Today I went to get my nipple piercings resized and new jewelry put in (because I’m a wuss and can’t do it myself without feeling like I’m going to pass out). My favorite piercer, the owner, was in today. I didn’t know who I scheduled my appointment with, but I’m glad it was him! Whew. He’s about 45 now and I’ve seen him at his studio for 10 years, off and on. Covered in colorful tattoos, slim/athletic build, salt and pepper black-gray hair pulled back into a short ponytail, and gorgeous, light green eyes. Charisma just drips off of this man like honey.

The piercer greeted me with a smile as always. He wore a black mask but I could still see his smile crinkle in his eyes. I had on a short black sundress with lace in the back, with black leggings and my dr martens sandals. I didn’t wear a bra so he could have quick and easy access to me. My hair was up in a messy bun.

We chatted casually and I joked that I’m, “solidly in the middle of a midlife crisis, at the present moment”, explaining that I’d recently celebrated my 38th trip around the sun this summer. He laughed, and could not stop laughing. I’m a total jokeslut. We always love to banter and flirt and exchange sarcastic comments. And I’ve thought a few times how I’d like to be a different kind of slut for him, too.

After chatting a bit, he asked me to remove my dress and stand in front of the full length mirror, time to get to business. I pulled my dress over my head, a bit awkwardly, and stood in front of the mirror, waiting for him to walk over. He came around to the front of me and leaned in close with a fine point sharpie to take a measurement and size the new bars. He asked me to sit on the table in the corner, entirely topless while he worked. My nipples stood hard and cold in the AC. I tried making jokes and small talk to ease my own nerves and shyness. I used my hands as a bra but felt pretty silly doing that, since he’s seen my tits multiple times and needed to see them to fit my new jewelry.

He finished sanitizing everything and leaned in close, gently, then more firmly pinching my nipple using both hands to take out my current jewelry and put in the new bars with front-facing fire-opals.

“Just breathe. Slow. Deep.”, he kept saying with a deep but soothing voice, knowing I was nervous and since I don’t do really well when it comes to jewelry changes (I always feel like I’m going to pass out - dizzy, lightheaded, heart pounding). You better believe I almost punched him, cursing “fuck!!!! Fuckfuckfuck!” Almost screaming from the white-hot pain of the needle, when he actually pierced them for me years ago.

He fitted my new jewelry beautifully and we both admired my opal-adorned tits in the mirror, grinning broadly at our combined effort. “You look pretty incredible to be in the middle of a midlife crisis”, he teased. I paid, tipped, chatted with him, browsed jewelry for my other piercings, then headed home.

….

But friends: here’s what I fantasized about actually happening…right after he leaned in close.

[Part 2]