Hands Full


I stepped outside, drawing in the February air with deep, harsh gasps. My heart pounded in my throat. I looked back at my car longingly, wishing I could climb back inside and drive until my mind had rid itself of this awful idea. I felt dirty, ashamed, and oh, so deliciously wet. I felt like a little girl again, standing there in his front yard, so very small against the gray sky. Obviously, my nervousness hadn't killed my mind's tendency towards verbosity. Dammit, though, I hated thinking like HP Lovecraft hopped up on Viagra.

How did I get here? I wondered desperately. There's nothing wrong with me, right? It's not like I'm dirty. Well, not as dirty as some people I know. Jesus, though...I mean, well, what the hell is wrong with asking your boyfriend to whack off in front of you, anyway? IS there anything wrong? There isn't...there ISN'T. Right?

My musings carried me all the way to his door. I shivered in spite of myself when it loomed up in front of me. If a standard eight-foot door can loom, that is. I raised my hand to knock, then put it down again. I was struck with indecision. My heart ached in my chest. Should the fulfillment of one's deepest fantasy hurt so much? I had just decided to forget the whole thing when the door opened, and there was his roommate leering at me quizzically.

"Can I...help you?" he asked, his eyes following the curves under my sweater.

"Is he here?" I asked ignoring his pointed statement.

The troglodyte nodded, and moved to the side just enough so I had to squeeze past him. Choosing to be coquettish, I stuck out my chest and eased past him a little slower than I could have. There, I thought naughtily, that'll give the perv something to think about on those cold, lonely nights.

Shaking off the encounter with a haughty, piercing giggle, I walked to my lover's room and was about to knock on the door when I was seized with another shuddering gasp of panic. I swallowed nervously, mustered my courage, and knocked softly, calling his name. I felt my core harden into a knot of icy and burning desire.

The door opened quickly, and I wondered momentarily if he had been waiting behind it the whole time. I returned his eager, anxious stare with a shy smile.

"Hi." Was that a tremor in his voice?

"Hi." That WAS a tremor in mine, no doubt about it.

I walked in, shed my sweater, leaving only a plain white undershirt, and sat on his bed. He sat in his desk chair, facing me. I noticed, somewhat abashedly, that he was already aroused.

"You've certainly wasted no time," I said, pointedly staring at his bulging package.

"Well, um...I figured I should already, um, be prepared...I was looking at some porn, so I'd be..." he blushed, and I immediately regretted my sarcasm. Wasn't it my fault that we were feeling this awkwardness, my fantasy that we were attempting to fulfill? "So, do you want me to um..." he continued, after a moment of silence.

I panicked. "You don't have to, I mean..."

"No! I don't mind..." His voice faded, and he turned an impossible shade of red. We faced each other, blushing, and suddenly, I felt my throat constrict with an uncontrollable urge to burst out laughing. I clamped my hand over my mouth, and a few giggles spilled out anyway, and suddenly, I fell off his bed, laughing hard. I could feel him staring at me, and the stare felt right, like I deserved bewildered scrutiny. Hell, I'd often looked inwardly at myself with the same baffled look on my mind's face. I am, and always have been an oddity.


My little obsession with male masturbation started in high school, with the introduction of the hand job into my sexual repertoire. I was still unsure of myself when it came to pleasure, but it struck me that this guy (I don't even remember his name, is that bad?) was obviously very familiar with the feeling of a hand encircling his shaft, gripping his most intimate place. As I felt him grow rigid in my hand, I was amazed to find that I was getting aroused by the thought of him doing that. I was raised to believe that masturbation was dirty...but that fact made me even hotter.

I was shocked at my newfound craving. At night, I would stay awake for hours after my family had gone to sleep, staring at the images on gay porn sites, watching men touching themselves. I visited one of those sex advice sites and read about how I could bring myself off, so I didn't have to retire to bed with that delicious ache still rippling through my body.

Meanwhile, every boy I dated was pleasantly surprised by my preference for giving him pleasure. But I never had the courage to ask for something in return. That is, I never had the courage to ask to see what I was so desperate to see...until now.


My laughter finally died down, and I looked up at him, so eager to please, despite his obvious discomfort with the situation. I wanted nothing more than to get up and throw my arms around him, but I opted to regain my composure.

I cleared my throat. "So, if you're ready..."He nodded, and moved to reach inside his jeans. Suddenly, I had a thought. "Maybe you should be naked."

He bit his lip, mumbled something that sounded like, "Yeah, sure," and stripped. I had seen him naked before, but my breath still caught in my throat. There he was, his tall, slender frame wearing his pale, glowing skin like the pristine coat of some lithe jungle-cat. And his manhood, standing out from his body with its own delicious life, looked so strong and powerful. His cock was beautiful, uninhibited by any clinging pubic hair (he and I both prefer to be shaved); it was long and hard and begging to be touched and sucked. Looking at him standing there, towering over my position on his floor, I had fight the urge to wrap my hands around his hips and pull him to my worshipping lips. But I restrained myself.

His eyes watched mine as he said softly, "What now?"

I gazed up at him like an adulating pilgrim standing before her god after a desperate journey through hell into paradise, and handed him a bottle of lubricant without breaking eye contact.

"I want you to show me how you touch yourself. I want to watch..." I faltered, gasping from a thirst I did not understand and a heat I knew all too well.

"Tell me what you want." His voice had an edge, and it occurred to me for the first time that this was equally arousing for him, despite the obvious evidence that was literally in front of my face. The words that had stayed themselves in my throat now poured from my mouth.

"I want to watch you jerk off."

I had said this to him on the phone, but communicating my lust to him, commanding him even as I knelt adoring at his feet...the act of saying that sentence brought me to that tremulous razor's edge. I thought I would come right then and there. And furthermore, talking on the phone provided a screen of privacy. How often had I been driven to fingering myself at the simple sound of his voice, tinny at the other end of the line?

He smiled at me, this god in flesh, and said, "Then give me something to think about." At my confused expression, he clarified, saying, "You told me that this makes you wet, yes? I want to see it. Tit for tat, hmm? I want to see you touch yourself, too, Babe. Fair is fair." He sat down in his computer chair, naked and watching me.

I was a little shocked, but I realized that he did have a point. I stood up, shyly avoiding his gaze, and took off my shirt, revealing a simple white lace bra. Removing this object, I stood, bare-chested, my smallish breasts, merely a handful each, standing out from my petite frame. My nipples, blushing dark pink, stood erect, as if they were reaching out for my lover.

I leaned down, self conscious, unbuttoned my jeans, and slid them down my hips, which flare out nicely from my waist, completing the hourglass shape that I have been blessed with. I stepped out of my jeans, and slid my fingers under the band of my panties, which were white lace, like my bra. I wiggled out of these dainty things, exposing my completely shaved pussy, whose lips were already swollen. As I removed my panties, i noticed that the crotch was wet and fragrant with my juices, and I blushed. Fully undressed, I lay down on his bed, facing him naked in his chair, my legs spread, exposing my soft flesh to his piercing gaze.

"God, you're so beautiful..."he trailed off, his hand encircling his throbbing member, gripping it tightly, easing it up and down. The fingers of his right hand were wrapped tightly, but not too tightly around his shaft, his thumb coming up to caress the sensitive place beneath the head of his cock very now and again. He used a gentle twisting motion, applying equal pressure throughout. His left hand he left motionless between his legs, gently cupping his balls. As I watched him, his eyes drooped in pleasure, and I saw him shiver at his own touch. I gasped as he took a drop of precum that had formed at the tip onto one of his fingers and placed the moistened digit in his mouth, sucking it off suggestively.

Almost of its own will, my hand came to my dripping cunt, and I slipped a finger between the lips, rubbing the flat of my palm against my aching clit. I was so wet, my fingers were instantly coated in the hot juices of my pussy.

He watched my ministrations with a look that was almost pained, and murmured something about not knowing how long he could last. I got up and walked toward him, never pausing the work of my fingers, mesmerized by the rhythmic stroking of his hand on his shaft. His eyes were fixed between my legs, so I spread them and tilted my pelvis upward as best I could, affording him a better view. His hand sped up, and I matched his speed with my own finger-fucking, pressing harder on my clit with my wet palm. He was so close...I was so close...

Suddenly, he stopped and looked at me feverishly. "Have you seen enough? I can't stand the thought of coming anywhere but inside that pussy." Well, how could I argue with that?

I led him to the bed, and when I went to lie down face up, he turned me over and parted my legs, entering my sopping wet cunt from behind. I was so wet, his first stroke found him buried inside me to the hilt.

"My god, you're wet!" He exclaimed, his voice thick with passion, "You liked my little performance, didn't you? Didn't it make your little pussy hot?"

My answer, a screaming affirmative, was lost in the folds of the bedsheets.

As he moved within me, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Did you like seeing me rub my big cock? Getting so hard, so fucking hard for your little cunt?" I groaned, arching into his thrusts, begging for more. His words brought the images from just moments ago back into the forefront of my mind, displayed them in graphic detail, and it was these thoughts that drove me over the edge.

I came hard, my pussy clamping so tight that he almost had to pull out. I felt him answering my orgasm with his own, coming just as violently.

We lay where we fell on the sheets for what seemed like years. I went away inside my mind, riding the downward wave, and I thought about the first time I'd given a hand job, fumbling my way to my lover's pleasure. Now, here in the arms of a different lover, I giggled.

"What is it, Babe?" He sounded so tired.

"I was just thinking...I think I'm better at that than you are." I giggled again.

"What, jerking me off?" When I nodded, he laughed. Then, after a pause, he said, "I guess we'll just have to pay more attention next time, maybe compare stroking patterns, speed, grip...you know we could make a study out of this."

I turned over and kissed him, laughing and carefree.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. I barely had time to cover myself before it swung open, revealing his obviously-aroused roommate.

"I couldn't help but overhear..." he stuttered, staring openly at my body, which was none too well covered by the sheets. "Would you care to conduct that study on more than one male subject?" His grin was huge, and his erection was bigger. I found myself wondering what lay beneath his shabby jeans that could make them tent out in such a way.

"Maybe so," I said, arching an eyebrow.

"Not on your life!" replied my lover, who promptly got up and slammed the door against the protests of his roommate, locking it for safe measure.

"What's the matter," I asked coyly, "Don't you want to share? It is in the interest of science, after all."

"I think you'll have your hands full with me, Babe," he said, smiling.

Glancing down at his member, which had begun to stir once more, I replied, "Hmm, that I will, lover...that I will."

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