I did it! I got my right butt tattooed. It hurt a little, felt like a hot scratch. Now I have the words bitch, chienne, hembra, Biğozi in that order. They are beautifully inscribed.
Last week I told Jovan I needed a tattoo and he asked me what tattoo I wanted. I told him.
`Do you have to?’ he asked. I told him I didn’t want to but that’s what I wanted.
`You should get one too,’ I said smiling up at his face. We were lying naked in each other’s arms. In his bed. He kissed me. It was just a kiss, pleasant, affectionate. I never get kissed like that, it’s usually with a hunger, but Jovan does it. It unravels me way more than those lust filled kisses. I guess he knows, that’s why he does it.
Anyway, he called up a friend of his. He’s a tattoo artist. He explained what exactly I wanted and they laughed about it.
`I’ll pay for it,’ he said rubbing his index finger against my face.
`No.’
`Come on I’m doing it. Consider it a favour.’ It’s useless arguing with Jovan. He always wins so I shut up.
The next day I found myself in a room alone with this tattoo artist. `Privacy,’ he said, because it was my butt getting worked on. Honestly I wouldn’t mind if the whole world saw my butt. It’s cute. I took care while dressing up. I wore one of my thongs and a loose dress just in case my butt hurt so bad after. Jovan dropped me and left. He had stuff to do.
I walked in and saw the guy. I forgot to get his name so I just said,`hi.’ He tried to make small talk and led me to the bed I was to lie on as he worked on me.
`Do I take the dress off, or just lift it?’ He shrugged his shoulders and said either way was fine. If I lifted my dress to the waist and lay down, it would get creased so I took it off instead. I saw him stare as I folded my dress up and placed it on a chair by the bed. I was barefooted because I had to remove my shoes on my way in.
`So…’ I left my statement hanging. I needed to know what to do next. He smiled uncertainly.
`You look really good naked.’ He gave me a thorough appraisal. `I’m actually turned on.’ My eyes drifted to his afly. There was a bulge I noticed. I curved my lips a bit.
`Sorry.’ He said it was okay. `No I can’t have my tattoo substandard just because you are turned on. Come lemme help sort you out.’ I get that wide eyed look I get from a lot of them (guys) and I just smile. `I’m serious, do whatever you want to make you steady. I don’t want you creating something ugly on my ass.’ He walked over, hesitantly like he wasn’t really sure about what he was doing. He touched me as if he was appraising an art piece, slow and tender. It was like that for a while and I just stood. Then started to kiss my neck slow and tender…
`You smell good,’ he said so low I almost missed the words. I felt my bra get loose, he had unclasped it. I don’t know if it’s because he’s an artist. He touches with care. There’s nothing hurried about what he does. He’s not in a rush like most guys are. He’s living in every moment. I felt his palms on my breasts. Not squeezing like most of them but gently cupping them. Then he started to move his hands touching like he’s not really touching.
It was thrilling. I tossed my head back and moaned. If this is how all artists touch then I’m on a hunt for them. By the time he carried me to the bed I was drowsy. Even my sight wasn’t clear. This guy put me on a spell just by touching me. By the time he got into me I was on earth but not really here. It felt like I was floating in the sky.
After he tattooed my butt slow like his touch. It felt erotic. That hot scratch I could feel on my butt. I loved it. I should get more tattoos soon…
Yours truly,
Trudie.
