So you sit there, and the jeans are pretty tight. I don't believe I've ever seen ass in a seat that didn't look good sittin' down. But I know it's more than an illusion with you. I've seen that ass in all its glory, while you're walking in front of me. I'm mesmerized by the hip to waist ratio. I mean, what is that? Like 2:1? That's crazy!
But I'm watching you sitting there in those jeans and I'm plotting. How can I, even by slight of hand, touch that ass? Maybe you'll stand and I can find myself brushing against you, offering a low-spoken apology. "Sorry, I ended up with a palmful of pulchritude. Oops." I gotta touch that ass somehow.
I'm respectful, but damn, how can you come up in my place with that ass attached to your body thinkin' I'm not going to want to touch it?
When you stand and look out the window, I take my chance, wrapping my arms around your waist. Dick nuzzled between ass cheeks, mouth on neck, holding on for dear life.
I've never been, but I think this is Heaven.