It's ass heat.
You have it. You know what it is. You've sat in it. You've produced it. You may not give it a second thought, or even a first, but that's quite all right, because I've given it enough thought for everyone. (I'm generous that way.)
I know ass heat, and I hate it. Now, this is not the same as a "hot ass", which of course I can appreciate (and boy oh boy-ardee, do I ever, especially when all I have to do is look in the mirror to see one! yeah!). No, ass heat is not hot figuratively. Its heat is all literal. And much too much so.
I don't like sitting in a chair after someone has just vacated it. I don't like the sensation of the heat from their ass mingling with the fabric of my pants. I don't like having any sort of contact, however fleeting or indirect, with an ass essence (or "assence") that is not wholly mine.
And don't even get me started on toilet seats. That's another whole can of worms. Or hole of asses. Or something.fresh-baked at 04:02 PM