glueman

Hey, BB! You seem rad. Your posts have such a tantalizing & tasteful blend of boastful exhibitionism and humble deference to your felly curv-ites that you've galvanized me to come out of a 2-year lurk by writing up a little tribute. Of course, Pingas’ contribution inspired me too (nice work, dude!). If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to sing your praises through a little scrawling of my own. I also don’t do this sort of thing often either, and I’m honestly kinda flustered right now at the thought of you reading it, but, ah hell - here we go :: ~ “Bouncy,” she calls herself, twice in the same breath. In subtle but sumptuous motion, her body concurs. A heaving chest, undoubtedly bestowed by some unknowable (but clearly benevolent) deity of fortune and fertility, wobbles with every cyclical pattern of respiration. Savored wisps of air between her lips move in…and out. A sigh, a whisper, a delighted giggle. Her body celebrates with her, trembling and wobbling in time to the beat of her heart. What could it be that tickles this one so? Why, it’s your stare. Whether in satisfied approval, hungered lust, or simple, slack-jawed awe, she savors every moment that your eyes spend dwelling on the rolling hills of her body. And who could blame you? She seems not to. Instead, perhaps she shares your hunger. The inevitable outpouring of torrential praise satisfies her as much as the roundest, greasiest, grandest pie of pizza (though clearly, she’s not lost her appetite for those, either). Yes, this one is a ravenous little exhibitionist, basking and delighting in the tingling warmth of our reverence. Let’s nourish her appetite, shall we? A brief exaltation for curvature that defies constriction … if not description. We may have already covered her prodigious chest, if only as incompletely as the undersized shirts and bras chosen to adorn that glorious endowment. On that topic, much will be written in future volumes - digital codices of glut and glory. For now, we choose a more pivotal point of professorial pontification: her lovely little belly. An adorable little pooch of pudgy proportion, as precious as it is precocious. Already, it has learned to surge beyond the confines of her garments, sending its luscious little love handles to deliciously “muffin” along the seams of her panties as if to say “I’m just getting started.” In fact, you can almost feel the surging waves of ambition bound into that prescient little midriff. It peeks beneath the hem of her strained tee, settling gently into the frontier-scape of her lap. A future Queen (or Empress, perhaps), assessing its territory-to-be. And the land is fertile. Lusciously rounded thighs press tightly together as you whisper your praises (or silently imply them in your stare).The way they squish against one another, you imagine that they must be soft, pliant…with just enough give to leave you begging for another squeeze. We’ve yet to catch more than a glimpse of her calves, of course, but one must imagine them to be quite a sight. The way they must tense with ever step, a grace that makes a woman that is substantial in her proportion to appear light on her feet. We dream of seeing her move this way, some day, through the pixellated lens of a webcam or smartphone - perhaps saturated by a colorful digital gel of an Instagram preset. For now, we treat the vision with the hazy, dreamlike filter of our imagination. Tiptoeing toward us, or perhaps slowly sauntering with wide swings of magnificent hips that sway in time to the echoing click of stiletto heels. Her locks, curled or straightened, billow down her back as she zips up a dress that shimmers with scarlet sequins, clinging tightly to the sweeping, lazily bowed lines of her frame. Our own Jessica Rabbit, if we like. Because for us, and for now, her face is shrouded in the mystery of the unknown. Her features become the visage of longing itself, of what we desire most. Painted or rouged to absolute perfection, she stuns with the wink of a long-lashed eye. Whether bright and shimmering or dark and sultry, they are twin beacons that promise to guide as we are transported to a new and beautiful world. Her world. Like the countenance of its Queen, we’ll never need to see it to know that it is real. Perhaps, in this way, she is all of us. Our taste for, reverence of, and devotion to the curves of the female form. Personified. In one glorious (heavenly, if you’ll allow) body that is named only for its most playful tendency: to bounce. We sing praise for our newest debutant. An empowered superheroine, a conquering empress, and a benevolent goddess, who’s era of adoration has only just begun. Welcome, dear BouncyBouncy. Long may you reign. ~