The buzzing of the tattoo machine filled the room, a low hum that vibrated through my chest as I lay back on the leather chair. My tank top was already pushed down, the fabric pooling just above my navel, exposing the smooth skin across my collarbone. The air in the room was cool, and I could feel my nipples hardening under the thin layer of ointment Matt had applied earlier. I didn’t mind. I’d been here before—this wasn’t my first tattoo. But something about this time felt… different.Matt’s hands were steady as he worked, his fingers pressing into my skin to stretch it taut for the needle. He was quiet, focused, his dark eyes fixed on the design he was etching into me. I’d chosen something bold—a delicate vine that curled across the top of my chest, just low enough to peek out from the neckline of my favorite tops. It was sexy, and I wanted it to feel that way. But I hadn’t expected this.His fingers brushed against the curve of my breast as he wiped away excess ink, and I felt a shiver run through me. It was quick, almost accidental, but it sent a jolt of heat straight to my core. I bit my lip, trying to stay still, but my body was already reacting. My breath hitched, and I could feel my pulse quickening beneath his touch.He didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me. Just kept working, his movements calm and deliberate. But then it happened again. His fingers lingered this time, circling the edge of my breast as he smoothed the ointment over the fresh ink. My heart was pounding now, and I could feel the warmth spreading between my thighs. I glanced up at him, but his expression was unreadable, his focus entirely on the tattoo.“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and steady.I nodded, my throat suddenly dry. “Yeah,” I managed to whisper. “It feels… good.”The corner of his mouth twitched, almost like a smirk, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin as he continued to work. His fingers moved with purpose now, pressing and rubbing in a way that felt intentional. Every touch sent a wave of heat through me, and I could feel myself getting wetter with each passing second.The buzzing of the machine seemed to fade into the background as I focused on the sensation of his hands on me. His fingers grazed my nipple again, this time without the barrier of gloves, and I had to bite back a moan. My body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with anticipation. I could feel the tension building inside me, a slow, delicious ache that made it hard to think straight.He paused for a moment, his hand resting lightly on my chest as he looked up at me. “You’re doing good,” he said, his voice soft but firm.I swallowed hard, my heart racing. “Thanks,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.He held my gaze for a moment longer before returning to his work, his touch becoming even more deliberate. His fingers traced the curve of my breast, lingering just long enough to make me squirm. I could feel the wetness between my thighs, and I knew he had to notice—the way my breath hitched, the way my body responded to his every touch.By the time he finished, I was trembling, my chest flushed and sensitive from the ink and his hands. He wiped away the last bit of ointment, his fingers dragging lower than necessary as he did so. My breath caught in my throat, and I could feel the heat pooling in my core.“Come back if you want more,” he said casually, stepping back to admire his work.I nodded, my mind still reeling from the intensity of it all. “I will,” I whispered, my voice shaky.He handed me a mirror so I could see the finished tattoo, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was perfect—exactly what I’d wanted. But as I looked at him, standing there with that calm, confident expression, I knew this wasn’t just about the ink. There was something else between us, something unspoken but undeniable.I stood up slowly, my legs still unsteady, and reached for my tank top. As I pulled it back on, I caught his eyes flicker down to my chest for just a moment before he looked away. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a rush of heat flood my cheeks.“Thanks,” I said, my voice steadier now. “It’s amazing.”He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Anytime.”I turned to leave, but as I reached for the door, I hesitated. My body was still humming with the memory of his touch, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over. Not yet.“Maybe lower next time,” I said softly, glancing back at him.His eyes met mine, and for a moment, the air between us crackled with tension. Then he nodded, that same calm confidence in his expression. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The buzzing of the tattoo machine filled the room, a low hum that vibrated through my chest as I lay back on the leather chair. My tank top was already pushed down, the fabric pooling just above my navel, exposing the smooth skin across my collarbone. The air in the room was cool, and I could feel my nipples hardening under the thin layer of ointment Matt had applied earlier. I didn’t mind. I’d been here before—this wasn’t my first tattoo. But something about this time felt… different.

Matt’s hands were steady as he worked, his fingers pressing into my skin to stretch it taut for the needle. He was quiet, focused, his dark eyes fixed on the design he was etching into me. I’d chosen something bold—a delicate vine that curled across the top of my chest, just low enough to peek out from the neckline of my favorite tops. It was sexy, and I wanted it to feel that way. But I hadn’t expected *this*.

His fingers brushed against the curve of my breast as he wiped away excess ink, and I felt a shiver run through me. It was quick, almost accidental, but it sent a jolt of heat straight to my core. I bit my lip, trying to stay still, but my body was already reacting. My breath hitched, and I could feel my pulse quickening beneath his touch.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me. Just kept working, his movements calm and deliberate. But then it happened again. His fingers lingered this time, circling the edge of my breast as he smoothed the ointment over the fresh ink. My heart was pounding now, and I could feel the warmth spreading between my thighs. I glanced up at him, but his expression was unreadable, his focus entirely on the tattoo.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

I nodded, my throat suddenly dry. “Yeah,” I managed to whisper. “It feels… good.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost like a smirk, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin as he continued to work. His fingers moved with purpose now, pressing and rubbing in a way that felt intentional. Every touch sent a wave of heat through me, and I could feel myself getting wetter with each passing second.

The buzzing of the machine seemed to fade into the background as I focused on the sensation of his hands on me. His fingers grazed my nipple again, this time without the barrier of gloves, and I had to bite back a moan. My body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with anticipation. I could feel the tension building inside me, a slow, delicious ache that made it hard to think straight.

He paused for a moment, his hand resting lightly on my chest as he looked up at me. “You’re doing good,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. “Thanks,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

He held my gaze for a moment longer before returning to his work, his touch becoming even more deliberate. His fingers traced the curve of my breast, lingering just long enough to make me squirm. I could feel the wetness between my thighs, and I knew he had to notice—the way my breath hitched, the way my body responded to his every touch.

By the time he finished, I was trembling, my chest flushed and sensitive from the ink and his hands. He wiped away the last bit of ointment, his fingers dragging lower than necessary as he did so. My breath caught in my throat, and I could feel the heat pooling in my core.

“Come back if you want more,” he said casually, stepping back to admire his work.

I nodded, my mind still reeling from the intensity of it all. “I will,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

He handed me a mirror so I could see the finished tattoo, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was perfect—exactly what I’d wanted. But as I looked at him, standing there with that calm, confident expression, I knew this wasn’t just about the ink. There was something else between us, something unspoken but undeniable.

I stood up slowly, my legs still unsteady, and reached for my tank top. As I pulled it back on, I caught his eyes flicker down to my chest for just a moment before he looked away. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a rush of heat flood my cheeks.

“Thanks,” I said, my voice steadier now. “It’s amazing.”

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Anytime.”

I turned to leave, but as I reached for the door, I hesitated. My body was still humming with the memory of his touch, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over. Not yet.

“Maybe lower next time,” I said softly, glancing back at him.

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, the air between us crackled with tension. Then he nodded, that same calm confidence in his expression. “Whenever you’re ready.”

A young woman, Ava, seeks a bold tattoo from a quiet, tattooed artist named Matt. What begins as a routine tattoo session quickly takes a sensual turn as Matt's deliberate touches ignite an unexpected desire within Ava, blurring the lines between professionalism and intimacy.

He played with my tits while tattooing my chest

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