In the dimly lit tattoo parlor, the hum of the needle was the only sound that filled the air. The Indian artist, his hands steady and sure, etched intricate patterns into the skin of his client. She was a young woman, her body adorned with vibrant colors and bold lines, each tattoo telling a story of its own.
As the last line was finished, the artist looked up at his creation and smiled. “It is done,” he said, his voice low and husky.
The woman stood up, her body on fire with the pain and pleasure of the fresh ink. She looked at the artist, her eyes filled with desire. “I want to thank you,” she whispered, her voice seductive.
The artist raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “How do you wish to thank me?”
The woman reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the ground. She stood before him, her breasts bared, the ink on her skin glistening in the dim light.
The artist couldn’t help but stare, his eyes taking in every inch of her. He swallowed hard, his cock already stirring in his pants.
The woman stepped closer, her body pressing against his. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.
Their lips met in a passionate dance, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths. The artist’s hands roamed over her body, his fingers tracing the lines of her tattoos, the feel of the ink on her skin driving him wild.
She pulled back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Take me to the shower,” she whispered, her voice filled with desire.
The artist led her to the back room, turning on the water and adjusting the temperature. The woman stepped under the spray, her body slick with water and ink.
The artist stepped in behind her, his hands on her hips. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her shoulder, his tongue tracing the lines of her tattoos.
The woman moaned, her head falling back against his chest. “Yes,” she whispered, her hands reaching behind her to grip his ass.
The artist’s hands roamed over her body, his fingers teasing her nipples, the water making them even more sensitive. He reached down and slipped a hand between her legs, his fingers finding her clit.
The woman moaned louder, her hips bucking against his hand. “Yes, oh god yes,” she cried out, her orgasm building.
The artist continued to tease her, his fingers moving faster and faster. The woman cried out, her orgasm crashing over her.
The artist turned her around, his lips finding hers once again. He lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. He pressed her against the shower wall, his cock sliding into her wet and waiting pussy.
They moved together, their bodies slick with water and ink. The woman moaned, her nails digging into his back. “Yes, harder,” she cried out, her hips meeting his thrust for thrust.
The artist fucked her harder, their bodies slapping together. The woman cried out, her orgasm building once again. She came hard, her pussy clenching around his cock.
The artist couldn’t hold back any longer, his own orgasm crashing over him. He cried out, his cum filling her pussy.
They stood there, their bodies entwined, the water raining down on them. The ink on their skin running down the drain, a memory of their passion.
“Thank you,” the woman whispered, her lips brushing against his.
The artist smiled, his hands still on her hips. “The pleasure was all mine,” he whispered, his lips finding hers once again.
