Piano Hands

Transcript

I come here every time to watch you play. But not just for the music, no. I come here to watch your hands too.

Your hands are like miracles. I could watch them for hours as they sometimes gently, sometimes playfully and sometimes forcefully touch the keys. Your hands, your fingers, they make the piano whisper, they make the piano sing and they make the piano shout.

They evoke a beautiful story, a journey on the white and the black of the piano. But that story is not black and white, it is grey, as it might create a distinct meaning for every person. Hands are the windows to a man's soul.

They tell us more than words ever could. I love watching them glide over the keys, caressing every note with the same attention. The melody of your fingers is magical, it entrances me almost hypnotically.

The way you elegantly lift your wrists without interrupting this wonderful dance, the way you perfectly balance the pressure in each finger suit effortlessly, I adore the journey you take me on. You leave me fascinated by your veins, shifting in different directions as if they were dancing on their own when you relax and contract your muscles. And when you reach that chromatic section, I flurry up vast finger movements, not chaotic, not rigid, but an emotive flu like a river reaching a narrower section.

Oh, your bare hands, so soft, yet so powerful. They are more than a tool, neither created nor invented, but perfect. Perhaps they're beautilising their simplicity.

Five fingers on each hand, ten in total, together capable of so much. Your hands do amazing things every day, like when you're typing an email, almost as if you were playing the piano. The clicking sound of your keys as your fingers rhythmically tap them.

I can picture them, one by one, striking down, coordinated, in sync. Sometimes I think about how your hands look when you cook. How you would wrap them around the handle of a knife and cut apples into little pieces with incredible precision.

How you would take a pinch of cinnamon between your fingers and let it slowly fall on those apples. How your hands would knead their dough, moulding every inch with immaculate force. Your hands are so sensual, so desirable, even when you're doing the most mundane things.

When they softly caress each other, coated in soup as you wash them under a stream of warm water, your fingers intertwining, your palms joining. When you slowly flick the page of the book you are reading, softly pinching the corner of the page and turning the page around with one quick motion of your wrist. Or when you open the door to the living room or your bedroom.

During the day, you might be forceful and decisive, while at night you might be more gentle and hesitant not to make too much noise. When I think of your hands, I start to desire them. If we were to shake hands, would they be soft, or would they be strong and assertive? Perhaps the answer is both.

I like to imagine them stroking through my hair as you whisper nice words in my ear. Your fingers slowly gliding through my hair. I want you to tell me how beautiful I am, how soft my hair feels and how kissable my lips look.

Your hand now slowly moving down the side of my face, caressing my cheek. It feels warm to the touch. My heart starts beating faster, you're so close to me.

You sense how badly I want to feel your touch as my cheeks go upright and I shyly avert my gaze. The touch of your fingers on my The touch of your fingers on my skin feels comforting, like coming home. As your hand passes my lips, I reach out and kiss it.

First your wrist, then your palm, then your fingers. I open my mouth and let you slide two of them in. You can feel the warm, warm touch of my tongue around your fingers, how my mouth embraces your fingers.

I signal to you that I give myself up to your touch, to the magnificence of your hands. And I want them to travel further down my body, to make me feel desired by you as you come closer to my most intimate place. Your fingers slowly reach my shoulders.

The mere thought of your intimate touch makes my heart race. I want you, no, I need you to move down and cover my body in your passionate touch. Your hands cupping my breasts, the only thing that separates them from your tender skin is my sundress and my lazy bra.

I want you to take off my dress, throw it to the side and undo my bra, make me drop it to the ground as you continue to pleasure me. All I desire is your touch on my body, all of my body. Caress my nipples, softly pull and pinch them as I find delight in the sensations your perfect hands bring me.

And my breathing becomes heavy, and you can tell I enjoy this from the swift moves I let out. I love how you tease my sensitive peaks, giving them soft and forceful pleasure. But we're not done, I need you to move down further.

I want to see the desire in your eyes as your hand travels down my stomach, so delicate. You come closer and closer to my most intimate area as I softly spread my legs for you. I love the surprise on your face as you hesitate to lift up my skirt just to notice that underneath, I am completely exposed to you.

There's no panties standing in the way of your fingers making their way to my most erotic area. You didn't think I would be this open, ready and aching for your touch. I adore your hands, your tender yet forceful feel.

I take your hand and bring it closer to my clit. You can feel how swollen and wet it is. You gently start to stroke it as I succumb to your pleasure.

Something carnal in me takes over, it removes my inhibitions. That's right, I'm yours and I want you to use me with your hands. Use them like the symbol of power they are.

I want you to put your hand around my neck and squeeze. Choke me, yes, choke me hard. Put your fingers inside my wet mess of a pussy and feed it off with your forceful hand.

Pleasure me as you dip in and out. Engulf me in sensation as you grease against my clit with every thrust. Make me comfort you, make me whimper as you get rough.

Fingers in, fingers out. Make me feel good, make me feel so fucking good. Torture my swollen flesh as I get closer and closer to orgasm.

My body is on fire, unleash all your carnal fury on me. I need you to unleash all that fury on me. Ravage me with your fingers in this grand finale.

Fuck me, make me count your touch. Fuck me with that perfect hand. Get me closer and closer to climax while you remind me who's in charge.

You make me beg for release as you still have your other hand wrapped around my neck. Oh, please, let me come, please. Your hands feel sick.

You speed up again, driven by my pleas for pleasure. Your fingers entering and exiting me as they graze my throbbing clit. Oh, fuck yeah.

You're gonna make me come. You're gonna make me come. They graze me with your hands as you make a mess of me.

I love it. Please don't stop. I'm gonna come.

Oh, thank you, dear pianist. Thank you for your touch. Maybe someday my fantasy will become reality.

You're gonna make me come. You're gonna make me come.