I am very particular about tattoos. Personally, I’d love to get a whole bunch of them (I do have two small ones), but my finicky nature has stopped me (oh, and being broke, that has contributed). But when I look at someone else’s ink, I want to know if there is a story, a reason for marking their skin in such a way. Because I think there needs to be a reason, a story). And when there is a tale to be told, it is usually a good one.
I got on the idea of skin art stories while checking out this edition of Kink-E Magazine. The few pics there lead to me searching and of course, Suicide Girls reign supreme on hot tattoo image queries. Hey, I just went where the internet lead me! And it lead me to this image via the beautyfulstyle tumblr.
Space has no up. No down. Space has no linear travel, motion or direction. Instead every that travels through that vacuum should know its own bearings, its own destination or it may be lost forever.
As I lick my way past every pointed star on your skin, I get disoriented and confused. Am I headed up your body, ascending your ribs, each delicious bone a step toward your lips? Or am I descending those same ribs, my hands gliding down quickly as if on a banister to get to your lips?
Actually, I think I’m just floating. I don’t think my propulsion system is set properly. My navigation system is shot. I find myself here, head resting on your starscape and I want to be everywhere else at the same time. I want to explore your space—all of it—instantly and simultaneously. No caution, no hesitation…just instant gratification.
This is the frenzy of realizing a dream, fulfilling a desire so deep. I may want it all right now, but that’s not possible. Realizing this, I calm down and slowly extend my tongue to the first flesh I find. Tongue followed by enclosing lips. Followed by a hand on your belly. Followed by your hand on the back of my head.
You guide me along your milky way, along the bright and shining stars on your body. Pulling me and pressing me, leading my mouth past those celestial bodies to another. My tongue orbits your nipple. My teeth ensnare it. You lean back, preparing yourself for a hot and firey entry.
**This one definitely needs work!