Play the Hand You're Dealt

“I love a hand that meets my own with a grasp that causes some sensation.” Samuel Osgood

I mentioned awhile back that I have nice hands. And I think I do. I have long skinny piano-player fingers (too bad I never used them to their potential), and I usually keep my nails done. I do not have small hands, but they’re very feminine. I love them.

I have always worn rings, but the weight loss has proved to be a challenge with that because while I used to have 8 on all the time, and some spares, I am down to 4 that I can wear daily and one of those is really too big and I’m afraid I’m going to lose it one of these days. I need to replace them eventually. My rings are all silver. I don’t wear gold. Most have a Celtic detail and most have a gemstone of some sort (currently I have onyx and amethyst). I love them. They are pretty much all the jewelry I wear.

I’m a little double jointed. I can bend my fingers backward to a 45-degree angle. I used to freak my stepdaughters out with that and it was fun. I’ve been told that at the moment of orgasm sometimes they bend back even further than that. I wouldn’t know. I’m not looking at my hands usually at that time *grin

But it’s not just my hands that I like. I like hands in general. Hands are almost the first thing I glance at when I’m looking at a man. The only one of my past lovers that did not have good, strong big hands was C. His hands were actually smaller than mine, and it had absolutely nothing to do with my weight. Maybe that should have been my first clue, hm? *laugh

So why the fascination with hands? It could be any number of things. Strong male hands show masculinity (which I love). Hands can hold. Hands can spank. Hands have fingers that can bury themselves into parts of me and make me weak. Hands can hold me down. Hands can pull my hair. Hands can pinch, tickle, stroke.

Need I go on? Of course it’s sexual. How could it have been anything else?

Clean, short nails are important, because if he does not have them, I know those hands are not going anywhere near any part of me that I want them to go. They don’t have to be soft. They don’t have to be overly big. But they do have to be strong and clean.

I think maybe it’s sexual potential I see in them. There is, of course, the old myth about a man’s cock being as long as the tip of his middle finger to the top of his wrist but I don’t buy that. It’s the hands themselves that clue me in to what I’m about to experience. Even if I’m not going to fuck him I am looking at his hands, just to see.

It’s probably the closest thing I have to a body part preference, besides height.

If I can imagine his hands on me, I can imagine everything else. And there’s where sex starts with me. In my imagination. But more on that later. *grin