Butt Stuff Preview

Hello, much neglected masses...or rather the two people that read my creative writing blog.

I'm currently working on a short story for Kinky.com.  Recently, I had stayed up in San Fransisco where I luckily got to scratch an itch I've had for a long time.  That itch was for butt stuff. 

See what I did there?

Lucky for my readers who don't come here for the hanky panky, I'm not going to wax poetic on my marvelous experiences with butts.  However, I must warn you folks that the short story I'm working on does include butt stuff.  Not too much of it.  And no worries, the butts are all tastefully discussed.  I'm using this story was a way to push my limits as a writer, as I have never written a short story.  Also, I'm using this project as the vehicle through which I could touch on certain aspects of sexual realities. 


Enjoy this sneak peak of "Butt Stuff:  A Love Story"

The completed story will be posted on Kinky.com.

Mia

For the first few weeks of our kind-of-sort-of-not-really relationship, we always double dated with that mutual friend, Glenn, and his lady.  The company always prevented serious talks on the subject on which made me ever so enamored with this Pre-med, but probably Social Work major who was too good at billiards, but sucked at Chem.  The most butt talk either of us got in was shitty butt jokes.  The puns were always intended.

Glenn and his lady flaked on our double date to elope.  As far as flaking went, neither Samantha nor I could hold it against them.  We toasted to the fine fella and his finer lass until both bottles of champagne were consumed.  We lay cloud watching on a clichéd white and red checked blanket at the park with our knees touching with promise.  Buzzed and relieved, we were able to carry on a rather pleasant and comfortable date without two date coaches.  Eventually the line of our thighs touched.  With her charmingly sharp eyes, she spied a butt shaped cloud that was really cloud shaped, but I wasn't going to hinder her imagination.

"Look!  I'm poking it," she declared triumphantly.  Her short nailed fingers stabbed at the air, and, indeed as perspective would have it, she was poking it rather ardently. 

"Ow!" I grabbed her hand with a dramatic frown that drew her eye contact, "Surely you wouldn't poke my butt with such vehemence."

Her eyes narrowed in contemplation.  Not quite sure if I was joking or not, she answered smartly.

"Only if you deserved it.  But no worries.  I'd spit on it either way."

We had our first kiss.

***

Three months into our relationship we crossed that line couples cross in intimacy.  I had a hemorrhoid and Sam came to the rescue with Preparation H.  The only reason she even knew I had one was she caught me looking at my freshly shaven bum with her compact mirror in the bathroom.  Since I was rather butt shy, throughout all the times we'd fucked I never brought up my bum nor her bum.  Alas, thanks to shitty TP and aggressive Devil may care wiping we found ourselves analyzing my less than stellar star.

Through the comfort of at-home medical care we were able to discuss my rump hole clinically and without too much giggling.  I had made her put on gloves.  That made her giggle.

"Do I really need to put on gloves, babe?" she asked while I was bent over the bathtub lip looking over my shoulder up at her.  My voice had an echo-y quality to it from down there.

"My butt isn't cleaned out and I'd rather not accidentally give you pink eye if any particulates get under your nails."  Frustration at my hemorrhoid and the less than romantic debut of my butthole made me unknowningly admonished that I knew what cleaning out was.  Looking into Sam's eyes from that too awkward angle, I saw her connect the dots.  That funny hose attachment under the bathroom sink wasn't for power washing away the black funk between the tiles.  Now, was it?

She smiled and I blushed fuchsia as the pill shaped ointment slid in.  She patted my bottom lovingly and helped slid my boxers up from around my knees. 

"I'm just going to keep an eye on that over the next few days.  Just to make sure it's healing up," was her parting shot as she shut the bathroom door.  

It healed up fine.  Then I stopped having a reason to show her my butt. 

From Butt Stuff: A Love Story