Hands All Over My Body

Longing to be touched

I’ve always loved a man who’s good with his hands. I long for the quiet language of touch. Nothing ignites me more than feeling a man’s hands all over my body. So when my good friend and neighbor mentioned that her son had just enrolled in massage therapy and was seeking willing bodies to complete his required hours, I eagerly volunteered. Because there’s nothing I enjoy more than a strong pair of hands all over my body.

Come On Over -Hands All Over My Body

I’ve known Ethan since he was a skinny, twerpy, small 13-year-old boy. Now a strapping, handsome six-foot-something young man, it seems almost natural that I would be the first recipient of his newfound talent. He had often fantasized about what it would feel like to have his hands all over my body—observing me for years with a young man’s curiosity. Visiting my home frequently for neighborhood gatherings, barbecues, and pool parties.

It was impossible not to notice me. I’m always friendly, warm, and inviting. Ethan paid close attention to my long blonde hair, the way my golden skin shimmers in a bikini when I’m stepping out of the pool. How my summer dresses sculpt around my curves. He often thought about what his hands all over my body would feel like. So when he mentioned needing practice clients, he smiled in a way that lingered half a second too long.

Pulling my hair up into a scrunchie, I expressed to him how I carry a lot of tension in my neck and shoulders. I told him that I would be happy to help him study. Within moments, I felt his hands all over my body.

Feels So Good – Hands All Over My Body

The first session was perfectly professional. My husband was leaving for work while Ethan was setting up his portable table in the living room. I lay naked beneath a neatly draped sheet. Ethan worked carefully on my shoulders, neck, and upper back. Exactly the way his instructors had taught him. He couldn’t help but notice the softness of my dewy skin. The way I exhaled a little moan when his thumbs traced along my spine. Although he was professional, his hands all over my body made me feel like a cheating housewife. Remembering other men’s warm, strong hands. Encounters from long ago and my erotic dreams.

Silent Seduction

I began booking sessions twice a week. Then three times. Then I found myself wanting his hands all over my body every day, sometimes twice a day. “I just feel so wonderful and relaxed afterward. You have a gift.” I told him as he finished up. In the weeks to follow, his hands grew stronger and more confident with each visit. He worked down my arms, along my hips, and on my lower back. Always within the lines of instruction.

He memorized the slope of my shoulders, the curve of my waist, the way my breathing changes when he presses certain places. I started wearing sultry perfume, silk robes instead of cotton. Lighting candles when I knew he would be over. Sometimes I let the sheet slip to the floor when getting on the table. His hands all over my body brought a sensual side of me to the surface.

Sometimes we talk while he works, other times we remain quiet and let his hands do the talking. Once in a while, Ethan’s touch lingers a fraction longer than necessary. My sighs deepen. Nothing improper happens, no lines fully crossed. Just hovering. And somehow it’s enough for both of us.

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