Fetish

I have a fetish. A fetish for an everyday thing, a fetish that I struggle to contain.

I have a hand fetish.

I work in a corporate world.

I shake hands on average 100 times a day.

I am aroused by a handshake on average 100 times a day.

This is not so much a problem as a minor annoyance.

And then there are THOSE handshakes.

THOSE handshakes are the ones where my tiny hand is enveloped completely in the large, strong, grasp of a man whose eyes I meet and feel the sharp sting of my true nature slam into me like a barbed flogger.

They do not happen often. When they do happen in my corporate world I must remain composed. I can allow no slips. This is my career. I feel anguish in those moments for the missed opportunity, there is nothing I can do about it. It is what it is.

When they happen in the kink community I am always stunned and allow myself to lean closer and catch their scent (another fetish). I hold on slightly longer. The handshake becomes an intimate embrace and I feel their gaze pressing into me. My eyes hold thiers and I throb with the intensity of my desire.

This happened to me at the last Fraser Valley Munch.

I flushed after, I blush very red and very deep. His attention had turned away again so his icey blue eyes did not perhaps catch my entire reaction. My heart was racing so hard I was certain the girl sitting beside me would comment on the Taiko drummer.

I slipped away to a safer position, watching him from the other side of the room. Enjoying cuddles and caresses. It is rare I am not being cuddled at a munch.

The love of the cuddle and carress merely feeds my hand fetish. I am touch and held and petted and hold hands. It is amazing how it both arouses and soothes me at the same time.

My brain would not allow me to let go of the handshake and that auto erotic response.

The end of the evening came.

I stood near him. Inhaling his scent, offering a handshake again. Which he accepted, sending my senses reeling. Oh! That strength! He is warm, tall, and strong. His hands, oh his hands... I want to kiss them! Worship those warm strong hands and feel them touch me. I have an image of him bending me over his knee and running his hand over my ass. My skin so soft under his firm touch. His hand that turns from a caress to a swat, to an all out spanking that has me giggling and gasping. Maybe I would dissolve into tears... That is rare, but possible.

Ah! How frustrating to merely smile and say I hope to see him again. What I really want is to beg him to pay attention to me.

Please sir may I have some more?
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