Before, they would wander and grasp desperately for any sort of positive reinforcement but I couldn’t offer it. There was no sensitive spots screaming or even whispering “Yes” for me to echo. Now, I crave them more than any other part. If I said I don’t know what happened, I would be lying. What happened is that I have come alive, experiencing sensations like never before. Now, I find myself wanting his hands more than ever. I desire the pressure, stronger than his tongue or cock. The way his fingers can curl this way or that and the variety in their touch.
Their sheer fuckability, the way they compliment the movement of my hips. There is something absolutely taboo about fucking his hand, his fingers. It’s such a purposeful action; there is no mistaking the intent. I love being able to grasp his arm, his wrist, to pull him into me, to keep him inside me. I can control his hand easier than any other part. His hand is like a sex toy created for solely for me.
And so, his hands have become the part of his body I most covet.
