I've fallen in lust with a lot of hands over the years.
The muscular and veiny hands of a certain fuck buddy. Every part of him strong and sadistic. His fingers would wrap around my throat, our eyes locked so he could sense the exact moment I needed him to release me for a gasp of air before he clasped my neck again. Or the times the outline of his handprint was left on my flesh after a good beating.
The lovely long digits topped with impeccably done nails of a once upon a time lover. Everything about her graceful and stereotypically feminine in ways I'll never be. My rough hands with chipped nails traced her ample breasts and long curls. As her manicure would dance along my body, delicate and nurturing until they weren't. Until they grabbed at my flesh stealing the air from my lungs with the suddenness of her measured cruelty.
The callused and wrinkled fingers of the photographer. The one I broke all my rules for and fucked. It was because of those old and weathered hands deftly handling rope, running it through his palms delicately to create works of art. The contrast of knowing the rest of his day those same hands held tools of blue collar work. Hammering and drilling machines by day only to carefully weave rope on the bodies of the models he worked with at night. I treasured the moment that he would finish binding me and use those dirty old man hands to hurt or pleasure me. Sometimes both at the same time.
I'm in lust with my current love's hands for entirely different reasons. They aren't physically strong or aesthetically beguiling, however in the dark they create magic. It's rare to meet a largely straight fella who is so thorough and deft with a fingering. Usually it's a purely utilitarian foreplay that ends once the main event begins. But he's continued to surprise me with the endless pleasure he doles out. Guess I shouldn't be too surprised, after all, nerds are real good at pressing buttons.
Once he spent an entire afternoon alternately tormenting and pleasuring me with just his hands. Dancing on the fine line between “never stop” and “fuck you, no more!” That sweet spot when so many orgasms become too many which when applied properly becomes the bliss of swimming through pleasure that seems to never cease. The bringing someone to a peak and letting them ride it and imagining you're finished with them only to shock them by carrying on and forcing another peak and yet another until they forget how to breathe.
When he was finished I was so high I couldn't even walk.
They have another benefit, my love's hands, they're small. Just about the size of mine which makes them perfect for fisting. That thing I've long desired, often asked and begged for but hadn't experienced but twice before him. Few lovers have had the combination of reasonably sized hands and being game for something so naughty. So it took until my love to find someone up for such a thing.
I remember the first time, how excited we both were. Gloves and lube and vibrator at the ready. He used those sneaky blissful fingers on my clit until I was ready for him to start penetrating me with them. The first two easy, the third more of a challenge but not much considering how hungry my cunt is. The fourth slipping in with little extra effort but then the fun begins. That sweet push and pull between “that's too much and it hurts” versus “that's too much and holy fuck give me more.”
He grinned up at me from between my thighs with a hint of worry behind his delight. My love fears hurting me but I keep trying to explain to him that I want him to hurt me. He's welcome to ravish me to bite and slap and spank, to toss me over things and roughly have his way. But that isn't his style. He can however overwhelm me, that's in his wheelhouse, that we both enjoy.
And as he starts the process of folding his thumb in his palm to add the bulk of his hand to my already stretched cunt I'm beginning to feel overwhelmed. I enjoy the pain but also worry about it being too much to take. So he slows his pace, me tapping his other hand when I want him to stop what he's doing and let me process the moment. This works well so that soon he has the widest part of his hand inserted and has the greatest shocked but thrilled look on his face. An expression I adore evoking in him. I giggle at him before laying back and breathing deeply, preparing myself for the final push.
“Ouch ouch ouch I can't take more. Stop.”
“That's good because it's all in.”
It's my turn to look shocked. The last thrust of his fist inside me had been so intense and happened so quickly I didn't have a chance to process it happening. All I'd noticed was pain so I hadn't allowed myself to notice the delicious fullness of having so much inside me so deeply. Once he let me know I didn't have to endure any more I was free to let the pleasure wash over me. It was amazing looking down to see his wrist end where it met my vulva. Everything red and wet and hungry at that intersection.
Now I was worried about him wondering if it hurt to be stuffed into such a confined space. I didn't want to hurt his hand with the fierceness of my sexuality. I've been too much for almost everyone my entire life but I didn't want to actually break him with my cunt. But he assured me it was fine and he was enjoying himself so I asked blushing and surprisingly myself at being embarrassed at the thoroughness of my need when I asked, “can I try to come on your fist?”
“Of course!” He practically threw my favorite vibrator at me and watched wide eyed as I moaned and wiggled while vibrating myself to climax. The sensations were so new and so much that it didn't take more than a minute before I orgasmed. An orgasm so intense all I could get out was nonsense while holding onto the sheets with my free hand. The waves of it hit me again and again, my cunt muscles clenching around his hand so hard I had to check he wasn't wincing in pain. Instead he was smiling and doing his best to further overwhelm me by moving his fingers the tiniest fraction of an inch. Which felt like he was enthusiastically finger spelling inside of me or something equally gymnastic. Every sensation was so acute with my muscles so stretched and so awake.
To my surprise my love was thrilled to find something so simple that could get such a reaction. So this sweet nerdy man is the one out of all my lovers that is willing to make my fisting dreams come true. He never stops surprising me. And now when we sit holding hands or we fan our hands together I can't help but think about his fingers inside me, that these small but dexterous hands cause me so much pleasure, our naughty little secret.