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My eyes widened. I had expected something gypsy-like and exotic, an Asian letter, perhaps, or a rose or something. Instead I had the word ‘BIMBO’ printed across my left ass cheek in inch and a half tall letters, the first ‘B’ slightly larger than the other letters. I whirled in fury. ‘Bambi, you stupid bimbo! This is *permanent*! The crowd can see this from the back rows!’ Bambi’s eyes narrowed. ‘My name is Diane, not Bambi. You need to remember that.’ Frustrated and embarrassed, I lashed out. ‘Your name is Bambi!’ And I thrust my will into her brain. At least I tried. For a moment nothing seemed to happen. Then I felt my tattoo heating up. My hips began to wriggle as the heat from my tattoo began to spread through my hips and surround my pussy and sore ass. Fingers of spreading heat worked through my belly and down my thighs. The warmth spread over my breasts, causing my nipples to harden even more. Within moments I was covered head-to-toe with this heated need. I dropped to my. Then I heard a car pull up outside, and we went downstairs, because it was almost Bill's supper time. As Bill went to the living room to greet his dad, I snuck into the kitchen, where Betty was cooking. "Hey," I whispered intensely, "I got an idea. Keep Thursday open for you, me and Bill, but tell Bill that you'll be home real late that day! I'll tell you more Tuesday." She grinned real big and told me, "Good job, sweet baby!" I felt like a million bucks. I had a hard-on all the way home. - - - - - It was Tuesday and I knocked on the Bakers' front door. It opened. “Oh, hi, Neal. Come on in. I just made a pitcher of lemonade.” Three minutes later, we were in the ‘den’ up in the attic. We were both drinking lemonade naked on the folding bed. She was fondling my stiff pecker as if she had never seen one before. Her breasts pressed against my arm and chest. I felt magnificent and powerful. I decided to express this verbally. "Fornication!" I said, casually. "Adultery, sodomy, fornication.
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