Thirsty hands
Today was more whoring than sacred. But we’ve already established that they are the same, anyway. Willingness, generosity, to share body and heart – how can anything be more sacred?
Today was the second visit of the elder gentleman who cares for his ailing wife. (I think I mentioned him in the interview) The first time I put him on my massage table for some serious sensory overload. In a good way. Today it was a serious good old necking and petting. It’s been a few decades since either of us were adolescents, but it seemed to be the mood of the day. Though I’ll tell ya, I never petted like THAT back then!
His hands are thirsty, which is wonderful, but less than tender, which is not. At first, he seemed able to relax and enjoy his exploring, but as we heated up, he became distracted, less present. I can tolerate most any touch, if it’s for a good reason, but this was no reason except a need for learning how. After a little while, I reached over and stroked his hair, kissed him again, and asked him what he was noticing. I’m trying to do it right, he said. And does that feel good, that trying?, I asked. Not really, he said. Let me show you how, I said, wrapping my legs around his.
Stroking and caressing his hands, I showed him how to relax and soften them. Remember you told me, I said, that the first time you were with a woman, she would not let you ‘touch her down there’? - and you went through that whole relationship never touching there? Well, it seems these hands have never been told that they have permission to touch. So I’m telling you right now (looking into his eyes), my pussy welcomes these hands. She welcomes their exploring. Please touch slowly and softly, and explore every nook and cranny, every crevice, fold and soft spot. What hidden treasures can you find?
It’s not easy to break decades of habit of trying to ‘do’ somebody. Trying to get some reaction out of them. But he did get a glimpse of the possibilities, and his hands did soften, and with that, the rest of him relaxed, and with that, his arousal arose. After awhile my dear friend pussy told me she was no longer feeling generous, she’d done her duty and was ready for his attention to move elsewhere, so I rolled him onto his back, sat straddling his thigh, and pleasured his cock.
It’s a great position – try it! I can grind myself on his thigh, while holding his cock right up against my hip. My humping goes right along with my hand. Or maybe vice versa – my hand follows my hip. At any rate – yehaaawww! Hump heaven!
Soon we’re laughing, and he’s telling me again how great it is to be able to play, how much it all means to him, thanking me, blessing me.
I roll him face down, lie on top, and whisper in his ear how beautiful is his sexuality, his curiosity, his playfulness. I appreciate his being willing to try something new. I kiss his hands – and remember, these guys now have permission to enjoy themselves.
After he goes, I’m not quite done, so I get out my vibrator and hmmm… aaahhhh….mmmm…oohhh! and a few more times. Why is it I can never stop at one?
Soon I’m laughing again, plopping back down on the bed – and out loud – Damn! I love being a whore! I just fucking love it! Who would have thought!?