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Hands
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Hands “It’s time,” said Mark, looking at his watch. Anne looked at him nervously. “OK, let’s do it!” She smiled. He undressed her. Normally, in a party like this, she would have been in some partial state of undress, but he insisted in her being fully dressed until the time came. He unbuttoned her blouse. Removed her bra. Next, the skirt, a pretty white girly thing: not too tight, not too short. She stepped out of her sandals. Her white cotton panties came down her legs. She was<b> catching </font></b>some looks already. Anne was petite. Perky bottom. Cute legs. Tits a bit small but perfect in shape. Mark dig in his toy bag. Found the leather cuffs and a blindfold, also leather, with soft padding in the inside. He secured the blindfold around her head. The soft wool felt warm against her eyes. She forgot the stares around her. Mark cuffed her hands and bound them together. Cold metal against her hands. A chain clinking. Her hands went up, higher and higher. Stretching her arms over her head until she thought that she would have to stand on tip-toes. But it stopped there. She could rest her heels on the ground if she stretched herself all the way. Where was Mark? She could no longer hear him moving around. “Mark.” She called softly. No answer. She didn’t feel like saying it louder. She waited. The air was cool around her body. Her nipples were hard. She heard steps around her. Whispers. People surrounding her. She couldn’t see them, but she could feel the warmth of their bodies. She could almost feel the gravity of their bodies pulling on her, like the moon pulling on the tides. A hand touched her back. Then another. More hands came in contact with her belly, her shoulders, her thighs. Soon there were so many hands that she couldn’t count them. She couldn’t even tell them apart. They touched her softly. Fingertips like feathers, dancing capriciously over her naked skin, raising goosebumps. She felt a tickle start a couple of time. But the hands were pressing more firmly now, caressing her more deeply. They were getting bolder, too: cupping over her tits and her buns, finding the sensitive spots inside her thighs. Hands all over her, everywhere. Lustful and greedy. Feeding on the softness of her skin. One will bring her attention to a part of her body, only to be taken away by another hand in another spot. A squeeze on her bottom. A pinch of her nipple. A caress on her lips. The touching hands confused her. She felt violated by all these strange hands. Yet, it felt good to be touched. It fed a secret hunger that she didn’t even know that she had. She gave herself to the greedy hands. Let them feel her up. Let them enjoy her. She could hear the excitement around her in the heavy breaths. It was like a wind, rising up and calming down. Strong hands grabbed her ankles; lift her feet from the floor. More hands supported her legs and her back. She was floating now on a sea of hands. When one went away, another took its place, not letting her fall. Arms and legs went up and down on waves of hands. The waves washed over her, too, running over her belly and her breasts. They held her legs apart so that fingertip butterflies could flutter over the softest spots of her skin, inside her thighs, up to her bottom and her pussy. Her sex was gaping open, dripping wet, inviting the fingers to enter her. But the fingers always stop short of her vagina, her clit, her anus. Teasingly. Not giving her relief. It came as a wave that washed all over her. She didn’t feel it anywhere in particular, and everywhere at the same time. Waves of pleasure rushing through the skin. She moaned softly. The hands understood. They stopped moving. They pressed, squeezed gently here and there. She was let down to stand on the floor. The chain clinked. Her hands were freed. The blindfold came off. Smiling faces around her. Her friends. She couldn’t speak. Then she saw Mark. She put her hands around his neck. He picked her up and carried her way, her face buried in his neck. |
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