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Did I love her for her mind? I know her mind. I know her body. Though her mind is more complex, her body is more accommo- dating. In her body I see none of the hard, fast obstinacies that sometimes frustrate me. In her body I see only an elegance and a spareness, an odd grace particular to women of her type. Hers is the kind of figure that some would call boyish, causing in her an odd sort of wistfulness with their carelessness. Long legs that have a curve of softness at the calf before tapering into an impossibly slender ankle. Prominent bones at her shoul- ders, creating fascinating shadows. Pelvic bones that challenge the casual observer, a challenge I readily accepted. Small, soft breasts that she tries to camouflage by wearing clothes that swallow her. A tiny waist that troubles her at times, flowing into rounded, narrow hips. White, tender thighs.

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I know the way she thinks. I know her mind, almost as intimately as I know her body. She has shy, quiet places that have greeted me timidly, and she has assertive places that offer themselves with the assurance that is her definitive quality. Mind and body. I have thought that I know them all, as much as anyone knows, as much as she herself knows. I have even thought, with the arrogance that annoys her, that I know much about her that she does not. I know her. This is what I have thought. This is what I be- lieved. I believed that I could chart her progress with the high degree of accuracy that such a craft demands, that I could pre- dict, even predetermine her actions--the ideas that occurred to such a splendid mind, the pleasure provided by her long, slender body. Arrogance? She would have thought so, while acknowledging the same failing in herself. Did I love her for her mind? Her mind was not a thoroughly lovable organ, true. There were flaws there, her own arrogance, her volatility, her strange fits of moodiness. Her maddening insecurity. And can such flaws seem endearing? Oh, I thought so. They all conspired to create a puzzling, absorbing creature that grabbed my attention and held it, through irritation at times, and at others through affection.

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Afterward, everything was great...the crying didn't seem to mean much, she had no regrets or anything. Margo was a little strange, but strange in the good way that made me return to that part of the state some months later, where we met at the dance again, Laura and Daniel watched us go home with the same smirk as before, and the sex wasn't quite as good, but it was still wild. A third time we met, I was involved with another lady (guess what her body was like), and it no longer seemed comfortable with Margo (which was a shame because she really had her heart set on a third time together). Maybe that was a mistake, because I never saw Margo again, and I'm not sure where she lives now. But that one night is up there among the three greatest sexual experiences of my life!

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When she got the message, she crossed the line into utter abandon and wildness. What she did then I've recalled to memory night after night ever since then, as my own sensual lullaby before I fall asleep. She got on her knees and thrust her buttocks really high in the air, and arched her back as far as she could go. Her head was buried in the pillows, and she was pushed all the way up to the head board of the bed. She got in this position so quick, that in the time it took me to get behind her, she was already quivering from head to toe and making sounds like she couldn't wait any longer...with a bit of the sob still in her moaning voice from when she was crying. I was out of control myself. Those two giant globes, so big...I was overwhelmed. I entered her and tried to keep from coming right away, so I went slowly. Eventually I got my cum-muscles under control and proceeded to heavy thrusts, as my hands wandered all over those wonderful spheres of hers, up so high in the air they were up against my chest. Eventually my groans joined hers (not as loud, though), and I came, and I came huge. I shot myself dry, getting that feeling that the cum-muscles kept pumping until every last trace of cum was sucked out of my body. Oh, it was great...

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She offered me a foot massage with some special massage oils. During this I reached over and gave her a passionate kiss. A little later she got up to get some tea, and I followed her to the kitchen. There I embraced her standing up, and we kissed some more. And at last I put both my hands on the prize that I couldn't stop thinking about, that large, round ass. It was so firm as I explored the way it rose as two mounds from the bottom of her back, the way it curved in to where it joined her thighs, and the "cleavage" that her two buttocks formed. Meanwhile her large breasts were spilling onto my chest, and it was heaven. We headed to bed, but Margo was getting a little funny about the issue of sex. She thought it would be a good idea just to sleep together, and I was dying inside. But what she said and what she wanted appeared to be two things. In bed I kept trying to sneak my hand under her nightie, and she repelled me...but as soon as I moved my hand away she gave this whimper of desire suggesting that she wanted my hand. This oscillation got more and more manic as it led to me fingering her pussy, and her being alternately discouraging and encouraging. Like I said, she wasn't quite my type, and it was a little weird, but this "devil made me do it" drama was getting kind of exciting! By the time she spread her legs and let me get on top and inside of her, she was actually crying tears. The cries led to moans, REALLY LOUD moans on each of my thrusts. Soon I maneauvered her to be on top, and those large grapefruit breasts hungs over my face. Speaking of crying, I felt a bit the baby myself as sucked and sucked on those nipples. After some time of this, I gave the hint that I wanted to go into the position I'd been dreaming about when I first laid eyes on her.

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"We have the same glasses frames," I said. It was true, they were nearly identical. "You're right, we do!!" she gushed with more than a little enthusiasm. And on that basis we got a conversation rolling; it was inane, making stupid small talk about glasses frames for several minutes, but there was a subtext. We were locking eyes, estimating each other sexually, and the heat was rising. I was invited to come to her house, and in fact, why not stay? Now, I was a guest of some old friends there, funnily enough, a former girlfriend of mine and her current SO, so I had to let it be known that I was going to be "taken care of" by my new friend Margo. Boy did their eyes roll. Laura, my former girlfriend, made a crack when Margo wasn't around about Margo looking quite a lot like a recent girlfriend of mine, and I knew what she meant: that big ass. I knew that Laura and Daniel were sizing up Margo personally (clearly not my type) and thought me and my "preferences" were a little kinky. At the time I was a little embarrassed, but in time I discovered that the wide-hipped woman was my personal "archetype," and discovering this made it a lot easier for me to find really compatible girlfriends. I might add that Laura was the last girlfriend i had who didn't have a big butt! It was a long drive to her apartment, and although we didn't actually verbalize that we wanted to fuck, we were caressing each others thighs. At the apartment, I let her walk upstairs ahead of me. Oh, that beautiful ass, moving side to side! Umpteen fantasies raced through my mind. Pulling her underwear down right there and doing her from behind. Sitting her down on the stairs and eating her pussy. Fucking her in the ass as her legs straddled three different levels on the stairs and she steadied herself with the handrails. Yeah, right...she was asking me if I wanted a cup of tea as I was thinking this. There was a whole lot of foreplay to come first.

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The lights were all green with one lady, whose name I eventually learned was Margo. In some ways Margo wasn't my typical lady: she had a huge head of hair, and huge glasses, and generally had a kind of "loud" personality and appearance. But what a body! She had large earth-mother breasts that were not hidden by the dress she was wearing. She had a nice waist the contours of which I loved feeling as we danced. Though there's only so much of a "feel" you can cop and still be polite, my hand could tell that that waist flared out in the most sensual way to a quite generously-sized ass. From that feel, and my many glances down while we were together, or when her back was to me, I extrapolated what her whole body must look like, and it was spectacular. Spectacularly generous in proportion, without being fat. Actually, I'll be honest, she was maybe a bit more filled out than she needed to be; but, call me weird, that often turns me on a little more.

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In a way, that was how June and I got to know each other. She overheard me talking with Jimmy, one of the other long-time customers. He was surprised at my equanimity when a newcomer had cruised me. Jimmy told me what a lovely way it was to decline. I told him it was simply the truth. Amazing, isn't it -- that faggots should find the truth just as lovely as we unrepentant straights do? Golly, maybe they're almost human. June was decidedly female. She was only about five feet tall, with jet black hair in a pageboy cut framing a rounded, pretty face. Her black eyes, behind her eyeglasses, were wide for an oriental and if there was a fault to her face, it was that her lips were a bit too generous and lush. Some fault, huh?

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They say a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. But I can't claim to be a gentleman. Besides, all bets are off when the woman -- But that comes later. And -- oh, yes -- this is a true story. Really happened. Only her name has been changed. Not to protect her -- she did not need protection -- but to keep my ass out of court. I met June (not her real name) in a Laundromat in the Village. I had seen her there a few times and couldn't help noticing. For one thing, she was female and most of the clientele was male and gay. I had outgrown my homophobia years before and on the rare occasions when one of the guys cruised me, I told him (truthfully) that I was flattered and declined. Hell, how could I not be flattered? There were a lot of devastatingly good-looking guys around who were obviously gay, and someone had found me attractive enough to make a pass; I had to be flattered.

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"Somewhere, somewhere out there, perhaps among the readers of this very story, there is someone who can fill your role, someone who can love me as I'm truly meant to be loved. Someone who believes that there is a big-assed Fiona out there waiting for him . . . somewhere. Someone whose belief is strong and unwavering and who will not despair and lose faith if at first he doesn't find his Fiona in Women's Wear. Someone who will continue searching -- searching until that day when he hears a voice ask whether the jeans make her ass look fat . . . "

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My name? What name? What *was* my name? Who was I? I couldn't seem to remember. My identity, my past existence prior to seeing her at the store . . . had flickered out, faded . . . didn't exist. In fact, I didn't exist . . . except as a figment of imagination, Fiona's imagination. As consciousness dimmed, the last thing I heard was: "Yes, yes! My most successful creation -- a highly detailed demon lover, a phantom conjured out of a dream. You! You are a creation of my imagination. You don't actually exist in the flesh . . . yet.

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There just happened to be a tube of "XE-41 Industrial Strength Recreational Lubricant" in the top drawer of her dresser. Just behind several stacks of panties. Very curious. Could be she had already rehearsed her little fantasy, possibly with the active participation of a silicone sex toy or two . . . She knew the moves all right. Her heavenly gate, the entrance to her ass, dimpled inward, then relaxed and dilated as I gently entered into her innermost mystery. She was hot and buttery-slick inside and I glided past her sphincter ring with no resistance. She groaned, then reached behind and pulled me farther into her. I began a slow pumping rhythm of long, deep strokes, and shortly afterwards felt the contractions rippling out from her depths that meant she was having her third orgasm of the night. She cried out softly and called my name.

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I hinted at my dark hunger to explore its hidden richness, to insert myself into its mysterious interior. Her body spasmed in my arms. For a moment I thought I had offended her, that she was shaken by disgust and outrage. But she was only laughing softly. She kissed me moistly on the lips, then made a mock farting sound. "My hot, passionate lover. I've opened my most private self, my private parts, my very *cunt* to you. Do you think I'd deny you my *ass*? As it happens, having it up the ass is one of my . . . my secret masturbation fantasies. It's just that I've never found a man I've wanted to realize it with. Until now."

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That ass. I couldn't keep my hands off it. I savored the soft, cushy feel as I fondled it. The warm, fleshy resilience of her buttocks as I entered her from behind (which turned out to be her favorite position). The freshly powdered scent of wanton femininity tickling my nose when I rubbed my cheek against her plush bottom. I wanted it, all of it. I wanted to plumb its depths. I had a sudden raging desire to *fuck* that ass. In those early morning hours, as we lay entwined, I whispered into her ear the details my fascination with that magical, wondrous ass.

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We found this smokin' hot blonde on a college campus while filming a 'documentary' on campus life. She had what was once called an "hourglass" figure -- full breasts tapering down to a shockingly slim waist, then flaring out to wide, generously upholstered hips framing that glorious ass. Looking at her rear view in the flickering illumination of the bedside lamp, I could almost picture her as a mythical centaur, with a humanoid torso growing out of a massive equine rump. Those wonderfully sculpted haunches! Now she was down on hands and knees, and those magnificent globes, like twin moons, completely dominated the heavens. Later, hours later, as we lay in each other's arms, she told me she measured a full 56 inches at the hip, that is to say, around the ass.