Hips Don't Lie

He decides that, while the whole multiple-orgasm/zero-recovery-time thing has its merits, his favorite part of his new body is his hips. He likes the way they flare out from his waist, the smooth curve of them, the way the wings of bone feel under his thumbs. He's always been a sucker for curvy women.

His proportions are very different now, and his boxer shorts cling to the pert curve at the top of his ass. He knots his over-sized tee shirt under his breasts so that he can look and touch at the same time. In the mirror, he can see the gently defined trough of his spine - he reaches back and rests his thumbs on either side, letting his fingers splay out against worn cotton and ridiculously sensitive skin.

The posture makes his breasts stick out even further, and he gets distracted. He heads back to the bed, peeling his shirt off over his head. Time to play.

leave feedback | return to sga index | return to main index