A Guide to Belly Worship

Chapter 1

He approached me with a gentle smile, his hands reaching out and softly settling on the sides of my belly. It was a tender gesture, a silent invitation. With a reassuring warmth in his touch, he guided me towards the waiting plushness of the couch. He made sure I was comfortable as I settled onto the cushions, adjusting them slightly behind my back. Once I had settled, he moved to sit on the floor directly in front of me, his gaze already lifting to meet mine with a soft, anticipatory light.

From his position on the floor, my belly was the prominent feature in his line of sight. Its soft roundness filled his view, and I could see the unmistakable hunger in his eyes as he gazed at it. It wasn't a crude or objectifying stare, but rather one filled with a deep appreciation, an almost reverent admiration for its size and shape. It made a warmth bloom within me, a feeling of being truly desired and cherished.

His hands came to rest on my belly, a feather-light touch that spoke of pure appreciation. There was no pressure, just the gentle warmth of his palms molding themselves to my curves, as if he were admiring a beloved work of art. Slowly, deliberately, he began to move his hands, tracing the contours of my belly. His fingers explored every inch, gliding over the soft expanse, mapping its gentle slopes and swells.

As his hands moved, a soft murmur escaped his lips. "It's so soft," I heard him say, his voice a low caress, "like holding the most wonderful pillow." He continued his slow exploration. "And the way it moves when you breathe," he added, his touch following the gentle rise and fall, "it's mesmerizing." A sigh escaped him. "Honestly," he breathed, "this feels absolutely incredible. I could do this forever." His words, filled with such genuine pleasure, resonated within me, a sweet affirmation of the part of me he so clearly adored.

A wave of desire washed over me, a yearning for deeper connection. "You can..." I murmured, a soft invitation for him to continue his exploration. Emboldened, he leaned forward, and I gently guided his face towards my belly. It was as if he were entering a soft, warm cave, his face disappearing into the yielding expanse. The sides of my belly cushioned his face, a soft embrace that seemed to shut out the rest of the world.

He pressed his face further into me, his hands now gently holding my sides as my belly enveloped him. A feeling of profound intimacy settled between us. I reached out, my fingers threading through his hair, a silent acknowledgment and appreciation of his tender worship.

My heart swelled with affection at his sweet devotion. I gently wrapped my hands around his head, the soft strands of his hair mingling with my fingers. As I leaned down to press a tender kiss to his forehead, my long hair cascaded forward, a dark curtain falling around us, shutting out the rest of the world and creating a private haven. "You're so cute," I whispered, my voice filled with warmth, "my pretty little baby." It was endearing, this open adoration, and I wanted him to know how much I cherished it. I deepened the kiss, holding his head close, wanting him to feel completely enveloped, utterly accepted within the softness of my embrace, within the very fatness he so admired, surrounded by my love.

Held securely in my embrace, he continued his worship with a fervor I adored. His tongue flicked out, tracing wet patterns across the soft expanse of my belly, a thorough and loving exploration. He licked and swirled, his warm breath tickling my skin, sending shivers of pleasure through me. At times, a surge of excitement seemed to take over, and his gentle licks would turn into playful little nips, a burst of energy that only heightened the sensation. He sucked gently at the yielding flesh, his devotion palpable, before his attention finally settled on my belly button. It was his haven, a place he seemed to cherish, and as his tongue delved into its depths, a wave of pure pleasure washed over me.

He licked slowly, meticulously, cleaning the small hollow with a tenderness that sent shivers down my spine. It wasn't just a lick; it was an intimate exploration, a sensual cleansing. Then, with a soft sigh, his lips closed around the small indentation, and he gently sucked, drawing out the faint, salty sweetness of the settled sweat. It was a primal act, a claiming, and the sensation was intensely arousing, a mingling of slight saltiness and his warm, wet mouth creating a forbidden pleasure. His focus was absolute, his reverence palpable as he lingered there, making my core thrum with a deep, visceral desire.

"Good boy," I exhaled, a wave of contentment washing over me as I sank deeper into the plush embrace of the couch. My spine arched slightly, presenting him with an even more generous canvas for his adoration. Arms outstretched along the back of the sofa, I offered myself completely, the glorious expanse of my belly fully exposed to his hungry gaze and tender touch. A surge of desire pulsed through me, and instinctively, my large, soft thighs wrapped around him, a passionate embrace fueled by both longing and profound appreciation. He was held captive, willingly and deliciously bound until his worship was complete, and I reveled in being the object of his devotion.

His tongue became a delicate artist, tracing the intricate whorls of my belly button with slow, deliberate strokes, each swirl a testament to his reverence. He licked with meticulous tenderness, cleansing the small hollow in a way that sent shivers dancing across my skin. It was more than just a taste; it was an intimate exploration, a sensual claiming. Then, with a soft sigh that brushed against my skin, his lips sealed around the indentation, a gentle suction drawing out the faint, salty essence that had gathered there. The act was primal, possessive, and the sensation was intensely arousing – the subtle tang mingling with the warmth and wetness of his mouth, creating a forbidden thrill that resonated deep within my core, leaving me thrumming with visceral desire as he lingered at my center.

Having poured his energy into his worship, his mouth, now tired but radiating immense satisfaction, sought a moment's respite. His tongue traced a slow, wet path down my belly, a final lingering caress towards its lower curve. He settled his face in the soft hollow where my belly met the warmth of my crotch, a contented sigh escaping his lips. The weight of my entire being pressed down on his head, a comforting blanket that hid him from the world. In that silent embrace, he rested, his breath warm against my skin, his tired tongue finding a moment of stillness, a peaceful pause after his fervent devotion.

Sensing his need for a brief reprieve, I unwrapped my legs, releasing him from my passionate hold. For a moment, he was free, but only momentarily. I then folded my left leg, drawing my thigh up and around his head, cradling him in its soft embrace. It was a position he particularly loved, offering him both comfort and a sense of being completely enveloped. My large thigh became a soft pillow, a welcoming place for him to rest, still intimately connected to me.

But you know how it truly works, don't you? A woman's desire is not a gentle flicker; it's more like a wildfire. Once that spark catches, it spreads with an untamed ferocity, consuming every nerve ending in its path. It's a hunger that gnaws, a fire that burns, and it demands to be quenched completely, thoroughly. Belly worship is an incredible kindling, a sensual spark that ignites that flame, but the gods of desire seek more. That deep, primal yearning needs a downpour, a complete immersion to truly be calmed. It's a force of nature, this desire, and once it's unleashed, it will not be denied.

I shift, drawing my right foot up and gently guiding it along the length of his thigh, a deliberate and sensual exploration. My toes, emboldened by the heat rising within me, dug deeper, instinctively hunting for the hard ridge beneath his fabric. There, I found it, his eager arousal, and my toes danced along its length, a silent acknowledgment of his desire. This wasn't just a tease; it was an appreciation, a tangible thank you for the exquisite worship he had just bestowed. It was a reward, an ode to the fire he had so expertly kindled. But more than anything, it was a command, a clear message echoing the insistent thrumming in my core. The flame is lit and now was certainly not the time for it to die down. The hunt has begun .....