Hands on Henna

Image result for henna on buttock My Man and I decided to try something new. I’ve always hated the idea of a tat and he’s loved it. So, we compromised. Henna. He took me to a professional henna artist, chose a design, and a place on my body for it. My Henna, like everything else, comes with rules. 1.  No one else but he and I are to see this temporary tat. 2.  He can see it any time he wishes. 3.  I’m to seriously considering converting it into a permanent tat (although he’ll accept  my decision if I decline). 4.  Each day the henna will be “moisturized” with his cream. These rules will be in effect until the temporary tat fades away.

COOL!!! I couldn’t have been happier with these rules and readily agreed to them all. Naturally, Mr. Man had something up his sleeve – he always does. The first rule was pretty easy to follow because of the placement – except for the gym. So, I adjusted my schedule and began doing yoga at home. Mr. Man then decided that he wanted to “supervise” these sessions and demanded that the tat be seen – hence naked yoga. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to hold and focus on  downward facing dog when the hottest guy in the world is watching your every move?? The second rule meant that i was nude almost every moment I was with Mr. Man which is awesome, but disconcerting. I’m naked. He isn’t. He looks at me, touches me, but I can’t look at or touch him – will his nakedness anyway. FRUSTRATING!!! I’m still not in favor of making this tat permanent, but perhaps a smaller one. I must admit, I’m thrilled by how pleased Mr. Man is and it’s in such a place that it’s easy to hide when I need to be professional. As to the last rule, OMFG!! Every morning He has me lie on my stomach. First, he makes sure I’m good and wet, using his fingers, his tongue. Then, he enters me, hard, slow, soft, fast. It doesn’t matter. he enters me and I explode. He fucks me until I’m begging for mercy from all of the orgasms. Then, he PULLS OUT!! I HATE THIS!! He pulls out and sprays his hotness across my ass. He rubs it in, kissing my back and shoulders. He praises me and then tells me to get dressed for the day. No shower. Not until it’s time to go to bed. So, all day long his dried cum clings to my bottom, coating the pretty henna, reminding me that in the end, Mr. Man always has the last word.

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