I’m a tactile person and so hands are very important to me. I work a lot with mine and love fine delicate details, like completing a cross-stitch. I enjoy playing music and the feel of the manual dexterity and muscle memory when playing a familiar tune is a comforting skill. To my fine precision placed hands his are so very different but something I love. He works outdoors so his fingers and palms are course and rough with work. Somedays so rough they catch on my smooth layers or lacy clothes. He also has much more strength in hand and arm than me and the stamina to use them again and again.
I never tire of his hands. The feeling when he holds both my wrists with one hand and pins me down. When he grips me by my throat as he’s fucking me. When he slaps my arse and leaves a perfect print or when he’s gently holding me, I feel safe, protected and loved in his hands.
I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of photographing his hands on me. There are several links above you can see them, and it’s no surprise they feature in my Avi too. Here is a new photograph of his hand on me. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed taking it.