The Sexy Tattooist

by Joey Bush

  Now was as good a time as any, I figured, because Graham was here and that girl Kristin was still in the water, so she wouldn’t see me if I messed up too badly. Not that she had any grounds to say anything.

  I felt nervous because I knew they were all watching me. I shouldn’t have said anything about it being my first time.

  “You’ll be fine,” Graham said softly.

  It was really just a matter of letting go at the right time, knowing when the rope had reached its highest point. How would I know? I wasn’t sure, but standing around thinking about it wasn’t going to help. The rope was thick but smooth and well worn. I gripped it tightly as I took a few running steps, and then there was nothing under my feet. The rope swung out at a huge arc, and it felt as though I’d left my stomach behind on the bluff. I could hear people cheering and whooping behind me. I squeezed my eyes shut, and right as the sensation felt like it was going to overwhelm me, I let go of the rope. I had no clue if the rope was anywhere near close to reach its highest point in the arc, but I didn’t care. There was a weightless feeling for a second, and then I was plummeting, and I let out a shriek, except it sounded less scared and more joyous. I hit the water feet first, shooting down to what felt like an incredible depth.

  I waited until I stopped plummeting before swimming for the surface. I opened my eyes, everything dark and blurry around me. I could see the moon above, a shifting, tremulous reflection.

  I broke the surface of the water with a gasp, and I could hear them clapping and shouting. Before I started the swim back in, I floated on my back for a minute, looking up at the black sky, the bright moon as white and round as a dinner plate.

  “No way that was your first time,” one of the guys said to me when I finally scrambled back up onto the bluff.

  “That was awesome!” I said. “That feeling ....”

  Graham came over and pulled me into a hug. “Told you it was pretty great, huh?” he said. I tilted my head back a little and looked up at him, knowing that he’d lean down and kiss me. He did, and it felt thrilling not just to be kissing him, but to be doing it here, in front of other people. Someone let out a wolf whistle.

  “Get a room!” someone else yelled, followed by hoots and cheers and laughter.

  We pulled back, laughing, and they offered me a turn again, wanting to see if I’d be able to replicate the same perfect jump I’d just taken.

  There was a part of me that wished we could just stay out here at this rope swing forever.

  17.

  Graham

  The next day at work was slow, so when Chloe texted and asked if I wanted a visit, I told her I would love that. Last night at the rope swing felt something like a dream, though it wasn’t; it had actually happened. Eventually, Chloe and I left and we drove around for a little while, and then I brought her back to the shop. We made out for a few minutes before she got into that little car of hers and drove off.

  When had I last enjoyed myself that much? I couldn’t remember. It was nothing extravagant, just some good, simple fun, like in childhood.

  She had a big grin on her face when she showed up. “You should be proud of me,” she said. “I successfully managed to sneak back into my house last night without getting caught. Actually, it was past midnight so it was technically this morning.” She smiled, looking pleased with herself.

  “Glad you didn’t get into any trouble,” I said. “That’s the last thing that I wanted to have happen. Thanks for coming with me.”

  “Any time! I want to go back there. It was awesome.”

  “Come here,” I said, walking over to her. “Don’t worry; there’s no one here.”

  We started kissing, the length of our bodies pressed against each other. I could feel my dick get hard, straining against my jeans. There was no reason to put this off any longer. I went over and locked the door.

  “Follow me,” I said, taking her hand. We went out back, where my office was. There was a desk I rarely sat at, with bank statements and old mail and bags of credit card slips that I was supposed to give to my accountant at the end of the fiscal year. There was also a couch—a vintage, leopard-print chaise lounge that I had picked up at a thrift store because ... well, just because. It was a vintage, leopard-print chaise lounge.

  I had barely even pushed the office door shut when she started kissing me. I was a little surprised but very pleased with her forwardness. I kissed her back, pulling her close to me, feeling the length of her body against mine. What kind of crazy shit had I been thinking, saying I wasn’t going to have sex all summer?

  “You’re such a good kisser,” she said. “I was lying in bed just thinking about that all last night. I couldn’t get to sleep.”

  “Wish I had been there.”

  I ran my hands down her sides. I kept my right hand at her hip but slid my left hand underneath her shirt, feeling the taut smoothness of her lower belly. I slowly traced that hand higher, brushing her ribcage lightly, cupping her breast. She let out a groan and pressed her pelvis against me. She was so hot, but I didn’t think she even knew it.

  “You have no idea how hot you are, do you?” I asked.

  She gave me that sheepish smile again. “No,” she said.

  “Well, you are.”

  “I think you’re so hot, too. I did that first night we walked in here. And I really do want my first time to be with you,” she said, her breath warm on my ear.

  “Wait, what?” I said. I stopped kissing her, certain I hadn’t heard her right. It was as if an old vinyl record had come to a halt with a scratch. I had some vague recollection of Tara making a joke about it the first night they’d come into the shop, but I’d just assumed that’s all it had been ... a joke. Surely she’d been with another guy before.

  “It’s fine,” she said, pulling me toward her again. “Just forget that I said anything.”

  It would be easy enough to. She pressed her mouth back against mine. Oh, yes, it would be more than easy to just keeping things going the way they were going, and if she’d been anyone else, I probably would have but ... no. Maybe I was a romantic at heart, because I didn’t want her first time to be in the back of a tattoo shop where I’d already fucked plenty of women. This didn’t mean I was going to call up and book us the honeymoon suite at the Cuddle and Bubble, but I actually liked this girl enough to know that she deserved to have her first time be something more than the shop office I barely went into.

  She didn’t want to hear anything about it, though. “I don’t care,” she kept saying. “None of that matters. Was your first time in some picture-perfect setting?”

  “No.”

  “I bet most people’s aren’t. And I am completely okay with that.”

  I disentangled myself from her. “Not here,” I said. “At least not your first time. Come on—” I held my hand out to her. “And trust me, I’ll make it worth your while.”

  18.

  Chloe

  I took his hand, wanting to believe that it really was because he was concerned about it being my first time. Still, there was a tiny voice in the back of my head insisting that if he really thought I was so hot and he really liked me as much as he said, we just would’ve done it right then and there in his office.

  He was insistent that we leave. I felt the passion of the moment begin to ebb. Stop it, I admonished myself. He’s trying to make this special for you.

  He put the CLOSED sign up and locked the shop door. I felt a pang of guilt that he was closing the shop for this—what if someone was heading over who wanted a tattoo? I shook my head, trying to clear the thought. What was wrong with me? I was about to lose my virginity. It seemed weird to think about it like that, to have this time right now where I knew it was going to happen, even though it hadn’t happened just yet.

  But I wanted it to happen, I did, even if this wasn’t exactly how I might’ve envisioned it. Graham and I weren’t even boyfriend and girlfriend, but I liked him more than I could remember liking anyone, maybe ever. So what if he was
n’t my type? So what if he wasn’t from some rich family? All things my parents would care about, but I didn’t. I realized now, maybe because I genuinely liked him, that none of that other stuff mattered.

  We got into his truck and he drove me to his house, which was a cute, winterized cottage with a big maple tree in the front yard. I followed him inside, through the living room, down a short hallway and into his bedroom. It was a medium-sized room with windows on two of the walls. Sunlight spilled through the window to my right, dappling the floor.

  “I guess it’s good it’s been so hot lately,” he said. “I haven’t had to use the sheet or the comforter, so it looks like I actually made my bed.”

  I laughed, a little too loudly. I was starting to feel nervous, shy about him seeing me naked, uncertain that I’d even know what to do. This was exactly what Tara had been talking about! I was a fool to think that I was doing someone a favor by saving myself—it was really more like a huge disservice, because I was going to be completely clueless as what to do.

  Graham came and stood in front of me, a gentle but serious expression on his face. “We don’t have to do this right now if you don’t want to,” he said.

  “No, it’s all right. I want to.”

  He brought his hand up to my chin and tilted my head up. “I don’t know if anyone that I’ve been with before has been a virgin,” he said.

  “The first person you slept with wasn’t?” I asked, surprised.

  He laughed. “Oh, hell no. I was thirteen; she was almost eighteen. Definitely not a virgin.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I guess I just thought ... I don’t know, virgins slept with virgins.” I realized how stupid that sounded once I’d said it out loud.

  He took a step closer to me and leaned his head down. I let my eyes close as his mouth pressed against mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let my body sink into the contour of his. He had his hands around my waist, and he slowly moved them down over my ass.

  And it was like as long as I didn’t think, I would know what to do. The second I started to pay any attention to my thoughts, I was barraged with things like: You don’t know what you’re doing! Am I doing this right? Does he want you to put your hand there?

  But when I tuned all that mental chatter out, it was as though my body knew exactly what to do, exactly how to respond to his touches. As we kissed, I ran my hand through his hair, felt the smooth muscles and ropy tendons of his neck.

  We took a few, shuffling sidesteps toward the bed. Before we sat down, though, he pulled his t-shirt off, revealing a sculpted torso and large, black-and-white tattoos. They weren’t images, but intricate Celtic and tribal designs.

  “Those are beautiful,” I said, running my fingertips across one of them. “They almost make you look like a sculpture.”

  He pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it on the ground next to his. His hands were warm against the small of my back, and he kissed slow circles on my neck. I had to bite my lip not to laugh because it tickled, but that just heightened the sensation of his mouth against my skin. His hands moved up slowly and I felt him unclasp my bra, the straps sliding slowly down my arms.

  He undid his pants and pushed them down, revealing more tattoos across his thighs. He undid the button on my shorts and pushed them down and I stepped out of my underwear, and then we were both there, naked. I could feel the thoughts trying to push their way back in, thoughts that were trying to convince me I should feel awkward right now that I was standing here in front of this guy I barely knew, but I ignored them and started to kiss him again. He brought his hands up to my breasts, squeezing them, gently tweaking my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. It felt so good I let out a gasp as our tongues explored each other’s mouths.

  We lay down on the bed on our sides, facing each other. I could feel his cock pressing against me. I reached down and wrapped my hand around it, surprised at how silky smooth the skin was. I moved my hand slowly up and down. He let out a long exhale and buried his face into my neck, nipping gently at my collarbone. He traced his fingers down my torso, over my hip bone, then lightly through my pubic hair. He stopped for a second, only to bring his fingers up to his mouth, get them wet with saliva, and then bring them back down. I spread my legs apart and felt a chill shoot up my spine as he slowly slid a slick finger into me.

  “Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he whispered.

  I shook my head, rocking my hips against his hand. No, I wanted to say, you’re not going fast enough! I couldn’t describe the feeling; I just wanted more. I wanted him in me, deeper, faster, I wanted that feeling to last for as long as it could. My whole body quivered. I was so wet down there; no way it was just from the saliva from his fingers.

  “That feels so good,” I said, a pleading note in my voice begging that he not stop what he was doing. “I didn’t know it was going to feel so good.”

  He brought his wet fingers up to my clit and moved them in slow circles before sliding them back into my pussy. My breath came in heaving gasps and a building sensation of almost unbearable pleasure was threatening to completely overwhelm me. I couldn’t control the sounds I was making and almost didn’t feel like I was in control of my own body anymore. I didn’t care; I just wanted him to keep doing what he was doing. I squeezed my eyes shut and bucked my hips against his hand and let myself be overtaken.

  The feeling was centralized in my pelvis and radiated out, reaching every single cell in my body. It kept building and building, like there was no cap for the amount of pleasure a person was capable of experiencing. Could someone die from having an orgasm? It was like an earthquake or some other cataclysmic event where you know the outcome is going to be completely earth-shattering and you are not sure you’re going to be able to survive it.

  I felt his mouth against my breast, the tip of tongue swirling around my nipple. And that did it—it sent me over, the sensation peaked, I saw stars, I almost started crying. My thighs were wet and my muscles ached in a most delicious way. I kept saying Oh my god, in between heaving breaths, and I knew I sounded like a fool but I didn’t care.

  He kissed my forehead and then reached over and pulled something from his bedside table. A condom, which he put on deftly, and then positioned himself between my legs. My entire body was still buzzing as he lowered himself down on his forearms above me. I could feel his cock between my legs.

  “I’ll stop if you want me to,” he said, looking into my eyes. “All you need to do is say so.”

  “That’s the last thing I want you to do.” I smiled. “I don’t think I have ever felt so good in my entire life.”

  He moved slowly, though, just pressing the head of his cock against me but not pushing it in. I was so wet though, it felt like it would be able to easily just slide in, and I moved my thighs apart even wider. I tried to slide my butt down a little the next time I felt him press against me, and this time, the head of his cock slid in. It was much bigger than his two fingers had been, and there was a stretching sensation that was not uncomfortable, just foreign. I relaxed and he moved his hips forward slowly, sliding in further and further, until he was all the way in and our pelvises were pressed against each other.

  “Is this okay?” he asked. I nodded, and he let his eyes fall closed, a tiny smile on his face. “Good, because you feel fucking incredible.”

  I ran my hands all the way down his back, squeezed his muscular ass while he moved his hips, not just back and forth, but side to side and in languid figure 8 motions. He started to move faster, and I when I looked up at him, his eyes were closed and there was almost a pained expression on his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth clenched, the tendons in his neck prominent. And I began to feel that sensation start to build again in my own pelvis, gaining momentum against his thrusts. I brought my arms up around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist. The expression on his face didn’t change; it just deepened, if anything, and then he let out a shout as he pushed his hips against me hard.

  After a
minute, he rolled off and lay next to me. We were both panting and slick with sweat. He reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezed it.

  “I hope that was everything you imagined it would be,” he said, and I could hear the joking note in his voice, but there was also a part of him that sounded completely sincere. I rolled to my side and nestled myself next to him.

  “If I had known sex was like that,” I said, “I might have started doing it a whole lot sooner.”

  He laughed. “Oh, boy. Well, I’m glad to hear that. I think. Really, though, I should’ve done this the proper way and taken you out on a date first.”

  “Will you stop it!” I whacked his shoulder playfully. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m some sort of princess or something.”

  He gave me a pretend hurt look. “You don’t want me to take you out?”

  “I’m not saying that! I think that would be a lot of fun, actually, and of course I would love to. But I only want you to do it if that’s what you want to do, not just because you think you need to create some sort of special scenario for me.”

  “We can do things backward,” he said. “What are you doing tomorrow afternoon? Let me take you out. To a restaurant. You know, like an actual date. The thing that two people usually do before they sleep together”

  I grinned. “That would be lovely. But do we get to sleep together afterward?”

  “Hell yeah we do.”

  19.

  Graham

  I’d never been one to kiss and tell, but of course Todd wanted details after I told him that I’d been hanging out with Chloe. We were out on another training ride, and when we should’ve been pedaling hard enough that talking would’ve been next to impossible, we were riding at a leisurely pace while Todd harassed me for details.

  I gave him a few, but not many, which obviously wasn’t going to satisfy him. “Come on, man,” he said. “I’m hitting like, oh-for-three in the women department. It’s fucking pathetic. I’m just off my game as of late. I don’t know what the fucking deal is. I mean, here you are, getting pussy despite declaring yourself celibate for the whole summer—what the hell happened with that, anyway?—while I’m actively out there trying to score and getting repeatedly turned down. What is up with that?”