642 Things to Write About: Hands


It’s been awhile since I’ve picked a topic out of my handy dandy writing prompt book, but I figured today would be a good day to do so, since I have limited time in which to write, and no ideas in my head. This one caught my interest immediately:

Write a love scene from the point of view of your hands.

Of course I would pick this one!

We itched, my partner and I, as our owner looked at her man lustily. I, the right hand, reached out and caressed his cheek, and the two-days-worth of whisker growth was not unpleasant; it reminded me of velvet- freshly cleaned, rust-colored velvet. My partner, the left hand, couldn’t resist mimicking my act, as our collective body of nerves spoke. She touched his other cheek, and I saw her move her thumb repeatedly over the plush forest of reddish beard. We pulled the beloved face toward that of our owner, and as her lips touched his passionately, a thrill passed through us, urging us to move lower.

I ran my forefinger down the man’s neck as Left moved into the grove of thick, longish hair that was almost identical in color to the whisker grown. She slid the hair between her fingers again and again, pulling just slightly, enough that I could feel the man’s reaction. His pulse started to speed up under the finger I had placed on his neck, and I moved my other fingers into a grip. I and Left once again pulled him forward to meet our owner’s lips, and we heard a quiet moan of desire emitted from him.

Left was planted firm, with no intention of moving from her lush cradle of hair, but as I moved down the man’s body, she loosened her grasp, knowing we together would produce a stronger reaction in our victim. His shirt had been removed already, and we slid down to his chest, admiring the solidness beneath our palms. Our fingers instinctively curled ever so slightly, pressing the tips of our newly manicured fingernails into the ivory skin. Gooseflesh was raised beneath our fingertips as we scored our way down the ribs and past to the waistband of the man’s jeans. He shivered, and our owner smiled, knowingly.

I wanted so desperately to feel what affect we’d had on the man’s cock, as I was sure it was straining against the zipper of his pants, but I resisted. Instead, I flipped over and ran the back of myself back up the way I had come, as Left did the same. Once again, we grazed the pale skin, raising rosy trails as we went. I couldn’t bear it, and tweaked a nipple as I passed, a little harder than I should have. The man inhaled sharply at the unexpected pain, but his breath was cut off as our owner covered his mouth with her own.

We couldn’t wait longer, Left and I, and I stuck two fingers into the waistband of the jeans, tempting Left. She responded by moving a thumb and forefinger over the fly, undoing the button and lowering the zipper achingly slow. We slipped our fingers around to the back, and as we pushed the jeans off, we stopped to grope the luscious ass that was now exposed. I went around to the front, and was not disappointed when met with a throbbing piece of manhood, which I gripped firmly, causing another moan. Our owners lips were there then, and I held a good portion of erection as her tongue met the tip of it before it disappeared within her mouth.

Left was relishing the feel of firm buttocks clenching and unclenching as I stroked my assigned body part. It has always amazed me that something so marble-tough can feel so soft at the same time. I enjoyed myself until I was pulled around to copy my partner, sinking my nails into the pliable flesh as the man’s hand groped the hair of our owner. She moaned and took him in as deep as she could in her mouth, causing him to growl animalistically in his throat before tensing. Left and I held him there tightly, until we knew his pleasure was over.

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Filed under fiction, Life, Love, Sex, Uncategorized

One response to “642 Things to Write About: Hands

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