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WANNABE SEX
ADDICT
MEMOIRS OF A
WANNABE SEX
ADDICT
JULIA MORIZAWA
Fanny Press
Seattle, WA
Published by Fanny Press
PO Box 95462
Seattle, WA 98145
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the publisher.
Contact: info@fannypress.com
ISBN: 978-1-60381-430-0
Contents
The Slave 1
The Disciple 19
The Client 51
The Addict 63
The Predator 89
The Bitch 99
The Foreigner 113
The Girlfriend 139
The Client
“Get naked.”
I laughed, sharing his sense of humor, and slowly began
to remove my shirt.
“Okay, but I’m gonna have to charge you for that,” I coyly
responded. He simply grinned and re-instructed me to lift
my shirt up so he could examine the shape and size of my
upper back.
“Yeah, the graphic should go on top, right about here,” he
recommended while placing his warm, moist palm gently
between my shoulder blades. His voice had a seductive crack
to it, the kind developed from years of smoking. “And the
characters slightly smaller, right below that.”
“Sounds good to me,” I rushed the words, anxious to pull
my shirt back down. Something about his touch had caused
the area between my thighs to moisten. “So, about how
much will it cost?”
“The snakes alone are gonna run about $150, then
another, let’s say, $80 for the Japanese.” As he spoke, he
slowly lowered himself to a kneeling position and finished
his sentence looking up at me. An imaginary breeze seemed
to tease the hem of my skirt. I placed my palms on the sides
of my thighs in order to prevent the material from giving
him a free peep show.
After a brief, uncomfortable break in the conversation, I
lowered myself to his level and gently leaned the bulk of my
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JULIA MORIZAWA
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needle paused and I felt two large, warm arms wrap tightly
around my waist.
“Hey,” Damien’s soft voice bounced against my ear drum.
“I thought we were supposed to hang out.”
“We are,” I replied.
Damien leaned in closer, allowing the weight of his upper
body to rest against my naked back. He slid his hands from
my waist down to my thighs. Then he slickly snuck his
fingers between my legs and teased me through the crotch of
my jeans. I could feel his warm breath become heavier. I
could feel the pores across my body inhale every discharge of
carbon dioxide he released.
Suddenly, a shout from one of his employees startled us
both and caused Damien to abruptly pull away.
“Phone call!” the employee announced, passing a cell to
Damien.
“Tattoos,” Damien greeted the caller. I listen to the
conversation, only catching bits and pieces, anxious for it to
end. The employee left the room, but the call continued.
Damien used his free hand to slowly unzip my jeans. I
shifted to make it easier for him, but remained relaxed, as if
his actions were a perfectly normal addition to his artistic
services.
“Well, the work has already been done, so I can’t give you
a refund,” he spoke into the phone. “But we can schedule a
time for you to come back and I’ll re-pierce it for you.”
My jeans were successfully opened and welcomed
Damien’s hand. My wetness had already soaked through to
the exterior of my underwear. Damien struggled
momentarily to slip his index and middle fingers around the
inner hem of my panties. He teased my clit, barely caressing
the tip of it with one finger. He inserted his other finger
inside of me and began to rock his hand back and forth. I
couldn’t help but release a quiet moan.
“Hey!” Damien called out to the front desk. “Grab my
appointment book.”
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I heard the gentle buzz of the needle, but it was the prick
and longevity of it that woke me. I looked up to find that
Shawn had returned from lunch and was watching intensely.
“It looks fuckin’ tight,” Shawn commented. “I really like
the shading you did in the snakes, man.”
“One more color and we’re done,” Damien responded.
“How’d she do?”
“Really well, actually. It’s been pretty quick, cause she
hasn’t really been moving at all.”
“Cool.”
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JULIA MORIZAWA
I listened to Damien and Shawn shoot the shit for the last
few minutes of the procedure. I was in a bit of a euphoric but
lazy state.
“Done.” Damien announced. “You’re free.”
I stood, my legs weak from sitting so long—or perhaps
from our rendezvous less than an hour prior. I examined the
work on my back in the mirror as best I could. I was more
than pleased.
Damien coated the fresh tattoo with lotion then covered it
with Saran wrap. He gave me some quick instructions then
put his arm around me and walked me to the front counter.
Shawn said his good-byes and stepped outside. I lingered
behind and turned to Damien.
“So, do I get a discount,” I inquired.
“Of course,” he replied.
I had paid cash for the work in advance, so Damien
pulled out a small stack of bills and returned them to me.
“We should do this again,” he added.
“Sure. I’ll swing by sometime.”
I gave him one final vague smile before exiting the tattoo
parlor. As I walked toward the parking lot with Shawn, I
could feel Damien’s gaze following me. I recalled his hands,
his tongue, his cock, and placed it all in a safe, secret section
of my memory.
“That took a long time,” Shawn interrupted my thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I don’t know. I mean, I went home for lunch, so I
didn’t expect him to still be working on it when I got back. It
just seemed to take longer than normal.”
“Hmm,” I smiled to myself, “I wonder why.”
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