Rough Hands Novels & Stories

I remained skittish, anticipating that another shoe would soon drop. I had always been captivated by a man's hands, and his were no exception—strong, with long fingers and impeccably manicured nails. They bore a slight tan, and I instinctively knew it was a natural, sun-kissed hue. As he poured the wine, his gaze remained fixed on me, exuding sultriness and invitation, mingled with a hint of uncertainty.

In return my cock twitched in response to her look of longing and she smiled a beautiful smile. Reaching out she wrapped her small pretty hand around the shaft of my hard cock. Her hand was so cool and soft on my cock and I could feel the blood pumping into my cock as I swelled up larger at her touch. Rose started pumping her hand up and down on my cock and I was surprised at how firmly she gripped my cock until I realized that she had obviously given a handjob before because she seemed so confident.

His rough palms slide inside against my bare back, and I gasp at the texture – sandpaper on silk, his calloused hands on my smooth skin. The dress falls. I'm in my underwear – black bra, black thong – and his hands are everywhere. Tracing my spine. Cupping my ass through the lace. Sliding around to my stomach, up to my ribs, his callouses scraping my sensitive skin. "Beautiful," he murmurs. He unclasps my bra – takes two tries with his rough fingers, which is somehow hotter than if he'd done it smoothly – and my tits fall free. His hands cup them from behind. His calloused palms drag across my nipples and the rough texture on that sensitive skin makes me cry out.

Just a crappy third-floor hallway and a man who had died for me more times than made sense, standing three feet away and offering his hand like it might be the most dangerous thing he’d ever done. I stepped forward. The distance closed in half a breath. My fingers slid into his. Warm. Real. His palm was rougher than I remembered—callused in ways that spoke of work, not war. He wrapped his hand around mine slowly, like he was afraid of squeezing too hard and snapping something delicate. Electric wasn’t the right word. There was no jolt, no crackle of magic. It's just an almost painful *rightness,* like a dislocated joint sliding back into place.

I murmured, extending my palms. Slowly, his dark blue eyes opened, staring down at me through the wet veil of his hair. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before lifting his right hand, resting his massive, trembling palm in mine. The contrast was staggering. My small, pale hands were entirely swallowed by his, his fingers thick and calloused, his skin burning hot despite the freezing rain that had soaked his clothes.

‘That’s great then. She felt a warm feeling coming from the back of her hand. She lowered her eyes and it was only then that she suddenly realized that he had wrapped his big hand completely around hers. His hand was very wide and warm, and there were slight calluses on the palm of his hand because he had already worked for a long time. This was a sign that belonged exclusively to mature men and this made her feel a little flustered. She panicked and retracted her hand. “How is your wound?”

F******k Soul: [Image] Only one picture. A beautiful arm rests on a gray tabletop, a shirt is rolled up to the elbow, revealing an arm wearing a black watch, the watch highlights the solid white arm, especially the joints clear bones in fingers, unbearably beautiful. If you are a hand, you can't stand it. *non-hands are only people who are passionate about beautiful hands. And this picture is mainly taken of the watch on the other hand, netizens immediately understood. "Oh my gosh, what a beautiful hand! z this is a handsome man!"

“If you plan to turn me down, then do it now.” A large hand slowly entered my gaze below. His hands were calloused, indicating that he was no stranger to hard work. His hand moved slowly until two fingers gently touched the underside of my chin. As he slowly lifted my face up, sparks erupted from his touch. When my blue eyes met his amber eyes, time seemed to stop.

] †††† Big Harry was a huge guy; one of the muscleheads, that had won the preliminaries against a fellow musclehead. Wilson remembered him quite vividly. He had long hair and his hands would frequently transform into some sorts of rocks, or at least that was what he thought. Now, with the name of Harry's ability written out for all eyes to see, including his, he realised that the rocks that appeared were to reinforce his hands. It caused higher damage while at the same time, protected the user's knuckles. Whichever way one saw it, it seemed like the ideal ability for a boxer and any person that did a job that often required more strength and brains.

Rose raised her right hand and bent her index finger. "During the weekend, I was accidentally scratched by a crab in the supermarket. There's a wound on my finger. Even if I have touched the machine before, it wouldn't have my wound on it. I am confident that I didn't touch the machine yesterday, so no matter how many fingerprints were being collected, there won't be one with a wound like mine! As everyone could see, to insert the wire, the person would have to lean against the wall to do it. No matter if the person was left-handed or right-handed, they could only use their right hand to do it. I'm sure everyone here agrees with this point!"