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There she was. Lying in bed, prone, listening to music through her headphones. She didn’t hear the bedroom door open, nor could she see your entrance from her point of view. Tip-toe quietly over the noisy floorboards. Reach the foot of the bed. Her bumbum completely unguarded and shaking back and forth enticingly to the beat of the music she’s listening to. Needless to say the cannon is standing at attention. The predator locks on to his prey. Bending your rabbity legs, charging up for a pounce. There’s the hop! And boom! The champyon comes crashing down onto her.
Kiki is trapped, she play struggles a bit to make the hunt more desirable. Champy wraps an arm around her neck in a headlock. With the other hand he strikes her bumbum timpani with his champa mallet. BA BUM BUM BUM, goes the bumbum in perfect harmony. Kiki’s moans join the symphony of rabbity love. Champy starts his teasing at the base of her tail. Sliding down her crevice, BUM BUM ba BUM BUM he strikes each cheek. Nestling it in-between, the depth of which nearly engulfs the entire cannon save for the head poking out at the top. It was a hot, humid coastal aussie day and the sweat of her bumbum provided the necessary slippage.
Sliding up and down her big beautiful hotdog buns, alternating speed. She tried to look back at her captor and was greeted with long, drippy champchamp tongue forcing its way into her mouth and slivering down her throat. Withdrawing the cannon from its nest and directing the head lower, it was met with a kind of warm wetness that (only Kiki) could provide. Teasing and probing her bunny love canal elicited yearning yelps and pleas to tend to her sweltering heat. Shoving her head down into the pillow, she bit down on it as you sheathed the cannon. First just the head, but with several piston motions her tunnel gave way and met hilt.
Starting at a low tempo you conducted the rhythm like a maestro. In and out and in and out. Building up her chorus. The smacks of your hips made a resounding percussion section. Tighter was your grip around her neck. She snatched at your arm, indenting her nails deep. You hadn’t noticed she broke skin. Loosening up just a touch to let your doomed prey a moment respite. Only to pick up again in fortissimo. She wailed into the pillow but it made no difference. The point after all, was to maek bumbum hort gud.
She pursed her legs together tightly. Adding to the pressure on your baton. It didn’t matter how many times you stretched her out throughout your marriage. She could always constrict to her, and your, liking. You could feel the gran finale coming on, best to start the build up into crescendo. Slowing down the tempo and dynamic you gradually raised it. Piano piano, piano, mezzo piano, mezzo mezzo, mezzo forte, FORTE FORTE. Driving your cannon as deep as you could, you swore you heard cymbals crash. Wait no, that was her screaming in ecstasy. You did it champy. Now comes the imaginary applause. Loosening your grip on her neck, she looked back at your face. The both of you panting in unison. Locking your lips you rolled over on your back so she could climb on to your chest. The rest of the evening spent in afterglow, synchronizing the beat of your hearts. A little bit closer to heaven.
