Thursday, 19 July 2012

Wibbily Wobbily Fleshy Mounds (or how I learned to stop worrying and love my bottom)

So, you don't know me. Personally I mean. We haven't met; well, mostly anyway.

Despite this, if you've paid more than a passing amount of attention to my blog, you'll likely have picked up on self-deprecating comments relating to my physical shape.

Come on, Tim, you can say it. Take a deep breath and gird your loins (whatever the fuck that actually means!).

I'm fat.

I'm not chunky. I'm not cuddly. I'm not horizontally challenged. I'm not a person providing lot's more to love.

I'm fat.

Now, most of this is focussed at my stomach; it's much too large for my frame. Some of it though has migrated around my body, to my arms, chin, thighs and, yes, it's true, to my arse.

I have a big bottom. Queen could have released singles about me (apart from my gender, that is).

Now, few in this World have perfect bottoms, although as a community I suppose we're blessed with more than our fair share. And what is a perfect bottom anyway? Leia, Pandora, Amelia, Danielle, Sarah, Amy, Pixie and Snow all have bottoms that I adore; firm, rounded, well-fleshed and spankable.

Their bottoms are all very different from each other though.

So what's perfect?

It's the middle of the night here; I generally sleep in either the nude (no, don't look Ethel!) or a t-shirt and boxers. I've just got back up, as I can't sleep, and I'm wearing the latter.

I've been lying in bed, trying to capture that elusive moment when oblivion overwhelms the cares of the day, but to no avail. Sleep won't come. On the pillow next to me, my wife gently snores, exhausted by a day of shepherding young children around a safari park and funfair. Her rest is well-earned.

Naturally enough, as you do, I found myself fondling my bottom. Resting on my side, my legs slightly drawn up, my boxers cling lovingly to my thighs and buttocks. Running my hands up and down them, I appreciate their curves, and the smoothness of the flesh.

There's a lot back there for my hands to caress, but it's not a bad old bottom really.

There's a lot back their for my wife, or a professional partner, to spank; I love to see the two mounds glowing after a good session.

My bottom serves me well; it amply supports me when I put a willing spankee over my knee, and gives a firm base as they wriggle around under a fusillade of smacks.

We've gone through a lot, my bottom and me, over the years; some of it unpleasant (several colonoscopy's live large and horrid in my mind), but most of it good.

It's a shame that I haven't treated it better.

So, it't not a perfect bottom, but I love it all the same. And so does my wife; she's not the most committed spanko around, but she loves to rub, caress and pat my behind.

I might try sleep again now, buoyed by happy thoughts of bottoms.

All the best


Pictures are from sources as marked (but mainly Northern Spanking), and are of bottoms. Some of my favourites. Well, yeah.


  1. Your bottom is an old friend and has been a part of you for many years. Your post must have made it feel all warm and tingly and sooo special! (You did let it read your post, I hope.)


    1. My bottom actually proof reads all of my posts; in fact some people have suggested that it does my talking for me.

      Hold on; this is descending into whimsy - I won't have that one my blog! Hermione, if it were not geographically impossible I'd pop round and give you a sharp spanking for that!

      Rant over.

      All the best


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