Subdermal Implants.

“Subdermals.” I said pulling my top apart slightly more so he could see the ridges between my breasts. “They put an incision in your skin and insert a silicon tube under the flesh, giving you a ridge in that shape.”

He reached forward and ran his finger along my sternum, across the ridges, “Doesn’t that hurt?” He asked.

I had to take a moment as my heart was racing, I felt like Dad had just touched me sexually, even though I knew it was curiosity. “When I got it done sure, but I think it’s sexy and Mark loves em.” I said without thinking, then I realised what the next question would be.

Dad put a hand on my side, his warm hand against my flesh, I was still holding the two glasses of scotch and didn’t want to move in case I broke whatever spell was going on, “Why does Mark love them?” He asked.

The lump in my throat grew as I swallowed and said, “He likes how they feel.” My father frowned still peering between my tits. I couldn’t find the words to tell him that Marks likes the feeling of them when he fucks my tits.

My father didn’t push the issue and instead moved to one of my tats, “Is that a squirrel?” He asked.

My heart was thumping so hard I could barely hear him, my father was checking me out, examining my tats and tits, he had pushed my top slightly more open and my nipples were revealed. “Yeah,” I said, “Tomo, my tattooist, likes adding extra things to scenes.”

Dad’s gaze drifted over the other tats around my tits, as my heart continued to pound, I felt like I was going to cum and have a heart attack at the same time. Then he stopped, he removed his hand from my side and took the glass from my hand.

“Sorry to pry, I just find it incredible,” he said, “the time, the money and the pain involved.” He took a sip of the whiskey, “But it really is sexy.” I left my shirt gaping, one side caught on my nipple piercing as I went and sat down.

“You never thought about getting a tattoo?” I asked, trying to return the conversation to some level of normality.

“I did a bit, but my parents would have killed me, and then I met your mother and she hates them.” He said.

I smiled, “Oh I hadn’t noticed.” I said smiling.

Dad returned the wry grin, “I’m sure you never noticed Kimberly.” He smiled. “I think they are quite remarkable, and good on you for doing what you want.” He said.

I smiled back, “Thanks Dad,” I sipped the whiskey, “so I have to ask, even though they are your daughter’s,” I took a deep breath,