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The Dragon Made Flesh

Posted by: Author: Age: 24 Posted on: 0 comments
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There are two sides to my sexuality. Two persons, two drives, and as I have explored myself in real life as well as here on these pages, I realised I was referring to 'my dragon'. A source of power, of warmth, of overwhelming ferocity at times. I realised, 'she' (for that is how I refer to her) needed to be made flesh. This is not written as I write my masturbatory fantasies, this is factual.


Her name is Emily. Like me, she is invisible in the street. Like me, she is not a head turner, and like me, she is outwardly, at least, something of a recluse. But we talk from time to time.

It being summer, I noticed something that I had not seen before. Emily has a tattoo on her lower back. Oh, it is nothing like the so-called 'tramp stamp'. This is a delicate series of Chinese symbols which, translated means 'giving is receiving.'

I walked from our pleasant morning on the beach back into town. I realised I was aroused. It would not be true to say that it was not Emily who had aroused me, because I have masturbated thinking about her before. It was what she said about the tattoo. 'It hurt to the point of exctasy.'

On the corner of the street is a large tattoo studio, and it was here that 'she' directed my footsteps. The receptionist was lovely and asked me what I wanted. What did I want? I hardly knew myself, yet from my mouth came 'Two identical chinese dragons, either side of my spine, facing each other.' 'She' rewarded me with a soft buzz of appreciation behind my pubic bone and a warmth filled my panties.

The cubicle itself was not what I expected at all. It was far from a warm, re-assuring place. It looked clinical and a little dominating but it would be here in this room that I would meet my dragon and see her for the first time.

I was instructed to remove my top. (Strange how being topless, for I hardly ever wear a bra, in front of a stranger can be so arousing in itself. Before the electrolysis, I used to find the same thing when I had a bikini wax. I used to become highly aroused then too.) I sat on his couch, my small breasts miserably exposed to his gaze as we discussed the size, placement and style of the tattoos I wanted.

Then he told me to lie on my tummy on his couch and lower my jeans and panties a little. I felt his seemingly rough hands tug my waistbands down a little further and then he tucked something under them, his finger slipping between my ass crack a little. Then, I felt him place something cold on my back. And then, the words I was half dreading. 'Right. Let's begin. Say if you want me to stop.'

Pain lanced through my back over my right kidney. Pain, like a white hot moving sting, like the swishing of 'her' tail moved over my back, making me cry out. He stopped. Immediately, I missed it. I missed the sting of his needle; 'her' tail. He resumed.

And then, the miracle happened. The pain peaked and mutated slowly, delicately into a feeling like watching a chick emerge from its shell. Pushing, pulling, straining, but wholesome and good. It moved through my entire body and soul and focussed, as I knew it would, between my legs. The tension built and wetness seeped from me into my panties.

For over an hour, he worked on me, asking if he should stop or do the second one today. I bid him continue. And then, after an eternity of silence, or perhaps only a few minutes, he said 'It's ok, some women do get turned on. You want me to leave?' I knew the second dragon was not yet completed, so I told him to carry on. But at the same time, I reached under myself and slipped my hand into my panties.

Never in my entire life have I been this wet. I cupped my pussy with my fingers and let the slippery wetness coat me. Then, my middle finger found my clit and in time with the touches of the needle, I masturbated.

How long was I on the edge? Who knows? He said 'Nearly finished', and so, indeed, was I.

As he touched me for the last time, my orgasm welled up and through me. It wasn't a savage cum as sometimes I get. This was like being submerged under water and it rolled over me like the pressure of a large wave.

When I came too, he had dressed my dragons and had gone. The receptionist came in and sat, just holding my hand and explaining the after care.

When I got home, I showed my husband my new additions.

Now, my dragons are plain to see. I have told Emily not only about them, but about the fact that I masturbate thinking about her.

She, it appears, does the same about me.



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