Bending over before the full-length mirror, you stare at the upside-down vision of this part of yourself and think: I don’t get it. You put one hand on each of your cheeks, opening yourself further, and think again: I don’t get it.
He wanted to worship my ass. Those exact words. Ass. Worship.
The act of worship, you get. Who wouldn’t like that. But ass? That you don’t get. Maybe the problem is that the image is upside-down.
After propping the phone on a stand, you turn again and bend over, waiting for the click of the timer to capture the full view: naked flesh, fingers digging into your buttocks as you spreads them, a glimpse of that tight, puckered hole in the center.
Still don’t get it.
Later that evening, he’s relaxing reading a book while you shower. In the shower you run your fingers between your legs – from your clit all the way down and under your body, until you reach the hole. Touching it gently, pressing with the tip of your finger. That zing of pleasure – of taboo – you understands. But still…
Stepping out of the shower, you could easily pretend that this is not what you’ve been thinking about. Could just kiss him on the cheek and ask ’what are you reading?’ Like any average Thursday. Simple to just brush it aside, pretend he didn’t tease you with that message about worshipping your ass.
But you’re not the type to dismiss an experience just because. It’s not that you are against it; you just don’t get it. And if you can’t understand why he might like it, you may never work out whether to do it.
So you just ask him.
Swaddled in a towel, leaning on the door jamb: “Why do you want to worship my ass?”
Often, a few days after he mentions something new, that idea might work itself through your head and into your lovemaking. You need to explore it, try to understand the sensations. Stand naked and bent over in front of a mirror, test the waters in the shower. Feel the weight and shape of the fantasy before you know whether or not you’re interested in exploring it.
But you’re usually not so blunt to just come out and ask for an explanation. So he’s a little taken back by the question. Color rising in his face, he sheepishly smiles at you and puts down his book. Pauses.
“Well…” he says, clearing a spot for you on the ottoman.
“The first reason is that your ass is beautiful.”
He tugs off your towel and lays it down on the ottoman.
“The second reason,” he says, grabbing you by the waist and guiding you down so your bum rests on the edge of the ottoman, “is because I look at it so often when we fuck.”
He rolls you over so you’re lying on the spread towel, stretched out on your stomach, exposing every inch of the naked flesh on your back, ass, thighs. He walks around you, running his fingers over everything from the nape of your neck to the soles of your feet. When he brings his fingers up towards the crack of your bottom, your arch your back to follow them.
“When we’re fucking and you’re bent over, I’m staring right at it. How could I not want be tempted?”
He places one hand on each of the cheeks of your ass, spreads you wide. You shuffle a little under his hands, and turns your head away from him, lets his words wash over you.
Beautiful, he said. Stare, he said.
“When I see something beautiful, I don’t just want to look,” he explains, bending down to press his lips to the soft, warm skin of your ass. “I want to touch.”
At that, he parts your cheeks gently and strokes one finger down the crack of your ass, putting just enough pressure that it doesn’t tickle. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and it takes all your willpower not to squirm.
He bends forward and kisses you over and over. A neat pearl-string of kisses, running down from the base of your spine. You can feel the trail of wetness that he leaves in his wake. Feel, too, the warmth of his breath and the tension in your thighs as you hold yourself still for him: taut and open and eager and maybe a little afraid.
“But the main reason I want to worship your ass,” he whispers through the kisses “is that I know that if I put my tongue here, you’ll squirm.”
And with that he plunges it in. Quickly and slickly, holding your cheeks apart with his fingers, putting just enough pressure on you that you have something to wriggle against.
And oh how you wriggle.
Now you knows what he wants: the pleasure of making you vulnerable. Of doing something no one else has done. Of touching and kissing and tonguing you, knowing he’s the only one to give you these sensations. The electric wetness of his tongue burrowing into you, making you feel so much more naked than you were just a moment ago.
You wriggle and squirm and flush with heat, and as you do so he flicks his tongue: in and out, up and down. Kissing and licking and burying himself in your ass. Tasting every part of you. Greedy for more.
You grip the edge of the ottoman and press your forehead into the towel. Eyes closed, to better focus on the sensation of his lips and tongue. To better hear the soft moans he makes, the eager ‘mmm’s part-muffled by your flesh around his face.
It’s not just the tingling thrill of his tongue that you squirm for – it’s the feeling of the tips of his fingers digging into your cheeks, the pressure to stay still, and the guttural sounds that escape the back of his throat, telling you he’s really enjoying this. He wants more of it.
When he dips two fingers into your wet cunt, rolling his thumb across your sensitive clit, he’s not doing it out of courtesy. He’s doing it because he wants to feel the twitches as you clamp yourself around him, showing him that you’re enjoying this too. He presses against you, coaxing further wriggles out of you as your breath quickens.
As he fucks you with his fingers, and licks you with his tongue, the word that comes to mind is ‘greedy’ – he’s greedy for you. For every part of your body. He wants to erode and devour you with his lips and tongue, while you squirm in pleasure beneath him.
At the moment just before you come, as he spreads saliva round your puckered hole with his tongue, you push back against him. Pressing yourself to his lips, muffling his face with your ass, and throbbing with the need to have him do more, and harder.
Now you get it.