New Tattoo

It was late Tuesday evening when I made my way over to the tattoo parlor. I'd been debating for some time whether to finally get inked, but life and work and everything in between had managed to get in the way. Yet the thought never left the back of my mind, and so I decided tonight would be the night.

The parlor was like most I'd seen in my life- small, sterile, with crazy artwork on the walls and an eclectic looking bunch inside. I passed a heavily pierced and inked woman on my way inside and noted that at this time of night only three artists seemed to still be working.

Of the three, two of them had clients and one- likely the one who had inked the woman I'd passed, was cleaning up her station. Not wanting to disturb any of them, I simply stood at the front and waited to see if any of them would have the time to take me.

After about fifteen minutes, the free artist seemed to notice me sitting by the door. She left her little part of the shop and came over to me, and as she did I took the opportunity to check her out. She was short, a little on the chunky side but in a good, healthy way. Her hair was dyed a bright blue, and tattoos were covering most of her arms and upper body. She was wearing a faded Jack Daniel shirt that sagged in places and showed off her ample cleavage, as well as the ink upon it. A pair of greyish sweatpants covered her thick legs and dove-tailed into two scuffed up and dirty black boots. She certainly looked the part.

"Hey there, can I help you?" She asked cheerfully, and I rose to greet her.

"Yes. I was hoping I could get a small tattoo tonight, if it's not too late I mean."

She looked back at her colleagues who were finishing up with their clients and nodded. "Well, we close in an hour, but I'm usually here 'til the doors shut so it should be fine. Follow me."

I did, trying hard not to stare at her ass, which the sweatpants still managed to show off in all its glory, and quickly joined her in her little section. I took a seat on the small cot and watched as she moved a few things around before heading over to speak with one of the other artists.

This one- an older man also covered in ink, had seemingly finished up with his client, and the two of them seemed to be discussing my inquiry. From the look of things, I gathered she was explaining she might be working a bit later, and though he didn't seem to like this, eventually they came to some sort of agreement and she headed back to her section. The other artist packed up his gear and headed for the door, seemingly waiting for the second one whose client was paying at the front.

A few minutes later all three of them were gone, and it was just her and I. She shook her head, "Sorry about that. I've only been here a year and they still don't fully trust me to be here on my own... I'm Betty by the way."

I smile, not the least bit worried. "Don't worry about it. I'm Jeff."

The introductions out of the way, we got to discussing what I had in mind. It was a small piece, nothing too complicated or unique. She nodded, searching and finding a stencil that more or less fit what I was looking for. Then Betty slipped on a pair of black gloves and began to prep her tools and told me to lay down, my right arm out for her to work on.

As I laid back, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Betty was kicking off her boots. I almost commented on it, but I quickly noticed she wasn't wearing socks, and her feet were as tattooed as the rest of her. I couldn't quite make out what she'd had inked on them, but it was plain to see Betty was a big fan of the needle.

And, unknown to her, I was a big fan of feet.

My quick glimpse of her ink-covered bare feet was more than enough to get my mouth-watering, but once I was on my back they were out of my sight, so I figured I'd try and forget about them as Betty went to work.

Laying there, I jolted slightly as the sensation of the needle entering my skin made itself known, though I reminded myself this was what I'd come for. It hurt a little, but nothing I couldn't handle. At least, that's what I was trying to tell myself. Luckily, something managed to catch my attention and distract me from the sensation in my arm.

I hadn't noticed it right away- focused as I was by the needle in my arm, but after a few minutes, I began to catch a whiff of something unfamiliar but pleasant. It honestly took me longer than it should have to realize it was the smell of Betty's feet. Freed as they were from the confines of her boots, the scent was now wafting up and making its way into my very happy nose.

Smiling, I took a few soft, shallow breathes, nothing too suspicious. If anything I think I was more relaxed now than I'd been a few minutes prior, and thus unlikely to draw attention to myself. However, even as she kept working on my arm, Betty seemed to notice something going on. "Are you okay? You seem a little nervous."

"I'm fine," I lied, though not for the reasons she likely expected. I hoped that would be it but it seemed that Betty was the curious type.

"You sure? You're breathing awfully heavily."

I went red. Much as I wanted to keep lying it seemed she wasn't the sort to be taken so easily, nor could I come up with a better lie. Best to just come clean and hope for the best. "I'm fine. It's just... Your feet."

Now it was her turn to go red, and although she didn't stop her work, she was more than a little embarrassed. "Sorry about that. It's been a really long day and my boots were killing me. I can slip them back on if you want."

Quickly I stuttered out a "No no. It's not okay."

"Are you sure?" Betty asked, cocking an eyebrow at my statement. "I know my feet can get pretty rank sometimes."

I sighed. I'd come this far, might as well keep going. "I don't mind honestly. I like it when a woman has smelly feet." There it was, something I had never admitted to a soul until now. Maybe it was because I was relaxed- laying there as I was while she worked on me, but I felt comfortable enough to out myself.

If Betty found my confession strange, she didn't show it. "Really?" She asked with a smirk. "What do you like about it?"

"The smell, the taste, all of it."

"Interesting," Betty said. "But you were nervous, weren't you?"

I nodded. No point lying. "Yes, but I feel better now."

"Well, just in case... I have an idea." Then, without stopping- being a professional regardless of what her colleagues seemed to believe, Betty lifted her feet off the floor in one swift motion and plopped them onto my face. "This should help. Or at least keep you from moving around so much."

The moment her feet made contact with my face everything changed. The sensation of the needle in my arm might as well not existed as the cheesy scent of her feet surrounded me. It was strong as could be, and with nowhere else to go, crawled its way into my waiting nose.

I started to take small breathes in and out as Betty continued working on my arm. The scent was heavenly, and though her soles were a little dirty from her boots and the floor, I didn't care. I couldn't get enough of them. Every breath brought me more and more if the incredible smell, and I was no happy I hadn't tried to deny my fetish.

Save for a moment in which she shifted her weight and her feet moved along with her, Betty and I stayed in our positions for the remainder of the session. Me- laying there while she tattooed my right arm and her, working on it while her bare feet rested on my face. It was the best tattoo session I could have hoped for, and when she finished up with my arm I was honestly a little disappointed.

Betty slipped her feet off my face, and I gasped slightly at the loss of her the scent and the unexpected rush of fresh air. She stifled a chuckle at my reaction, then showed off her handiwork. "That look about right Jeff?"

I looked down at my arm and nodded my approval. Even if it hadn't been I was in no position to complain. "Perfect," I managed in between breaths, my lungs struggling to take in air even as the rest of me already missed her feet. One part of me in particular.

Distracted as we'd both been, her by her work and me by her feet, neither of us had managed to notice my cock pitching a tent in my pants. But now that we were both paying attention? It was difficult not to see.

Once more, I went beet red, but Betty didn't seem to mind. In fact, she quickly removed her gloves and pulled on a fresh pair before pointing at my erect cock. "Can't have you going out like that now, can we? Take off your pants."

I didn't need to be told twice, and once they were off Betty slide down my boxers, letting my cock stand up straight. Rolling her stool down a little, she positioned herself so that she could stretch out her legs and place her feet back on my face- which she immediately did, while her gloved hands started to stroke my cock.

As I began taking deeper sniffs of her stinky feet, Betty's fingers moved up and down my erection, lubed with the precum that was happily starting to flow out. The sensation of her latex-gloved hands working me so as well as the smell of her cheesy feet all over my face was heavenly, and I couldn't help myself from asking for more. "Please, Betty, may I lick your feet?"

She smirked, slowing down her strokes as she stared over at me. "Why not? They could use a good cleaning I think." Immediately, I started to run my tongue all along the soles of her feet from heel to toe, tasting the sweat and dirt and toejam and drinking in the scent all the way. My left hand moved Betty's toes into my mouth, where I took each one in and sucked them like a lollipop.

The more I worshipped them, the more Betty began to moan, and she sped up her strokes even as her left hand slid off my cock and down her sweatpants. She began to rub her clit while working my cock, and I was smelling and licking her feet for all they were worth, the two of us perfectly in sync.

I let my tongue roll through her toes, biting down gently on each one as her moans grew louder and louder. The gloved hand on my cock gripped it for dear life and stroked faster, the pressure building in my balls and practically begging to erupt for her.

Holding her feet to my face and giving them one last long sniff, I gave in completely and felt my cock explode, Betty's hand never once letting go as streams of hot, white cum shot out and onto my stomach, her glove and the whole station.

Even so, she kept stroking even as her moans reached a fever pitch, and though I couldn't see her through her feet, I could hear the orgasm she'd worked herself up to run through her body. Her fingers tightened around my shrinking cock and milked out every last drop even as her breaths grew softer and softer.

After a few minutes, Betty let go of my now flaccid but cum-drenched cock and removed her feet from my face. We both looked at one another smiling, then she slid her feet back into the boots and tossed her gloves into the trash. She went to grab a damp rag and began to clean up her station, wiping up all the jizz before tossing it my way to clean myself up as well.

When I was finished with that I put my boxers back followed by my pants, then went with Betty over to the front desk where she gave me the bill. I paid her for the tattoo, although I would've paid twice as much given the 'extra service' she'd provided. "Thank you", I said as I turned to leave, but Betty grabbed my arm and spun me around. She gave me a peck on the cheek and smirked, and I couldn't help but to the same.

"Don't mention it. And if you ever want another tattoo, I'm sure we can work something out." Then she winked and I left her to close up, and though I hadn't considered getting more ink, after tonight? It was certainly something I was going to think about.