Some men are ass men. They watch a woman walk down the road and their eyes are glued to her moneymaker, onion, booty, bum, fanny, rear, rump, pooter, back crack, keister, tushy. Whatever you call it, it’s an ass.

I’m not an ass-man, per say, but I love a nice, round badunkadunk. BB—Before Bekah—the thought of sticking my dick in a nice, tight little hole was more than a turn on. It was kind of a challenge.

I liked a butt diddle every now and again. Going to fifth base was better than simply hitting a homerun. And let’s face it, sex wasn’t much of a challenge for me. I had women seeking me out. Many made appointments. Fuck, I can’t count the women on the Jersey Shore who wore my art. So, slipping through the back door without getting carded was fucking cool. Dancing the chocolate cha-cha, a good peanut butter stir, a poke in the brown eye, riding the Hershey highway, all good fun.

Until her.

Bekah fucking George.

Mmm … my kitten.

Three years ago, I saw Bekah George at my family’s tattoo shop, looking for a job. She had a creative mind and could draw very well, but she had never inked anyone in her life. Hell, she had none herself and had drawn on fake tattoos to make it look like she did. And no, she didn’t disclose that information.

I will admit that the day she walked into Forever Steel, I heard her sexy, little southern drawl, and then, like a vacuum cleaner—I loved me a good Hoover when I was younger—I looked up and my eyes glued to the nicest pair of tits with a little nipple poke-age I had ever seen.

Tits.

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I’m here to tell you, in my case, that’s not true. In fact, it’s a bunch of shit. The way to my heart is via the tits.

I love to touch them, suck them, bite them, and fuck them. I love clamping them, and I love releasing them. If they’re short, you can wrap them bitches, making them hard, long, and sensitive as fuck. I love to drip hot wax on them, and I love to peel that wax off, scraping my teeth over them. I love rubbing the tip of my cock across them, and I love to come all fucking over them.

I. Fucking. Love. Tits.

Her sweet, little southern twang and her tits got my attention and her the job. And it just so worked out that those tits won my heart, too.

Does that make me a total dick? Fuck no. It makes me a man who knows what he likes.

Tits.

I trained her to pierce and ink. Then I trained her hot, little ass how to submit and be dominated. Then, the best part happened. I trained her how to be loved in every way possible.

As I said, I have fucked a lot of women, but I have only loved one. And I have been loving her hard every day since that day in the shop.

Once I won her heart, we had the most intimate of weddings. She was all tied up in knots, and there was even a beautiful cross involved.

I still get her all tied up in love … often.

“Over my dead body will you ever tell our child a story like that,” she says.

“What? It’s true,” I defend, reaching for her deep red, little pebble.

She slaps my hand away, and I chub up.

My kitten is playing hard to get.

I like it, so I continue.

“On the night you were conceived, your beautiful mother was wrapped in deep red satin. Her pale skin shone from the moonlight coming in through the bedroom window, and she was all, oh Zandor—”

“You are such an ass, Zandor Steel,” she says, holding back a laugh.

“Stop interrupting.” I pull her closer and rub her belly. “She was all like, Oh, God, Zandor, you can’t come inside me, and I was balls deep in the sweetest, hottest little pussy I’d ever been in, and my mouth was sucking tit.

“She knew damn well I wasn’t going to wear a fucking happy cap. Why should I? We’re married. So, it was her tits or her mouth I’d be coming in. My dick was hers, her pussy was mine, and there was no worry about STDs.

“She was all tied up in our bed, telling me no. And in the bedroom, no means yes … Actually, it means more than that. No means fuck me harder.”

“Please just stop,” she sighs.

“It’s rude to interrupt, Kitten, so be quiet please. Where was I? Oh yes. I was pounding that pussy, she was crying no, then she came so fucking hard I just couldn’t stop. And that, my son, is how your mother brought the legend Zandor Steel to plant his love seed deep … very, very deep inside of her.”

“Ha, ha,” Bekah says, rolling her eyes.

“What? It’s true.” I flip her to her back, ready to fuck her, when she scowls.

“What if it’s a girl?”

“Don’t say shit like that.” My dick is no longer steel.

“It could happen,” she says smugly.

“God would not do that to me,” I argue.

“Is that so?”

“He and I have gotten closer. I mean, I even stopped dressing up like him on Christmas.”

“You cannot say things like that.” Covering her belly as if to protect our child, she looks around like Jesus is going to walk out of the wall and strike me dead.

“He has a sense of humor, kitten. Think about what your exes were packing compared to me.”

She covers her ears and tries not to laugh. “That’s enough. No more.”

I lean over and bite down on her nipple, making her sigh.

“You love me.” I smile then suck hard, causing her to moan and fist my hair.

And then … Then she fucks it all up.