Full Coverage

"So, I was thinking," Sandy said. "You really could use a tattoo."

I swiveled back across the table and tipped my Cervesa. "Oh, shit." I managed to grab the bottle before it emptied on the rattan table top. A little to mop up, I swabbed what I could and asked, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I would like you to get a tattoo," she replied. Her eyes were like shiny, root beer marbles watching my face for reaction. "For me," she added.

Not really sure where this was coming from or where it was going, I stalled a little and asked her what she had in mind.

"Well," she said. "Your body is beautiful. I don't think you need me to say anything more about that." She paused to grin. "And, I really truly enjoy our time together- the trips, the adventures. We have some incredible times, and we have photos- but photos fade. Electronic images get lost. I want something permanent to remind us both."

"You want to get matching tattoos?" I said. "I've always thought that could be kinda fun, but couldn't think of anything meaningful..."

"No, not matching." she interrupted me.

I stopped and canted my head and raised an eyebrow. She went on to explain how my body was a perfect canvas for what she envisioned- and getting matching tattoos was pretty trite, akin to getting matching jogging suits. No, she wanted something uniquely for me, something she designed; Something to wear of hers.

A breeze from the Bahía de Banderas lifted her chestnut hair, and she paused to sweep it back from her face as I sipped a little of my beer. When she looked back I was squinting at her, perhaps because of the setting sun, but she read it as a bad judgment of her request, so her face turned down to the table.

There are many things I don't know, but I was fairly sure that I was lucky to have this woman in my life and wanted to always be so. It was clear she had shared a fantasy that involved me, that required me. I had felt no compelling need in my life for body art. (Who wants to see a guy with tattoos anyway?) But this was her fantasy, one that I could fulfill for her, and THAT was an opportunity to good to waste.

"O'k, babe," I started. "As long as it's tasteful, I would love to wear a tatt..."

She squealed and leaped from her chair. "You are so, wonderful! This is going to be so great!" A flash of white bikini, a blur of colorful beach wrap- and in a moment she was covering me in kisses. She danced off as I stooped to pick up my fallen sunglasses. The waiter was grinning at me and with a thumbs up, said, "Hermosa mujer, hombre afortunado!"

"Si, Paco." I said. "I am a lucky man."

-

The barber chair in the tattoo shop was intended for comfort, but my hip was angled up to best present my thigh for the artist, so it felt a little awkward. But it was o'k. Sandy was hovering around the head of the chair distracting me, clearly excited about the process. It had been two weeks since we returned from our trip, and she had been immersed in planning my tattoo. I won't say obsessive, but her favorite place had become sitting cross-ways in the big armchair with a drawing pad. She would sketch furiously and sometimes stop, prop her pencil in her mouth and gaze at my torso. From time to time, the pad would drop to the carpet and she would pull me into the bedroom.

Having a beautiful woman lusting for you is a powerful thing. Knowing her fantasy brought even greater intensity. I watched her mentally applying patterns to my body. With her fingers, she traced my muscles and contours for fit with her designs. She infected me with her excitement. Her fantasy was becoming mine.

There were phone calls to shops and recommendations made. After all the on-line research and initial consult with the artist, we picked a design. I was to wear a stylized Mayan calendar to commemorate our most recent adventure. Sandy, took it to another level with a bio-mechanical surround, a bit like a Terminator prop. Seemed good to me, although larger than I had expected. So, this is what put me in the chair at Aces and Eights Tattoo.

Sandy's breasts were pressed against the back of my head and she overlooked the artist shaving my hip and thigh. She kissed my ear with a little giggle as the stencil was applied. I heard a little gasp and felt her palm flatten on my chest as the artist test triggered the tattoo gun and dipped the needle in a small cup of black ink. Sandy's breath on my cheek stopped as the artist's needle bit into my skin and the first line was engraved on my body.

The artist continued to work on my skin very efficiently and the pain was surprisingly light. Sandy was breathing again, short breaths. We were both watching her design materialize on my leg, injected bit by bit under my skin. I was fascinated by the process and the artistry. Sandy snugged in close to my ear and whispered. "You are marked for me now, a design you can never take off. It will be with you for the rest of your life."

I like that idea.

-

The shower head threw little needles of cold water at my face and after a moment warmed to the temperature I preferred. I rubbed my eyes with my palms and tousled my hair while the strong stream washed away the thick-headed funk from a day at the office. My regular routine at the gym in the morning gets me going for the day and a quick shower after work always does wonders to get some energy back.

The shower curtain slid open a little and there was Sandy appraising me. "Do you mind if I join you?" she asked.

"Not at all. Hop in." I grinned.

Fifteen seconds later, Sandy slid in behind me completely naked. She grabbed a bar of soap and started rubbing across my back. She seemed pretty intent on my neck and upper back. I have been working lately on my lats and traps- and I think the results are starting to show- Her soapy hands sure felt great right at that moment. Gradually, her focus dropped to my lower back, then my side and then my tattooed flank. I shifted a little to let the water rinse the soap from my tattoo and it stood out vibrant on my skin. The inflammation was gone. The scabbing had cleared. Only the indelible design, Sandy's work, was there to see. She traced the Mexican-mechanical work with her finger like she couldn't believe it was still there. I turned the shower off and turned and pulled her into me. I could feel her heart beating rapidly, so I grabbed a towel from the bar; we dried quickly and headed for the bedroom.

Sandy pinned me to the bed, sitting across my belly, holding my shoulders while she dipped and teased me with her mouth. Her tits dangling and brushing my chest. I am sure she could feel my erect cock on the back of her ass, because I could feel how wet she was on my stomach. She worked way down, nibbling on my nipples, leaving little bites along the way. Soon my cock flipped up between her boobs and slapped my stomach. We both laughed a little but we instantly shifted to intense when she held my cock in her hand and licked it very slowly from the base to the tip- watching me. She closed her eyes and slid her mouth down over my cock, taking it in as far as she could, and drawing herself up again with her lips wrapped tightly around. And again, slowly, over and over.

She has that special talent. Sandy can feel the way my body moves-maybe she can feel a stirring in my balls. She can take me to the edge and not let me release. This is what she did tonight. At exactly the right moment she slid off of me and repositioned herself across my body, feeling me writhe under her. I wanted to be in her. I wanted to unload in her but was not in a position to do so. I reached out and she parted her legs. Her pussy was deliciously slippery. I could feel her hips moving, willing me to tease her clit as she ran her hands up an down my body, invariably tracing my tattoo.

After a bit, perhaps not willing to wait longer, Sandy climbed on top of me and guided my cock into her. Her hands were on my chest and she was rocking back and forth when she suddenly fixed her blazing eyes on mine.

"You know, you will be tattooed again?" she said.

"Yes." I answered.

She arched her back and moaned as her hips rocked faster and then slowed.

"I want to cover your body in tattoos. May I do that?" she said with the last bit squeaking out in a little girl voice.

"Yes."

She began raising and lowering her hips. I could see the full length my glistening shaft as it was momentarily exposed and then disappeared deep inside her.

"Someday soon," she she said, breathlessly, "I want to see my milky white tits laid against your deeply colored body. You will do that for me?"

"Yes."

She arched her back again and began bucking, her hands frantically grabbing my nipples as wave after wave of orgasms shook her core. I could feel the dampness of her hips and back as I held her and thrust myself into her. In moments, I erupted. Sandy collapsed on my chest and was still. Both of us could feel the involuntary pumping from deep inside of my body continue long after.

-

The motorcycle was running a little hot when we pulled into Mesa, Arizona. Of course it was. It was summer and air cooled engines run best with a little chill in the air. It was now 104. Sandy had been planning this trip for months and we were close to a surprise destination. All I knew for sure was I was going to be tattooed again, a special tattoo, one maybe planned for an open space on my back- one of the few ink free places on my body.

Yes, I kept my word. Over the past few years, we had developed a cadence, a routine of travel followed by an elaborate addition to my body to memorialize the trip. The lower half of my body is like a travelogue of interesting places, artfully placed and well integrated. My upper body is artwork drawn from the mind of my woman. Sandy always selected extraordinary artists so the quality of my work was superb. She selected the subject, approved the design and picked the location on my body for every tattoo. What am I saying? It has become one tattoo, one unbroken, continuous tattoo from my ankles to my neck.

It is ironic that, through all of this, my office mates have no idea I am completely tattooed. The long sleeved, dress shirt regimen of my work has allowed me to be thoroughly inked- and they have no idea. Would Maria be shocked that I have the Manneken Pis tattooed on my ass? With the Singapore Merlion juxtaposed on my other cheek? I would guess Zhang would be impressed by the terracotta soldiers on my left leg, but Chet might not appreciate the colorful Carnivale dancers encircling my right leg. My chest and stomach are richly tattooed with woodland beasts, dark, mysterious, furry, toothy. Sandy even insisted on blackening my nipples so there would be unbroken dark color in the trees. That smarted a little, but, yes, she can lay her milky white tits on me now and she seems to glow like alabaster.

Sandy hopped off the bike when we pulled into the Wheelhouse Cafe and Motor Inn, and crunched over to the office to get a room and a key. I shook off my jacket and rolled up my sleeves; first my bird arm, then my fish arm. She had really enjoyed working on all the fluid, aquatic movement that ran from the deep water creatures on my wrist to the waves breaking on my shoulder. My favorites, though, were the birds that covered my right arm, capped with a red hawk at the top. I pondered the themes I wore now, and wondered what she planned for me next.

I had just dragged the carryall from the bike to the shade when Sandy came back.

"O'k, we're all set. Let's get cleaned up and go grab some dinner. Our appointment is not for a couple hours." she said.

We took quick showers and changed into clean clothes and walked over to the cafe. A little meatloaf with instant mashed potatoes, canned corn and a hard pat of butter on white bread, served on green melamac plates- sure hit the spot. A couple of ice cold beers later, we still had time to kill, so I asked her, "Tell me what you have in mind for this tattoo addition?"

"I can't, it's a surprise," she said as she got that devilish little grin.

"O'k," I said, "but you know I am running out of space. Maybe, you're thinking of doing something with my cock and balls?"

She laughed, flashing those beautiful white teeth. "No, not on this trip, but I have considered tattooing your balls to look like apricots." And she giggled away as she watched my pained expression.

"Surely, you mean peaches, don't you?"

Then she got more serious and said, "Your cock and balls are fine, more than fine,... for now." Small smile. "No, what I have planned for tonight, I have thought about for a long time. You have given your skin to me and I thoroughly enjoyed tattooing every inch of your body. You are mine forever. I want to take one more step to seal us together."

"I'm not sure what that means, babe." I said.

"I am going to give you something new tonight, something very special..." she said with sparkling eyes and added,"and then we can check out those cock and balls of yours later." With that, she hopped out of the booth, grabbed the check and headed for the counter. "Time to go, slim!" she hollered back at me.

About 15 minutes later, we pulled into the lot of a pretty shady looking tattoo parlor called Red Scorpion Tattoos. It had a faded, hand painted plywood sign over the door. A little bell dinged as we entered an ice-cold lobby with a cracked linoleum floor. A bearded bear of a man came ambling out of the back wiping his hands on a rag like an auto mechanic.

"Are you Collins?" asked Sandy.

"Yes, ma'am. What can I do for you?" asked the man.

"We've spoken so many times on the phone, I feel like I know you. I'm Sandy." she said. Collins' face brightened as it dawned on him that this was the woman who he had been speaking with for months planning tonight's tattoo session. They hugged each other, like old friends, and Sandy turned to introduce me.

"Well, hell man, Welcome to Mesa!" said Collins as he shook my hand and clapped me on the back. "I am glad you're here.

Sandy saw a little confusion in my response to Collins, so she touched my shoulder and said, "Collins here is the best realism tattoo artist in the Southwest. His work is extraordinary. Trust me, you will be pleased."

Collins took us in the back and showed us his work area. Very professional and surprisingly large, it did not match with the front of the store at all.

"Well, you know, it keeps the goofy kids out." he said. We all settled into chairs in his workspace and settled down for business.

Collins said, "Can you show me the art you're considering?"

Sandy said, "Sure!" and reached into her jeans with two fingers and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She handed it to Collins, who unfolded it once, then again and then peered at it closely.

"I think this should be no problem," said that tattooist.

He turned it around to show me. It was a pear. Just a pear with a leaf. Not a very big pear. After all the elaborate tattoos I had received, this seemed pretty lame. I turned to Sandy with a confused look to ask if that was the special tattoo she intended, but she was standing up and tugging down her jeans. Before I could speak, she had pulled down her panties a little on the side and spoke to the tattoo artist.

"This is where I want it. I think it will look good there, don't you think?"

Collins gave a huge toothy grin and said, "Absolutely."

Both looked at me and laughed hilariously at my astonishment.

A little while later, Collins' needle was engraving the pear on Sandy abdomen and I was holding her hand. She was watching me and I caught her stare.

"Honey, do you understand what this means?" she asked

"I'm not sure," I said.

She paused and said, "It means, that my body is your canvas now. I am opening another avenue for you now. If you want me tattooed with anything you pick, anywhere you choose, even till I am completely covered, I will do that for you."

Excitement surged through me, like it had never before. I was instantly hard and could not wait to get her back to the motel. I held her face and kissed her more deeply than I had ever before. My thoughts were a whirl of possibilities and I could not keep from smiling.

"There is one more thing I want from you tonight." she said as she climbed out of that tattooist chair. He had handed her a mirror and she was examining her new pear tattoo. "We need to get your back tattooed."

I was in the process of objecting and she stopped me. "Take your shirt off, and sit backward in that chair." I pulled off my shirt and sat down where she instructed. Collins whistled when he saw the extent of my body art, but said nothing more as he pulled his cart over along with his working stool. Unasked, he began preparing the blank space on my back to be tattooed. Sandy walked around to the front of me. She asked Collins,"How is this?" He nodded.

Sandy held me with her eyes, and slowly stripped. She let her jeans drop. Her shirt was pulled over her head. She unhooked her bra and let her breasts swing. Finally she turned slightly and bent at the hips as she pulled her panties to her ankles and stepped out of them. With that, she slowly turned around and faced me. Her new tattoo shining on her otherwise unmarked body. Then she put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side in an artist pose. It finally clicked, Sandy was to be inked full on my back, drawn from life, complete with a pear tattoo that was unique to her.

As Collin's tattoo machine started buzzing, I realized... Yes, I am a lucky guy.