A Good Friend

Chapter 5: The Date

On Friday I picked Kim up around 7 and we went to a little hole in the wall Thai place that (not by accident) had a popular club a few doors down. There was no mistaking her appearance this time - dressed to the nines. Black polka dot dress, strappy heels, perfect makeup, and a subtle floral perfume.

I had a raging hard-on before our drinks arrived. Throughout the meal, my eyes kept dropping to her mouth, dying to kiss her. Watching her tongue play with the hot sauce on her spring roll. And with that deep v neckline, I couldn't help staring at the rise and fall of her tits under her clingy dress. Even the way she drank from her bottle of Shinga was sexy. I just couldn't tell if she was being deliberately provocative or if it was just me.

Worst of all, I kept thinking about crawling under the table and eating her out. As I shifted in my chair to ease my erection, the knowing look on her face told me she was well aware of my predicament.

I made a halfhearted stab at small talk, but that flopped immediately. I wasn't interested in office gossip, so I picked up our conversation up right where we left off at lunch. Playfully quizzing each other about the others' sexual pasts, preferences, kinks and so on. I wanted to know more about her. Specifically, what turned her on.

Hearing stories about me and Rick was clearly one of them. I'd been pretty clear he and I wouldn't stop fooling around if a girl entered the picture, and that said girl would be welcome to join in if our preferences lined up, so I suspected she was already imagining what being stuffed full of enthusiastic cock would feel like.

Kim was so open and casual about everything. Even though we were in a far corner of the restaurant, I worried that someone might overhear our conversation. She caught me looking around to check and just smirked, completely unfazed by the possibility.

I wanted to know more, though, so I figured the direct approach was best.

"Do you have any unusual turn-ons? Not the run-of-the-mill stuff, something a bit more exotic?"

She gave me that considering look again, let it linger for a moment, and then said, almost bashfully, "Quirofilia."

Racking my brain, I had to admit, "Never heard of it, what's that?"

"A sexual attraction to hands."

I stifled an impulse to guffaw. Being turned on by hands seemed exceedingly silly to me, but she probably knew it might. She was opening up to me, and if I didn't appreciate that I should just settle the bill, go home and jack off.

"Hands? Like how?"

"Strong, masculine ones." She must have noticed my skepticism, because she added a bit defensively, "A lot of women are attracted to a man's hands. They just don't know we can consider it a kink."

Kim reached over the table and ran her fingertips briefly over the back of my hand.

"Whenever I see a pair of muscular hands on a man, I think of him being capable, of being able to handle what life throws at him - and me as well. Of protection. I imagine what they'll feel like touching me, palming my breasts. Warm. Rough and strong, but gentle at the same time. And frankly, nice hands like yours imply a nice, big dick."

I had no idea. And yeah, when she put it that way... I shifted in my chair, reaching down for a quick readjustment.

"That last one might be an old wives' tale," I said dryly.

"Is it true in your case?" she asked.

I looked down at my hands, considering. I'd never thought about them like that before, whether they were large or average sized, their appearance, and so on. Preposterously enough, they looked very rugged, like I wrangled livestock for a living instead of spreadsheets.