Single in my forties. Not a state I'd recommend to anyone. Dating has changed in the last 20 + years, and with the slew of internet dating sites, doors have opened up that maybe should have remained closed.
I am going to share a story with you, true to every word, and let you sort out for yourself if maybe I had suffered a temporary bout of insanity.
I hit the internet of course, because that's where I have been vicariously living my life, and well the keyboard was on my lap.
I had met a man, in cyber speak only, and he was challenging me to do something different. I giggled as I told him I had always fantasized about a piercing in my private bits. So look into it was his reply. Actually more like, just do it.
So I researched, well, my research consisted of dropping into two of the larger piercing parlours, explaining what I wanted. The first place, loud, dark, flashing lights. My forty something ears straining to hear what the young man was telling me. He had dozens, no maybe more like hundreds of piercings. It was hard to concentrate as the light reflected off his shiny rings and things and blinded me, they picked up the flashing lights and seemed to magnify them.
Well, at least he knows how to pierce himself I think to myself. But no, he says he is the tattoo artist and he waves to a man in the back to come forward. This is our piercing specialist. The piercing specialist is covered in tattoos, no natural skin showing anywhere but on his face.
Blushing, but sure that no one notices, I again explain what I want done. No problem he says, quotes a price and says follow me. WAIT! I explain to him that I am just asking and that when I am ready I will call and make an appointment. No need for an appointment, it only takes 5 minutes, drop in anytime.
Shaking I return to my car, and drive to the next tattoo parlour, across the bridge in the next city.
This place is bright, white walls and a 'normal' looking young man at the desk. Blushing again, but in bright lights this time, I explain to him what I want pierced. He quotes me a price and tells me that I will need an appointment, the process takes about 30 minutes. He gestures to a photo on the wall, he is our piercing expert, over 30 years experience.
That is more than the other freaks have been alive. The price is half and I say make me an appointment. As an after thought, I ask if I can bring a friend to video tape the procedure. I am sure my cyber friend would love to see that.
Sure he says, see you tomorrow.
Sitting in my car, my hands visually shaking, wondering if I have truly lost my mind. I run through my list of friends, rejecting each in turn. Who can I possibly get to come with me and operate a camera?
As if someone was listening to my thoughts my phone lights up and I smile as I see who the caller is. I answer hello and engage him in small talk for a few minutes before blurting out, "I need a favour."
"Sure!" he answers.
I explain to him all the nasty dirty details and he assures me that he would love to watch and tape my private piercing.
The next day I pay particular attention as I bathe and shave my pubes, adding a dab of baby powder to soak up any embarrassing moisture.
We enter the tattoo parlour and the piercer himself greets me as I enter. He is 60ish, grey hair and a lovely British accent, making me feel relaxed and comfortable. I sign the required waiver and he takes me back for a consultation....alone. He needs to assure himself that this is my idea and that I am not being coerced. He turns his back as I slip off my boots, jeans and panties, swiping the fabric quickly through my nether lips to make sure that he has a relatively dry working surface.
I have to admit that the whole experience is making me as horny as hell.
Up on the table, feet in stirrups, he pokes and prods, checking to make sure my clitoral hood is large enough to support a piercing. Although he calls it by it's proper name, the prepuce. Assuring me that I have a wonderful prepuce for a piercing, he tells me that it's such a sensitive area, that he will freeze the tissue for me. He dabs and pokes with a cotton swab dipped in a topical anaesthetic for about 10 minutes, then lightly slaps my thigh and instructs me to get dressed and return to the waiting room. It takes about 30 minutes for the freezing to take effect.
On the way, we look at the jewellery and he suggests a simple barbell for a starter piercing. I can only nod as I rub my legs together, my clit itself seems to be trying to wriggle off my body. I talk to my friend to ease the passage of time, wriggling in my seat and when it was time to go back in...the piercer refused entry to the camera, my friend could accompany for moral support, but no pictures and he would have to sit behind me so as not to get in the way.
