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Frank W. Bosworth

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Bubble Butt Bimbo
By Frank W. Bosworth
Sunday, April 06, 2008

Rated "PG13" by the Author.

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Excerpt of the novel 'Staged Affair'.


I awoke, tucked away in a dry, cozy, Boulder Isle crevice, still clutching Jodi’s ‘good luck’ gift, the chain wrapped around my fingers. Comfortable, I lay there, entertained by nature’s perks; rays of morning sun, playful noise of sandpipers, lazy lapping of minor waves barely reaching, lightly breaking, the shore.

At the very least I was convinced Shirley now thought me a rude host and lost cause. ‘Oh, hell, damage done.’ So, I walked the beach, thinking about last night’s show, of New York, of Jodi. ‘Jodi.’ I caught myself grinning.

‘First things first,’ I thought, as I quietly opened the kitchen door, making my way up the bedroom stairs. Much to my surprise, shock, and unthinkable wish, Shirley lay there in her rubenesque splendor, bare, plain and simple, sleeping on her right side, her back to me. I spun around to head back downstairs and stopped. ‘Could I?’

Needing a moment to think, aware of possible trauma waking up in strange surroundings may cause her, I took a seat in the corner chair. Taking up my latest copy of Field ‘n Stream, opening to ‘Migration of the Large Mouth Bass’, I began to read, with no such luck. ‘Should I?’

My visible inventory listed her neck as kissable, shoulders lickable, back pliable. The slope of her waist, rise and fall of her bubble butt, down ivory thighs, over creamy calves, to small ankles, little feet. ‘Would I?

I worked my way back up again, and down, and up, and…all the while wishing I had moved the full-length mirror to the other side of the bedroom!

After what seemed, no, what was, hours of on again off again dozing by me, of waiting and, to be honest, fantasizing, Shirley finally stirred. Turning, she grabbed the sheet up around her. Moving to the bed, I smiled, joking, “Was it good for you?” I spied nippleage.

“Don’t be funny!” she snapped in ill humor. “What time is it? What happened to you?”

“Ten, ten-thirty. I dozed off on the beach. The sun woke---“

“Speaking of…why don’t you put some curtains up to block the damn sun out?” She grabbed her blouse. “Listen to those annoying gulls!” Got up. “That monotonous splashing!” Found her pants. “How do you stand it?” And proceeded to dress.

“Perils of renting,” I agreed, appeasing her, but grimacing at the irony.

“Well, I hope you have better luck next time!”

“You and me both.” Up to this point, even with her sour attitude and discovery of her piggish laugh, if the gods of ‘Sex for Sex Sake’ were to intervene with a ‘quick’ blessing, I might have overlooked her brittle tone. But, right about here, the China-doll image I had created, a facade Shirley supported, began cracking wide open. First the obvious; ‘Damn she’s testy!’

“What?” ‘And deaf!’ “Where’s my bra?” ‘With humongous, dangerous breasts!’ “You didn’t think we were going to, now, did you?” ‘And controlling!’ “You had your chance, buddy!” ‘And vain!’

“How about a rain check?”

“How about my bra?” ‘And an Indian-giver!’

“Oh, you want it back?” I smiled, not knowing when to quit. “I thought you gave it to me as a good luck piece.”

“That’s just what you need, too. A good piece!” I had to smile. “Of luck!” ‘And smarmy!’

“So, I can keep it then?” I joked, somehow knowing I had carried this one bit too far.

She knelt one knee on the bed, put her hands flat for support, leaned in to me, and in a most clear, concise, succinct tone, and dead-on word choice said, “Find my f**king bra!” Though her exposed mammoth mammary glands dangled under my chin, because of her state, I dared not sneak a peek. Shirley was rapidly losing her premier standing with me.

“It flew downstairs when you snapped it at me!” I exclaimed, as she shoved, pushing me over the side of the bed. “Stop pulling the bed apart!”

Something told me she didn’t care for the way I spoke to her. I think it was how she stared at me, all bug-eyed, is what gave her away. This, and her unnerving sudden silence, sucking all life out of the room like a fire blanket! Finally, “Well, fly down and get it!” she commanded.

Now, normally I would have stood firm of ground, even to the point of being a bonehead in not being pushed around. However, I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but there’s something about a red-faced, white knuckled, eye-popping woman, nipples fully erect without the frenzy of foreplay, which will cause any life loving male to reassess his priorities!

I wasted no time going downstairs.




       Web Site: Part 1 ~ 'Staged Affair'

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Reviewed by Debra Conklin 9/15/2009
See...oversize mammaries are gonna be the death of every male on the planet. You need to downsize to a nice B cup. Where the chances of minimal verbal abuse go along with the minimal cup size. Simple logic, my friend. ; - D
Reviewed by Jeanette Foresta 8/10/2008
Why do people always have to dash your hopes and dreams? Sheesh! lol
Reviewed by Tom Hyland 4/8/2008
FRANK - well done! Shirley's description reminds me of a true-life experience, when I was about 19 or 20. Her name was Dee. First time with her was on a sandy beach, at night, with my Buddy Al and his 'date' sitting on a bench above us, within earshot.

She had the same Bubble Butt, same Mammoth Mammaries, and rosy red puffy cheeks, like Howdy Dowdy! And TESTY - hell, she wanted what she wanted - WHEN she wanted it - and she GOT it! It was a CHALLENGE - a DARE - a STRIKE for the whole male race - DIFFICULT, but not impossible. And something was lost when it was over - but not her BRA!

After finishing, and withdrawing, I just knew that the couple above us HAD to have heard everything, including the "OH GOD's" and "F**k Me's" -- and her screaming at me - "YOU ANIMAL!" --- because there in the moonlight she saw that the only thing left on my very satisfied tool was a RUBBER RING - somewhere lost inside her remained the rest of my PROTECTION! IRONY?

The next day, after HER Buddy, Joyce, had blabbed the entire sordid affair to the Gals on the Corner, she THREW MY HIGH-SCHOOL RING in my face, calling me AN ANIMAL - AGAIN!

Mission accomplished - NO LOVE LOST - am I smiling, or WHAT?

Peace, Tom.

Reviewed by Elaine Lysakowski 4/6/2008
Ok maybe I didn't get it, but it just confirms my thoughts that guys will put up with anything in hopes of getting a little action lol
It made for a good read, thanks for sharing

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