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A Precious Jewel Resting on a Soft Satin Pillow
He could never think of it as “Her Belly” – the visions of this big huge, blimp-gut, hairy belly-buttoned, beer drinking, burping slob sitting on the couch, belching, farting and scratching his ugly gut as he drank his Bud and watched football came to his mind – chips, like strewn garbage covering his immense BELLY.
When it came to her – “Belly” had a whole different meaning – pronounced with a soft sigh.
Something as delicate, feminine, soft and sexy as her tummy did not at all appear to be a “Belly,” She talks about her “Belly Button” as if she was some four-year old kid running around sticking his tummy out at people forcing his little “outtie” out at people saying; “See my Belly Button, Mommy?!” She has a beautiful, soft, deep, gently-curved navel, of the most delicate, sensuous types I’d ever seen. Furthermore, she knows it, and enjoys having her tummy, especially her navel touched, looked at, loved, tortured, poked, appreciated, adored – sending delicious waves of sensuous shivers wafting through her pretty, young sweet body. They talked into the wee morning hours about her and her wonderful fantasy, waves of delicious erotic feelings rushing through their bodies, causing them both to shiver and squirm.
He had trouble working. He sits at his desk thinking about her, envisioning her lying on a blanket, wrapping his arms around her, pressing his face into her soft, pretty, delicious tummy, feeling it wrap itself like a soft, soothing pillow around his face, a balm in Gilead, a soothing unguent to his tired, worn body.
Thinking about her always caused him to shiver and squirm. Ironically, he was happy that his age meant that his ability to harden came with more difficulty, otherwise he would have a lot of trouble walking around, his “arrow, pointing homeward.” Nevertheless, these wonderfully erotic thoughts caused a delicious wetness to develop, tingling all through his pelvis and stomach.
He envisioned her, a mersin esc short knitted blue shirt covering her sweet body, lying tummy-down on a blanket. He would die, he would “kill” to be able to lie on top of her, his pelvis, his hard, throbbing “member” lying on top of her soft, round rear, his arms around her supple waist. His hands resting under her pretty, pinkish-white tummy, his finger resting, pressing into her deliciously erotic navel, her core as she called it. He envisioned the weight of their combined bodies pressing her tummy sensuously, seductively into his shivering, trembling hands, fingers splayed out, under her shirt to take in every inch of her soft, youthful tummy, the warmth of her soft body against his, the warmth of her tummy against his hands; his lips kissing and nibbling on her neck.
He thrilled at the enthusiasm she exuded when talking about her navel. His feelings EXACTLY matched hers in practically every respect. He too would feel chills whenever his navel, his stomach was touched, tickled, kissed, nibbled on, just like her. She thrilled that, at last, here was a “kindred spirit”, a person who understood the thrilling feelings she kept hidden under a blanket of embarrassment for years. She felt the deep burning sensation in the middle of her “core” as he talked about “her” navel, “her” tummy, sensing his deep desire for that which they both needed so much.
He conjured in his mind, the idea of meeting her at her room, walking in, the room dark, late at night. Before saying a word, he would kneel before her. Lifting up her t-shirt, he would place his trembling hands on her soft, creamy tummy and begin caressing up, feeling the delicate, delicious curves, hills and valleys of her tummy, thrilling at the special transition between her hard rib line and her soft tummy, her ribs framing her tummy and setting it off so very sensually. Tracing his fingers just inside of her tummy, below her rib line, he would press his fingers, his shaking hands, into her soft belly just below her ribs, a passionate, esc mersin painful feeling in both of their pelvises as his hands worshipped every inch of her. His trembling fingers traversing down, he would gently caress her delicate navel, drawing a little circle around it along the soft, gently curving rim, outlining that “bauble” that he so very strongly adored; feeling the deep sexiness of the curved transition down to the depths of her “core”, the deep, warm inner domain of her navel.
Strong lustful desire mixed dizzyingly with tender adoration. He imagined he would lift up her shirt, placing his hands on her tender, small, perfect breasts to kiss her nipples with his hands as his face first kissed, nuzzled against then pressed into her tummy, her likewise-trembling hands pulling his face firmly into her unbelievably sensuous “pillow.” Arching her back against his face, willing, wishing to push her navel forward as if in loving sacrifice, offering her navel to his every whim, his every desire, she would pull his face firmly, deeply into her “pillow”, sucking her tummy in to make it as elongated and sexy as possible, then pushing it against him, for him to hungrily devour, gasps coming from their throats as their passions intertwined at his touch.
His nervous, undeserving hands caressed down, surrounding, gripping her soft sides to experience the utter beauty of her gently sloping, curving waist, her pretty, perfect hips, his thumbs gently pressing and “licking” her flanks. Both of their breathing coming in quick gasps, he would feel her softness pressing so very siren-like against his face, calling him to devour her, to treat her tummy, her navel to lascivious torture and pleasure. She longed in deep gasping breaths to feel his teeth viciously bite, his tongue to hungrily lick all over every square inch of her gently sloping, undulating belly, to feel his shivering warm tongue maniacally stabbing deeply into her sensitive tender navel, his tortured gasps like music to her ears. Pulling down her jeans, mersineskort making them both totally naked, he would worship her soft, perfect, round toes, placing her tiny, doll-like feet into his mouth, against his lips, his tongue; to worship them, to kiss them, to eat them, to longingly possess them, to work his way slowly, passionately, adoringly up her body, to hungrily experience every sweet sensation her body offered for the taking – “his” taking.
He envisioned their passionate lovemaking going on into the night, capping painful day after painful day of not having her; his body roiling in agony, feeling his deep, primal need to satisfy his starving sexual craving on her pretty body, her navel, her “core”. She could “feel” his excitement as, insane with passion, he would press his finger into her navel, driving it deeply into her “core” as if to slowly press a sharp dagger into her soft, helpless, vulnerable navel, the hilt pressing hard against her soft navel-skin, mindless in his basal voracity to experience her very essence, wildly excited by the combination of imagined searing pain combined with ultimate pleasure as every nerve in her navel, her belly would fire intensely as in a back-draft, causing her sexual nerves to erupt in gasping, heaving ecstasy, her navel, her body reeling in hot orgasmic fulfillment. She begged for that, she pleaded for that. What a luscious Temptress!
Her Belly button, huh? Her “Belly!?” I don’t think so. If she only knew how fondly he thought of her, of how very erotically special her passions were to him, like a red cape before a bull. A word, a thought, her name and he would squirm with wonderfully sweet lascivious memories of discussed passions.
It’s so very splendid to know that there are people like her out there, just like him. What an ache he feels that he had not known this earlier or met her earlier, standing here now, in the sexual twilight of his years. Robbed! Oh, how he feels Robbed! He hangs his head and weeps at the frustration of his loss.
His body hurts, his heart hurts, he aches with gnawing, unfulfilled desire. But the utter pleasure of having known her will be his to treasure forever. Her waist, her navel, a sweet, loving chalice – forever on his mind.
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