Tattooed and Stuffed

Author: Ramo Kye

“Decide what you want?” my husband, Jim, asked in a way that made it clear I didn’t have to go through with it. We were sitting in a bar next to the tattoo parlor. I was on my fourth drink, aiming to keep the process as painless as possible.

“This, I think.” I handed him a scrap of paper with a rough idea of the template I’d ordered. It was of a snake wound around a medieval looking tower. The snake had yellow eyes, streams of blue and red along its body. The tower was high and made of neatly fitting slabs of stone.

“Looks phallic,” Jim noted and my eyes agreed. “Where? Where you going to put it?”

I gulped the last of my drink and slid from the barstool onto the floor. “My ass, honey. My ass, where only you can see it.”

“Well, me and Carlos.”

He was right. Carlos would see it as well. A friend had referred me to him claiming that he was the best tattoo artist in town. Not knowing how this would work, I’d dressed light. A simple white t-shirt top that made my brown hair look even darker and a mini-skirt, no panties. Jim held my hand as we walked the short distance to the parlor. Inside was dark and smokey. A few wobbly wood chairs for waiting. Blurry photos of sample tattoes were strung across the wall.

Carlos was seated in one of the chairs. He was a burly man, probably my age – about thirty. thick features and a stubbly black beard. He was wearing blue sweat pants and a sleeveless white t-shirt. His arms, every inch of them, were covered with lines of blue and black and an occasional splash of vibrant red.

“Lynn?” he asked and stood.

“Hi, Carlos.” I was nervous as my hand thrust out and greeted his. “This is my husband, Jim.” The two men shook hands as well.

“You might feel more comfortable alone.” Carlos was blunt as he stared into my eyes. I wanted to agree, but didn’t want Jim to take offense.

“How about if I wait at the bar?” He probably had no desire to remain in the cramped room while I was being worked on. Jim and I brushed lips. Then he left, leaving me alone with Carlos.

“Have you decided where you want it?”

Shit. I hadn’t actually thought that I’d have to say it to anyone but Jim.

“Here,” I pointed at my ass through my skirt. Carlos laughed.

“You’ll hafta be more specific. Why don’t we go in the back room and you can show me.” I bowed my head and followed Carlos into the back room. He closed a loose fitting drape behind us. It was a small area with barely enough room for his equipment, a couple chairs and a table that looked like it had been bought from an emergency room yard sale. “Now, where do you want it?”

I took a deep breath, turned around and lift up my skirt. “Right about here.” I said, pointing to near the center of my right ass cheek.

“Okay.” He was very business-like. “Would you rather have feet up or feet down?”

I didn’t understand.

“You can lay face down on the table. Probably best. You won’t be able to move too much, and this will take awhile. Or, you can keep your feet on the ground and bend over the table.”

“Can I just bend over?” Damn, it sounded so slutty.

“As you wish.” For the first time Carlos smiled, his straight teeth bursting between his lips. “We can start whenever you’re ready.”

I hoisted up my skirt and bent over the table, noting that it fit my waist comfortably. Carlos chatted with me as he did the prep work. Told me about recent business, then made me laugh when he questioned whether “This big tattoo will fit on that tiny rump of yours.” It loosened me up a bit and almost, almost, made me forget that he was getting a view that only a few men had seen before.

I got nervous again when he began to dart needles into me. The pain varied, usually worse when I was less prepared for it. Felt almost like a series of paper cuts on sandpapered skin. It was never terrible, and I wondered why so many people fussed about it. Shit, I’d had two kids, natural birth, and I’d take a body length tattoo over that any day.

Though I felt I was remaining very still, Carlos must have thought otherwise as he grabbed the cheek of my right ass by burrowing four of his fingers deep into its crevasse, and held it firmly in place. Eventually, he moved down, probably to begin marking the serpent’s tail. His strong hand clamped tightly against my inner thigh. The move startled me. Made me shift.

“Stay still.” He ordered. I planted myself again, but my concern would not vanish as his fingers were too close to a secret I’d hope to keep. The fact that my nudity, his hands on me, and the growing tattoo had made me wet. It had nothing to do with love – I loved Jim. But this was erotic. Bent over. Displayed for a near stranger like that. The amorous thoughts helped keep my mind off the stings of pain, but with each jab my secret became more obvious.

He paused his work for a moment, automatically allowing me to shift my legs apart until I could feel a finger against my moist opening. I tried to stop a sigh from escaping my lips, but couldn’t.

Carlos began to pat me down with a rag and some salve. It felt cool to my flesh and made me relax even more. I’m not sure if I shifted down again, or if Carlos’ fingers shifted up, but soon one of them was buried in my pubic hair and I was gently grinding against it.

“Want to take a break?” He was standing now and whispering into my ear. To make sure I knew what he meant, a sole finger of his began to strike at my clitoris.

“Yes. Please.” I whispered back and my hands clutched the table. turning my knuckles white. He began fingering me. Two fingers first. Then three when he felt I could take them. I began to pant heavily, short bursts of air eking out of my throat, as an orgasmic wave took me over, causing my hips to shudder and surely filling Carlos’ palm with my juice.

Before it had subsided, he’d dropped his pants and buried his cock inside me. I hadn’t had another man since Jim and I started dating. And it felt good. He was larger than Jim, and longer. And while our married sex life was good, the passion which Carlos used to stab his rod into me had been missing for a long time. Each of his forward thrusts lifted my feet off the floor and each of his backward moves made my mind beg him to return.

In his passionate play Carlos had forgotten about my newly forming tattoo and grabbed both of my ass cheeks in order to steady my vagina for him. His fingers biting into the raw skin of the tattoo made me screech. But Carlos took it as a plea to continue. His thrusts became wild. One missed and his cock careened in between the cheeks of my ass. My heavy breaths begged for his return, and he did, even larger now. Almost immediately, he began filling me with his hot jism, making my entire body explode as my legs turned to liquid and our cries filled the room.

All this while my husband sat drinking the next door over.

Of course, it was hard to explain to Jim why I only had half a tattoo. But he believed that the pain had just been too much for me. And we agreed that, when I was ready, I should go back to Carlos and have him finish me off.

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