#5390 - Soft. It seemed a shame: three small red triangles, at eye-level and accentuating more so than concealing perfect orbs of soft fat – the kind of ideal derrieres a few lucky women keep naturally, not a day of sun or exercise to their credit – his daughters’ lazy round fannies; but no doubt other men would one day have these very beauties, and he might as well be first. “I know what you like,” an aside, off the record, “ – go easy on them”, and a reminding smile, gentle and warning; she and her brother were long friends with a surgeon down the block sympathetic to their ‘arrangement’; he’d treated Maggie in the past, but had made George watch.
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