The touch of his hands
I love to feel his hands on my body. When he comes up behind me and takes hold of my waist, my bottom, my breasts in both hands. Or when he strokes my leg while we sit together or even when he takes my hand in his while we watch a film. I love them all.
Best of all though is when he strokes my naked body, the feel of his fingers gently caressing my skin. A gentle, or even hard pinch of the nipple and the way he strokes my clit exclaiming that I am turned on. He feigns surprise and I smile at him in agreement; who would have imagined his touch could excite in this way. I love that he wants to spend time exploring my body, knowing me in a way no man ever has before.
His hands are smooth, he doesn’t do manual work often. This is in contrast to the hands that touched me before. There is nothing wrong with rougher hands, they tell their own story. But I like these, love them in fact. He slides his fingers inside me and then tastes them, he says he loves the scent and taste of me.
I don’t even mind when he touches my feet. I used to be much more ticklish than I am now. Sometimes I sit at one end of the sofa and he at the other, he holds my foot and strokes the instep. I find it arousing.
The touch of my hands
There was a time when he didn’t like to be touched. At the beginning it had been a while for him. But I don’t think that is all it was. While he has always liked to hold hands and to touch me he found me touching him unnerving. He only really liked it if he saw my hands land on him. He loves his nipples squeezed and rubbed when we have sex, that was the start. Now I am able to touch his arms, tummy, legs. Of course his cock was always a different matter he loves that, always did.
I like to touch and stroke him with my fingers, but even now there are times when he prefers I don’t. However he doesn’t complain if I kiss instead. Lips on lips, cock, his neck or nipples. Touch is important and touching him is what I like to do.
I don’t touch myself as much as I once did, particularly in the vulval area. Thus is partly because I have him there to touch me instead. Sometimes he tells me to touch my pussy, instructs me to show him how I make myself come. I enjoy doing this in a way I never imagined I would.
I do stroke my breast and where my other breast once was. This helps to remind me of what I still have but also because I like the feel of it. The softness of my own body, the way it feels different when I touch myself rather than he touches me is always interesting to acknowledge.
Our hands. The way we touch ourselves and each other are an important part of our sexual relationship. Perhaps more important than I previously recognised.