Funny you should ask about that tat'. It has a real strange story. I know, it looks like bloody whelps on my right shoulder, it's one of those 3-D tats, so it looks really real, but it's just body art. But it's there to remind me to not get too drunk or too high.
Long ago and far away, I was clubbing and I met this dude who looked really hot. I don't think that was all drugs, because he was about 6'4", with blond hair, and deep blue eyes. He also was really built, like he worked out, or something.
Lots of people think that because I'm just 5' tall that I want someone smaller. I've got way too much attitude for that, what do you think all this red hair does? Since my eyes are green, I'm a sucker for blue. Of course that makes sense, just like red shoes are hotter than black, most of the time. And we redheads have more fun than blonds dream of.
Well, I started giving him the come on, and in short order he was by my side and peering down at me, or maybe my tits. After all, they are firm and fill my C cups to the brim. That night I wasn't wearing a bra, and they were trying to pop out, an effect that gets lots of guys to look.
I had on a black short tee that said "bad girl" on it, one of my favorites. And my plaid skirt was sooo tiny, if I leaned over at all you could see my ass cheeks around my little black thong. Sort of an evil Catholic school girl, I guess. And of course I had on my 4" red stilettos. I may be short, but I like to look taller. And my ass moves so nice when I manage to walk without falling down. Anyway.
So he's drooling like I wanted, and we had some empty words and long looks and pretty soon he asked me to come back to his place. Just as an aside, don't ever go to a total stranger's house. A motel if you want to fuck, but not his place. Way too risky, as you'll see.
So he's driving a nice car, no I don't know what kind, do I look like a used car salesman-saleswoman-whatever. Some nice car with lots of leather and it handled well. When he said "buckle up." I was kinda disappointed, but he meant it, and besides he took some curves fast enough that I was glad for the belt. Didn't stop him from slipping a hand up my thigh, but he kept shifting gears; don't they make automatic transmissions? So we got to his place, pretty nice, tho' I was probably too wasted to find it if I tried, and I won't, I promise. Not ever. Ever.
We got out of the car in his garage, which was neat as a pin, whatever that means. His living room was real manly, and full of wood and leather, the kind that says no women pick stuff out. But I wasn't really in the mood for a woman, anyway. That's a whole different story, just focus, ok?
So we hopped on the couch, and his hands were quick to get under my tee and flick my nipples. God, I love that. I was so horny, and drunk, and planning on getting fucked hard and fast, so I certainly wasn't saying no. In no time the tee was history, and I had this gorgeous guy squeezing one tit and sucking the other. As if my thong could stay dry with that! I started stroking his hard cock through his pants; don't you hate guys that push your hand there? I know where dicks live, and if I want to grab one I will. Anyway. That night I was plenty happy to massage his bulge, and then I reached for his zipper, and he caught my hand. Yeah, he stopped me.
"Wouldn't you like to spread this out a little?" He asked.
Actually, hell no, but I was at his place (did I mention not to ever go to a stranger's -- oh, ok -- I AM telling you what happened.) So I cooed deep and cool, "yeah, let's make it last all night." But I meant after I had cum, not before.