snuggle
Okay, sit yourself up so I can slip between you and the headboard. The massive spill of your doughy flanks becomes framed by warm thighs. I squeeze my legs together, making the flesh at the edges of your belly ruck up, removing any tension from the skin around your belly button and making that flesh achingly soft, like a warm, silky marshmallow.
Wiggling my hips to get comfy, I lean forwards against your back, giving you a broad, warm leaning post. You can feel my chest moving as I breathe, and my warm breath strokes your shoulder and tickles the little hairs behind your ears as I nuzzle into your neck. I’m freshly showered and naked but for boxers. You smell eucalyptus and maybe green tea.
It strikes me as funny to give you a little bite on your neck. Only fair, right, since you’re of the neck-biting persuasion?
Nip turns into an affectionate kiss, and my arms travel down to knead the soft, generous mound of your belly. I stay there a long while, massaging up, down—circles that make your breasts rise and fall. You said you’re full? Then you’ll feel the submerged shapes anew as my probing hands trace their edges, firmly easing tension in your hard-working gut, eliciting a chamber orchestra of glorks, grrrgls and the occasional mysterious prrrrt-ft-ft of an internal fart
I cheekily graze a finger into the slit of your belly button. You can feel my smile on your shoulder. Clearly I find it cute as hell.
Maybe in a while I’ll explore those thighs, or massage your abdomen as your prey drains down into its twisting depths, or insist you turn onto your belly so I can give that glorious backside the same care and attention your belly received. But for now sit with me here between my legs and drift or talk as you wish, snuggly and warm.