loose top, just came down to your waist. And all of us watched you. You had your back to us, and all of us were admiring your bum, how full and good it looked, what a shape. How we wanted our hands on it. And one of the guys asked if I knew you, and when I said yes, said I was very lucky. Oh, we all wanted your arse that night. It wasn't even me who started it, it was one of the others who pointed you out across the room, and said 'see that girl, she's got one gorgeous arse.' And we all looked, and everyone agreed. You were inching your way through the room, stepping over people's feet, your bum bobbing up and down. You were the subject of many a fantasy that night, let me tell you!"

Me?

"Really?" "Oh yes!" "Wow. So, tell me, what's so special about my bum, then? As far as I'm concerned, it just holds my legs on!" Maybe I'm protesting too much here. I mean, I know my bum's not bad, but I want to hear more compliments now you've given me a taste for them. You laugh at me again. "Don't put yourself down, dear. What's so special? Well, where shall I start?" You're looking down at my pussy now, rubbing a hand over my bum, getting your fingers into it, running a fingertip up my crack, tingling the little hairs in the dimple at the top there. "It's smooth and soft. Not a blemish or spot on it. And it quivers so nicely under my hand. Like this." You shiver your hand back and forth. Yes, that is nice. "And it's pert. Look! It's almost all muscle. But then it's covered with feminine fat, making it so lovely and round at the same time. Maybe that's what's so special about it?" You look thoughtful as you place your hand in different places on my bum, juddering it with your other palm.

"What I really like is how your arse looks with your clothes on, how it draws attention to itself." You're speaking idly now, as if in a daydream. "How you've got these long slim legs, and you start to expect a small bony bottom, and then there's this lovely great firm bum there. Not that it looks big," - you pay homage to my twenty-odd years of female conditioning, that I can never completely ignore, "just firm and shapely and demanding attention. It's beautiful. Doesn't sag, isn't flat, amazingly rounded. Just begging to be groped and played with."
You do just that, pinching and kneading my arse, like a master potter playing with clay.
I'm happy to go along with you.

"Of course, the best thing about your arse is how it's right here in bed with me. Naked. Soft thighs. Cute little tummy. Beautiful breasts. Sensitive nipples." You brush your hand over them, and laugh as I squirm. "Really nice breasts. I never guessed how nice they'd be." Pause. "You really shouldn't hide your body under so many clothes, you know. It would be great to see the shape of your breasts more often. Ha. Maybe not. With them and your arse, you'd be a serious danger to traffic! And goodness knows how anyone you work with would be able to concentrate. I'm glad I don't work with you. I'd be thinking about your arse all the time. I've been daydreaming about it today, hoping I'd get to see you naked tonight, like this. Wondering what you'd look like bending over, or on all fours, or, just like you are now, lying on your side. Mmm. Such long, smooth contours," - you run your arm down the whole length of my side - "such a firm, cute bum."

It's nice to be appreciated.
"Er. Yeah. Um. You're rather gorgeous yourself, you know." I feel I have to say something. The conversation's been getting a bit one-sided. Besides, it's true. You giggle a little. You're probably more used to compliments from different lovers. You come up and whisper in my ear.

"What's really special about your bum is... it looks... and feels... just so... amazingly... spankable!"



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