i am Kevsfrannie


i am Kev’s frannie, forever bound to the Woman who has both blessed — and cursed – me with my unique fate.

Part 1

i first met my Keverly more than 25 years ago, when i became Her boss at our work. As a professional, i had strong boundaries about appropriate workplace relationships, so for a year and a half i was unwilling to recognize what was otherwise obvious: She was unlike anyone i had known — refreshingly open and spontaneous and exciting. She seemed a very genuine person, easy to know — or so i thought. Though i did not let myself acknowledge it at first, She was also beautiful: pretty, sexy and full of surprises. And there was this, reflecting a strange side of me i had not recognized before “Kev” eventually helped me to open up my many dimensions: She even bore a distinctive mark that maybe no other man would appreciate, but that was, and remains, a particular turn-on for me — a large, pretty mole, just below her left knee. Her personality was magnetic, and looking back, from my first notice of it, that pretty mark surely beckoned to me, too. In time i fantasized about some day getting to know all of Kev better.

i am, by nature, a compromiser and pleaser, willing to bend to accommodate others. i am also fairly naïve, a quality that has variously served me well, and put me at great risk. My naivete once got me into a terrible bind, almost 20 years ago, that left me deeply indebted to Kev, and with great confidence that i could always count on Her when the chips were down. That event predisposed me to always give Her the benefit of the doubt, for She fearlessly rescued me from a terrible situation, just in the nick of time. Her courageous action back then allowed me to continue to enjoy a mostly “normal” life, when things could have otherwise turned out very grim indeed.

When my mind has replayed that event, many times over the years, it now stands out as a classic ‘pyrrhic victory.’ The very fate from which She saved me back then, turns out to have been almost playfully mild in comparison to what was to follow. i could not have known then that that Her selfless act of heroism was actually the pivotal moment when She ensured Her role as the Agent of my Fate.

Back then, though, Kev’s great act sealed my heart’s commitment to be with this Woman forever. i now realize i had already been falling for Her, a susceptibility that got me into the pickle with the bikers in the first place. As for those strong boundaries about workplace relationships? i must have deluded myself into denying a conscious attraction to Kev; but in hindsight i must not have been entirely discrete in my admiration for Her. At the time, Kev was enjoying an exciting relationship with a biker dude who would sweep Her onto the back of his Harley for all manner of wild adventures on the open Arizona road. She anticipated those escapes with passion, and often roared back to our office ablaze with exhilaration. In those brief moments of coming and going, though, something about Her biker friend left me unsettled: he seemed to be inconsiderate, disrespectful and insensitive toward Her, in contrast to what i felt She deserved. And i am quite certain he didn’t appreciate Her astonishingly pretty knee!

i can only surmise that Her biker friend must have been doing some noticing of his own, picking up on cues of my attraction to what he already considered to be his “old lady.” i was ignorant about biker gang culture, and i didn’t like the way he ordered Her to do menial things for him. He was gruff, impatient, and told instead of asked. So i felt protective, like a good boss (and maybe more), and just wanted to be sure that Kev would be treated well.

My naivete left me blind to the trap he set when he one day dropped Kev back at our workplace after a ride “in the wind.” When Kev went inside, her biker friend looked me over for a moment or two; and then surprised me by mentioning that “the boys” would be holding a bonfire out at the cinder pits the next night, and asked might i like to come on by and have a beer or two?

Why i decided to show up that night still mystifies me. i did not know any of “the boys,” so i know it had something to do with my concern for Her. And “boys” meant i did not expect for Kev to show up there — though i spent many subsequent years so grateful that that She ultimately did! At any rate, i put on a Hawaiian shirt and shorts and sandals and drove my pickup out to the cinder pits the next night, with a case of cold Michelob beside me. Two miles down a deeply-rutted road i found the bonfire with ease, and then saw a ring of dozens of shiny bikes lined up, side by side, in a huge perimeter around it. i backed my truck in to the only clear space i saw, and felt like a fish out of water as i opened the passenger door to grab my cold contribution to whatever little party was already unfolding.

With my hands full, i began to walk toward the circle of bikes. As i approached the one bebek escort clear opening in the circle, Kev’s biker friend suddenly appeared in front of me. He was very solicitous, offering to carry the Michelob, and insisted that, before we walked further, i should take a gulp from the pint bottle of tequila he held out to me. As i flushed from that swallow he encouraged me to “Take another, so you can catch up to the rest of us.”

i remember seeing many of the other bikers approaching us, too, bearing wide smiles that contrasted sharply with the black leather wardrobes, adorned with chains and small weapons, that manifest as their common uniform. i felt a bit embarrassed about my shorts and brightly flowered silk shirt, and turned to look back at my truck for a moment (as if i might have a spare leather vest and chaps and pair of black boots there?). When i did, i was taken aback by the even larger group of bikers that had materialized behind me as i penetrated their shiny, Harley-ringed circle, alongside my beer-carrying escort, aware of the warmth coating my tequila-numbed throat.

There are very few gaps in my lifetime’s memory, but exactly what happened to me in those hours after i reached their inner circle and its bonfire remains a mystery to me, even now. i suspect my brain has chosen to bury the details beyond my recall to protect me from reliving the nightmare that obviously ensued. Years later, we even tried to use hypnosis by a psychiatrist friend to unlock the details of my experience that night, but to no avail. The evidence, though, speaks for itself.

Some combination of intoxication, a biker’s jealousy and vindictiveness, loyalty of a Harley Davidson brotherhood, tattooist needles and ink, and physical restraint forever changed my life that night. It is clear i was tortured in an astonishingly thorough manner for what must have been many hours. When i awoke late the next morning, laying on my back, disoriented on a couch inside a house i didn’t recognize, my whole body was stinging. When i opened my eyes i saw Keverly leaning over me. She was gently rubbing something greasy and soothing on my burning chest. My head ached with incredible, throbbing pain that pulsed audibly between my ears. i remember looking up into Her sympathetic eyes, and saw Her force a weak, compassionate smile. i think i smiled, too.

i must have passed out again, because the next time i opened my eyes, a clock in a corner read “11:11 PM.” Had i really slept away a whole day? i was covered with a light, silky sheet on the couch, and Kev was seated at the end. My bare feet, sticking out from the sheet, rested in Her lap. When She looked in my eyes i felt my heart leap. My surge of joy was tempered by the sensation of my whole body on fire, still smarting as it had before. i was folded into the sheet, so it was both beneath me, and shielding my nakedness. The room was dim. Kev sensed my awakening consciousness of these details. With a look of deep sympathy She reached for the dimmer switch on the wall beside Her and brightened the room halfway.

Puzzled, as i looked at Her i took in additional details: a large, hand-held mirror at Her side; a wastebasket full of smeared tissues. Something about my bare feet in Her lap caught my eye, and as She continued to rub them i saw She had playfully decorated them with little heart shapes on their tops, and on a few of my toes… Cute!

“How are you feeling?” She asked. i took stock of myself: i felt a combination of pain, peacefulness, confusion and joy that was hard to capture in words, so i just responded, “OK, i guess.” Immediately Kev said, “Oh, Frank. Last night — what were you doing there? I am so, so sorry!” What could She possibly have to apologize for?

Keverly rubbed my feet gently, but it really hurt when She touched those playful little heart designs. Catching my quizzical expression She said, “Believe me, it could have been so much worse!” Now i was really perplexed. Kev reached again for the light switch and brightened the room fully, so that my head throbbed again. She looked in my eyes, then glanced down to my feet, and back at my face. “I’m sorry, Frank — I did my best,” She said, sadly. “Those damned bikers… But — things are… changed.”

Her ominous hesitation coaxed me to emerge from my dreamy fog. i pressed my hands down on the couch to boost myself up to sitting — and my shoulders and back and neck began to sting even worse. Kev directed my eyes, with Hers, down to my feet, and forced a grin. “I guess we can call these ‘tat-toes,'” She said. i didn’t understand, and She explained, “These little hearts are tattoos — real ones.” She gently touched each of my toes that bore little black hearts — the second toe on each foot, and the pinky toes — one at a time. They burned a bit to her touch.


She nodded. Undeterred by my little gasp, Kev proceeded, with tender determination, to gradually introduce mecidiyeköy escort me to my new body. Beginning at my toes, She began to reveal to me an assortment of heart shapes — small and large, solidly colored or just outlined, clustered in designs or just random constellations — that were tattooed on my skin. She methodically dabbed a corner of Kleenex in a little cap of ointment, and then on each heart — and then She would kiss the heart. On the tops of my feet. On my ankles. She moved the sheet upward, slowly — on my calves, up my shins… (“Oh, right on the bone — those must really hurt!”)

i quickly grew anxious. Scared! Kev noticed and said, “Wait, calm down. Relax, Frank.” i tried to relax. “Take a deep breath.” Her voice got low, gentle. “Relax.” i willed myself to try to follow Her instructions. i took a deep breath, and another. i tried not to focus on my stinging toes, and feet, and legs, and made myself focus on “Relax” instead. She must have sensed my thoughts.

“Let’s make this fun. Let me start again.” So She returned to my four branded toes, and as i watched Her kiss each little heart She counted, “One… two… three… four.”

“Close your eyes,” She instructed. “Just count my kisses.” She kissed the top of first one foot (“five”), then the other (“six).” She returned to my ankles (“eight, nine…” i was whispering along with Her now). Up my shins (“twelve…”) and calves (“sixteen,” “seventeen…”). i felt Her gradually sliding the sheet up to my knees, and toward my thighs. “Don’t look — just feel My kisses.” They felt wonderful: a warm, gentle breath, followed by a precious little kiss each time.

i willed myself to keep my eyes closed, to simply take in the sensual experience. “Keep counting,” She whispered between several kisses on the tops of both knees. “24, 25, 26…” Sometimes She would trace a larger heart shape. “Ooo, that’s a big one.” The sheet moved delicately higher. In spite of myself my cock begin to stiffen as Her warm, whispery lips continued to inventory my heart tattoos. i felt embarrassed, but Kev said, “Don’t worry, sweetie,” and “It’s OK,” and “you sexy man.” Wow!

This wasn’t all bad. In spite of my jarring predicament i willed myself to succumb to Her tender spell, to let the experience come to me. i resolved only to keep my eyes shut, and to whisper my half of our counting duet. Kev traced the largest heart shapes yet, burned into the front of my upper legs: 34, 35, 36, 37… Ouch.

She prompted me to turn on my side — more stinging, but i focused on Her soft breaths and kisses, and on my counting. Evidently a speckling of many little hearts now on the back of each upper leg: 53, 54, 55, 56…

The sheet and Kev’s mouth moved slowly upward together, and now closed in on my private parts. i caught my breath, wondering… She christened a small, pink heart on each buttock, and rolled me gently over. In front, a heart on each side, just above my pubic hair. Then a pause, before moving northward. Whew! But now a wave of deep shame was triggered by my mental image of all those bikers laughing their drunken heads off while some held me down as their tattooist decorated my unconscious body in the blazing brightness of their devilish bonfire.

Kev moved steadily upward still. She had me roll slowly onto my stomach (ouch!), and then quickened Her pace to accomplish an almost interminable tally of tattoos from the bottom of my back to its top. She traced the largest heart shape yet, at the base of my spine. When She reached the point at its bottom where my butt cheeks separated, their facial counterparts reddened again, announcing my uncontrollable embarrassment.

“It’s OK,” She whispered. “Relax, Frank. Everything’s OK…”

85, 86… 103, 104, 105… Are you kidding — more than 100 tattoos?!

By the time Kev guided me to turn back over from my stomach i had already whispered “212.”

Good lord, my whole back must be completely covered! No wonder it burns so badly.

When the unbelievable inventory had accounted for my stomach and chest, my arms and shoulders, it had already registered Kev’s 400th kiss. Once more now i felt panic, as i had at my private parts. She had been working Her way up, up, and my Zen bliss could not withstand the temptation of worry about what still remained. Kev kissed the back of my neck, twice — “409, 410…” — and then stopped. My lips formed the obvious question, but i fought to hold on to it, bracing myself to just follow Her lead. i took a deep breath, and another… Just then Keverly kissed the point of my nose with a dramatically loud smack(!) and said, “OK — done!”

Oh my gawd!

i was devastated, and immediately touched the tip of my nose. i needed to know, “How big is the heart there?!”


My nose had not stung. Kev admonished me to keep my eyes closed. She seemed to giggle at my panic as She reached over to grab something, then florya escort said, “OK, open your eyes.” i did so, and in her handheld mirror saw only my usual nose, with no tattoo. i looked more closely in the mirror, and saw no hearts anywhere on my face. Whew!

Studying my evident relief, Kev tilted my head forward, twice kissed the back of my neck, and whispered, “These two back here are the last ones the assholes did before I got there and put an end to it. I’m so sorry, Frank!”

My hair is worn long, and covers hearts 09 and 10; but had Kev appeared at the bonfire even minutes later, clothing no longer could have covered up all the rest of the “lessons” the bikers made sure i would never forget.

Part 2

For the next several years i felt lucky and grateful that My brave Wife had saved the day, interrupting the bikers’ torture before they had permanently disfigured my face. She had spared me from a life as a Mike Tyson social pariah, which was the intended punishment for my attraction to this incredible young woman who was already claimed by a brother in a large gang of bikers. While i would always bear my neck-to-toe canvass of heart tattoos, Kev’s brave intervention had spared me from a fate so much worse!

At least that’s what i believed in those ensuing, happy, carefree years.

My naivete and curiosity and torture that fateful night were not Her fault. Still, the events that transformed my hide into a permanent Valentine seemed to seal our bond for good. Though i had acted on my own, i could tell Kev felt some responsibility for what had happened. From that night onward, She never gave me reason to think She was embarrassed to be seen with me. Her acceptance allowed me to recover from my ordeal with an attitude of gratitude and good fortune for avoiding a life of shame to be lived in the shadows. It took at least many weeks for me to start accepting as “me” the shocking figure in the bathroom mirror, the image that increasingly populated our growing photo albums. But Kev helped me to be open about it, so i might never be saddled with debilitating embarrassment about my unique appearance. She would often call me Her “sexy heart man,” and shortly before we wed, in an act of defiance of my punishment i surprised Her by having the words “i Love Kev” tattooed inside the big heart outline they had etched into the middle of my stomach.

Unexpectedly, my transformation on the outside produced liberation on the inside, too. Being able to face Kev openly, without shame, allowed me a feeling of safety, even in vulnerability, i hadn’t experienced before. i felt protected, uninhibited, and it bound me ever closer to Her. The intimacy we shared felt wonderful to me.

Indeed, my full-body branding enabled me to start coming to grips with, and admit to Kev, my previously repressed sensitivity — obsession? – with (of all things) moles on the human body. i had grown up with a large dark mole in the center of my stomach i had, in my youth, gone to great lengths to hide, but now the canvass of hearts effectively camouflaged it, and at the same time gave me perspective about how silly my youthful embarrassment had been. i realized it was more complicated, too — my sensitivity seemed actually to have spawned a fetish within me. Kev found it amusing, albeit curious, that i was so drawn to the large mole below her knee, and we both discovered that whenever She would caress any of several moles on my torso and neck that protrude above my skin it was guaranteed to give me a hard-on. So there it was: moles turned me on.

Kev did not judge me about this. In fact, She even took occasional snapshots of moles on girls, or pointed them out among other bathers at the beach, happily offered to me as little gifts. Moles became part of our sex play repertoire, and the best gift of all was a small, Marilyn Monroe-like beauty mark she had tattooed on Her lovely right cheek shortly before our daughter was born!

Kev’s acceptance of my admissions and quirks allowed me to share a unique safety and closeness with this one other person who loved me just as i am, despite (maybe even a little bit because of?) all my peculiarities. As our love and trust grew, we became more adventurous in our sexual explorations together. We role-played some mild S&M and bondage games, and we both soon perceived that i mainly gravitated toward the “bottom” role, and She as more the aggressor “on top.” After a fashion — though it surprised me to hear what i was saying — i began to admit to Her fantasies of sexual submission i was starting to entertain.

Without inhibition Kev joined me in exploring this new dimension of my/our sexuality. i learned more about my newly evident “kinkiness” (who knew?!) on the internet, and Kev began to check out many of the same websites i was visiting. Did She learn there how some women used their husband’s fantasies to their own advantage? At some point, and with my encouragement, She began to kick around the idea of Female Domination – “femdom.” Though i thought She was just participating in play that She knew excited me, like with our moles, She must have toyed within Herself about its possibility as an actual lifestyle for the two of us.

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