The Tattooist's Tremendous Tool - Sex Stories

The Tattooist's Tremendous Tool

... it?”

“Partly, I think, but also the situation; you, right there, and me, all spread-eagled and exposed, it’s just... even the pain plays a part somehow, it hurts so good!” He laughed, and I went on, “You sometimes rest the heel of your hand right on my clit, you know, while you work… and wiggle it.”

He blushed but laughed. “Sorry. I’m unaware of it because I’m so focused on the needle and ink. That makes you horny?”

“Well, sure. My God! Plus, you’re hovering over my pussy, and you know I think you’re pretty hot.” He was, too, with his walnut brown skin, black hair, and dark eyes. He’s a stud, over six feet tall, muscular, and sexy as hell. He’d featured in a few very steamy, panty-wetting fantasies ever since I got my first honu, and now, alone with him between my legs with me half-naked, in the room he’d locked earlier before everyone left, so nobody could wander in...

“And I can feel your breath on me when you breathe out.” I’d felt his breath caress my aroused sex several times as he bent close, and it was making me crazy horny! I’d been intensely aware of his bulge in our last session when he’d done the butterfly a few inches higher on my pelvis and I’d lain there in just my skimpy (and wet) panties, rolled down slightly to avoid ink stains but still covering my vulva. I was sure he could smell my arousal, but whatever, he’d appeared to be hugely erect, his cock outlined against his thin pants, as it was again now.

“What should we do? I can’t have you ...

... wiggling around.”

“I don’t know. Something…” The previous time we’d left his tattoo parlor we’d moved my truck to a quiet spot by the river, and Gina and I had taken turns getting each other off orally, each enjoying several arousal-relieving orgasms before I could drive us home. She said it had almost killed her when he’d done a small spray of flowers on her mound, but she’d reassured me that he was a gentleman about it.

“You want me to give you a few minutes?”

I realized at once that he was offering me a chance to masturbate to relieve the need, which sounded good, but I amazed myself when I said, “Or you could help.”

I heard him exhale sharply, but when I took his rubber-gloved hand and guided it to my sex, something I don’t think he’d have ever done on his own, he touched me willingly – eagerly, even, and I moaned as my hips came back to life. He stroked my puffy lips and stiff clit, and when he pushed two fingers into my eager sex I almost came; when I pulled that hand to my lips and sucked my juices from the smooth glove I think he almost did.

“Rayne, you sure?” When I nodded, he reentered me with the same two fingers, his thumb skillfully working my clit this time, and I came quickly, grinding myself onto his fingers. After I’d climaxed, I slowly pulled his hand free and raised the dripping, blue nitrile-clad fingers to his lips this time, where he breathed in my sex pheromones before enthusiastically lapping up my liquid arousal. When he’d finished cleaning ...