when we study R's ass– when we speak of R's ass– the ass is of course intrinsically of R– literally, mechanically constituent to R– but nevertheless, due to its legendary magnetism and conceptual power, also an almost ontologically externalized aspect of R, a phenomenon unto itself, this extreme… scenario they're toting around.
of course the immediacy of R's ass that confronts us is the cheeks, oxymoronically plush and steel, as expressive as eyebrows; each cheek faceted and yet perfectly, improbably round, like a video-game boulder. the cheeks tho "hot" in the colloquial sense are often cool to the touch, unless they've recently been slapped or squeezed– unless they've been roughly treated, perhaps because that bad lil ass has been spanked, in which case they blush coyly– in which case a fever-warmth rises from them, the ivory marble blossoming into a sunrise of streaky cerise.
the muscularity of the ass is exquisite. R's ass is in fact baffling: just as the sea can toss a ship up, down, side-to-side, rotate it clockwise or counter-, pitch it or roll it, heave it or sway it, dip it or yaw it or yeehaw it — or do any and all at once– just so can these luxuriously upholstered, hard-yet-soft twinned spheres of liquid mercury move in a hypnotic and apparently infinite range of motions, twitching and shifting in volumetric complexities beyond the quotidian euclidian.
but what of the crack? what of the crevasse between these cliffs, the narrow cleft in which the climber's fingers seek anchor– the angle of shadow into which he nestles his weary face– and now perhaps the whole crag quivers a bit, and must be steadied by laying a heavy arm across R's muscular young back, holding them down for a more thorough investigation…
it is, after all, the gap between clouds through which we glimpse the life-giving sun. while each ass cheek is a globular ideal, it is their combination– the twinning of cheeks– that produces the essential character of R's ass, and while thus the noun phrase "R's ass" might superficially refer to the cheeks themselves, it is that crucial canyon twixt them that 'defines' or anyway forms the noetic apex of the ass– ironically, itself the deeper reaches of the ass, and yet the essential "peak" of the ass-ness.
But if we treat of depths and peaks, let us dive to the summit: the olympian pinnacle that is the bottom's bottom: the world's most perfect bootyhole.
Not just the winking pink star of the show but a portal to a new reality, it is this which, even when unseen, radiates outwards to imbue the "ass-as-idea" with its completed character, just as the presence of god can be said to anchor heaven. of course heaven is not merely god; it is an entire realm of cosmic delights, but the existence of heaven– its very heavenliness– is predicated on the divinity at its center– the ineffable puckered divinity for which, at some level, the entire paradise is merely context, a reflection or spiritual post-facto elaboration. In the case of R's asshole, this oroboros — this magic ring, this umbral passage through realities, as glimpsed at the moment of death (for hind sight's 20/20)– is an inscrutability, a mindblowing themonuclear moment — the splitting of the atom concretized — yet embodied, paradoxically, as a constrictive absence.
Thus it is that while the flex and jiggle of the glutes are tremendously captivating, they are also, in their way, symplegades guarding this irresistible bosporous, this nerve-rich wrinkle, the presence of this non-presence, a sanctum that sanctifies whatever it allows – a sheath, a superheated, gripping potentiality.
… and reader, when that potentiality is actualized– when the cock is clutched balls-deep in that boy-hole– it is then that R's ass and its structured significances are not just known, but felt — truly internalized, physically and otherwise. when R's back arches, when those cheeks are flattened hard against the hips of the sodomist, there comes an understanding transcending the merely cerebral. this is the deep knowledge, to which all serious scholars aspire: not to study, but to comprehend: to wrap a hand across that strong young throat while sunk in their ass to the hilt, to have the heat and heft of those shoulders pinned, to firmly, unstintingly, methodically, and thoroughly fuck, as 'twere, R's ass.