An Erotic Pic 1k Contest: A Mark In Time by Molly Moore - 01/30/2012

An Erotic Picture Worth A Thousand Words Contest: February 2012 Entry.





“Nice tattoo, where did you get it?”


Maria’s hand almost instinctively curled around her waist and her fingers fluttered momentarily over the mark on her lower back. Any mention of the tattoo always seemed to make it prickle and fizz on her skin as if acknowledgement of it suddenly gave it life.

“I had it done years ago, on holiday in Spain. I don’t remember the name of the place.”

Maria often wondered when she said this line if the lie showed on her face. So far no one had ever given any hint of not believing her and over the years she had said it so often that at times she even believed it herself but only for as long as the words where on her lips. The moment they were out, her body would always remind her that it was a lie.

She often consoled herself with the fact that it wasn’t a total lie; she had been on holiday in Spain when she had got the tattoo and it was years ago but as for not remembering the name of the place that was a lie. She remembered everything about that time. She remembered the day of the week, the name of the shop, the smell of the man standing next to her, the feel of his hand holding hers and the warm throb of lust that beat between her thighs whenever he was close.

She had meet Luca in Pisa. He was waiting tables in a small restaurant. It had been a blazing hot sunny afternoon and she was tired of walking round this ancient city, in fact she was tired of ancient cities all together and so she had ordered a cold glass of wine, found herself a shady spot outside and settled down to watch the world go by.

By the middle of the afternoon the place was deserted and most of the staff from the restaurant had left to enjoy their afternoon siesta, apart from him. From time to time she could hear him moving about inside the restaurant, the scrap of a chair, the ping of a glass but she didn’t pay much attention, in fact she was so lost in her thoughts that when he slid the cup of coffee onto the table in front of her it made her jump. He apologised for startling her but then proceeded to take up residence in the chair next to her, stretching out his arms and legs and occupying the space in such a way that it irritated Maria.

She glared at him but he seemed to be completely oblivious to her annoyance and just smiled back at her before informing her, in perfect English that she had looked like a woman who needed a coffee and as he was a man who needed a coffee he figured they should enjoy them together. His arrogance stunned her into a compliant silence and for a moment they sat quietly next to each other until, reaching forward, he pushed the coffee closer towards and said,

“So why are you sitting here alone in this street in Pisa and not on a beautiful beach somewhere?”

And so she found herself telling him all about her trip around Europe and that she had seen enough ancient cities to last a life time and that the final part of her trip was exactly as he described; the beach in Spain. As she relaxed and the talk flowed she found herself losing track of time and before long the streets were starting to fill again and Luca was making his apologies and returning to work. She spent the rest of the evening there, eating and drinking the food and wine he bought and waiting. Once the restaurant was locked up he took her hand and led her down the dark streets to a small apartment.

That night Maria was changed forever. Luca touched her in a way that no other man ever had before or since. It was like he knew how to make her body work so that it would bring them both mind-numbing satisfaction. He was relentless in his pursuit of her sexual fulfilment and even when she lay exhausted on the bed and pleaded with him to stop he didn’t. Instead he turned her over and spanked her bottom until it was burning beneath his hand, then laying her back on the bed he held her thighs wide and used his mouth and tongue to bring her off to another screaming juddering orgasm.

3 days later Luca quit his job and they left for Spain. His Spanish was nonexistent as was Maria’s but it didn’t matter. They were not interested in the world around them; all they were interested in were consuming one other. Morning, noon and night they feasted upon their lust and Luca did things to Maria’s body that left her shaking, bruised, exhausted and deeply contented.

When they saw the tattoo parlour it had been her suggestion to go in but it was him who ended up choosing the tattoo. As she sat and watched the mark emerging onto his skin she could feel herself longing to reach out and run her fingers through the blood that was gliding down over his tanned muscular arm and smear it on herself. She wanted to be marked with everything he had, not just his hands, mouth, cock and cum as he had done so far but with his blood and with this ink; A mark that would live on her forever. They exchanged no words in that shop but when the artist had finished Luca turned to him and said

“Now her. The same tattoo, on her lower back”

When it was done they paid their money and left the shop. The moment they hit the street outside Luca snatched Maria’s wrist and pulled her down the alleyway at the side of the building. Pushing her up against the wall he tore her flimsy shorts from between her thighs and dragging her black lacy thong to one side he buried his cock deep into her cunt but as he began fucking her Maria spotted the tattoo artist leaning in a doorway further up the alley watching them, watching her being fucked like cheap whore. For a moment she wanted to run and hide but then the words started, igniting her burning lust for this man even more...

“Let him watch you, you dirty little bitch. He spent the time marking you for me, the least I can do is let him watch or maybe I should carry you back in there and let him do more than watch. Now you are marked properly I intend to really show you what it means to be mine”

...until she came, calling out his name into the warm night air.

That was nearly 10 years ago now. 10 years since she had seen that man, 10 years since she had heard his voice, or felt his touch, or kissed his lips or washed his body or bought him food and 10 years since he had had his mark scratched into her skin.