The Hand

It was the most exciting experience she ever had. They were facing each other at the company party. They had been working for the same agency for years. Occasionally she caught a glance at him. Coffee break, chatting intensely with colleagues in the hall, company Christmas party. Stuff like that. But she did not really know him. Not even his name. They were perfect strangers. And now this perfect stranger, who was facing her at a table in the company garden, secretly grabbed her hand and slowly lead it to his manhood. As if it was nothing. He looked her in the eyes, smiled mildly and forced her hand down to his cock. She was thunderstruck. Never had she experienced something similar before. She had not even been picked up by a guy at a bar or at least hit on. Not to mention being molested in such an impudent manner. To say his approach caught her completely off guard was an understatement. Of course, she knew it was wrong. Maybe she was unexperienced, but she was not an idiot. She knew it was not okay to do it. By no means. And yet she was frozen. Should she say something? But what? “Excuse me sir, why are You pushing my hand to Your penis? How dare You!” No, she could not say that. It sounded ridiculous. And even if it made him stop hijacking her hand, would there be any chance of the event going unnoticed.? Certainly not. Her coworkers would turn around and thy would know. Not only them, the whole company would know and from now on until the end of time she would only be known as “the Hand”. That is how people are. They do not care about your feelings. Something peculiar happens to you, you got a nickname for life. “Hey guys, look over there! The Hand is approaching. I wonder whom she will be tickling today?” She did not dare thinking of what might happen if people found out! She would have to get a new job for sure. A new job and a new life. And if she were as lucky as usual, the rumors would even spread around to her new employer by some talkative colleagues. No, first she had to keep calm and analyze the situation. Wait, analyze? There was nothing to be analyzed! He had taken her hand and put it on his dick. Those were the hard facts. Hard they were indeed. Now that the first embarrassing impression was cooling down and she clearly thought about it, she began to pay attention to this strange thing in her hand. She focused on the situation. She sat here at the company gathering and clutched the stiff penis of an almost unknown colleague. It was the most intimate part of his body and he presented it to her shamelessly. It seemed as bold as it seemed stupid and ridiculous. He did not seem to care at all what happened. One hand was not enough to tame the beast, but she could probably have covered it with both of her hands. It was slightly curved and although the skin was soft and smooth, the penis was as solid as the gear shift of her beetle. The obvious arousal made it pulsate as if it was a beating heart. Instinctively she wanted to take a look under the table and convince herself of the reality of this strange situation. But her colleague seemed to suspect what she was about to do and squeezed her hand with his own, which caused the same instinct to raise her head and look at him. He looked her deep in the eyes for an instant and shook his head. It was the first time she really faced him instead of facing the ground. She could not bear it. She could not keep eye-contact. She turned her head away immediately. But she liked what she had seen. He was an attractive man. No question. Sunkissed skin, charcoal hair, three-day beard. Roughly her age, maybe one or two years older. His suit was – suitable. Well-tended, well built, good-looking. Not what she expected a pervert to look like. She did not feel half as sexy in her pantsuit. On the contrary. She felt like a lonely, old librarian. Maybe her bushy blond ponytail and her fragile glasses, which preposterously reminded her of Scrooch Mac Duck when she stood in front of the mirror, contributed to that impression. The memory made her cringe. No wonder she could hardly boast of any experience with men. Five fingers were enough to count how many times she went to a bar with her girlfriends. Somehow, they always managed to grab attractive men and take them home for “one last drink”, whilst she usually held the line chatting with the elderly barkeeper about his unfaithful wife. If those gossipy hens knew she was a mid-thirty-year-old virgin, her life would finally be ruined! Then it happened. She already wondered whether it would not happen at all. But it happened. He made her hand and an instrument of his pleasure. He was tender. He began to softly lead her hand over his erect penis with his own. He stroked himself with her hand. He let her explore his secret sword. He let her touch his cock almost as if he wanted to compensate her for not being able to take a look under the table before. As if he wanted her to at least feel its shape if she could not take a proper look at it. After a short trip to his soft testicles he initiated a steady up and down motion with her hand. It felt like pumping water from a fountain. From a very deep fountain. She did it. She jerked off her colleague at a company party. A perfect stranger. Never would the girls believe it. Why would she tell them anyway? And why wouldn’t she just stop? She could have refused. She could have cramped her hand around his member and refused motion. She could probably even have freed herself from the male hands loose grip. But she did not. She liked it. She was proud. She was proud to have been chosen by this beautiful stranger to be the object of his lust. It made her feel like someone special. He could have played the same game with any other female coworker at the party. But he did not. He had chosen her. Never had anyone chosen her. The unprecedented attention she experienced was enough to throw her initial shyness overboard and give this impertinent debauchee what he desired. She got a firm grip and let this man slowly lead her hand over his penis. She felt one with her hand. Yes, she was the Hand now and ready to touch and work this cock with body and soul. She could be anything now. She could be a caring housewife upgrading her husband’s boring business meeting with a special treatment. Just as she could be the office slut stealing other women’s’ men with her hand or the female boss rewarding her hardworking employees for their commitment. The more she surrendered to her fantasy, the more she became oblivious of her environment. Every now and then she put out a high pitch of pleasure that got the attention of the colleagues nearby. In this case she suddenly stopped stroking the cock, begging pardon and when everybody had returned to their own conversations, she once again dedicated herself to her hidden occupation. At some point the male hand began to raise the tempo, which resulted in complications concerning the cycle of motion. They got stuck. So, she decided to shake off his hand and put herself in undisputed control of this man’s voluptuous pleasure. She liked being in control. It made her feel like she could handle things. If she could handle the lust of a stranger without any sexual experience at all, she could handle anything in life. She had been afraid for so long. Afraid to live. Afraid to love. Afraid to enjoy. Now she was not afraid anymore. She had finally found the gear change of life and now she took her first lesson to learn how to use it. And finally, the thrill of her forbidden secret activity stirred up her own blood and made her hormones throw a party of their own. She was hot and certainly not for the humid summer heat, that yet was a natural mirror of her female pleasure. If she was summer, she was hot and humid between her legs. Not to mention her nipples turning into pebbles underneath her blouse. She would have loved to use her available hand to stroke her breast or undertake an expedition into her pants, but she had to save that for a more intimate occasion. Two hands under the table would certainly have been too suspicious. All she could do that would go unnoticed was satisfying this strange dick under the table. And that she did. She did it slowly, she did it fast and occasionally she did not do it at all and just stopped for some seconds that she knew felt like an entire lifetime for this craving cock. She rubbed the top with her thumb. What a cruel torturer she was. First, she wanked it super slowly. Terribly slowly. So slowly that it was torture indeed. Then she became faster and faster until she knew he would not be able to hold back anymore. It was okay. She knew it would be a terrible mess, yet she permitted him to burst out into her hand. Probably his suit and the table had not been spared either by his transparent cream. She did not know, because she did not take a look. And she did not care. Her mission was accomplished. She withdrew her sticky hand, cleaned it using the back of the tablecloth and gave her counterpart the most daring wink. Then she got up and made for the gate. The Hand had left the building.