AcmeShorts

Carlotta held her great, fluffy tuchus in the air. It was buffing time, and the assmaid took to the task with great zeal—perhaps more than was necessary. Folds of tulle framed the gleaming flesh like the petals of a flower.

Carlotta was known far (and especially wide) for her magnificent heinie which was thought to hold great secrets. Cryptometrists had been visiting her since her 12th birthday. Lines and lines of wizened men snaked out of the modest stone cottage and down the lane. Each would emerge more sweat-soaked than the last, his great pensive brow furrowed in consternation. And each would return again the next day, hoping to unravel the butt’s true meaning. It had more crevices and cubbies than any other bum in four counties. Salami? Hell, you could hide an entire boiled dinner in there, and still have room for cobbler! It was mesmerizing. She made little boys of every scholar in the kingdom, so deep and undulating were her secrets. Folds and folds of them. Dollops of pure shimmering mystery. As the years passed, these only seemed to grow more complex with layers of pithy skin and meringuey cellulite. But any hope of decoding Carlotta’s caboose was nearly lost now.

Jezabelle, the assmaid, dipped the corner of her rag in a pot of lanolin and poppy seeds, held it to the revered ass, and rubbed. She had now been at it for most of the morning. With each swirl of her cloth, another month of poopy mystery disappeared.