No matter how much she hopped, skipped and wriggled, her booty shook, jiggled and dimpled.

“Every goddamn time,” she complained.

“Half of the female population would kill to have all that,” I replied.

“They’d never understand the struggle of this half.”

She squirmed, shimmied and jumped, but her jeans wouldn’t climb over her rump.

“Fucking hate this.” She stood in defeat, her jeans further creasing her backside’s underside. I strolled and dropped before it.

“Maybe you should just stay inside for now.” My tongue swiped her crack.

“Fuck,” she moaned and then smirked. “Okay, I only hate it sometimes.”