I could see Ruby and her flowing red hair sitting in the outside pool lounge area with a dude. Ruby was wearing a sheer black robe, while he was adorned shirtless. We walked through an open sliding glass door onto a luring scene of a gentle night with soft Brazilian music. She waved as Marcella and I approached, then stood up, smiling, and said, “Welcome, Mindy,” in that familiar warm voice.
I smiled in return and thanked her, mesmerized again by her stunning Greek statue-like face. She was even more beautiful than I remembered.
She looked into my eyes, put her hand against my cheek, pulled my face to hers, then slowly kissed me on the lips. I didn’t want to look too easy, but I couldn’t protest. Besides, is not being easy really a virtue? My body relaxed as her long kiss slew the last defenses of my apprehension in seconds—turning it into a gush of tingling arousal.
“This is Mindy,” she announced to the other two guests, and they nodded and smiled while I started breathing again. My eyes immediately fell on the dude’s exposed, up-sized and bare-shaven genital parts as he was now standing and showing all that he was much more bare than shirtless.
"You've met Marcella, already. This is Marcel. Pardon his, ahem, loose attire, but I encourage him to hang free and open as long as he is in my house. As a man in the house, he can only dress as I see fit, and tonight, as usual, he's fit to wear nothing. I thought you wouldn’t mind, but I do have to warn you—he's a rude, randy and impish boy tonight."
Marcel and Marcella? I knew those couldn't be their real names, and they certainly didn't look like brother and sister. But why should I care? I made an awkward smiling glance toward him. I could see he felt no awkwardness whatsoever as he beamed his smile at me. His blond locks covered both ears, and it didn't take much to see that he was well toned. On his chest, I observed inked artistic and grotesquely distorted banshees, one on each pec, depicted shrieking in anguish—or maybe they were cumming with loud euphoria. They were each directing their screams above the other. Then I watched his hanging shaved and hefty, circumcised cock and balls descend back into his lounge chair. My eyes might have rested there a few moments too long to recover any pretense of decency before I redirected my gaze to his face. He was whiskered with a prominent jaw, and, overall, I decided that he wasn't bad to look at anywhere on his body. Of course, I knew he was trying to taunt me. He saw where my eyes had dawdled and gave me a smug smile. I returned a polite smirk back into his laughing blue eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Mindy,” he said casually. “You look very sexy with all those tats. Now I want more inked on me. Where would you suggest I put one? On my thigh?” His legs were spread apart, and he pointed to a spot on his left inner thigh next to his recumbent snake—then moved his finger slowly across his crotch, dragging his finger down his entire cock shaft to his other inner thigh, keeping his eyes on my face as I watched. “Or on this one?”
Fuck—Really?! I don't often blush, but I may have this time. "All of those look like impressive spots to me," I heard myself reply with a laugh.
They all laughed. “Oh, don’t flatter him too much," said Ruby, "he's such a bad boy." She directed a teasingly disapproving look toward him. Then she continued, "I think we will all get along nicely. Would you like some sangria? We seemed to have conjured up an especially magical brew for tonight. Marcella added something extra to it, but she won’t tell us what it is. You’ll have to tell us what you think. It’s something more than perfect, and it's unquestionably making us feel naughty."
“Sure, that sounds great. I can always do for some naughty sangria,” I joked, “you know, in case I need something to blame it on for doing something shameless.”
“And exactly what will you ‘do for some naughty sangria’?” Marcel again teased, mimicking me.
“Now, Marcel,” Ruby lightly scolded. Then she looked back at me and remarked, “Oh, don’t be so sure we still won’t blame you.” She raised an eyebrow and continued, “I can imagine you doing some very shameless things you couldn’t explain away even with sangria.”
“Hm,” I said, enjoying her suggestive tone. I was eager to play along. “I guess I’ll have to take my chances, then.”
She turned to Marcella. “Marcella, won’t you please pour Mindy a glass?”
Marcella did as she was told and poured the colorful, fruity mix in a tall glass. As she leaned to pour, I couldn't help but notice that one of her soft bronze coconut-sized boobs was falling out of her robe. I think we all saw it, but no one commented. Marcella finished pouring before she casually packed the wandering titty back in. She looked me in the eyes as she handed me the glass.
"Thank you," I said as I held her gaze and took the glass. That little indiscreet exposure tease she did with her boob was a real tickle, and my body was beginning to feel happy. I tasted the sangria, and the cold and sweet refreshment felt wonderful in my mouth and down my throat when I swallowed. The fruity taste was dazzling to my mouth and tongue. There was an extra tang to it, but I couldn't tell what it was. She must have added some kind of aphrodisiac, though that would be fucking ridiculous because I really didn't believe that we were going to need anything like that. "It's delicious!" I declared.
“Ah, excellent,” Ruby said, satisfied. “Why don’t you get comfortable, then? There are robes in the changing room. Bathing suits too, if you so choose. Of course, we choose not to bother with those silly things—unless we’re in a mood to tease with fashion,” she added, being the lovely and accommodating hostess.
“Well, I was feeling a bit over-dressed,” I dryly confessed. “I didn’t know you had a pool, or I would have come better prepared.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Mindy,” Ruby said, “we’ve got everything you need and more, I’m sure.” She pointed to an area near the bedrooms. “That’s where the changing room is—where the swinging doors are. You’ll see some robes hanging there and some suits. There’s also a restroom. Please feel at home. Just let one of us know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, I will,” I said, as I looked across the way. Then I picked up my glass. “Let me just finish this first.” I guzzled it all down, and it went down cold and smooth and thankfully without a brain-freeze. They gave me an approving cheer as I set the glass down on the table.
“That-a-girl!” Marcel exclaimed. “Throw caution to the wind, cuz you can’t help it now.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” I said getting up, and I walked to the changing room. I was feeling great. The sangria was already giving me a warm kick.
The changing room was an open air room with half-size swinging doors—not for modest people, especially if they were tall. There was another door that I presumed would be the restroom, and I opened it. Inside, there was a shower area, toilet stall, sink, and another door that I discovered led into a sauna. This was some bathroom! I decided to take advantage of the situation and took a quick shower to freshen up. I grabbed a clean towel and stepped into the changing area to dry off. Then I found a dark, navy blue robe to slip on. I had a look at the bathing suits for shits and giggles, and they were so skimpy that I thought they must be for little girls. Whatever—I wasn't going to bother with one anyway.
I headed back to the table where everyone was sitting. As I approached, I noticed that the scenery had changed. Ruby and Marcella had now removed their robes and were sitting nice and nude like Marcel. Again, I was over-dressed. I slipped my new robe off, threw it in an empty chair, and sat down. They looked at me and smiled.
Ruby said, “We refilled your glass.”
“Thank you,” I said. I picked it up and held it up for a toast. “Cheers!” I offered.
“Cheers!” they chimed.
"And to sexy friends—and tats!" added Ruby.
They watched me take a swig from the enchanting elixir. It still tasted tingly and fantastic. I looked at my audience who continued to smile at me. "Hey," I finally said, feeling tipsy and daring, "may I show you my tattoos?"
That brought a burst of merry consent.
> “I’ve been dying to see them,” Marcella said.
“Okay, let’s show and tell then,” I replied. I stood then took another drink. I usually don’t drink much because I seem to get easily looped, but this sangria tasted so good, and it was encouraging me to feel more courageous than usual. I liked it when I wanted to show myself naked—when I knew my looks and inked body would be appreciated. If I ever had to, I know I would make a great exotic dancer.
Must I mention again that I think I’ve got a nice bod? Full-taut boobs, a tapered abdomen, and an ass that hasn’t started to betray me yet. It’s not too little, and just a little extra padding to be sometimes called a bubble tush. My legs and arms are a tad long—the better to tangle up and squeeze with when I’m cumming. My five-foot-six frame’s not too tall, not too short. And I’ve got danger-red raspberry protruding nipples that fit nicely between the thumb and fingers and love to be squeezed, pinched, twisted and bitten. Tweak them the right way, and I'm your instant slut-bitch. But that's supposed to be a secret. Kinda.
I stepped back from the table and began my personal tat exposition. I started with tracing my finger along the orchid-sand dollar lei around my neck that goes with anything I wear, then along the bird of paradise that I mentioned earlier that canvases my torso from below my breast and drops its tail down around my left knee and ends at my calf. My right ass cheek beholds the hookah-caterpillar and mushroom scene. Most people like it in the New School style, which does look cool, but I had Jerry ink it in black-and-gray with the perfect precision line-work that he is so good at. The subject is a bit macabre and dark in the William Blake style. I mentioned earlier how much I admire Blake’s artwork—how sublime and other-worldly it seems.
I chose not to tell the story about the mushroom tattoo at the party. It probably would have been a real downer. That mushroom tat represents the love I had for Diana that tragically tore me to pieces. She had been dead a year at the time I had it inked, and I learned at an early age that anything can go to hell in a heartbeat. It seemed like it didn't matter if I lived right or not; life can still be totally fucked. So, I decided that I might as well enjoy it while I could, and avoid stirring up the bad shit as much as possible. Trying for love meant I better fucking be ready to face hell too, and I had already had plenty of that. Living for love wasn’t an easy choice for me because I learned to substitute love with extremely gratifying pleasures—namely fucking. And those pleasures wouldn’t hurt me like love did or send me despairingly to a dark goddamn place—it’s just the opposite—they took me to heaven! Ask anyone I let fuck me from behind. It wasn’t fucking complicated.
Wow, that was heavy! Where did that come from? Back to the exposition.
My back is a mermaid that I designed. She faces outward with her arms outstretched across my back. Her hair flows along my shoulder blades, and her body extends down my spine—her tail engulfs my lower-back. Her head is slightly turned, and she looks seductively interested. Again, the skill was in the line work. The colors are soft and dark so that it doesn't pop out vividly—in fact, it looks sunken into my body. I wanted it to achieve the artistic merits of an intricate and complex painting.
I inked the ones on my right thigh and left arm myself. Well, Jerry helped with the arm. I was still in my beginning stages when I tattooed my thigh before inking anybody else—I was my own personal guinea pig to make sure I could tattoo decent enough to sell it. It's an island sunrise scene with lots of shades of blue, yellow, and orange playing on the water. I went a little overboard with the color palette, but people say it's really cool. It's different. I started my sleeve with marine life images but didn't get very far before Jerry took over in an act of aesthetic rescue, he told me. It's an intricate design of aquatic flora, mollusks, bubbles, and urchins. No big surprise there. Can't fucking say what style it's in—I just drew what was in my head. Neo-traditional-realism with a little New School mixed in, with a hint of Japanese, I suppose.
I haven’t inked my right arm yet. I’m leaning toward something in a Native American theme, but I’m still thinking about it.
So, I finished giving them the tour of my living ink gallery and realized I was standing before them comfortable in my nakedness. Some people say their tats make them self-conscious, but I think the attention that my tattoos draw towards me helps me to feel more confident about myself than if all there was to show were my curves, bare skin, and my little pussy mound. I'm a one-of-a-kind gallery, and private viewings are appreciated unless there's a creep in the audience.
I sat down to polite applause, then Marcella stood to exhibit the vivid-colored butterfly on her left boob and the two angel fish on her ass cheeks. She really was an island girl. Her smooth, tan skin bore color well. She was almost apologetic in explaining that she had started getting inked only six months ago, but she was eager to have more. I thought that she would make a sexy inked model. Her dark hair, nipples, and pubic area would really bring out the black lines in colored tats. I told her that I would love to ink some bold flowers that would look great on her.
Marcel stood to flex his pecs, where, as I said before, inked banshees on each side of his lightly haired chest were facing toward the middle. The faces of the macabre banshees were horrific as they each sounded their siren call across his heart. He had a Celtic cross on his back that could have used some better line work and balance, but I wasn't going to say anything. At least it was on his back, so he didn't have to see it. To the untrained eye, it was still cool, and I would expect most eyes to be on his smooth, hard ass anyway. He had muscular thighs, and it wouldn't inconvenience me one bit to place a couple of tattoos where he had pointed. The challenge would be in staying on the task at hand—with whatever my hand might be tasked with.
Now it was Ruby's turn. Her skin was soft, and she had that light complexion redheads usually have, yet it wasn't adverse or over-sensitive to being inked or damaged by the action of the needle. But, her tattoos would need to be delicate and true, or any, even slight, imperfections would be revealed. Yet, she displayed the softest colors vibrantly.
On each shoulder, she had intricate patterns of realistic small blossoms of purple, yellow, and pink, among light green leaves and thin brown branches. Very well designed and outlined. Whoever inked them had a master's touch for bringing out the very soft and feminine, and maintaining a natural look. I wasn't surprised when she said she had them done while traveling in the Far East. Her magnificent boobs were barren of ink, and her pink nipples were pointing forward and waiting to be tasted and sucked. My mouth watered as I imagined tickling them with my tongue. Her pubic area was decorated with red hyacinth blossoms with protruding yellow pistils and a couple of hummingbirds feeding on the nectar from the long blooms extending from her lady-like trimmed and natural fiery red bush. The bold design fit her perfectly.
On her back was a beautifully colored Hindu goddess that I knew I had seen before. The lines were perfect, and I wasn’t totally shocked when she told me that Jerry had inked it. She had it done a year or so before I became a regular artist in the shop, but I knew I must have seen a picture of it in his portfolio. It was so well done that the colors and lines were still as sharp as if it was inked within the last few weeks. I wondered if he remembered doing the inking and Ruby, the canvas herself. I'm sure he would since such skin as hers is a rare treasure to work on.
As I got to look at Ruby’s back, I could admire her beautiful, curvaceous hips and ass. They encompassed a premium blank canvas that I would die for. I was lost in ruminations about what I could put there when she suddenly turned and suggested to Marcel and Marcella that they should take a swim so she and I could talk. They willingly complied and walked together to the pool. I watched Marcella’s inked angel fish follow his splash, and didn’t take my eyes off either of them until they had reached the other end of the pool and began talking as if they were confiding information to the other. I couldn’t help but think it was about me.
I looked over at Ruby. She was sitting in naked sple
ndor, with her dazzling red hair resting on her floral shoulders, and her engaging melon tits glowing in the pulsing light of the undulating pool. She took a sip of her drink and smiled at me. "Why don't we move to the lounge chairs where we can stretch out," she said, motioning toward a cluster of cushy, cruise-deck chairs. "Refill our glasses, please, Mindy, if you wouldn't mind since you're next to the pitcher."
"Sure," I said, feeling a tinge of excitement. I was quite eager to accommodate at this point. I had a nice buzz, and I was getting excruciatingly horny as hell. I was wondering if she was going to make or ask me to perform for her again like she seduced me to do in the shop—take your temperature for me. The exhibitionist side of me was obscenely excited at the thought.
I reached for the pitcher and began refreshing and refilling our glasses, and she rose to relocate where the lounge chairs were. I couldn't help but watch her walk to the chairs, taking in the beauty of each movement of her gracefully curved body. I positioned the pitcher to get ready to pour as she moved a couple of the chairs at an angle that would allow us to chat easily with eye contact and still face the pool. I didn't miss-pour too badly while being pleasantly distracted each time she bent over to make her adjustments—with her gorgeous ass sticking out and her voluptuous tits freely swinging with her movements. I brought the freshly refilled glasses over and placed them on a small table between us.
The night felt perfect. The breeze had almost stopped, but the air wasn’t hot. It was just warm enough to feel relaxed and the drink to still taste refreshing. I excitedly hoped that this was the beginning of a fucking fantabulous relationship! I was gradually being mesmerized by her body and the sangria. I wanted to taste her lips and the nectar at the source of her inked blooming hyacinths, but it obviously wasn’t time for that yet. First, she wanted to talk, and she knew that she had my full attention.
Well, ok, I thought. There would be plenty of time for fuck-play soon enough.
Mindy Poppago: Blue: Part 2: Requests, Commands, and Full-Bodied Demands Page 8
