Inked In Love

Some names have been changed

*

Several years ago, I decided to finally have the sleeve on my right arm completed.

I went to my favorite shop to make an appointment with Erika, the woman who had inked all my tattoos for the past three years. Essentially, she'd used my arm and my back as a blank canvas. Yes, I trust her tattooing skills

that

much. Rather than tattooing something I picked off the wall or out of a notebook, Erika asked questions about my life, my likes, and other things which enabled her to create unique pieces that said something about me. All but a few of my tats have been done by women. The preference isn't sexual in nature at all; I'm just more comfortable in the hands of a female tattooist. Usually, I'll tell Erika what I'm wanting in the most basic way, and then let her imagination run wild. She takes a great deal of pride in her work and the results have been incredible. However, on this day, I was told that Erika's increasingly painful back condition led her to take a leave of absence for surgery and rehabilitation. I didn't know.

"It'll be about three months," said Chris, the owner. "But her cousin has taken her place until she gets back. Her name is Jeri and she's really, really good. A natural. I tell you, if any of my other people quit, I'd hire her in a heartbeat."

I knew Chris to be a straight shooter. He's a perfectionist and his shop was named one of the top ones in America. Thus I was confident in Jeri's skills; if Chris praised her and hired her to replace a great tattooist like Erika, she had to be good.

"She'll be back in a few minutes; her portfolio's the blue one if you want to see her work."

I sat down and flipped through it. Jeri was good!

As I neared the end of the portfolio, a smoking hot dark-haired girl with full sleeves wearing a simple frilly top and figure-accenting faded jeans walked into the shop. She went directly into Chris' office. I thought she was his wife at first, but then I remembered I'd already been introduced to his wife, who was a much shorter blonde. This girl looked to be nearly as tall as I am, about 5'10".

I was surprised when she exited the office and immediately called out to me.

"So you're George?" she said. "Erika's talked about so much about you. It's so good to finally meet you. I'm Jeri."

She extended her hand.

"A pleasure," I said standing, shaking her hand and looking at her arms. "I love your work."

"Thank you," she said.

I asked her how Erika was doing and asked her if she could give me her address so I could send her a get well soon gift.

"Aw, that's sweet," Jeri said. "I'll get it for you in a little bit. Erika's doing okay. She starts therapy next week."

She looked over my nearly completely inked arm approvingly.

"Erika's done an amazing job as usual," she said. "She's the one who inspired me to become a tattooist. My first tattoo was that butterfly on her shoulder. And she did a lot of my work."

I guess I should've been nervous in front of this beauty. But I wasn't. Jeri had a great personality and was very easy to talk to.

"You know, my schedule's actually open the rest of the day," she said. "I'd love to complete that. I can do it all today no problem," she said.

"Okay," I said.

She invited me into her studio and I described my idea: a closeup of my right hand playing a bass guitar. Jeri added her own ideas and created a sketch freehand on thin paper. She skewed it to fit in the available space.

"Perfect," I said.

"Just give me five minutes, okay?" said Jeri.

After a few minutes, her work area was ready. With my right palm up on the armrest, Jeri prepared my skin with a mild moisturizer. The combination of her soft, gloved hands and her model looks had my penis hardening. I silently grimaced, closed my eyes, and tried to concentrate on other things. I surreptitiously placed my free arm over my crotch and prayed she didn't notice.

I hope she doesn't get offended... God, she's beautiful... This is strictly business... You're too old for her... She's a professional... Forget it...

She bent over my arm and her right breast fully touched my palm. My eyes opened immediately and I jerked my arm away.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" Jeri immediately exclaimed and turned the color of a tomato. "That was an accident!"

At the same time, I said, "Oh, good Lord! Oh, Jeri, I am sorry! That was not intentional!"

We broke out laughing.

"My fault," we said at the same time.

We laughed again.

"Luckily your boyfriend or your husband wasn't here," I said.

"Oh, I'm not married. And I don't have a boyfriend," she said. "Not for almost a year."

She looked sad and angry at the same time. I didn't want to intrude.

"He cheated with another woman," she said.

"Jeri, I didn't mean to..." I began to say.

"It's alright," she said.

I stifled a comment that it was a shame and a sin that a beautiful woman like her was alone and her former boyfriend would cheat on her, but I didn't want Jeri to think I was hitting on her. The work took about two hours or so and turned out beautifully. As I was about to pay her, Jeri said, "Tell you what. You take me to dinner tomorrow night and it's just half."

My heart practically stopped.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" I asked, surprised. I'd never had a woman ask me out. I wasn't complaining, mind you.

"Yeah!" said Jeri. "Erika said you weren't married and thought maybe you could use a friend. You know, she really likes you. She says you're one of her favorite clients and that I'd love working on you."

"I'm flattered," I said genuinely. "Erika's a wonderful lady. But look, Jeri, I'm God knows how many years older than you; there are thousands of guys closer to your age who are way better..."

"Shhh..." she said, putting a finger to my lips and chiding me. "Enough of that!"

"Well, Jeri," I said. "I'll pick you up here at say, five?"

"I'll be ready," she said.

And she gave me a kiss on the cheek. That was unexpected. I had to have blushed. I left the shop in a daze. We had a wonderful date. And we had more over the next few weeks. Pretty soon, we were a pair.

One day, I knocked on her apartment door.

"Come on in, George," she said. "It's open."

I opened the door and Jeri was dressed in her normal attire: jeans, tee-shirt, and sneakers.

"Uh, I thought we were going out," I said confused.

We'd planned to go to a club. The music they normally played at those places wasn't my cup of tea. But Jeri had somehow survived the indoor driving range and came out unscathed.

Quid pro quo.

"I changed my mind," said Jeri. "Woman's prerogative."

"Oh? Quiet night at home?" I teased.

"Not if I can help it," she said softly as she wrapped he arms around me. We kissed. Long and deep.

I tentatively worked a hand to the side of Jeri's beautifully firm, perky breast.

She chuckled.

"Figures you'd go there," she said.

"Count on it, babe," I said, slapping her beautiful ass. She eeked and giggled. In minutes, we'd ripped every stitch of clothing off each other's bodies. God, Jeri was hotter nude than clothed! Her hairless pussy was glistening.

She pulled out the sleeper sofa and jumped into bed.

"Now get over here and fuck me," she said, stroking herself.

That would come in time I assured her. I had to savor kissing this goddess from head to toe. Finally, after torturing her for a good five minutes, I reached her pussy and pulled at her engorged clit with my lips and worked my tongue over her pierced hood. She smelled and tasted incredible.

Jeri arched her back and growled through gritted teeth.

"Oh... fuuuck! Damn!" she said loudly as she orgasmed hard. She fell back sweating and panting.

"Holy fuck! Oh my God," she smiled and exhaled.

"It's not over yet, Jeri," I said.

She giggled.

I inserted a finger in her pussy and located her G-Spot. Jeri gasped and squealed.

"Oh, I never could get that to work," she said.

She gasped as I massaged her. Her first G-gasm happened a couple of minutes later and sent her into spasms.

"Oh-oh-oh-ohhh gawwwwwd!" Jeri panted and growled as she came. "Oh damn! Oh damn!"

As the spasming subsided, Jeri looked to be in a state of shock.

"Oh fuck!" she laughed trying to catch her breath. "I never ever came like that before! Who the hell taught you that?"

"Tell you in a bit," I said as I nudged her head to my throbbing cock. She took about three quarters of it in her mouth and spit on it to get it slick. A few minutes later, I entered her beautiful pussy. She inhaled sharply.

"Oh, fuck!" I yelled. I was surprised by her sheer tightness. We groaned in unison as I buried my cock in her.

"Damn... So tight!" I exclaimed.

With breaks, I fucked Jeri for about ten minutes. I tried to make it last longer, but Jeri made it virtually impossible.

"Oh, Jeri... I can't..."

"Not in me... I'm not on the pill!" she said.

In my haste, I'd completely forgotten about condoms.

"Oh, fuck!" I yelled as I pulled out and pumped myself and shot the load of a lifetime all over her beautiful tits and her beautiful belly.

"Oh my God, Jeri, I'm so sorry!" I said.

"Don't be sorry," she laughed. "I loved it."

She kissed me and went to the bathroom and brought back a couple of towels. As we cooled down, she asked me about the G-gasm. I hesitated.

"I promise I won't be jealous," she said.

"It was a lady named..." I hesitated again and considered making up a believable "normal" name. Fyre was a working girl at a long-closed legal Nevada brothel.

"So what'd you do? Fuck a porn star?" she teased.

"No. Actually, she was a courtesan," I said.

Jeri looked confused at the term. I preferred it to "prostitute". "Courtesan" invoked an air of class and nobility. "Prostitute" sounded demeaning.

"A working girl, Jeri," I explained. "A legal one. Nevada. Years ago. She called herself Fyre -- with a 'y'. I never learned her real name."

"Oh," she said nodding.

Fyre was a nice lady who loved pleasuring men and women alike and found she could make a good living at it. I wondered where she was.

"Sorry to disappoint you," I said.

"Oh, I'm not disappointed, George" she said. "I can't criticize you. Hell, I lost my virginity on my fourteenth birthday. I thought the first time would be amazing and I'd become a woman and all that bullshit. God, I was so naïve. I was a kid. We both were. It sucked. I can't blame the guy though. He was a virgin, too. So what was your first time like?" she asked.

"Well, Jeri, I'm a guy," I said, wishing she hadn't asked. "It's different for us."

"Well, duh!" she said. "Seriously, how'd it happen?"

"You really want to hear this?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm a big girl," said Jeri. "I told you about mine. Was it romantic? Us girls are suckers for romance."

It was romantic. And more. Sexually, I owe the most to Paige and Fyre.

I gave Jeri the Cliffs Notes version of what led to me losing my virginity and the wild summer romance Paige and I had over the course of eight unforgettable weeks.

"Paige taught me about making love to a woman. Not just having sex. There's a difference," I said. "And Fyre took it to a new level. But that was then. Right now, I am in love with

you

, Jeri. So let's stick to the here and now, huh?"

"Well, George, stop talking and make love to me then," said Jeri, kissing me.

We made love until dawn and fell asleep in each other's arms. We got married three months later.

And Erika returned. Her first job was inking both of us with "George+Jeri" tattoos over our hearts. Over the course of the next few years, Jeri tattooed my left arm.

We broke up after nearly five years. Thankfully the split was amicable. Jeri moved to another state and is the co-owner of her place and it's become very successful.