The opening of our town’s new tattoo parlour ‘Apocalypse Now’ was splashed across the front of the local community newspaper. I strolled past one morning to check it out as a tattoo had long been on my bucket list. The cool black, chrome and mirrored interior gave the appearance of a trendy men’s barbers; a far cry from those sleazy back street shops which did anchors on the arms of old sailors!
I was greeted by a pretty Chinese receptionist who brought a big photo album for me to study. She explained their hourly rates, adding: “I could fit you in with Kim at 12 this morning. He’s our top artist.”
“Fine, I’ll call back.” As I stepped onto the street, I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d cleared the first hurdle.
Kim turned out to be Korean and very dishy. He led the way into a small studio at the back. He was wearing a short medical gown over a black T-shirt, emblazoned with the Parlour’s logo. A pale blue face mask hung around his neck. We settled at his work table.
“So, what sort of tattoo are you wanting, young lady?”
“Something small and discreet.”
“OK.”
“I’d like it to depict a strand of barbed wire.”
He scribbled a note on his pad. “I see. How long?”
“About five or six inches, I guess.”
“Rusty, or shiny – straight from the hardware store?”
“Rusty.”
“On posts?”
“No.” He made some more notes.
“And where exactly on your anatomy would you like this barbed wire to be tattooed? Across your shoulders?”
“Across my belly.”
“I see. Below your navel?”
“Yes. More or less mid-way between my navel and the top of my vagina.”
Kim seemed totally unphased by this announcement. “Would you mind showing me?”
“Sure.”
Now emboldened by my confession, I leaned back in the chair, unfastened my jeans and rolled them half-way down my thighs so that he could see the top of my pink panties. With a thumbnail I drew an imaginary line below the waistband. “About here, perhaps? That way it will remain hidden beneath my panties – that is until any guy pulls them down!”
Serious Kim smiled for the first time. “A sort of warning?”
“Exactly!”
He moved round and sat at his laptop. “I like it. Give me a few minutes and I’ll do a design for you to see. There’s a changing area behind that curtain, Anika, with a secure locker. Can you go and undress and slip on a gown for me?”
“Certainly.”
“Shall I make you a herbal tea?”
“Yes, thank you, that would be nice.”
In my belted gown I returned and took my place opposite the tattooist, who had now lowered my chair into a semi-reclined position. The herbal infusion soon made me feel quite light-headed.
After a few minutes he swivelled the laptop’s screen around to reveal a really dainty little double-strand of curved rust-brown barbed wire. Entwined at its centre was a small knot of Forget-Me-Nots.
“I love it, Kim!”
He smiled his appreciation. “Good, well let’s get started, shall we? With your permission, I need to mark your tummy with a felt-tipped pen.”
I untied the belt and opened my gown, revealing my most private area.
He pulled his blue face mask up, slipped on a pair of purple latex gloves and moved in close, touching the centre of my belly with the tip of his pen. “About here?”
“Perhaps just a tiny bit lower?”
From behind his mask came a mischievous giggle. “Any lower, sweetie, and I’ll be touching your little nub!”
I giggled back: “Feel free!”
Well, I have to tell you that this shy young man needed no second invitation. He removed a glove and gently nudged the tip of my clittie with one knuckle. “How’s that?”
“Delicious!” Then he used two knuckles in a slow circling movement. “Oh fuck, YES!” I quivered with excitement as a small orgasm arrived.
“Good girl, now you’ll be more relaxed while I’m working.” Removing his two fingers he licked my juices, then reached for his tattoo pen. Its small cylindrical glass reservoir was filled with dark brown ink. Silently he went to work, painstakingly moving across my belly from left to right. I closed my eyes, which marginally reduced the discomfort.
He worked silently for the best part of half-an-hour, only changing ink reservoirs from time to time. “Now the Forget-Me-Nots,” he murmured, “and we’re finished.” He put down his pen and stepped back to admire his creation, then offered me a hairdresser’s two-handled mirror. “Want to take a look?”
The barbed wire snaked across my tummy in three sensuous curves; the wild flower hung from the middle loop, with one blue flower a mere inch from my slit. Frigging myself down there was going to be a delight.
“Oh Kim, I just LOVE it. You’re a genius. And you’ve put it so close to the top of my cunnie!” He giggled again, this time with mild embarrassment. “It’s absolutely perfect!”
Slowly stroking my clittie again he looked across at the digital time display over the door. “Jung has booked me another appointment for 2.00pm, but we’ve still got another quarter of an hour. Would you like to stay a little longer?”
“Oooo yes please!” He crossed to the communicating door and quietly locked it. Then standing above me, he unbuttoned his slacks and let them drop to the floor.
“Would you permit me to make love to you, Anika?”
“I’d simply adore that, Kim,” I told him, opening my legs wider. “Look, I’m wet already at the thought!”
He slipped out of his blue boxer shorts, revealing a magnificent semi-erect uncut cock, with a lovely long hood, from which a mushroom-headed glans was peeping out invitingly.
“Just think,” he mused as he carefully climbed onto my chair to mount me: “I’ll be the very first person allowed under the wire!”
