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Today’s chapter is about the good, the bad and the ugly. But of course you know I meant men’s hands, right?


Gerard Butler–nice hands!

explicit content

7. Male Anatomy

Emily decided that she liked Ellen. She was unassuming, yet quietly witty, and you felt you could tell her anything. Emily was tempted to confess her secret, in fact. Ellen seemed the kind of person who wouldn’t judge her, or spread the information around. Emily wished she had someone to talk to about spanking, a topic that was always on the edge of her thoughts. In addition to owning a gallery, she was herself a painter, but she didn’t show her works. For the last two years, her sole subject had been men’s hands. After much practice, she was beginning to be quite accomplished at painting hands that looked lifelike— resting on a table, holding a book or a pipe, even folded in prayer. She always chose men with beautiful, large, long-fingered hands, not fat ones with sausage fingers. She found Alan Rickman’s hands captivating, and had been thrilled to discover that numerous women online (and not a few men) were similarly smitten.

While walking to Sarafina’s, the sandwich place where she was to meet Tina and the others for lunch, Emily mused on the men she knew, and their hands. Charlie’s were too small and short-fingered to excite her, and while Owen had elegant hands, they were slightly soft and feminine. Hector had nice hands, but his fingernails were thick and not always well-manicured, which turned her off. Angus and Hugh had the best hands of all, well cared-for, yet masculine and expressive; she regularly fantasized about both of them. With his naturally stern expression, Hugh looked like a man who could deliver a thorough spanking. Whenever the group met up, he always sat in a big armchair in his suit or his shirtsleeves, leaning back slightly and spreading his legs… what would it feel like if he suddenly seized her and threw her over his lap, applying a firm, manly hand to her bottom?

Perhaps beautiful hands had something to do with music; Angus was a musician by vocation, and Hugh by avocation. Right from the start, she was attracted to Hugh in spite of his grim-looking visage, but although he was affectionate toward her, he had never shown the slightest interest in taking her to bed. Sometimes she felt his eyes on her, and the phantom of a smile touched his lips, as though he guessed her secret.

“Emily! How are you?” Her thoughts were interrupted by Ellen’s greeting as they both reached Sarafina’s from different directions. Tina, Val and Kim were already at a table, and they embarked on the pleasant ritual of catching up and trading compliments on one another’s shoes, hair, or jewelry. Emily ordered the hummus wrap instead of a cheesesteak; she had read Michael Pollan on eating a plant-based diet, and after seeing pictures of him online, she’d decided to test his advice. He was bald as an egg, but he had gorgeous hands.

After the food came, Ellen pulled out her phone and said, “There’s something I want to ask you all about.” She tapped the screen until an image appeared, and passing the phone to Emily, who was on her right, she said, “I received this two days ago from an address I don’t recognize.”

The picture showed an erect penis and a pair of testicles, surrounded by a nest of black hair. “Omigosh!” cried Emily, turning the phone outward so the others could see it.

“Sorry,” said Ellen. “I was a little shocked myself when I opened this.”

“Someone sexted you,” said Kim, shrugging. “It happens. If I were you, I’d just hit delete.”

“It’s never happened before,” replied Ellen, “and I wondered if— ”

“If any of the men we know sent it?” Kim interrupted her coolly. “You can’t assume that. It could very well be one of your students.”

“Yes,” said Ellen. “That’s true. I realize that correlation doesn’t imply causation.”

“Well, it’s definitely not Charlie,” cracked Tina.

“Or Angus,” said Emily, blushing a little. “His hair isn’t that color.” After a moment she said brightly, “Maybe it’s Hugh!” Everyone laughed, though to Emily’s eye, Ellen looked taken aback. It was disquieting to think that one of the men in their circle might be doing something creepy like this. Emily liked the group because it felt safe. Having sex with Hector or Charlie or Angus, each of whom she had known for over a year, seemed much preferable to picking up a stranger in a bar. No doubt it would be easier to confess her shameful desires to a complete stranger, but the thought scared her. Even the stock trader of her one-night stand had been a friend of a friend.

“If it’s one of our guys, we ought to be able to identify him,” said Val, carefully scrutinizing the photo. “Maybe if we put them in a lineup.” The thought drew laughter around the table, and lightened the mood.

“I’m not so sure. To crib from Gertrude Stein, a dick is a dick is a dick,” commented Kim.

Tina chuckled. “That’s what I thought the first time I met Charlie, and he was still fully clothed.”

Copyright 2016 by Linnet Moss

Notes: the theme of erotic spanking has appeared twice in my stories, once in the Laura and James trilogy and once here. I explored it from both male and female perspectives. To my mind, the problem with most erotic fiction about dominance and submission is that it takes itself too seriously. Actually that is true of all sexuality. Sex is really quite silly and undignified, and we might as well admit that and have fun with it.

Alan Rickman’s hands are perhaps unjustly celebrated. They’re nice but I think they are a bit too soft-looking.


For my favorite men’s hands see this post.