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Age when it happend: 37
Where it happened: A classroom
Langauge: English
Sex: Female
Rating: 6
Category: Straight

It all started in the sixties. As a little girl I would get an insect and let it walk across my hand for pleasure. I was only nine, but it lay the foundations for my unbelievable future.
I have a fetish. And I have never found anyone with the same one as me.
In 1974 (I was 13) I went to a party, where a 15 year old boy started to chat me up. He told me how gorgeous I was, how my long blonde hair turned him on, how he wanted to make love to me. I grabbed his hand and took him up to my friends parent’s bedroom. He got his penis out, it was hard. I grabbed it. A rush of sexual excitement went through my body, and from that moment on my life changed. I told Gary (That was his name, I think) to masturbate on my right hand. I don’t know why I said this. My nails were painted a gossy pink and Gary said this turned him on. So I sat on the bed, placed my hand palm down, and watched as he rammed his cock into my hand, he cried in pain as he hit one of rings. This got me so horny. I was in complete control. “Fuck my hand!” I kept shouting. “I am in control!”
This went on for 6 minutes, and I laughed as Gary came and his spunk trickled down my hand. He then asked for sex. I denied him, and watched him cringe with disapointment. He was completely under my spell. After this incident I started writing a journal of my experiences.
I am not too sure WHY I get such a kick out of this, but maybe because when you have sex you are equal, but when a man masturbates over a part of your body, you are in complete control. I urge all women to give this a go.
This went on for over 20 years, with thousands of men. I never once had sex, I thought my fetish was better. In the 80’s I had an affair with a married man, who seriously wanted me and him to live together, even if we never had sex. I was tempted, but one day he came home and caught my next door neighbour “screwing” my hand. I was in a world of lust, and I realised this from that moment on. I would let any man mess around with me, I could not commit to one guy. I developed a fixation for manicuring my nails and washing my hands with exotic oils and lotions. I also started to walk with my hands flopping with my palms facing me, in the chance that someone would notice them. I needed professional help.
I saw a psychatrist, but it only worked for a bit. The psychatrist told me that I craved attention, and should try normal sex. But I just couldn’t.
I started working as an English teacher in 1981. A year ago I left my journal in my office. A 17 year old student read it.
I had always vowed not to let a student wank on my hand, but he came up to me when I was sitting at the desk and started caressing my hand. I closed my eyes. He had read the journal. “You look nice…” he said. “Especially your…hand”. He kept rubbing my hand. “Fuck it” I whispered. “Pardon?” He said. “Fuck it” I said, louder then before. “Fuck what?” He replied, playing dumb. “My hand!” I shouted. “Fuck my hand!”. He got up on the desk, and started the job. I looked at his pushed and pushed and ejaulated his white paste all over my hand. Then he started stroking my hair, and he cupped my breast. I didn’t know why, but this was different from all the other times blokes have tried it on. There was no need for words. I took of my trousers and underwear and let him pump me.
Since then I have been normal, I only do the hand thing once a week, and have stayed faithful to my toyboy. We are going to get married, and fuck what every one else says. But recently I have felt the need to let other men do their thing on my hand. I hope for my fiancee’s sake I can contain my fiery lust.

I worked it out the other day. For a quarter of a century, I have been hand fucked (as I call it) 6897 times, with 5887 different men. My breasts expand when I think of this fact.

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