Pretty In Ink

by Scott Hildreth

  As I had paraded through the home wearing the new clothes, I was filled with pride.

  And I liked it.

  I got undressed and opened the boxes until I found the sleeveless black dress. After putting on the dress and the leopard shoes, I tossed my jean shorts and flip-flops in the empty box. Feeling the strange sense of pride again, I turned toward the mirror and studied my reflection.

  I had never been a woman who required praise nor was I one to appreciate it when people provided it. Generally, I met people with a snide comeback or a cocked eyebrow if they made a comment about my beauty. Looking at myself in the mirror, however, I needed no one to tell me I was beautiful.

  I could clearly see it.

  After another quick study of myself in the mirror, I reached under the dress, pulled off my panties, and tossed them on top of the boxes. I fought against the smile my mouth was curling into as I walked out into the living room. Wilson sat in his chair, facing away from me and talking on his phone. As I carefully paced my steps and approached him, I made every effort to keep the heels from clicking on the wooden floor. Half way to where he was seated, he glanced toward me. His eyes fell to the floor, slowly rose upward, and stopped as his gaze met mine.

  “Andrew, my apologies. I’ll have to call you back,” he said as he stood.

  He tossed his phone into the cushion of the chair and ran his hand through his hair nervously.

  “Magnificent,” he said. “You look magnificent.”

  I did my best to curtsy. “I picked your favorites.”

  “You’re my favorite,” he said with a smile.

  I silently mouthed the words “thank you” and attempted another curtsy.

  “If you were able to pick your favorite thing to do in the entire world, what would it be?” he asked.

  “You,” I responded.

  He shook his head lightly. “No. Your favorite thing to do. Let’s do something.”

  “You,” I responded. “I want to do you.”

  We had been together for almost three weeks, and he had become quite used to my sexual advances. He really didn’t have a choice; I forced myself on him as often as I could. He had yet to ask me for sex or initiate it himself, which I dismissed to his constant concerns of doing everything in a proper manner.

  As he stumbled to find words, I grabbed the hem of the dress and began to lift it. As the dress slowly revealed more and more of my naked body, his eyes went wider and wider. I continued to lift it until my hand was even with my face, at which point I stopped and did my best to look innocent.

  It wasn’t easy.

  I cocked my head to the side playfully. “Is it breezy in here?”

  He shook his head. “Hot, it’s getting hot.”

  “Maybe it’s my wet pussy catching the breeze from the air conditioner. You know how wet things feel cooler than dry things?” I asked as I swiveled my hips back and forth.

  He nodded his head like a little boy who had been asked if he wanted a second piece of cake.

  He stood statue still with his eyes focused on my bare hips.

  I needed no invitation. Parading through the house for the last hour in various dresses, pants, and jeans made me feel like a beautiful little bitch, and it was time I rewarded him for a job well done.

  The windows in the rear of his house went from wall to wall and from floor to ceiling, giving a wonderful view of the lake his house backed up to. While attempting to maintain some degree of innocence, I released the hem of the dress and let it fall. As his eyes fell at the same rate as the dress, I carefully placed one foot directly in front of the other and attempted my best Victoria’s Secret runway model impersonation as I walked to the large glass wall.

  Being subtle had never been a strong point of mine. Upon reaching the wall, I hiked the dress over my hips and slapped my hands against the glass at shoulder height. While positioning my feet and arching my back, I saw him slowly walking in my direction out of my peripheral. Satisfied, I turned toward the glass, closed my eyes, and sighed.

  My persuasive tactics were no longer necessary. While I was certain he was going to fuck me, I had no idea what foreplay, if any, may lead up to it. I wasn’t prepared for what ended up happening when it happened, but in hindsight, it was exactly what I needed at the time.

  Although I later found that he wasn’t totally undressed, at the time, I had no idea. Standing with my eyes closed and my forehead resting against the glass, his chest against my back was the first indication he had arrived. His body pressing against me lasted all of half of a second before he shoved me completely full of cock. It was exactly what I wanted, and everything I had hoped for, but I was in no way ready.

  “Harrumph,” I grunted at he pressed me into the glass.

  His hand found my chin and gripped it tightly. He turned my head to the side and pressed his lips against my face, kissing carelessly along my cheek and jaw. As his mouth met mine, he bit my lower lip and thrust himself a little deeper.

  “You little tease,” he said through his teeth.

  He released my lip and moved his mouth to my ear.

  “Not…a…tease,” I muttered.

  “Raise your arms,” he breathed into my ear as he pounded his hips into my ass.

  I raised my arms above my head in compliance. He slowly pulled himself from inside of me and raised the dress over my head. As he tossed it aside, he guided himself into my now soaking wet pussy.

  I couldn’t count how many times I had been fucked in the past; I had been the girl who every other girl in school called a slut. It was far from the truth, my problem was that I really enjoyed sex, and fucking was something I rarely felt I could get enough of, no matter how many times I did it.

  Being fucked by Wilson was an entirely new experience. I now felt like all of my other sexual encounters were me being fucked with, and not being truly fucked. With Wilson, there was no doubt in my mind what he was doing. He was fucking me.

  And he was fucking me good.

  Standing in my Red Bottom leopard heels with Wilson pounding himself into my pussy as if he were punishing me, the balls of my feet were on fire and my head was spinning.

  In the past, reaching climax was difficult, infrequent, and time consuming. At best, it happened once during sex.

  And then I met Wilson.

  I found out through him that my orgasms could be multiple, more satisfying, and quite draining of my desire to continue.

  His hands pressed hard into my torso, and slowly worked their way to my boobs. As his fingers began to pinch my nipples, I flinched from the pain. I loved having my nipples pinched, and it seemed to be somehow directly tied to my reaching climax if done at the right time. As I wagged my knees back and forth and rocked on the toes of my shoes, he continued to twist my nipples in his very capable fingers.

  “You’ve got a tight little pussy,” he growled into my ear.

  My response was broken and choppy. “It’s…your…fat…cock,” I breathed.

  I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. His warm breath in my ear, his fingers twisting my nipples, and my little pussy stuffed full of his throbbing cock was more than enough to bring me to quick climax.

  The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the living room was the deciding factor. As I became almost hypnotized by the sound, our scent, and the feeling of his long thick dick sliding in and out of me, I began to tingle from my nipples to my soaking wet twat.

  “Oh…fuck…” I howled.

  “Oh fuck is right, you little tease,” he growled as he bit my ear.

  And that was it.

  The minute he bit my ear, I burst into an earth shattering, mind-blowing, muscle numbing orgasm. As my legs began to quiver and I fought to stay on my feet, he continued to fuck me until I finally collapsed on the floor.

  With the inside of my thighs and the crack of my ass covered in my juices, and my legs still quivering, I gazed up at him. Standing over me with a twitching stiff cock and his slacks around his knees, he g
rinned.

  “What the fuck?” I whined as I attempted to raise myself to my feet.

  He placed one hand on his hip and raked the fingers of his other hand through his mop of hair.

  “Wasn’t done,” he muttered.

  “Didn’t mean you had to fuck me into retardation,” I said as I attempted to raise myself to my feet.

  He gazed down at me and chuckled. “If you stand up, I’m going to fuck you. Look at it like a boxing match. Just stay down.”

  “Seriously?” I said in a smart-assed tone.

  He gripped his massive cock in his hand, shook it at me, and nodded his head.

  I liked this side of Wilson. Not a huge change from when we met, just enough to remove a thin layer of his upbringing, and expose his true inner being. If he thought for one minute I was going to stay on the floor, he had another think coming. I pressed my palms onto the floor, straightened my elbows, and raised myself onto my quivering legs.

  “Should have stayed down,” he said as he grabbed a handful of my hair.

  “You gonna fuck me this time, or dick around like you did last time?” I asked.

  He pulled my hair tight, causing me to arch my back and tilt my head rearward. As he pushed my chest into the glass, he pressed his lips to my ear and exhaled sharply.

  “Pardon me?” he breathed.

  The strain on my hair was almost enough to make my eyes water, and I fucking loved it. I clenched my teeth to ease the pain and responded.

  “You gonna fuck me this time, little boy?” I grunted.

  The inside of each of my new Red Bottoms was quickly smacked with the edge of his dress shoe, causing my legs to go wide. Still pulling against my hair, he pressed his other hand against the center of my back. I eagerly bent at the waist and hiked my little ass in the air.

  I knew he had every intention of teaching me a lesson. If I kept my mouth shut, and was a good girl for the next thirty minutes, I felt I may be able to walk to the car when he was done with me. But my personality wouldn’t allow it.

  After all, I’m Stevie Satterfield, and I’m a smart-assed bitch.

  As I felt his cock begin to slide inside of my throbbing pussy, I worked my feet from my heels and kicked them to the side.

  “Slipped on those heels earlier and fell on my ass,” I said through my clenched teeth.

  “Now fuck me this time, or lose me forever,” I growled.

  An hour and a half later, when he was done with me, he carried me to his room and carefully placed me in the master bath.

  Not because he was kind. He was kind, but that wasn’t the reason.

  I couldn’t walk.

  Or talk.

  Or feel my legs.

  And I loved him for it.

  WILSON

  I studied her for some time before she woke up. Seeing her sleeping was comforting, but I found the motionless pose strangely out of character for her. Stevie was an extremely animated and very energetic woman, and when she wasn’t moving, she was constantly speaking, giving her opinion or bringing up a new random topic to speak of. Seeing her lie still provided proof that although she lived her days more active than most, her nights were spent no differently than mine.

  “Did you sleep well?” I asked as she rolled to her side and opened her eyes.

  She nodded her head. “I did. You fucked me into a coma. Were you watching me sleep?”

  I closed my eyes, grinned, and nodded my head once.

  “That’s creepy,” she said.

  “What’s creepy about admiring a beautiful woman?” I asked.

  She situated the pillow behind her head and rubbed her eyes with the tips of her fingers.

  “Nothing as long as she’s not sleeping,” she said.

  I shook my head and rolled onto my back. I completely disagreed. Seeing her sleep was rewarding in many ways. Her face was unaltered by emotion, leaving her true beauty unchanged and natural; as God intended for it to be. She was certainly graced by the hand of the almighty himself when it came to natural beauty, and I had yet to see another woman who was capable of challenging her in that regard. In her state of slumber, she was simply breathtaking.

  Still lying flat on her back, she lifted the edge of the comforter until it was several inches higher than her chest and peered inside. “I’m naked?” she asked.

  I rolled to my side and nodded my head. “I carried you here after the bath.”

  “I don’t remember shit,” she said as she pulled the comforter tight to her chin.

  “You fell asleep fairly quickly,” I said.

  She closed her eyes and after a short moment, smiled. “I barely remember the bath. Bits and pieces. I gotta pee. Be back in a minute.”

  Completely naked, she walked to the bathroom. As she walked back to the bed, she did so without an ounce of expressed concern or embarrassment. I doubted many women would be completely comfortable walking around naked, but Stevie sure seemed to be.

  “Walking around yesterday in all of those high heels must have worn me out,” she said as she climbed under the comforter.

  I chuckled and rolled onto my back. “The high heels?”

  “Mmhhmm,” she responded.

  I turned my head to face her and grinned. “I think that smart mouth of yours might have got you into a little trouble last night.”

  “Smart mouth? Moi?” she responded.

  After a short moment of silent reflection I responded. “Oui, vous êtes assez difficile à traiter à temps.”

  She rolled to her side and stared. “You speak French?”

  I nodded my head. “I have to think about it, it’s been a while, but yes, I do.”

  “So if you didn’t go to Harvard, where did you go to school?” she asked.

  “Home schooled,” I responded.

  “Wow, smart parents, huh?” she said.

  “They’re not as intelligent as you may think. I must admit my father is, but my mother…”

  “Which one home schooled you?” she asked.

  “Neither,” I responded. “A woman named Claire. My parent’s didn’t seem to have the time or desire to be involved with my education.”

  “Oh. Sorry,” she said.

  I forced a smile as I rolled to the side. “No need for an apology.”

  “Well, Claire seemed to do a great job with you. I’ve never met anyone as perfect as you,” she said.

  “I’m far from perfect,” I said as I rolled onto my back.

  “Brothers and sisters?” she asked.

  “Neither, an only child,” I responded.

  She sat up in the bed and pulled the comforter over her chest. As she turned to face me, her eyes widened drastically. “An only child?”

  I nodded my head.

  “The day we met, you said you were mailing your sister a letter. You lied to me?” she said in a harsh tone.

  Son-of-a-bitch.

  I sat up and extended my index finger. “Give me a minute.”

  “I’ll give you as long as it fucking takes, but if you’ve been lying to me, I’m leaving and you’ll never see my happy little ass again,” she snarled.

  I knew as much as I didn’t want to, I must tell her the truth. Keeping anything from her wasn’t something I would be able to do, nor did I wish to try. As embarrassing as it was to admit, maybe the truth would allow her to understand I was as much a human as everyone else, and all of the wealth in the world couldn’t fix the emotional state of someone who felt alone and unloved. I tilted my head back, gazed at the ceiling, and inhaled a deep breath of courage. As I exhaled, I turned my head to the side and pursed my lips.

  “I told you it had been ten years since I had sex. That was true. And, it has been ten years since I was in a relationship. I have never, however, been in love. Additionally, I’ll advise you, I’ve never really felt that I have been loved, with the exception of Claire that is, and she has long since passed,” I paused and slowly inhaled another deep breath.

  Speaking to Stevie regarding the matter wasn’t
easy, but I felt immediate relief as I continued to speak. The thought of losing her was crushing, and explaining my concerns, thoughts, and feelings seemed to slowly provide the exact opposite feeling. As each word escaped my mouth, along with it went a small piece of each of the things that brought me to the day we met.

  “So, in recent years, my only involvement with my parents has been for them to admire my financial statements and attempt to force me to move to another state and find someone to love. They’re of the belief that no one worthy of my love can reside in the Midwest, only in a major metropolitan area. As much as I love the thought of leaving them, they’re truly all I ever felt I had. And, for the last two or three years, I’ve felt alone. Terribly alone.”

  As I paused and sighed lightly she pulled the comforter to her chin and relaxed into the headboard of the bed. After another deep breath, I continued.

  “Everything came to a head the night before we met. I made a judgement call at work, and the decision cost me over a million dollars. By no means was it financially crippling, but I knew they’d make note of it when they reviewed my quarterly reports. I felt foolish for taking the risk, like a failure for losing the money, and I was certain I would expose myself to the wrath of my parents for having done so.”

  Now came the difficult part. I bit my quivering lip and recalled the morning before my trip to the store.

  “I had reached a point where I was extremely depressed regarding everything. It seemed every day that things got worse, and the pressure to continue became unbearable. After losing the money, I attempted to call my father but the calls were, as always, unanswered. The same with my mother. Several calls went unanswered, but she did text me after the last call. “Call me next week” was her response to the lengthy voicemails I had left her. And, once again, I was alone. More so than ever and at a time I really needed someone. It was the last straw. So, I uhhm. I decided….”