He was sitting in a tram and she was standing. In a green camisole crop-top and low jeans. Her bellybutton was at his eye level. A perfect navel.
He was an artist. He admired shape and form. This belly button was so neat and deep,so inviting,the belly so slim and brown. It was not quite round,more oval like a small sweet mouth set in a smooth brown plain.Kissable...

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If you can wear hot pants and show your legs,
If you can wear crop tops and show your tummy,
If you can wear off shoulder or sleeveless and show your chest,

Why do you judge me when I wear a bikini showing all the three.

P.S. : Model thoughts!

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There was no clear beginning to his fetish, but it slowly became apparent as he grew into adolescence during the ’90s, the heyday of crop tops. He remembered seeing Playboy covers in the bookstores, the gesture of a model lifting a shirt with an exposed belly button, and how that thrilled him. His fetish wasn’t associated with a particular gender, but he was interested in women, in particular the shape of the belly, the “erotic geometry between the breasts and the groins and the hips, the way they work all together,” which was “blindingly beautiful.”

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They gonna judge you anyway

Whether you wear blouse where belly looks
Or
Whether you wear crop top where belly looks

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Like a Naval force of any nation that intimidates enemy countries, the 'navel' force of a woman has the potential to defeat the peace of anyone.
She has the power to lure these senses of onlookers from any direction of her body.
Sometimes with a low waist saree and sometimes in jeans and top.
The open show of her flat tummy and navel region makes the connoisseurs of beauty fall flat...

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As Ria stood in the soft golden light, the edge of her crop top teasing just above her waist, her deep navel subtly drew his gaze—mysterious, captivating. Unable to resist the pull of the moment, he slowly reached out, his hand trembling with a mix of playfulness and desire. Gently, he traced her skin until his index finger found its way into the delicate hollow of her navel.

He rotated his finger carefully—180 degrees—feeling an unexpected, almost magnetic lock between his finger and her skin, as if her body responded instinctively. She gasped softly, her breath hitching, not out of pain but surprise. With a slight pull, he tugged her gently by her navel. It was just enough to break her balance, and she stumbled forward—weightless, like she was falling into him.

And then, like fate had choreographed it, her lips landed perfectly on his. A spark ignited, electric and warm. The playful tension melted into a kiss neither of them expected—but neither of them wanted to stop...

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The room was filled with girls wearing crop tops and shorts
But the one in a saree fascinated him
For he loved her for her shyness

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Mon rêve est rire avec toi, courir avec toi, et mange des barbe à papa avec toi...

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Either to choose jeans
Or crop top,
I am damn confused,
Yet I have no option,
So, today I carried a combo pack..

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