After I turned 18, I decided that I wanted to get a small tattoo on my belly. So one night I borrowed my parents’ car and told them I was going to a movie with a friend. I drove toward the next town, with a giddy feeling of excitement building up inside me.

After driving for a while, I finally saw a neon "TATTOO" sign in a window. It was a nasty looking place but I quickly parked and trotted inside. The only person in the shop was the tattoo artist and his eyes lit up when I entered. I immediately began to have
second thoughts. The shop was dirty as was he. He was probably in his early to mid-forties. His dirty, black hair was tied back in a ponytail and he had a thick goatee. He was over-weight, under-bathed, and exactly the type of dirty old man you'd expect to be working in a tattoo parlor at night. I thought about leaving before informing him that I'd like a tattoo and following him to the back room.

He, on the other hand, was thrilled. I had on a yellow mini-skirt, which I realized would not be ideal as I climbed into the elevated chair. I was wearing a light pink halter-top, which he seemed to be staring a whole through at my 34D breasts, and a pair of little black pumps with lacy socks underneath. My blond hair was tied back into a long ponytail, which hung of the back of the headrest as I leaned back into the declined chair.

"Well, well, well," he muttered. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm actually not sure," I replied. "Do you have a book or something with ideas?"

He gave me a book and I leafed through it as he went to the front for a minute or two. I quickly surveyed the room. Along with designs hanging on the wall, there were also pornographic pictures. Not like Playboy centerfolds either, but pictures and cartons of naked women in bondage and other creepy stuff. I decided to go with something risqué, to surprise any boys at school who were lucky enough to begin getting me undressed. I informed him that I wanted the words "sex kitten" above my belly button in fancy, cursive writing. He could hardly contain his glee as he pushed my top up a few inches and began treating the area.

After he dabbed my stomach with alcohol and began the writing, I relaxed. It didn't
hurt nearly as bad as I expected. Every so often he would back up like he was surveying his work, but I had a sneaking suspicion he was just looking up my skirt at my little, white panties. Then I noticed that his eyes weren't the only part of him getting bigger! A rather large bulge had begun to form within his black jeans. While at first I was repulsed, I slowly began to have an attitude change. I began to like the fact that I was driving him nuts. I began to let my halter slide down so it was in his way. He pushed it up a few times.

"That top is going to screw me up if it keeps sliding down. You don't want this messed up do you?"

"No," I replied. "Hold on a sec..." I sat up a little, untied the top and slipped
it off. I lay back down with only a lacy, white bra covering my boobs.
His eyes grew to the size of saucers as