Lusty Lynn - Sexy Biker Nurse Ch. 02

Lynn followed the black limousine through the intersection in a left-hand turn with Justin hugging her close atop her Soft Tail. She digguh digguh digguh digguh'ed behind the limo's rear bumper around the corner, ever mindful of the driver's brake lights up ahead. The car pulled to a stop next to "The Lucky Horseshoe Tattoo Parlor and Piercing Studio," taking up several parking spaces as Stevie, the limo's driver decided to park along the edge of the sidewalk. It didn't matter that the stretch limousine's parking status was somewhat less than legal; it being after hours on a weekend. There was no need to feed the meter.

Inside, the establishment's lights flickered and the green and white OPEN sign indicated there was still business to be had. Stevie turned, dropped his rearview panel to look into the limousine's back. In the rear of the car, Nancy was busy polishing off a shot of Tequila with Flash, (and would have probably been polishing the rocker's knob had the ride been just a bit longer). Ignoring the spilled booze on the carpet, Stevie spoke to the veteran guitarist with respectful deference announcing,

"Well Mr. McDonegal, this is probably the best guy in town for the job you're looking for,"

"Thanks Stevie," Flash replied, grateful to have located a tattoo joint to keep his post-concert 'tradition' alive, "as soon as we're all done here, I'll be needing to get to the hotel."

With that Flash seized Nancy's hand, pulling her with a squeal through the open passenger door. A second later and Nancy's head and arm re-emerged that same entrance as she craned her neck around in a booze addled haze. Spying what she was looking for; she snatched up the tequila bottle; blowing a kiss to Stevie over the seat before she shut the passenger door to join Flash outside.

Up ahead of the limo, Lynn parked her bike and killed the engine. It coughed and died with a wheezing sputter of exhaust rattles as her new boyfriend, Justin, the cowboy motherfucker dismounted from behind her.

Lynn was absolutely jarred from the ride to the tattoo parlor (although only partially from her motorcycle). It seemed the whole trip over from the fairgrounds; every time she'd hit the brakes on her bike she could smell the man-funk of "Cowboy Motherfucker;" all musky heady and strong, and wafting about her like a testosterone fog. Those particular notes of "he-scent" made her a bit nuts in a happy-horny way, to say the least.

Adding to her state of agitation state was the fact that her cowboy passenger had pulled himself up close to her and been anything but a gentleman. She didn't mind that fact at all to be truthful. His hands took the liberty of roaming up and down her body as if she were a guitar neck; tweaking her boobs here, dipping a finger beneath the elastic of her thong there, (fiddling both her nipples and clit until they were swollen angry nubs).

She was now horny as a bat out of hell, (and consequently wet as a Texas seawall during storm season)! Whatever was going to happen in this goddamned tattoo parlor; she wanted it over and done with soon, (so she could get this hot sonovabitch back to the hotel where she fully intended make him scream like a bitch for his momma in a king-sized bed). Payback was hell, and she was now fully prepared raise it with him.

Lynn and Justin joined-up with Flash and Nancy at the curb. The four entered the Lucky Horsehoe. A female tattoo artist was ringing up a customer over at the cash register and she bid the four a friendly 'Hello' upon entry.

As the group took in the surroundings they could see the place most definitely catered to the biker and rocker crowd. Although they'd never been in before... they were home.

All along the walls were electric guitars in a myriad of shapes and sizes. In contrast to the normal comfy chairs one would've expected in such an establishment, there were an assortment of antique motorcycles and curiously, a few hard plaster horses; all bolted to the floor to prevent them from tipping. Customers had their choice between seats atop a vintage motorcycle or mounted on a faux pony riding tall in the saddle.

Somebody had gone out of their way to make this more than just an electric ink experience. The place oozed a cool sort of trendy hipness to it, mixed with campy fun. This would do, oh yeah it would. In fact, it would 'do' ...and then some!

Nick the proprietor (and chief artist as it turned out), struck up a conversation with Flash just as Nick finished with his last customer. Nick had recognized Flash straight away as he'd entered but didn't say anything right off, (as he was finishing a skull and rose tramp-stamp on a young woman he'd been laboring meticulously on for quite some time). With the girl up and out of the way, the forty-five-year-old artist with his long salt and pepper ponytail and droopy mustache took a few minutes to show off his establishment for the benefit of the four visitors.

During the course of the show and tell, Nick and Flash began to discuss what sort of tattoo the aging rocker was looking for, (in between comments concerning the merits of one guitar hanging on Nick's wall as opposed to another instrument hanging only a few feet away). It was quite clear both men were on the same wavelength. It was a forgone conclusion really; for here were two artists, one for whom the human body was his canvas, and the other whose medium was raw sound that could transform audiences into seas of head-banging worshipers as he plucked magic from a guitar. Both men knew their craft and both could communicate effortlessly in a sort of rocker-renegade language. It was all quite exciting stuff for Nancy and Lynn who both watched in quiet awe.

The only other one in the establishment in any kind of awe was Tina, the other artist. She'd been ringing up a customer as the four had entered and she now had her eye on the cowboy motherfucker.

She'd recognized him from a series of performances at local rocker bars in the area. She knew what she saw, and just like Lynn before; she liked what she saw, (for damned sure)! Funny, she noticed he wasn't wearing his cowboy hat... the short 'MILFie wench' standing next to Flash who'd lost most of her clothes was? What the fuck? Oh well, Tina couldn't care less, he was here in the tattoo shop and she was there too!

Flash explained how he wanted a little something for his sleeves that would help him remember Flagstaff. Nick suggested skyline of the snow-capped San Francisco Peaks with a Route 66 sign superimposed in front of them, hearkening back to the days when the highway passed by the city.

Flash appreciated the concept after Nick drew it all out on piece of scrap paper and that was that. In no time the veteran rocker was seated atop one of the vintage motorcycles with his arm up; receiving the electric kiss of the tattoo needle from the master artist.

As Lynn, Nancy, and Justin the cowboy motherfucker looked on, Nick transformed one more segment of Flash's fore-arm into one more bit of human tapestry. Soon the outline of the San Francisco Peaks, the natural skyline for Flagstaff created by Mother Nature's skillful hands was clearly visible, as was a Route 66 highway sign a short time later. At last, Nick surveyed his lines with satisfaction and began to add colors.

It was about this time that Nancy, already feeling the buzz of the tequila; now found herself turned on by the buzz of the artist's needle. At first she'd kept a respectful distance and just let Nick work on her new-found rocker lover Flash, but now she leaned in close and watched as intently as if she was watching a new born babe arriving in the delivery room back at Healing Hands Memorial Hospital where she and Lynn worked.

"You like to see ink done?" Nick asked her.

"It's all about man-flesh being marked up and yes, it draws out the primitive in me," Nancy admitted; nearly hypnotized by the activity before her very eyes.

"So ...you have any tats yourself?"

"Oh I have a nice little one here," she said spinning around and displaying her perfect heart-shaped ass.

For a moment Nick scrutinized her hummingbird tramp-stamp tattoo with its two twisty vines that formed little leafy hearts. It was good work, but he could do better. He prided himself in that fact. His thoughts were interrupted by Nancy adding with a wink,

"but I've been thinking about adding more to it."

"Well," said Nick thoughtfully, "I could perhaps put some of my own embellishments back there, if you'd like. I am almost done with Flash here."

"Ooh," Nancy thought, "how could I refuse a good inking from a sexy fellah like yourself!"

"I tell you what," Nick added, "I'll even do your tramp-stamp work no charge. You and Flash get a two for one deal!"

"Tell you what mate," Flash added appreciating Nick's ink-work on his arm, "you give us a two for one deal like you say and you can help yourself to her arse?"

"Really," Nick asked checking both Flash and Nancy's faces for even the slightest hint of insincerity, "you'd let me fuck your girlfriend for free tattoo work?"

His eye's once more met those of Flash (who was all serious about this), then his glance turned to Nancy who was all emphatic grins and nods. Tequila; it's been helping people make sketchy-ass decisions since the sixteenth century... and it's still going strong. Anyhow, Nancy had two little provisos.

"In addition to the little embellishments to my tramp-stamp could you do another hummingbird down in my pubic area, like he's taking a sip from my pussy flower? Oh and the other thing hon, I was wondering if you could fuck me while giving me that tattoo? I've always wanted to be fucked while having ink done. It's a little 'pervy thing' of mine...my own special kink, and its something I've always wanted done!"

There was a pregnant pause as Nancy batted her eyes at Nick. Lynn, Justin, and Tina listening from over at the cash box; all craned necks out of curiosity and waited for Nick's response. Nancy studied his face, wrinkling her nose and winking at him in an effort to get him to cave-in and agree.

"Deal!" said a now grinning Nick, who was just finishing up with Flash and shaking the aging rock star's hand; sealing the transaction.

Tina locked the door and flipped the closed sign around before shutting the blinds. She then flicked off the lights in the reception area and returned back to the main floor of the tattoo parlor. This was going to be good and she didn't want interruptions whatsoever... for ANY of them!

*****

Nancy's thong hit the floor. Her leopard spandex had long since waived bye-bye and was either back in the limo or back at the trailer at the fairgrounds; truth was; she couldn't recall or care! Now she was absolutely bare-assed down below with her black biker jacket and red n' black bra up top, (along with Justin's stolen Stetson atop her head). She was a sight... the ever-present tequila bottle in her hands was the perfect "finishing touch."

She started to saunter-up to one of the bikes for her special inking. Despite the fact it was bolted to the floor; her "cowgirl meets twelves-step program" swagger gave Nick other ideas.

Nick suggested Nancy take a different venue. Instead of one of the motorcycles or a plastic horse, he thought one of the low western saddles slung across the floor might be better. They were much easier to move around and less likely for anyone to fall from, (and if you fell, you didn't fall far). He must have been worried about potential lawsuits, but hey... he was still horny as fuck and Nancy was 'givin up the tail n' all! '

A minute later and Nick and Flash had rearranged a few of the small saddles on the floor. Apparently this tattoo-fuck escapade was to be a spectator or group effort and Nick had figured they all might as well be comfortable.

The suddenness of everything and the impromptu spirit of this 'thing that was to come,' took Lynn a little off guard but she decided to simply go with the flow. As people settled down to make themselves comfortable on the saddles she reached for the cowboy motherfucker's hand... only to grasp air!

Where the fuck was Justin?

She spun around just in time to see Justin her cowboy motherfucker in shining denim, being led off to a corner by Tina. There the two secured another saddle; bringing it close those already tossed about on the floor.

It was a huge WHAT THE FUCK moment for Lynn. Her heart seethed with jealousy and she could clearly detect a look across Tina's face that said, 'HAH! Stole yer boyfriend!'

Lynn fumed.

"It's alright hon," Tina smirked, "I am just borrowing him, you'll get him back!"

Tina snapped her fingers at her cowboy captive who shrugged his shoulders and looked at Lynn beseechingly. This had not been his plan and his face said as much but he was rolling with it. A second later he was pushed down to the saddle on the floor.

Lynn was annoyed as all-fuck but she knew better than to engage in disputes over toys. He was a rocker, and Tina looked like a rather seasoned groupie. In this world it didn't pay to be too terribly possessive with sex, (or anything else for that matter). You shared music, you shared lovers, you shared your stash... it was the rocker code.

Besides... she had no business feeling jealous; not with her hubby Mr. D out there somewhere this weekend toiling away on a construction gig. No... she'd need to be a big girl and share her fuckin toys.

Flash sensed something awkward and uncomfortable building between Tina and Lynn. He decided to intervene and keep it all friendly and cordial. Lynn found her hand yanked towards the veteran rocker as he pulled her by his freshly tatted arm down to his saddle/floor cushion.

"Come on down here luv," he purred to her, "I have plans for you at the moment. Like Tina said, you'll get Justin back soon enough and besides; you and I need to be here cheering on Nancy."

It was Lynn's turn to just shrug. She remembered to just roll with things and to just expect the unexpected. It was the best way to view sex. It was a handy way to view life. She joined Flash on the floor, plopping down in his lap while he reclined against his saddle.

In front of them Nancy was plopped down upon a black western saddle as if it were an Ottoman; her resting on the floor and separated shoulder-width apart. Her black leather jacket matched the saddle's coal-tar shade; except that the piece of Western riding gear was studded with several rows of fancy brass nails all about its exterior for embellishment. In stark contrast to all the dark leather was her sexy tanned heart-shaped hiney; which peeked out beneath the back of her jacket and rested bare on the saddle-seat, (in flagrant violation of several health code restrictions addressing rectums, genitals, and loins of patrons; 'not being allowed to come in contact with seating during the act of tattooing').

Local ordinances were a hoot... just ask Nick! He was now kneeling between Nancy's slightly raised knees; his jeans already down to the tops of his cowboy boots as he prepared his inks and needle (plus something else he intended to stick nasty nurse Nancy with).

Oh and what a "Nancy sticker," it was!

Through the tequila-soaked haze, Nancy craned her Stetson-topped head and looked down at the dong Nick was preparing to stick her with. It was a big ten-incher that was as big around as an energy drink can, and it looked angry as fuck with its veins and ridges! Her chin quivered a bit as her mouth fell open.

Yep, she thought happily behind two wide eyes... he'd do! He'd soooo fucking do!

She reclined back on the saddle-seat; raising her knees as if invisible OBGYN stirrups were holding them up. Lynn read her mind and came up to sit on her knees behind Nancy; holding her nurse-girlfriend's back and literally, 'offering up support.' Behind Lynn, Flash (who'd already shucked off his jeans and boots), had pulled his saddle even closer to the affair, (so that he might sit on his own leather seat while shimmying his cock up to Lynn's delectable derriere).

Nick brought the bell-end of his cock up to Nancy's pussy. Giving his stiffy a couple of strokes up and down her slit from clit to puss-hole and back, he made Nancy release a happy squeak of approval before he carefully pushed forward into her cunt. He wasn't wasting much time.

Lynn shot a glance over at the saddle containing Tina and the cowboy motherfucker, just a few feet away. They weren't wasting their time either it seemed!

Tina had pushed Justin back against the saddle so it supported him like an easy chair. With a strength that surprised the cowboy motherfucker (and Lynn who was watching the whole thing with jealous interest), Nick's common law wife (and best female tattoo artist in town), popped his belt buckle open like it was a bra-strap and yanked his britches down to his knees in one tug. She obviously had skills beyond pushing ink under skin... mad skillz in fact!

'DAMN,' thought Lynn. 'JUST DAMN!'

It wasn't Tina's strength or dexterity that completely knocked Lynn over, however; it was what she'd uncovered. Cowboy motherfucker was hung like a 4H project in a stall at the goddamned county fucking fair! She knew those long-ass guitar pluckin motherfuckin fingers were an indication of...

OHHH DAMN GIRL; JUST FUCKING DAMN!

Off came Tina's hoodie. She flicked her T-shirt and bra to the floor before kicking off her jeans and panties. Now delightfully unencumbered, she swayed her hips from side to side and ran a hand up through her blonde mane in a total display of brazen exhibitionism designed to provoke the women present; as much as to garner attention from the appreciative male audience.

Again, all that Lynn could do was mutter DAMN, under her breath.

Lynn had seen bits of ink on her wrists and neck, guessing correctly that she at least had sleeves, when she'd first caught a glimpse of Tina upon entering earlier, but she'd not been at all prepared for this. Tina... or Tattoo Tina as she often went by, was an intricate female tapestry; pure and simple.

Everywhere that Lynn looked on Tina's body she saw patterns of faces, skulls, primitive runes, and the naked human form; over and over again in wonderfully vibrant, blues, greens, reds, yellows and even flashes of orange. Most impressive was a massive orgy containing hundreds of writhing hedonists in countless variations of sexual activity; as if someone had simply slapped the illustrated Kama-Sutra upon her shoulders and allowed it to run down her spine to the heart-shaped cheeks of her ass where it congealed into a mass of cocks cunts breasts and heaving asses.

Also she was sculpted. She had a hard flat tummy women hated her for, and an ass and limbs that said, 'Oh you did planks for five whole minutes? That's so cute hon!' For a thirty-six-year-old MILF, Tina also had kept her ass in the gym when it wasn't getting inked up... and pierced. Oh yeah there were piercings.

Body-piercing in fact had been Tina's first 'thing' early on. Before she'd ever pushed ink into the arm of another human, she'd had her nose and nipples 'done.' Her clit followed suit and before you knew it; she was learning how to do it to others for cold hard cash. It paid her bills.

Always the show-off, she just had to turn around and give Lynn and everyone else a 'lookie-look' of her 'body-bling.' Her pierced nose had been nothing too remarkable when Lynn had first laid eyes on her, but those jutting 36D's were pierced with shiny silver barbells that gave her red bon-bon nipples a permanent titty-hard-on by the looks of things. Down below, she had a large silver ring through her hood with what looked like a tiny ball of silver resting smack-bang on top of her clit-head, (again keeping her at a state of arousal that must have been perpetual for her).