Spider Tattoo Forearm Novels & Stories

I'm eighteen and think Jeremy needs a tattoo date with me. "What do you want to get? I'm always down for a tattoo." Do I really want to get a tattoo? What should I get? "A sparrow. It would be in all black ink. I would get it on my right forearm." I point to my forearm and show Jeremy exactly how big I want my tattoo to be. "I think I would get a semi-colon. On my left wrist," Jeremy says.

My heart skipped a beat. It was new, I was sure of it. But for some reason, seeing it sent a shiver down my spine, a feeling of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't shake the sensation that I'd seen that tattoo before, somewhere in the depths of my memory but I couldn't place it. It was like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit, nagging at me with its familiarity yet remaining just out of reach. I found myself staring fixatedly at the tattoo. It was intricate, the spider’s legs stretching across his chest, its body curled in on itself in a menacing yet captivating pose. I became dizzy for a moment and my vision slightly blurry.

Long jagged lines that once ran from my shoulders down to my waist. I covered them eventually after overcoming my fear of riddles of course. The tattoo artist worked for nearly ten hours straight, weaving thick black ink over the damaged skin until the scars disappeared beneath the design of a massive spider spreading across my back. Its legs stretch outward over my shoulders, the body resting directly over my spine. The bell rings and my opponent steps forward. He is large, muscular, the type of fighter who relies on raw power rather than strategy. Normally I might enjoy testing him slowly, breaking him down piece by piece.

He looked like he was carved out of a stone, so majestic and mythical. I was flabbergasted and speechless. He was also having a tattoo on his left arm. It was a creeper plant with roses and it was intertwined with thorns. There was also a black wolf howling near it and the moon was above the plant. The art was beautiful and the guy himself was a rare piece of art.

She was paying well, and it was her apartment. She smiled gratefully and stood up, letting the robe drop completely to the floor. Her body was beautiful; her hips were curvy, and her boobs bounced lightly as she moved. As she bent to grab something from the bedside, I noticed a spider web tattoo on her left butt cheek. It was sexy as fuck. She opened her drawer, grabbing a realistic dildo; it was thick, veined, and long. She settled back into the chair, spreading her legs wide. I had to work from her back so I could fix her eyeliner as steadily as I could, which also meant I got a full view. No matter how I tried, I must definitely see.

Jessamine wanted to pull her hand away, but Thaddeus tightened his grip so much that she felt a jolt of pain. As they pushed and pulled, they heard the sound of something ripping. The sleeves of Jessamine's clothes were torn. Thaddeus was stunned to see the tattoo on her shoulder. It was a picture of a Red Spider Lily. If he looked closely, he could see the indents of a horrifying scar hidden in the petals. The red spider lily was a flower that symbolized death and rebirth, a fitting symbol of Jessamine's situation.

I smeared everything we had already done—pussy cum, his cum, the slick mess from my ass—across his mouth and rode him like that, shameless, grinding down while he shoved his tongue into my pussy and licked me as if he had been starving for it. “You felt so perfect,” I whispered. I was still moving on his mouth when my eyes caught the back of his hand in the low light. The tattoo was black and detailed, a spider crawling across his knuckles. The same one I had seen in the club when the gun went off. The same one I had told myself I would never forget. I froze.

“I will tell you everything while I help you bathe.” Once I am inside the bathtub, he picks up a sponge to help me wash my back. He places it on my right shoulder. Then he removes it. “I am pretty sure you didn’t have this tattoo before. When did you get it?” he asks. Instinctively, I turn my head to look at my back. While I can’t see it, I know what Caleb is talking about—the contour of a water lily on the middle of my back, a moon rising above it, and two stars on either side of it.

The Veins and Blood tattoo, like a river of life, traced mesmerizing paths within the knot work, creating a network of labyrinthine patterns. Turning her attention to his right, his muscular arm played host to the Serpentine Coil, slithering with an otherworldly grace. Her eyes followed the serpentine coil with a sense of fascination as it elegantly wound its way across his upper arm, elegantly descending to the forearm.

At least, that is what I tell myself. Ryker doesn't answer me. Instead, he crouches low in front of me, his massive frame folding down like a predator that wants to toy with its prey. I catch the nasty manner with which his knuckles are bruised with scars, looking so rough like they have seen more than their fair share of fights. I also recognize the serpent tattoo coiling up his right forearm, with another tattoo that is a dead man’s skull circled by a crescent moon in blood-red ink right on his left bicep.