What is "babygirl"

Usage examples of "babygirl".

What a beautiful baby she was, Babygirl the loving parents called her, conceived in the heat of the most tender yet the most erotic love, fated to be smothered with love, devoured with love, an Amer-ican Babygirl placed with reverent fingers in her incubator.

A call went out to nursing mothers in ghetto neighborhoods requesting milk from their sweet heavy balloon-breasts, mother's milk for pay, since Babygirl's own mother failed to provide milk of the required rich-ness.

In her incubator air, humid and warm as a tropical rain forest, Babygirl thrived, glowed, prospered, grew.

One mild April day, when a winey-red trail of clotted blood was detected in the incubator, issuing from between Babygirl's plump thighs, we were all quite astonished and disapproving, but what's to be done?

Giggling and brushing and making little fluttery motions with her hands, wriggling her fat ass, her nipples hard and erect as peanuts inside the sequined bosom of her dress, her eyes glistened like doll's eyes of the kind that shut when the doll's head is thrust back, the per-iwinkle-blue had no pupils to distract, Babygirl was not one of those bitches always thinking plotting calculating how to take advantage of some poor jerk, she came from finer stock, you could check her pedigree, there were numerals tattooed into her flesh (the inside of the left thigh), she could be neither lost nor mislaid, nor could the cunt run away, and lose herself in America the way so many have done, you read about it all the time.

They misted her in the most exquisite perfume-one whiff of it, if you were a man, a normal man, there's a fever in your blood only one act can satisfy, they passed out copies of the examining physician's report, she was clean of all disease venereal or otherwise, she was a virgin, no doubt of that though tripping in her high heels and grinning and blushing peering through her fingers at her suitors she sometimes gave the wrong impression, poor Babygirl: those lush crimson lips of such fleshy contours they suggested, even to the most gentlemanly and austere among us, the fleshy vaginal labia.

It was the National Guard Armory, rented for the night at dis-count price, a slow season, and in the cavernous smoke-filled gallery fresh-groomed men sat attentive in rows of seats, their faces indis-tinct as dream-faces, their eyes vague and soft as molluscs focused on Babygirl, fingers fat as cigars poking in their crotches, genitalia heavy as giant purplish-ripe figs straining at the fabric of their trou-sers.

Most of them pointedly ignore the vendors hawking their wares in the Armory, now's hardly the time for beer, Coke, hotdogs, caramel corn, the men's eyes are hotly fixed on Babygirl my God get a load of that.

So Babygirl tossed her shimmering cinnamon curls and prettily pouted, revealed her dazzling white smile, in a breathy sing-song she recited the sweet iambic verse she had composed for this very occasion.

Covering Babygirl's pink-flushed face with kisses, hugging her so tight she cries Oh!

He leads Babygirl out onto the polished dance floor as the band plays "I Love You Truly" and how elegantly he dances, how masterfully he leads his bride, blood-red carnation in his lapel, chips of dry ice in his eyes, wide fixed grinning-white dentures, how grace-ful the couple's dips and bends, Babygirl in a breathtakingly beau-tiful antique wedding gown worn by her mother, her grandmother, and her great-grandmother in their times, an heirloom wedding ring as well, lilies of the valley braided in the bride's cinnamon curls, Babygirl laughs showing the cherry-pink interior of her mouth, she squeals Oh!

Chewing her wedding cake Babygirl is disconcerted to discover something tough, sinewy, bristly in it, like gristle, or fragments of bone, or tiny bits of wire, but she is too well-bred and embarrassed to spit the foreign substance, if it is a foreign substance, out: discreetly pushes it with her tongue to the side of her mouth, behind her molars, for safe-keeping.

X, a gentleman, washes his mouthfuls of wedding cake down with champagne, swallows everything without blinking an eye, This is the happiest day of my life he whispers into Babygirl's pink-whorled ear.

Until one night his penis failed him and he realized he was frankly bored with Babygirl's dimpled buttocks and navel, her wide-open periwinkle-blue eyes, the flattering Oh!

X, within their first year of marriage, began to bring home "business associates" (as he called them) to ogle Babygirl, to peek at her in her bath, to whisper licentious remarks in her ears, to touch, fondle, molest-as Mr.