Booty Calling



Suggested Audio Rump:


[1] Animal Alpha “Bend Over”

[2] The Police “Message in A Bottle”



Booty. Such differing fortunes this slab of rump has to endure. While, primarily it expels the surplus your colon deems unnecessary, it can also seduce like few other pieces of kit if used in the correct manner. The booty is strong, the booty knows its place, the booty can be musical too. It also accommodates some fairly spectacular G-spots which can evoke ludicrous Elvis impersonations from the most mild-mannered of librarians. Where to start? I guess the best place to begin would be with its appearance, seeing as the posterior is one of the most sought-after parts of the body to many. It’s design is relatively simplistic, two cheeks separated by a canyon; that’s pretty much all she wrote. Nothing particularly dazzling to speak of but still it drives some ga-ga. As for Keeper? Well, I’m actually quite a fan myself.


People populate their ass with a wide arrangement of different materials to enhance its status; the most popular of which being ‘da thong’. A light luncheon for any butt, thongs provide precious little protection and slide into the crevice like mere anus fodder. I’m actually not enamored by these undernourished slingshots if truth be known. Don’t get me wrong, I can see the appeal, and get that well proportioned butts can be enhanced by this slither of fabric. For me however, I prefer something a little more all-encompassing to spark the imagination. Ultimately it’s just personal choice, but I view the G-String as a fairly redundant piece of material and struggle to see the advantage in decorating one’s posterior with cheese wire.


I grew up in the age of the Levi butt. This denim dressing acted as perfect garnish for one’s derriere and rounded them up into an arrangement which folk found rather appealing. Nick Kamen helped them gain credence by whipping his jeans off seductively in a laundromat and, in no time, every fanny in existence wished to wiggle around inside a pair. Folk with less defined B-Tox would pull their belts in tight, sometimes to the point where their bladders would pay any dividends, just to provide them more definition. Construction workers on the other hand would wear them under their bellies, thus prompting a fair wedge of excess crack to spill over the back of their denims. Old ladies with defective sight would rub their cataracts in bemusement as they attempted to post their cereal coupons into the row of perspiring postboxes thrust in their direction.


It took a while to cotton on but Skater Butt was waiting in the shadowy recesses waiting to take off. When it did, in synchronicity with G-Dog Ass, every young asshole in the free world stepped out of the dark and took its rightful place in society. Rappers began to tighten belts around their lower thighs and allow the waistband of their jockeys to do the talking. Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren and the like supplied the hammocks for any budding gangstas while Skater boys generally preferred super hero boxers, with Spidey spinning his web straight into the Eye of Sauron. Enough to get those senses tingling!

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Afro booty became known as the true American jigglers, with deliciously bodacious buns which defied logic, capable of twerking with a rhythm that Skinny Caucasian butt could never hope to crack. J-Lo Butt followed and nowadays Nikki Minaj battles against Lady Gaga for rectal superiority. Minaj, it has to be said, has the kind of bubblicious booty you just want to spread jam across. Who said they have to be size zero anyway? Nikki acts as an ambassador of Ample Ass and it’s refreshing to Keeper’s peepers. Then we have those whose creator has passed them over when fitting their rumps in place. These hapless individuals lack any sort of pronunciation. Their non-asses appear to run straight into their upper thighs without any notable joinery. Nowadays crudely placed chicken fillets help disguise this particular ailment.


Alas, for some, Bonus Butt is rife. This comes courtesy of a small grape-like bunch of spherical skin-sores which perch around the crust of one’s balloon knot making a simple bowel movement an agonizing affair. A rowdy bunch, these scoundrels operate a costly toll booth for anything desiring inward or outward passage. I can only imagine their grizzled discomfort. While some have legitimate reasons for being afflicted with Bonus Butt; it can sometimes be encouraged by our own foolish actions. Allow me to elaborate some; as a ten year-old boy I was introduced unwittingly to a VHS, the likes of which, I had no idea even circulated until then. The words “Here Rich, come and check this out” still provoke rectal inflammation as the sight I was made privy to was not one I could ever shake from my hippocampus.


Anal World Records was the name of the video nasty in question and its crimes against human decency put the anus in heinous. To give themselves a shot of snagging this particular world record, several young women with no awareness of health and safety regulations inserted various objects into the shallow end of their alimentary canals. We’re talking everything from clenched fists to bottles of Jim Beam, family heirlooms and, ultimately, the excruciating looking ass spreading vice. Beyond horrific, this hideous vision traveled way beyond wrong and firmly into demented. I believe my response went something like this: “Why Madam, why would you do that to yourself? Look at it now, you could toss a pancake in there. Jesus H; get this woman a medic”. The interjoining plank separating trenches A and B had been reduced to a whisker of bat-winged flesh and all they had to show for it was a measly world record. Can you fathom it? Please tell me I’m not alone here.


Having said that, a few items have made their pilgrimage across my own border. Nothing nefarious mind; a few lubed digits may have popped in briefly just to say arrivederci. I am not ashamed of self exploration you see. If there’s a checkpoint beacon to reach then reach it I will. Truth is, I’m just unhinged enough to admit to my misadventures. You will be pleased to learn that I’m commendably elastic and I’m now as taut as an amphibian taut once more. Actually, I’m guessing you may not feel so privileged to learn that. Anyhoots, enough of the shit talking, I’ll be buggered if I’m going to keep y’all from your toilet breaks any longer. Bringing up the rear is a little shanty I like to call…

Rump Shakers



So many things pass as they vacate one’s arse
whether minnows or burly crusaders,
To tell you the truth it’s a bit of a farce
that lost arks be destroyed by such raiders


You’ll sit there white knuckled with ventricles bulging
As birthing commences in stages
It’s par for the course that this act be indulged in
as these beasts need release from their cages


Ten minutes will drag as you eject your slag
into waters with rippling allure
the size of some subjects may make an ox gag
it can be rather grim to endure


These stools go to hell, not so much as farewell
round the bend of the pipe like a ferret
No chance for a snapshot, nobody to tell
only we’ll ever know of its merit


Then there’s the blocker, that most heinous docker
its shoulders are too broad to pass
you dare not look down as you know it will shock ya
and removal will prove quite a task


Should upset digestion or health in slight question
blight your ass with compromised solids
this most dire of ‘rrohea can burn through one’s rectum
and the toilet’s no place to drop porridge


I trust you’ve enjoyed our stroll through the moors
our rear ends deserve such exposure
now all clench in unison, tighten those jaws
as it’s come time to give this shit closure








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