Transferred to Dayton

I was standing just to the side of this latest action, so my downward angle didn't allow me to see much skin that I hadn't already seen ... just a little more of the side of Kerri's upper thigh near her hip. And, of course, the whole episode lasted only a few seconds, because Kerri quickly twisted away (squealing, but with laughter in her voice, I noticed), pulling her skirt back down into place, and Mandy herself quickly backed off.

"You are a naughty girl, Mandy!" Kerri said with a laugh, as she finished making sure the private parts of her lower half were covered again. She obviously wasn't too upset by what just happened.

"Ha! I think you're the naughty one!" Mandy responded, holding the invasive hand up near her face, and wiggling her fingers. "And, like, very daring!" I didn't know what she meant by that. Yes, I could see that Kerri was daring in her attire, and her interactions tonight were anything but reserved, but how Mandy delivered that comment made me think there was more to it than that ... like she knew something I didn't.

I would find out later. The best part of the night was yet to come.

------

Now we were back home in their kitchen, enjoying the quiet after several hours of immersion in high decibel guitars and drums. Yes, it was fun (and stimulating, particularly to my eyes and another part of my anatomy located lower down), but the calm respite was nice now, too. None of us were drunk; as I mentioned already, I think we all had consumed just enough alcohol to make us a relaxed and perhaps make our tongues a bit looser than they would have been otherwise. It seemed like a good time to tell Brett and Kerri that I would soon be living close by. Maybe I could get their advice about good places—and bad places—to live in this city.

I held that thought, though, because I first had the opportunity to comment on something I had noticed earlier on the dance floor. Kerri had turned her back to us to put something on the counter, revealing a tattoo on her lower back. Most of it was hidden by her skirt, but the top portion was visible. Tramp stamps are common enough, of course, but most are mono-color; what I could see of this one made it remarkable because it was quite colorful. It at least deserved a compliment.

"I hope you don't mind me saying this, Kerri, but that tattoo on your back? It looks great on you," I said. Then I added, "It seems very unique compared to most I see."

"Oh ..." she answered, reaching around and feeling the spot with her fingertips, as if to confirm it was there. "Thank you! I guess I didn't realize it showed that much when I'm wearing this skirt. The waistline rides pretty high."

"Yeah, the top part is all I can see," I responded, "but that is enough to tell it isn't ordinary."

"You're right about that, bud," Brett chimed in, in his characteristic style. "It's definitely not ordinary. Here ..."

He walked over to Kerri and pushed down on her waistband so I could see it better. At least he tried to. It was tight enough that it didn't budge very much. He solved that problem by undoing the button on the waistband, which was conveniently situated at that same spot. He also lowered the zipper about half way, then folded down each half of the 'V' that was formed.

Kerri looked over her shoulder. "That's okay, love, just go ahead. No need to ask me first." It wasn't difficult to hear the sarcasm in her voice, though it was friendly sarcasm, and she made no move to stop him.

Brett just chuckled and ignored her. "We got this about ... what, a year ago now, Ker?"

"We?" she interjected with amusement. "I didn't realize you got one there, too. Let's see yours!"

That made Brett chuckle again. This time he didn't ignore her, but responded by planting kisses on Kerri's bare skin, starting with her neck (which made her giggle), then every few inches as he moved downward, between her shoulder blades, to the middle of her back, then ultimately to the tattoo itself. "You were ... (kiss) ... the artist's canvas, babe, ... (kiss) ... but I helped ... (kiss) ... prep the canvas ... (kiss) ... and it wouldn't have ... (kiss) ... been the same ... (kiss) ... without me (kiss)."

That made Kerri giggle and squirm. All that time, Brett dutifully held the skirt flaps open, displaying her tattoo, which—to a connoisseur of these embellishments on a woman's skin, like me—was undeniably beautiful. The shape of this effusion of delicate flowers and tendrils and leaves nicely fit that shallow V space, and it had varied colors and subtle shading that made it look like art, not a simple 'tramp stamp.'

"Wow!" I gushed, but sincerely. "That is stunning. I have never seen a tattoo so ... so colorful and intricate. It's really beautiful. Of course, I have to agree with you, Brett," I continued, "that the canvas is what makes it a work of art."

Kerri seemed pleased and flattered. I think I may have detected just a hint of a blush. "Why, thank you, kind sir!" she responded with a smile. "And Brett is right—he played an important part in the process ... even though I was the one who had to endure the poking, prodding, and pain."

Brett, who had knelt down to apply the last of his kisses, straightened back up. "I think we should show him the rest of it, don't you, baby?"

"The rest of it?" I asked innocently. I was essentially seeing Kerri's whole back at this point, with the lowest point of the zipper dipping down to where the swell of her buttocks began. I didn't understand what Brett meant. [Buttocks? Who came up with that word anyway? It sounds much too inelegant and coarse to apply to such a lovely and alluring part of a woman's body. But (no pun intended), I guess we're stuck with it now. I'll try to do better next time.]

"Yeah, right," Kerri said with a laugh, accompanied by an exaggerated shake of her head. "I don't think so." She was speaking to Brett, whose face was just a few inches from hers at that moment. My question was ignored.

"I'm serious, Ker," he responded quietly. He didn't say it in a threatening way at all; in fact, he made it sound more like a promise. "He's from California, we're from Ohio. He is a gentleman and a scholar [Brett winked at me as he said that part], and who knows when or if we'll cross paths again."

"Well, actually, I—" I started, but that was as far as I got.

"Seriously?" Brett's bare-backed enchantress responded to him. "I don't think he flew more than half way across the country to see a tattoo."

"It's interesting you mention that," I blurted, trying to insert myself into the conversation. My conscience was telling me I should. "I've been wanting to tell you about the reason—"

"Oh, don't worry, bud," Brett interrupted, looking at me. "Don't think for a minute she doesn't want to." He turned his head back to Kerri, smiling. "I know my wife. She'd like you to see the rest, too."

I still had no idea what they were talking about. I was obviously the only one present who didn't.

"Come on," Brett said. "Let's move into the living room." He released his hold on her waistband, pulled Kerri by the hand, and waved to me in a 'follow us' motion. As they proceeded to the adjoining room, I tried to read the expression on Kerri's face. It looked to me something like a mixture of resignation, because she realized Brett had made up his mind and she knew she was powerless to change it, plus excited anticipation, because she didn't really want to resist anyway. At the time I didn't know why Kerri was blushing, but looking back I think it was because she knew one of her naughty-girl secrets was about to be revealed: She is an exhibitionist, and loves being one.

I followed. Kerri used her free hand to hold up her partially unzipped skirt so it wouldn't slide further down as she walked.

In their living room was a low-backed couch facing a fireplace, and a matching ottoman was placed a foot or so in front of it. "Okay, bud, you sit here," Brett said, indicating a spot on the ottoman, "facing the couch. Ker and I will sit across from you."

I sat, but thought it rather strange that he would arrange us that way, with me positioned so close to the front of the couch. Brett answered that thought a moment later. "You'll be able to see better there."

He then guided the quiet but smiling Kerri so she was standing directly in front of me, facing away, while he sat down on the couch very near her. Kerri's colorful tattoo, the focal point and catalyst of this extemporaneous gathering, was about eye level and less than an arm's length away from me.

Brett reached around the front of his wife's lovely legs, placing his hand on the outside of her thigh just below the hem of her skirt, and his other hand in the same spot on her other thigh nearest him. I glanced up to see her looking over her shoulder at us.

"What you were seeing in the kitchen, bud," he said—and as he continued talking, he moved his hands gently up and down, caressing Kerri's legs—"was just the top part of a larger tattoo. When we did this, we wanted something unique, and I personally think we succeeded ..."

"Oh, yeah, we did!" interjected Kerri with a chuckle.

"... but Ker really wanted something that could still be hidden when she wanted. The solution was to limit it to parts of her body that aren't normally seen. It took us a while to find a tattoo artist who could ..." He paused momentarily as he looked up to catch Kerri's eyes, and they exchanged a smile—the kind of smile that told me there was more to that story than what they were sharing right now—then continued, " ... who had the skill to make our idea work. Anyway, you're about to become one of the privileged few who have seen this much of it."

I remained quiet. I didn't want to break the spell.

Brett reached up to the waistband of the skirt, which Kerri was still holding up in place. "Okay, baby, I've got it. You can let go," he said, and she did. Then he pulled the zipper the rest of the way down and let the skirt settle further down on her hips. I'm sure if she had wiggled for even a moment like she was doing earlier in the evening, it would have fallen to the floor. But it remained in place over the swell of her hips as long as she held still. The V bounded by the zipper, though, was now exposing the cleavage of Kerri's exquisite backside like a low cut dress on Dolly Parton. [You'll remember I said earlier that I had already enjoyed seeing quite a bit of Kerri on this night, but this was new territory.]

"Most of the floral part is up here," said Brett, continuing his narration, and gentling stroking the spot he was describing, which we had already seen in the kitchen. "But the tat doesn't actually end at the bottom. You'll see there is part of it that disappears into this lovely valley here." His finger traced a small green vine that emerged at the base of the flowers, then, sure enough, disappeared into Dolly's cleavage. The vine re-emerged sporting a tiny leaf an inch or so later, then vanished inside the dark passage again.

My eyes followed as Brett's finger dipped into that private cleft. When the night started, I certainly wasn't expecting to see this. But at that moment it dawned on me that under the current circumstances I was expecting to see something else ... but I wasn't: Panties. Any style, no matter how brief, would have been visible at this point, but they weren't there. No thong. No boy shorts. Not even low riding bikini panties. Suddenly the earlier incidents at the club, when both Brett's and Mandy's fingers had stirred between Kerri's legs, took on more significance. But I was also confused; when she inadvertently flashed me getting into the car, I know I had seen color. That had to be panties. The obvious explanation was that she had taken them off at some point. Mandy was right; Kerri was daring. [And I was a beneficiary.]

Brett extracted his finger. "Okay, baby, can you turn around now, please?"

In the small space between us, Kerri shuffled around on her high heels to face me, Brett smiled and continued talking. "That vine continues, but we'll be able to see it better from the other direction." He guided his nubile wife into a sitting position near the edge of the couch, then she slumped back while Brett helped her lift her feet up and over her head. I also leaned back during that maneuver so her shoes didn't hit me in the face.

"Hey, I'm not a contortionist, you know," Kerri protested, but with a chuckle in her voice.

Brett chuckled back. "No? I've seen you in this position before, baby," he said suggestively, with eyebrows raised. "I don't remember you complaining then." Kerri gave him a little backhand swat to let him know what she thought of that response. "Don't worry, we won't keep you this way very long," he added.

I could see her point.

Kerri's head and neck were propped up against the back of the couch, her chin was pressed into her chest, her shoulders and upper back were pressed down into the seat cushion, her skirt-clad pelvis was raised into the air, her knees were in front of her face, and her feet extended over her head off the back of the couch.

I could also see something else.

Though Kerri's legs were still close together, her loosely attached skirt had now slipped the other direction. Neither she nor Brett were attempting to protect what little remained of her modesty, so ... little remained. The ass that looked so great inside the skirt now looked even more amazing outside it, and because of her inverted position, Kerri's pussy lips peeked out from between her thighs above that.

Brett helped gravity by pushing the skirt completely out of the way, so it formed a wide belt around her belly. The flowers on her lower back we had been admiring before were now visible again, turned 180 degrees. Maybe just in case I missed it on the first pass [yeah, right, like that would happen], Brett directed my eyes to the starting point again.

"So anyway, that little vine splits off and disappears between Kerri's buns," he said, continuing his narration, "but comes up for air and sunshine occasionally on its trip through. Here, I'll show you." He paused to thread his hands between Kerri's thighs, and began to gently pull them apart. "Ker, I need you to spread 'em, okay?"

The owner of those superlative thighs made a sound that sounded like a cross between a whine and a moan. I don't think it was a protest, but I wasn't sure how to interpret it. Regardless, she complied, and both Brett and I were treated to an unfettered view of her most private area. Brett even pulled her ass cheeks apart, revealing the entire decorated valley. Indeed, just as he had described, the green vine meandered through the passage, sporting a leaf or tendril here and there that extended up the side. It detoured around the darker pink and puckered sphincter surrounding her anus, eventually continuing onward to the base of her vagina, where it grew more leaves and widened.

It took my eyes no more than a second or two to take in this sight, of course, and though those curious eyes were anxious to keep traveling upward to see the vine's apparent destination, Brett released his hand from one cheek and covered the path, temporarily obstructing my view. My gaze was redirected to his middle finger, which was now very slowly following the same route my eyes had just taken. "So the vine goes through here," he said, also watching his own finger as it rubbed over this sensitive skin, "winding around a bit ... especially when it goes around this delicate opening here. I like how the tattoo artist handled that." He gave me a conspiratorial wink, raised his guide finger to his mouth for a moment to coat it with saliva, then reached back down and ran it in circles around the rim of Kerri's asshole. She responded with a little gasp, followed by a moan very much like the one earlier. Evidently this reaction was Brett's goal, because he smiled and made a few more orbits around that opening, eliciting more squirming and half-hearted protests from the owner of that sensitive orifice.

Soon, though, he stopped his finger tease and continued sliding it along the vine. "As it nears her pussy, you'll see that it gets a little wider and more leafy," he said, "because it is about to bloom again." By this time—and I know it wasn't accidental on his part—that tricky middle finger of his was snuggling up against and parting the lips of his wife's other intimate opening. I noticed the fingers on each side were gently caressing the lips beneath.

"Okay, Ker, you can put your legs down now," Brett instructed, "but stay leaning back, okay?"

"Okay," Kerri responded, echoing his word. She bent her knees and started to lower her legs slowly, aware of my close proximity. Her face reappeared. She looked a little more flushed since we saw her last. Her position might account for part of that, but I had another theory as well. "But can I take my shoes off now? I've been wearing these heels all night!"

"Oh, sure, baby!" Brett responded. "Hey, bud, you get that one, and I'll get this one, okay?" He was referring, of course, to her shoes that now hovered at about eye level on either side of me. One was directly in front of him, so he reached out and started to unbuckle it, showing me by example what he expected me to do. I was willing, for sure. But I felt like I was crossing another line. [True, cradling a sexy woman's equally sexy foot in my hands while I removed her shoe wasn't the most intimate of activities I could imagine, but essentially I was helping undress her for the next step in our exploration of her body. Plus, the foot I now held was presently dangling very near that tantalizing (and currently totally bare) junction of her spread legs. You'll remember that that spot was moments ago the destination of my tour guide's finger.]

The slight intermission for shoe removal was over soon, and made Kerri happy. "Ahhh, it feels so good to finally have those off!" she exclaimed with a smile, wiggling her toes. I expected her to lower her feet to the floor between us, but instead she straightened her legs and rested them across the top of my thighs. Her feet came to rest on the ottoman, one on each side of me. Because I thought she would appreciate it, I reached down and starting massaging her bare feet. I was right, she did like it. "Oooohh, you're hired," she said with a sigh, closing her eyes in pleasure. "That feels so-o-o-o nice."

[Kerri seemed to be totally focused on her feet right now. Hopefully you won't blame me for being focused on something else. After all, it was served up directly in front of me ... and eye-catching.]

"And now you see what the vine blossoms into," Brett said, continuing where he left off. He left his fingers off this time, simply resting his hand on Kerri's lower belly. He let me gaze without further commentary for a few seconds. I'm not an expert on flower identification, but covering Kerri's pubic mound was a tropical-looking bloom—maybe an amaryllis?—in varying shades of red and pink. Her pussy lips formed the throat of the flower, and petals radiated from there. I've seen enough pussies in person and in porn to know that they vary considerably; hers was the kind with darker pink inner lips that protrude to form little scalloped folds between the outer lips, providing interesting texture for the heart of the bloom. It didn't appear that Kerri's pussy lips were tattooed, only the area above and beside them, but the artist had skillfully blended the colors and used shadows so her vagina looked convincingly like the inside of an exotic (and, yes, erotic) flower.

I've had relationships with several women that liked the hairless look down there—and that is common in porn also—so it didn't immediately dawn on me that I didn't see any. I was too enthralled by the colors and the novelty of the tattoo ... not to mention the novelty of the situation; when I imagined seeing some of the sights Dayton had to offer, I never anticipated this one.