The Exquisite Movement of Your Hands

 

You surprised me.   You are always so serious and conservative, and this unique pleasuring amazed me.  I didn’t expect you to do something like that and it was so exhilarating that I’m trembling even thinking of it these years later.

We had enjoyed a day with the kids at a national park.  We laughed and took delight in those small, precious lives and in the joy of being a family.  Then we loaded everyone back in the car and headed for home.

The kids were safely buckled in the back seat and the little ones quickly fell asleep.  You and I shared the front bench.

As the miles flew by, I was staring out at the beautiful view and remembering this and that – little moments from our day.  I turned to look at your face and you were smiling like you were enjoying some memories too.

I reached out and began to stroke your arm.  You are putty in my hands (you call them “magic”) and are always so supremely sensitive to the movement of my fingers.   I move my fingers lightly, just barely touching you, up and down, up and down from your fingertips to your elbow, softly tickling and stroking the sensitive skin on the inside of your arm and exploring the soft curly hair on your outer arms.  This kind of movement on my arms would have me exploding in giggles, but you never seem to tire of these gently caresses.  You even groaned softly.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, your hand moves to my lap.  At first I think it is just to better expose your arm to my unending, circular movements.  With your hand open, facing up in my lap, and me leaning back comfortably, your thumb springs to life.  You adjust slightly, which seems like a stretch.  I am looking out the window, caressing almost absent-mindedly.

Your thumb strokes the underside of my breast through my blouse.  In an instant, my mind is completely focused on that small, electric movement.  Just as your arms are so sensitive to the movement of my fingers, my breasts jump to attention with the slightest of pressure.

My first thought: “This can’t be happening.  He would never touch me like this outside of our home.”  I continued to stroke your arms and pretended nothing had happened, afraid to hope, afraid to embarrass you.

I admit I laid my head back and closed my eyes, allowing myself to imagine for a moment the electric excitement of your hand on my breast as we drove down the highway.  I would imagine a small, intimate smile must have played on my lips.

I wonder if you turned to look at me at just that moment.  I wonder if you could see inside my thoughts.

Your hand had not moved from my lap.  Your thumb was still there, so close to that erotic and electric switch.  I held my breath, but tried to convince myself it didn’t matter – it wasn’t important.

Such a small movement with such explosive results.  Your thumb again moved slightly along the curve of my breast and you must have heard the intake of breath.  I know you saw my head go back and my mouth open.  Again – slowly stroking.

I opened my eyes, staring straight ahead, but I could tell you were looking at me.  I was almost afraid to meet your eyes for fear you would feel shy and stop those small movements that were sending fire through my body.  I looked over and was delighted to see a small, sexy smile playing on your lips.  Your look seemed to say: “Your are too delicious to keep my hands away – I can’t contain myself.”  I held your look until you had to move your eyes back to the road.

At exactly that moment, the nail of your thumb came in contact with my passionate nerve center, the one that seems directly connected to every nerve in my body.  You drew your nail across my nipple and I sucked in my breath and waited.  Again, again, again – my nipple grew hard and huge in an instant and I could see you smile at my reaction.  I began to gently writhe in my seat.

I turned my body slightly and slowly reached to my top button.  One by one, those buttons came undone and I saw your breathing grow heavy and your smile deepen, as you glanced back and forth from my emerging nakedness to the road ahead of us.  I saw your eyes check the mirror and I knew you were looking at the kids, just to make sure they knew nothing of our front seat antics.  They slept peacefully.

My shirt was now open and I began to move my hands slowly, erotically over my breasts, still concealed in the black lace bra.  They seemed to grow under my fingers as I gently squeezed and pinched my nipples.  They screamed for release from the lacy fabric barely covering them.

I examined your face.  You were carefully looking back and forth from my open, cleavage to the road.  I sensed a tension as you fought to control your own arousal and keep us safely moving closer to home.  We both knew we couldn’t stop or the kids would wake up.  You moved you hand back to the wheel, but you couldn’t wipe that smile from your face.  You almost seemed to have surprised yourself.

I reached behind to undo my bra and my breasts sprang out, the nipples rock hard and dark red.  I pushed my breasts up and around and pinched my nipples while I arched my back and my hips involuntarily began to pulsate. I was already soaking wet and longing for your touch.

My eyes were closed when I felt your hand again, this time undoing my button and zipper.  First you slipped your hand over my mound and pushed your hand flat against me.  I rose to meet the pressure.  Finally, you slowly, as if to torture me, worked your finger down inside my panties and began those small circles that nearly kill me.   Small circles, small circles, the pressure mounting in me, then plunging your finger inside me, while I suppressed a gasp, and pulling out again to repeat those small, sensuous circles.  My body was tingling and I couldn’t stop smiling and writhing in pleasure.

At this moment, we approached the exit for the highway to home.  It was still daylight and we were about to enter a busy highway with lots of traffic, including big trucks.  I groaned softly and place my hand over yours to stop your movement.  Our eyes met and I could see your delight at having pleased me, your desire to take me, and your agreement that our secret game needed to stop for now.

You slowly removed your hand from my panties, slowly drawing your finger across my clitoris one last time, and put your hand inside my blouse, rubbing the wetness into my skin and squeezing and pinching my nipples one last time, as though in farewell.  You then cupped my hand in your face and softly laughed.

You kept glancing over as I gradually fastened my pants, rubbing myself softly, as if by accident, through the fabric.  I disengaged my bra and saucily deposited it on the seat between us while I did up my buttons, all the while pinching my nipples through the fabric, almost like a striptease in reverse.  With my breasts unsupported, the nipples protruded noticeably and the buttons strained at the fullness.  I left enough buttons undone to afford you a pleasurable view.  Your expression when you noticed this left no doubt of your approval.

Once we arrived home, we had the business of parenting to deal with but whenever you were near me, you would softly press your arousal into me from behind.  I caught you several times enjoying the view down the front of my shirt and, when I was doing the dishes, you came up behind and me and stimulated my nipples until I threw my head back in pleasure and begged you to stop.

After the last child was safely snoozing, you came to me in the living room.  I was waiting with a short, very tight, stretchy, smooth teddy on.  My breasts were barely concealed and I sat with my legs curled up under me, just barely revealing the nakedness of my round, firm cheeks beneath them.  I was already soaking wet and you removed your clothes in record time and we joyfully finished the business started earlier in the day by the exquisite movement of your hands.

This event has never been repeated.  We have found so much enjoyment in each other behind closed doors, but I think we must go for a ride some day very soon, so that I can remind you of this day.

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