Game of Hands
A strong hand reached out to behold a soft smooth slender hand. "Do I touch, do I press or do I tap?" It pondered. The soft hand only anticipated the thrill.
The strong hand reached out to take the soft hand, to tap it, or poke it, or maybe rub against it. The soft hand kept still as warm blood filled the veins of its palm, pondering the thickness of the strong hand.
The strong hand desired to maybe brush over the soft hand or even caress it but wondered whether that would be kind, cruel or cunning to the soft hand. The soft hand panted and craved for the touch it could not initiate.
The Strong hand reached out to tickle or fiddle the soft hand but discerned the soft hand yearned for more filling than emptying. The soft hand sighed with its index finger.
The strong hand gently opened its palm wide and outstretched, its fingers preparing to lock into the clasp of the soft hand with a grasp. The soft hand pinched its fingers before softly reaching out with a surrendering open palm to be clutched, clenched and gripped by the thickness of the Strong hand.
The strong hand landed in the unusual softness of kind finger prints ready to carry and bear this soft hand all through. The soft hand rested in the thickness of big fingers of the strong hand and cleaved to the power thereof.
A hand shake happened!
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