The Engagement Ring


It’s two years from now, you’ve just moved in, you’ve been back in Ottawa for just over a year, and we’ve been “officially” together for about 10 months. We keep having the same silly little argument – you want to buy me an engagement ring, and I keep telling you I just want a wedding band . . .

You’re standing in the kitchen on a Sat morning, the kids are with their dad for the weekend. You’re mixing your chocolate milk when I come downstairs and stand behind you, arms around your waist, head on your shoulder and ask you why you didn’t wake me. After a few minutes of kissing and snuggling, I tell you that I’m thinking you could buy me a VERY non-traditional engagement ring . . . .

Once you realize I’m not kidding, you want to leave right away, but the store isn’t open. I convince you that we should have a leisurely day. We go back to bed for a while, make love, sleep, talk, eat lunch in bed, get up, have a shower together, end up back in bed . . . the usual. You get this look on your face and say “Now?” No, not yet . . . we should have an early dinner first. We go for sushi, and then I tell you it’s time.

I’m a little nervous as we walk into the store. It’s pretty bright, and the walls are colourful, beautiful artwork on them, some a little over the top. There are several people milling about, looking in the jewelery cabinets. I go over and talk to the woman at the desk, and we are ushered into a private room. You start to look nervous, asking if I’m really sure about this . . . but I am.

The door opens and a young woman, probably in her early twenties comes in. She shows us a selection of jewelery on a tray, and I pick one. A captive bead ring . . . no 10, 12 or 14 gauge barbells for me, it needs to be a ring . . .

I’m really glad that the piercer is a woman . . . I think it would just be awkward if it was a guy, not urfa escort to mention how much you’d dislike that situation. I hop into the chair after sliding off my thong, hiking up my skirt so she can look to see whether the vertical or horizontal hood piercing would be better. I’m really hoping for the horizontal, and luckily, it will work.

She then tells us that the best way to ensure it hangs properly is for my clitoris to be erect, otherwise the ball might hang at the wrong spot and not provide any stimulation. She tells us she’ll leave the room for a few minutes, and just to unlock the door when we’re ready, but that I can’t have an orgasm or it definitely won’t hang right. She heads out and we hear the door click shut behind her.

You look at me and I give you a devilish grin as I lick my finger and reach down to touch my clit. For a moment, you seem mesmerized by the whole setting – and then you come over, kiss me and whisper in my ear “here, let me help you with that”.

I slide to the edge of the chair, and you kneel down between my already spread legs. You make a V with your fingers, opening the lips of my pussy to expose my clit, and I can feel the warmth of your breath as you bring your lips to my not yet swollen bud. I give a little gasp as I feel you lightly suck on it, then flick your tongue over it while it is still held by your lips. I lean my head back, arching my back, thinking both how good it feels, and how surreal that you’re going down on me in a tattoo & piercing parlour. Just thinking about that elicits a bubbling of moisture from my pussy, and you move down to contain it before it runs down my ass to the chair.

My breath quickens, I want your fingers inside me, your tongue on my clit but you remind me that I’m not supposed to cum, and we both know how quickly balıkesir escort that happens when you start stimulating my G-spot. A minute or two more of licking and sucking and you tell me that my clit is aroused, swollen and ready for the piercing. Oh god, I am so turned on and I just want to cum in your mouth, but I know that I can’t until afterwards. You go over and unlock the door.

She comes back in and goes to the sink to wash her hands and put on some gloves. I’m squirming a little in the chair, totally aroused and a little apprehensive – as good as it will feel later, I’m betting it will probably be more than a little uncomfortable when she does the piercing. She swabs the entire area with antiseptic, joking that at least it doesn’t stain, and then uses a sterile towel to dry the antiseptic . . . and me . . off.

You sit next to me, holding my hand, and you seem even more nervous than I do – you’re squeezing my hand more than I’m squeezing yours. I know you’re remembering our phone call when I was getting my tattoo, and worrying that it will be like that. I feel the clamp, and then I feel the sharp sting of the needle, followed by the threading and locking of the ring, and the coolness of the antiseptic/analgesic.

A minute later, she holds up a mirror so I can see my piercing. It looks pretty hot, the little ring with the bead resting on my glistening, swollen clit. I pull you over to me and kiss you, and whisper “how’s that for an engagement ring?”

After telling me/us all about aftercare, she mentions that no sex is a huge part of it . . . until it heals. “How long . . .?” She just smiles and says “you’ll know. Trust me, you’ll know.” Once she leaves the room, I slide my thong back on, adjust my skirt, and walk out holding your hand tightly. It stings a bit, but it’s trabzon escort also stimulating my still-erect clit with every step I take.

Just as we approach the car, I grab your arm and hang on as my knees buckle a bit, finally having the orgasm that you set me up for before the ring was put in. You laugh and put your arm around my waist, telling me it had better be a good one because who the hell knows how long I’ll have to wait until it heals. Tease!!!

Two weeks later, same scene in the kitchen . . .you’re making your chocolate milk and I come downstairs, putting my arms around your waist, nuzzling into your back, kissing your neck, sliding my hands around to caress your hips and roaming down to your thighs. You’re such a gentleman that since I had my piercing done, you won’t let me go down on you (except for that first night when we got home because, really, how hot was that!?!?!?!), and you remain master of your domain.

You grab my hands and say “no, not fair, not until it’s healed . . . ” and I stop you by bringing your finger down to touch my soaking wet pussy and completely swollen clit. I now know what she meant by knowing when it was healed . . . I woke up totally aroused and walking down the stairs was even more erotic than the walk to the car because there isn’t any pain involved. I love the low throaty moan you make when you realize just how healed and ready I am.

Chocolate milk forgotten, I’m up on the counter, nightie pushed up, legs over your shoulders as your tongue gently flicks the bead resting on my clit, making it roll against my hot & swollen flesh. That airy sound that you love? Happening big time. I can feel my pussy throbbing, getting wetter by the second, and feeling your tongue on my clit is just driving me wild.

Seconds later, I have my first orgasm, flooding your mouth as my body shudders and you take that opportunity to slide two fingers into my pussy, in and out, slowly, until I beg you to speed up, thrusting my hips up, trying to control the speed. You remove your fingers, reach up and trace them over my lips, then lean up to kiss me, licking my lips, both of us tasting me. But I want to taste you, too . . . .