The hum of the tattoo gun faded into silence, leaving only the soft buzz of the studio’s overhead lights and the lingering scent of antiseptic in the air. Catherine exhaled slowly, her fingers tracing the delicate outline of the fresh rose tattoo just beneath her ear, the skin still warm and slightly tender. Beside her, Elle mirrored the motion, her own tattoo—identical in design—glinting under the light as she adjusted the neckline of her top to let it peek through. The new nipple piercings, still sensitive, throbbed with every shift of fabric against them, a constant reminder of the evening’s indulgence.
Catherine turned toward the tattoo artist, a woman whose hands had been steady and sure as she worked, her dark eyes flickering with amusement at the way the two blondes had squirmed and moaned through the process.
“Sorry for the… distractions,” Catherine murmured, her voice husky, the ghost of a smirk playing on her lips. The artist chuckled, shaking her head as she wiped her hands on a clean towel.
“No problem, sweetheart,” she purred, her gaze lingering on the way Catherine’s top clung to her pierced nipples, the metal catching the light with every breath. “You two were very entertaining.” She stepped closer, her fingers brushing lightly over Elle’s shoulder before her lips pressed against the warm skin just below the fresh tattoo—a soft, lingering kiss. Then, without warning, she dipped her head lower, her mouth finding Elle’s nipple first, her tongue flicking against the cold metal of the piercing before she did the same to Catherine. The contact was brief but electric, sending a jolt straight between their legs. Both women gasped, their bodies arching instinctively toward the touch before the artist pulled back with a satisfied smirk. “Take care of those,” she murmured, her voice thick with unspoken suggestion. “And enjoy the rest of your night.”
The walk home was a blur of heightened senses—every brush of fabric against their piercings, every shift of their tops against the fresh tattoos, sent fresh waves of arousal coursing through them. By the time they stepped through the front door, their skin was flushed, their breaths shallow with anticipation. The apartment was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the living room. They collapsed onto the sofa, their bodies pressing together, the heat between them almost unbearable. Catherine’s fingers found Elle’s, their thumbs tracing slow, teasing circles over each other’s palms as they waited.
The sound of the front door opening snapped them both to attention. Greg stepped inside, his tie loosened, his briefcase dropped carelessly by the door as he rubbed at his temples. “Fuck, what a day—” he started, but the words died in his throat as his gaze landed on them. His eyes widened, locking onto the way their tops dipped just enough to reveal the glint of metal at their nipples, the delicate piercings peeking out from beneath the fabric. His cock twitched, thickening in his slacks before he’d even fully processed what he was seeing. “What the hell…?” he breathed, his voice rough.
Catherine and Elle exchanged a slow, knowing glance before, in unison, they reached up and swept their hair to the sides, baring the full view of their new tattoos—the roses in full bloom, vibrant and fresh against their skin. Greg’s breath hitched, his cock now fully hard, straining against his zipper. “You two were supposed to be at the movies,” he managed, his voice tight with need.
“We got distracted,” Elle purred, her fingers toying with the hem of her top, inching it higher to give him a better view of her pierced nipples. The metal glinted under the light, the sight of it making Greg’s cock throb painfully. Catherine didn’t wait for more. She stood, closing the distance between them in three long strides, her hands immediately going to his belt. “Looks like you’re distracted now,” she murmured against his lips before kissing him hard, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth. Greg groaned, his hands finding her waist, pulling her flush against him so she could feel exactly how much he wanted them.
Elle was on her feet a second later, pressing against his other side, her lips trailing along his jaw, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. “We’ve been so bad,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. “Think you can punish us properly?” Greg’s answer was a growl, his hands rough as he shoved them both back toward the sofa. He didn’t bother with finesse—his belt was undone in seconds, his cock springing free, already leaking at the tip. Elle’s skirt was hiked up before she could blink, her panties torn aside as Greg dropped to his knees in front of her, his mouth crashing against her pussy without warning.
Elle cried out, her back arching as his tongue plunged inside her, lapping at her wetness before focusing on her clit, sucking hard. Catherine watched, her own fingers already working between her legs, her free hand tugging at her nipple piercing, the sharp sting sending a fresh wave of arousal through her. Greg didn’t stay down for long. He stood abruptly, his cock in hand, the head pressing against Elle’s entrance. “Fuck, you’re dripping,” he groaned, before slamming into her in one rough thrust.
Elle screamed, her nails digging into the sofa cushions as he bottomed out inside her, his cock stretching her deliciously. Greg didn’t give her time to adjust—he pulled back and thrust again, harder this time, his balls slapping against her ass with every snap of his hips. Catherine couldn’t take it anymore. She straddled his face where he knelt, her pussy hovering just above his mouth. “Eat me,” she demanded, her voice sharp with need. Greg groaned against her, the vibration making her shudder, before his tongue delved inside her, fucking her with the same relentless rhythm he used on Elle.
The room filled with the sounds of their pleasure—Elle’s breathless moans as Greg pounded into her, the wet slaps of skin on skin, Catherine’s gasps as his tongue worked her clit, her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “Harder,” Elle begged, her voice breaking. “Fuck, harder—” Greg obliged, his thrusts becoming brutal, his cock pistoning in and out of her soaked pussy. Catherine’s orgasm crashed over her first, her body locking up as she came with a choked cry, her juices coating Greg’s chin. The taste of her seemed to push him over the edge—he snarled, yanking out of Elle just as she screamed, her own climax ripping through her, her pussy clenching around nothing as cum spilled down her thighs.
Before Elle could recover, Greg had her flipped onto her stomach, his cock pressing against Catherine’s entrance this time. He didn’t tease—he drove into her in one rough stroke, filling her completely. Catherine moaned, her back arching, her hands flying to her breasts, tugging at her piercings as Greg fucked her with deep, punishing thrusts. Elle, still trembling from her own orgasm, crawled forward, her mouth finding Catherine’s nipple, her tongue flicking against the metal before she sucked hard, the sensation making Catherine whimper.
“Fuck, yes—” Catherine gasped, her pussy clenching around Greg’s cock as Elle’s mouth worked her piercing, the dual sensations overwhelming. Greg’s hands gripped her hips, his thrusts becoming erratic as his own release built. “Gonna cum,” he grunted, his voice raw. “Fuck, I’m gonna—” Catherine’s second orgasm hit her like a freight train, her body convulsing as she came, her walls milking his cock. Greg roared, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, his cum flooding her in hot, thick pulses.
They collapsed in a heap—Greg sandwiched between them, his cock still twitching inside Catherine, Elle’s head resting against his shoulder as her fingers traced lazy patterns over his chest. The air was thick with the scent of sex, their skin slick with sweat, their breaths slowly steadying. Greg reached up, his thumbs brushing over their nipple piercings before pressing a kiss to each one, his lips lingering. “Perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. Catherine and Elle smiled, their bodies still humming, the new tattoos and piercings a permanent testament to the night’s decadence.
Greg’s fingers traced the outline of the roses on their skin, his touch reverent. “Mine,” he growled softly, more to himself than to them. Elle laughed, the sound low and content, as she shifted to press a kiss to his jaw. “Yours,” she agreed. Catherine hummed in agreement, her hand sliding down to cup his spent cock, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Always.”
The promise hung between them, heavy and sweet, as the last of the daylight faded outside. There would be more nights like this—more ink, more metal, more desperate, filthy love. But for now, this was enough. More than enough.
