Dear Diary,
Today is August 29th and I can't wait to tell you all the naughty things I did.
When I arrived home afterwards, I slammed the door shut, tossed my keys in the bowl, and ran to my bedroom. I was so excited, I felt lightheaded and giddy. I sank into bed. My silky slip dress that just covered my ass when I walked was threaded over my arms and tossed to the floor. After what happened, I needed relief. I licked my fingers and pulled down my bra to play with my sensitive nipples. I teased my pussy through soaked panties, remembering his fingers there, and drifted back to the beginning.
Bolts of adrenaline shot through my body as I sashayed into Doug's private studio--all the way past a reception desk, down a long hallway and through a beaded curtain into a mishmash of cheeky horrorpunk kitsch adorning a room with a red velvet sofa, a roll-top desk and chair, small consoles with supplies organized in drawers, a large reclined chair for clients to sit, and the fishnet stocking-clad leg from A Christmas Story glowing in the corner.
I'm only 5'5", but I was 5'8.5" in the heels I was wearing and I wore a very short and silky parakeet green minidress that ended where my legs started and encircled my shoulders with thin spaghetti straps. I had a late-summer glow from hiking and swimming on vacation in the Dolomites, and my dirty blonde hair was highlighted from the sun. I didn't wear much makeup, but today I wore blue eyeshadow and green eyeliner, to enhance my eyes, and my favorite lipstick, a pink frost color called Angel by MAC.
"Hey Alex," Doug said in his gentle rasp, "what can I do for you today?" He looked like he lived in Montana and not the middle of suburban San Diego, his dark beard thick below his chin and always wearing lumberjack flannel and bandanas. I didn't know his age, but I guessed in his forties, which I liked. I'm 23 and always preferred older men over the boys my age.
I saw his eyes graze the skimpy hemline of my dress and I stood up straighter to let his gaze roam. My inner thighs were stuck together in sweaty anticipation, and I stepped wider to unstick them.
"I have a piercing appointment today," I explained, with practiced nonchalance.
Doug nodded. "How is the last one healing?"
I had a few piercings—nose ring, tongue, and several in my ears—each instance of the needle penetrating flesh among my favorite memories.
"It's healed by now, but you can look to make sure." I turned my head, and basked in his attention as he fingered the jewelry in my ear with a gloved hand. He always touched me a little longer than he needed to.
"Looks like it's healing well," he commented. "Why don't you pick out gems from that top drawer? You wanted a vertical clitoral hood piercing, is that right?"
I nodded, and pointed at the turquoise that matched my eyes.
"This color, please."
I smiled to myself as his eyes lowered to hover on my bare sunkissed legs.
"You can undress now, and I'll get started."
Doug's bushy beard and gruff demeanor hid the thoughts flickering across his face, but I caught a twinkle in his eye before he turned away.
I crossed my arms to pull off my dress. It was barely longer than a t-shirt and I could've pulled it up above my hips, but I wanted to show off my bra. It was from an expensive store, thin lace and sheer mesh with exquisite embroidered flowers, pale pink nipples clearly visible. I threw my dress on a chair across the room. Then I shimmied out of my matching panties, damp from the summer heat and my sweaty anticipation. I slipped them around my right ankle, then my left, and tossed them on top of my dress. I realized I was damp from more than sweat and felt my juices soaking the chair. I was completely naked except for a bra leaving little to the imagination.
Doug prepared the needle and cotton pads, setting up the jewelry so it was ready to place in the new hole. When he turned again, I caught him in profile. The crotch of his jeans was tented, and I could see his wide dickprint, straining to be released. He saw me looking down and when I looked up he held my eye contact, grinning. He came closer, eyes drinking in the sight of my perfectly round DD-cup tits in a transparent bra, pale against the deep tan left by a string bikini top.
"Lie down, get comfortable, and we'll get started," Doug said, his voice low. He patted the edge of the seat. "Scoot down right about here and butterfly your legs."
I dropped my knees open, pressing the soles of my feet together. I leaned back and propped myself on my elbows, not wanting to miss out on watching. He leaned over my open legs and found what he was looking for with his gloved fingers. My eyelids fluttered and I let out an inadvertent moan when I felt his firm touch on my clitoris. I didn't mean to, but I couldn't help it. The dry, sterile sensation of rubber on my wet pussy thrilled me and I ached for him to rub my clit. I could feel his fingers in place, resting there. I wanted to squirm against his hand, but made myself remain still.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Ready."
"Deep breaths in," he said as I felt the tip of the needle. "Now breathe out."
Surprisingly, I barely felt the needle. There was a bit of pressure from his gloved fingers and a pinch, so tiny I could have imagined it.
"Now you'll feel the jewelry going in." I felt another quick pinching sensation and his firm touch again, his fingers holding the barbell steady while he threaded on the sparkling gem.
"All done," Doug announced. His eyes were locked on my pussy, smooth and bare except for a strip of hair. I remained still for a moment, high on adrenaline and desire. He stripped off his gloves and outstretched a hand near mine. "Need a hand sitting up?"
"Yes, thank you." I took his hand and sat up with exaggerated slowness. The bright colors and busy pattern of the Japanese folding screen swirled around me. My mind was made up on what I would ask him if I saw what I was looking for.
His cock was still bulging in his jeans, and my hand in his, I brushed our knuckles against the hard lump before letting go.
I breathed the words I wanted to say before they dissolved on my tongue. "Do you need help to make this go down?"
I raised my eyes to look up at him questioningly, searching his dark eyes.
His face became serious. He laid his palm on my cheek and caressed my throat with his other hand without looking away at me.
"Alex," he murmured, feeling my face with coarse fingertips.
I smiled hesitantly, knowing I had crossed a dangerous line. If he was angry, flustered or embarrassed, I would make up something. That I was off my medication, didn't have a boyfriend, and I was too horny to behave properly. His fingers on my clit had excited me beyond reason. I'd apologize profusely for what I said. Maybe I'd blush and shed a few tears. I didn't have to ever see him again if I didn't want to.
"You know I have a girlfriend, and I intend to keep things the way they are."
I shook my head, and began constructing an apology in my mind. "Yes, of course."
"You're a beautiful girl, but I can't fuck you. I'd go home with your scent all over me. She might know, and I can't risk that happening."