tattooed and pierced
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It Started With Tattooed Eyeliner free porn video
"We settled on black, right?"
"I'll leave it up to you," I said. Lynn began organizing her bottles and
tubes, preparing the ink for the tattoo machine she used for applying
permanent makeup. In this case, she would applying permanent eyeliner to
my upper and lower eyelids.
"Good. Black is basic. Now, we never really settled on what style. There
are a lot of things you can do with eyeliner, and you've specifically
asked that I not take into account your being a male. Is that still what
you want? This is the last chance to change your mind."
"Yes, that's still what I want."
"Okay, and I'll tell you that we're not going to do the Lady Gaga look
or anything with wings, where the eyeliner goes way outside the end of
the eye. Those don't hold up well when you age and your eyes begin to
sag. Beyond that, I think you'll be happy if you trust me."
"I trust you. Do your worst," I said.
"Oh, I will," Lynn chuckled.
For the next two hours, she hunched over my eyes, with the tattoo pen
buzzing. My dick, already rigid from the excitement of getting my eyes
done, remained straight and hard without letup, all the more exciting by
the fact that I obviously couldn't do anything about it. Part of me
hoped Lynn wouldn't notice, and part hoped she would.
Finally, she finished the second lower lid, applied antiseptic and
cleaned me up. "Ready to look? Now keep in mind it's bolder now than it
will be in a few weeks, because some of the ink scales off in the
healing process."
She held up the mirror, and I sucked in a deep breath.
"It's beautiful," I said.
"I'm glad you like it. I enjoyed working on you. You'll notice it's
thicker toward the outer edge of the eye with just a slight flip. The
line on the bottom will soften, but not too much. That's where you
really get the most impact. Come back when you want something else
done," she said.
Driving away, I nearly had a wreck looking at myself in the rear view
mirror. I got went to the office, avoiding eye contact with any of my
employees, closed the door, dropped my pants and produced about a gallon
of jizz. And as I squeezed the last few drops, I had that sick feeling
that is so common once a male spews: I'd gotten my eyes permanently
lined, and there would be no hiding it. What the fuck had I done? I was
a married man, partner in a local accounting firm.
I couldn't hide forever, so I cleaned up, opened my door and walked
swiftly toward the restroom, hoping nobody would be able to focus on a
moving target. I made it and took a closer look in the mirror. My cell
phone rang.
"Hey, Jerry, you OK? You were practically running to the bathroom so
fast we were afraid you were sick." It was my office manager, Shelly.
"I'm fine, thanks. I'll be back in a sec."
"Good, because we have to go over those Johnson numbers. They have a tax
deadline tomorrow."
"Ten minutes."
I took a deep breath and walked back to my office. "OK, Shelly," I said
breezily as I walked by her office without looking at her. "Let's have a
look at Johnson."
I swung my chair toward the window, hoping to avoid eye contact, but
Shelly walked over to the window. "What're you looking at out there?"
"Oh, nothing, just thinking."
She turned to hand me the file, and that brought us face to face, with
the light from the window ensuring that nothing would be hidden in the
shadows.
"Um, you're wearing makeup?"
"I just got a little lining added to make my eyes seem deeper. It wasn't
supposed to show."
"Tattooed? Well, it shows. A lot. Like, even if you were a woman, that
would be a heavy eyeliner look. You really can't miss it. Is Erin going
to be OK with that?"
"I don't know. I didn't talk to her about it."
"You what?"
"I thought maybe it'd just make my eyes look better and nobody would
notice. I wonder if I could cover it with makeup."
"No concealer would cover that. Besides, it might get infected if you
even tried before it heals. How long did she say that would take?"
"Six weeks."
"You can't hide for six weeks."
"No."
Shelly shook her head and sighed. "Good luck tonight."
Tonight came, and as I pulled into the driveway, I noted that Erin was
already home. I breezed quickly through the den, where she was seated in
front of the TV with a glass of wine. I kept my face turned away as I
moved past her and in toward the bedroom.
"How was your day?" I asked.
"Long. Yours?"
"Not too bad. What's in here for dinner?"
"We have some leftover pizza. I already had a piece. You can heat some
up. And would you bring me some more wine?"
I had no choice but to bring the wine bottle into the den and begin to
refill her glass. She squinted up at me, then stood up.
"What's wrong with your eyes?"
"I'm not sure. They've just been irritated today. They'll be OK," I
said, turning my head away from the light.
"It looks like you're wearing eyeliner."
"Don't be silly. It'll be gone by morning," I said.
"Wait a minute." She turned me around toward the light. "Open your eyes.
What the fuck. You are wearing eyeliner. Heavy streetwalker black
eyeliner at that."
I had known it would go this way. I exhaled loudly and plopped onto the
couch. "I know. It's hard to explain."
"Well, go wash it off."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"It's permanent. I was just trying to make my eyes look deeper, and I
was trying to have a little line put in to look better, and this is how
it came out."
"Permanent. Tattooed."
"Yes."
There was no explosion. She walked around once in a small circle, as if
pacing. "You're joking."
"No."
And that was it, for almost an hour. When I tried to talk to her, she
cut me off. "I've got to think about this," she said.
After about an hour, she broke the silence. "What are you going to tell
the people at work tomorrow?"
"I don't know. I'm going to call in sick to figure something out."
"You'll do nothing of the sort. You've just complicated the shit out of
your life - and mine. You're not going to make it worse by lying and
neglecting your job. Who at the office knows about this?" she asked.
"Just Shelly."
"Are you a cross dresser?"
"I've dressed before," I said.
"Show me." I led her to a trunk in the basement, where I kept my wig and
female clothes hidden.
She picked up a few items, put them back. "I supposed if you had your
way, you'd get to wear this stuff and hide behind a wig," she said.
"Is that what you want?"
"No. In fact, you're not to touch this trunk until I say so. The one
thing I'm pretty sure of is that there will be no more hiding." She went
to the closet and returned with a big roll of shipping tape, several
labels and a Sharpie. She signed each label and placed it along the seam
of the top of the trunk, then put tape over it. "There. I'll know if you
try to get in there. Now then. In the morning, you'll put on a suit and
report to work just like you are. You will answer every question, from
anyone, with complete honesty. If anybody asks what I think of this,
tell them they call call me and ask for themselves."
"OK."
"Now go to bed," she said. We both started toward the bedroom and she
stopped me. "I'm not sleeping with a man wearing eyeliner. You'll sleep
on the couch."
"OK, let me get my pajamas."
"No. I don't know if you belong in pajamas or a cute little nighty. But
for the moment, I want us both to be reminded that you have a penis and
permanent eyeliner. You'll sleep naked. Give me your clothes."
I handed them over and she went into the bedroom, closing the door
behind her.
***
The next morning, we both showered and ate breakfast separately without
conversation. I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. There
was no escaping it. My eyeliner was bold and black, upper and lower.
Finally, she called me.
"Do you have the aftercare instructions from the tattoo person? Give
them to me."
I pulled them out of a drawer and handed them over. She spent a few
minutes reading them over before speaking. "This says your color could
fade and flake somewhat if you don't follow the proper aftercare. So I
want you following these instructions to the letter. You paid good money
for those hooker eyes, and we're not going to piss it away. Now, it's
casual Friday, so you don't have to wear a suit to work. Your white polo
shirt will do fine, but with this on under it."
She held up a bra, which I recognized as the Bombshell bra I'd purchased
at Victoria's Secret. "Very nice, completely padded, 38 DD. I bet you
paid a good fifty or sixty bucks for this."
"About that," I replied.
"Then you may as well get some use out of it. Put it on. I'm assuming
you know how. OK, now the shirt. Good. Now, let's get a nice picture."
She pulled out her phone and took several, turning me sideways to show
off my shape, but having me face the camera to show off my eyes.
"We'll talk more tonight," she said. She pulled out right behind me and
we both headed off for work. For her, it was just a couple of miles, but
I had a half-hour commute. As I parked my car and headed into the
office, my phone began vibrating, and I pulled it out to see why.
A comment was coming in on my Facebook page: "Gutsy move."
"Looks great. The eyes are really permanent? Maybe you should make the
boobs permanent too."
Then my Facebook app abruptly logged me out. I tried to log back in, but
it gave me the message, "We are sorry, but your email address and
password do not match what we have on file."
I put my phone back in my pocket and headed toward the side door,
avoiding others as I made it to my office. Shelly was close by and
followed me into the office.
"Wow, I can't believe you did it?"
"Did what?"
"Posted your picture on Facebook. It's cute, like those "first day of
school" pictures people post of their kids. Only not."
"I didn't post anything."
"Log on and see for yourself."
I brought up facebook.com, but it wouldn't accept my log-in.
"Come out here, we'll look at it on mine," said Shelly. I followed her
out to her desk, where the page with my photo was already displayed.
Photos, actually - one looking into the camera and the other showing my
figure.
"Erin did that. I guess she also changed my password so I couldn't take
it down."
"Did you read the caption?"
I sat in her chair and saw the photo album she had created on my page.
The description said:
"You may notice I look a bit different here. I've decided it's time to
make some long overdue changes in my life, and my appearance. The eyes
now have permanent makeup. I'm taking things a step at a time, but it's
fair to say you're just getting a taste of what is to come. I welcome
your comments and suggestions for future changes."
We both said nothing for a few seconds, then Shelly's feed updated and
the photo of my face appeared in the feed: "Jerry has changed his
profile picture."
"Move over a sec, boss," said Shelly. She sat in her chair and typed an
instant message to "me."
"Hey, this is Shelly. Is that you making the changes, Erin?"
"LOL, yep!"
"Just a joke, right?"
"Not really. Just trying to help Jerry along."
"Are you going to leave these up?"
"I think so, yes."
As they were chatting, Shelly clicked on my profile. My name had been
changed to "Jeri," and my gender was changed to "TBD."
I didn't have to tell Shelly what to do next. She typed: "How long are
you leaving the name changed?"
"LMAO, Facebook policy only allows one name change every 60 days, so
it's Jeri for at least a couple of months."
Shelly stifled a laugh, then turned back to me. "It's just Facebook.
People get accounts hijacked all the time."
"Look at me. I don't think I'm going to be able to get away with that."
"Probably not. But look, best thing right now is to get down to work,"
said Shelly.
And so we did. My schedule was already arranged so that I would mostly
be working at my desk, and when I did venture out, there was little
comment except an occasional whistle and a "looking good" from a couple
of co-workers.
Wynona
- 22.08.2020
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