WRITERS WRITE... WRITING PARTNERS FEUD ~ All About Cassi 11
Come join us in our expose' on Cassi from BEYOND THE THRESHOLD. She is a fun-loving, full-bodied hottie, who has her own unique look and style. We thought it would be fun to expose, with emphasis on the word expose some of her outfits over the next several weeks.
ALL ABOUT CASSI
Cassi exited Beef's bathroom, wearing only a black appliqué on sheer lace bra and a pair of micro-mini bikini panties. The suggestion that it was a panty could be challenged. If she didn't shave and had a full pubis more than seventy percent of the muff scruff would not be covered. Her waist was small, punctuating the fullness of her breasts and plump of her ass and hips.
"You are so beautiful," said Beef.
"I am too fat and you like the fact that my personality is beautiful."
"You'd be wrong."
"My weird clothing is how I displace, hiding that I don't like my body shape. You can't buy clothes off of the rack my size." There it was, a sense of meditative content, flowered by the vacillation of flickness and perfumed by wavy emotional frailty about her body shape.
"Who cares. Your skin is soft. Your thick fleshy nature allows me to kneed into you with my fingers, enjoying. The fact that there is more of you is my ultimate treat."
"It is my outfits. They call attention to me and away from my body shape."
Beef slipped her panties to her ankles and she stepped out of them. He knelt before her and warmly kissed her split face shark, holding her ass cheeks.
She bent backwards offering. A shiver of apprehension crisped her skin, worrying he was placating her whining insecurity.
He dwelled on her mound without questing for the wet slash, making love to her skin. With a stream of easy talk, "Being with you is heaven."
"What if I never dressed up?"
"I'd love you none the less. But Squishie Pie, it is that personality that you let out with dressing-up that makes you, you."
A sudden and stinging delight pulsed her pussy. "You are good."
He removed her lacy bra, and with a soft insidious plea asked, "Could anything be more wonderful?" Beef with a gentle vulgar tongue and lips wandered around the breasts enjoying their blessing.
Absorbed in the scent and murmur of the night she said, "Be free to know me."
He laid her on the bed. Her thickness was evident. A tone of arduous admiration hung in his plaintive sighs while magic lit his eyes.
"Lay with me," she said.
"I want to discover you. Let me study the most stunning woman on this planet." He pulled up a chair and sat. "Lay still. Close your eyes. Be silent."
Equally agitated and enthralled by day-dreams, ten minutes of silence were ultimately disturbed by Beef. "I have been forever a fan of the zaftig. It is a beautiful word. A foreign term loosely translated as meaning voluptuous. Yes, without question, I adore the full-figured lady. I insult my feelings by restraining them with the using adore... it is adore to the square of infinity.
This is an allurement that has been saddled with the term BBW, shame on whomever wordsmithed that, the acronym is cold and impersonal. It is nice that these women are now so iconic that they are recognized, but so wrong to use such an icy term. Zaftigs are blooms of delight that have to be honored. There captured in their spirit is awesome x3, a trait of which I am fascinated.
I grew up during a time where these beauties were called fatties and wide-bodies. Friends would say they had more cushion for the pushin'. How rude. I am ashamed of my generation for being that way. Yet, I have known forever that buxom is the essence of great intrigue and unbelievable excitement.
A gal of fleshy wealth, if empowered with confidence, is one of the most attractive beings. Cassi is the most attractive of all of them.
Ladies of the Thick offer both within fantasy as well as reality, so much more being plush and pliable samples of erotic splendor, passively screaming to be fully experienced. I become atwitter just thinking about being with Cassi. To be absorbed into the plush of her, alters my happiness.
Where some see something to ridicule, I see grace, where some hate, I boon with attraction, and where some tease or mock, I worship.
As a hobby blogster, many of my heroines are ladies of size. Why? They can be more complex characters and in all fairness are far more common examples than are titless sticks. Yes, I respect the slender sticks, like them, but they can be far too spoiled to be interesting. Ok, I know intellectually that these almost androgynous sticks most likely have depth, but I'll admit I am jaded because I always desire naked time with the zaftig... oh, that's far too personal. But I must be personal. Cassi, you have proven to me that my glorifying your body shape is perfect.
The zaftig gal has faced and overcome struggles, thus, she's rightfully earned the role of shero. I know for a fact, that she has beauty that transcends first glance, because to see it, you must also see the inner-beauty which brings remarkable complexity to her. I've seen it. Live it. Kiss it. Love it.
They are blessed with humor and charm as well as a tenacious sexuality. They face ridicule with grace. They commit often, though, with a history of failure, believing in that star of possibility, stronger than most. Cassi since you have chosen me I could not be a more honored man.
Zaftigs are a lioness prowling their moments, devouring the spirits and souls of men. They are bonny big playful bunnies, they are cherry pies that taste better, they are dainty delicate dances of delight, they are full blossom bosoms that dwarf dainty perky bra-wearers, they are jaunty jiggling play toys that enjoy life, they are showy rosy roses in full bloom, they are resplendent moments of glee, they are the crème-de-crème of the most succulent nature flavoring their plentiful pie, they are divine gifts from a deity that has proven its omnipotence. I do adore the zaftig.
I have noted my adulation for fluffy ladies in my blog and mitigated my point acknowledging, as an audience, I have no idea what you look like, and if you are a titless stick... I will spend hours removing my foot from my mouth. As a pre-emptive volley, I drop to one knee, look up plaintively, bat deep green puppy eyes and ask you to forgive me, for I am a zaftig man, not a leg man, or butt man, or a foot man. Cassi has guaranteed, I be so for all my life.
Being a bit more earthy and graphic, but the honesty here is that I adore the buxom gal, maybe corsetted to make the fleshy top boob bounce forth in dramatic cleavage. Gaa, the idea of that! Give me a moment to reflect. Post-reflected, I'm back smiling. Cassi, you corset up so delightfully.
I love plump lips that can be ample, endless tools for pleasure. The kisses that suckle are instances that I revere.
I fantasize over the shaved pussy. Why? It is fuller and softer and plumper and more interesting, more revealing, more engaging and definitely enchanting. And my experience with Cassi has taught me that it is more orgasmic, genuine, and honest.
I am the champion of the voluptuous lass who has been brutalized by a horrible society that has made bony iconic. Bone hurts if you are poked by it. Now said with the utmost respect, with more cushion for the pushin' the sexual sate is multiplied. By how much? The only value that is apt is infinity. And with Cassi infinity x infinity.
A woman without curves is like pants without pockets... you don't know where to put your hands. The zaftig forms screams to be touched. Why? They are so attention-grabbing, so sexy, so appealing, so wonderful and maybe so misunderstood. Everything about them shrieks, touch me, know me, be one with me.
A lady of size brings out the hedonistic in me. Yea, they do! Tee-hee! I want to consume her, devouring her essence as I migrate every supple square inch of skin. The feast of her can be epic times forever. I find that I feel salacious wanting to share dirty thoughts, gently whispered in wanton tones. I want to absorb her eyes, feel her pulse, and tickle the little hairs on her neck.
I know I become protective. As I revealed, I have been lewd, but not for lewd's sake but to quietly insist to her that she is profoundly desirable. I insist that my salacious words are saddled to honesty, otherwise I would be hurting that which I so respect.
Ultimately, I would have hoped that she had felt that kind of desire before, but if she hadn't when she meets me she will know that there is no greater beauty than her. Is that my duty? With Cassi it is. No, it is my endless quest... duty is shit. The doting quest is one which I would wish to indulge with worshipful insistences. Would I be vulgar? Yes, of course, but in the most intriguing, provocative and captivating way. Naughty touches the vulgar, the untamed, the prohibited But if I hurt her I would humble myself to correct any pain.
The zaftig belong on a pedestal and it is long overdue. The Rubenesque beauties were from a time gone by, but we as a society have missed our natural opportunity to celebrate in the glorious fact the largesque ladies are just better... an enhancement to the feminine form. We should return to revering the Zaftig.
I am blessed to be with Cassi. I delight in her confidence, as well as find charm in her imagination. To say she has smitten me, would be a gross understatement. I am hers with all my being, thoughts, and desires. Do I love her? I do. Because of her appearance? Yes. Because of heart and soul? Yes. Because of her humor? Yes. The truth is I love the all of her and without her there is less of me."
Cassi rose, teary, and crawled into his arms. The two snuggled.
"I love you," whimpered Cassi, "What do want of me."
"Whatever you wish. There are no bad parts of you."
Cassi lowered herself and removed his enormous penis, placed it into her mouth, thought she'd have to force its eleven inch length down her throat. It went down easily, proving just how much she wanted it, and began a hour of making love to it, encouraging him to ravage her throat with aggressive thrusts and plunges. There was not enough she could do to make him happy, holding it deep for extended periods, reaching her tongue out and behind his balls, asking them into her mouth. She was completely unaware that her talent would have ever allowed her to absorb the gargantuan size of him, an enormity that increased formidably as she labored to bring him delight and he became more aroused. She distinctly noticed the pulse of blood gushing within the remarkably distended and ever swelling cock. Her cock. The head ballooned and grew so massive that it was almost the cork, blocking and pushing trapped air as she pistoned his length up and down her throat. She loved the sensation of feeling the compression caused by overgrown rigidity and found herself quickening her pumping gait, eventually to the point she appeared frenzied, and she was. The colossal girth amazed her, knowing that she made it happen with intense sucking, redirecting as much blood as she could into the inordinately craved penis. None of this was onerous, but as simple as letting her instincts direct her. Generally, they fucked, and were good at it, but she knew that he had struggled his entire life to find a girl who could and would give him such an oral gift. The penis was a symbol, for the truth was she was making love to the man.
Blurb for BEYOND THE THRESHOLD
It didn-t shock Sheriff Adam McGreggor to discover the owner of the local seaside nightclub was once part of a sect. Hannah Holt-s entire appearance and attitude just didn-t fit her profession. Her reluctance to press charges against an assailant that left her battered and drugged, however, did shock Adam to his core. Even more jolting was his instantaneous attraction to this woman who fought his every advance.
But Hannah has a secret he cannot begin to fathom ... she is from a parallel world....
But Hannah has a secret he cannot begin to fathom ... she is from a parallel world....
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