Post Op, Ergo Procter Op? - Sex Stories

Post Op, Ergo Procter Op?

... mine is so…mutilated.”

“You spent ages kissing it when we were first together though.”

Eric was getting embarrassed.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Lily.”

She was right, though. His devotion to the female navel had increased dramatically since the surgery, but he’d always felt his eyes drawn to them.

Post hoc, ergo propter hoc, went the old maxim he had learned in philosophy class. B follows A so B was therefore caused by A? But it was a logical fallacy, his teacher had said. B may well have happened anyway.

Perhaps, in his case, it would be better phrased aspost op, ergo propter op.

*

Eric gripped his cock firmly with his left hand, feeling the wet lubricant that covered his palm paint the shaft of his penis. The computer screen was just a few inches from his eyes, and he stared unblinking at the young women on it. One of them was Sara T., an old classmate whom he had tried, and failed, to bed. And the other one, whose skin was light brown, he did not know, but the hashtag told him her name was Ruth. They were dressed identically, in tight red shorts and red vests that exposed their bellies. “Club Atletisme Pallafols” said the uniform above their competitor numbers.

Eric was not, in truth, looking at Sara or Ruth. His eyes were focused like lasers on their navels. Flicking from one bare stomach to the other, he slowly jerked his penis, drinking in the shadowy realms where their umbilical cords had been. Sara’s navel he had seen before. Ruth’s ...

... was new to him. But he hadn’t chosen Sara or Ruth specifically. On any day, he just looked up the athletics clubs and picked a couple that he liked the look of.

And that was the beauty of his love of the female belly button. Every one was different! Some were round and deep. Some were shallow. Some were more crescent-shaped than round. Some looked curiously like the ‘at’ sign. Some stuck out. They didn’t, generally, do it for him, although he had seen ‘outies’ that he liked the sight of.

It was because of the stomach operation, he believed. Or at least that’s what he told himself. It wasn’t implausible, to be fair. His own belly had been mutilated by the surgeon’s knife. He had a cross cut into his guts, and although the stitches were out now, the scar tissue hadn’t faded, and the stomach hair was taking its time to grow back.

What could be more natural than for a scarred man to be attracted to pure, natural female bellies?

Fair enough, but the level of his drive to see them and fantasize about them was getting rather excessive, even he had to admit. Eric never watched pornography. It was enough for him to gaze longingly at the sight of a bare female belly.

He worried he was becoming obsessed. He’d spend hours at the beach bars, pretending to read but in reality, he was watching for the women wearing bikinis who would take a break from the beach and come to the bar for a drink or to use the bathroom. It only took a glance. A fleeting glimpse. He didn’t make the ...