Expressive Hands

“Mwai! Mwai.” He said behind my glove. He held my other hand with his, just as I was about to peel back his briefs. I tried continuing, but his entire body shifted as he made an even greater effort to fight me. “Plee. Mwai. Mehme taw.” I didn’t think he was going to scream now. It sounded like he wanted to talk.

I slowly pull away from both his waist and his face, and he doesn’t seem to trust me at first. He’s looking around at the rest of the parking lot, I’m not sure what for.

“Just want to talk. Please.” He slowly released me, and I pulled both gloves up, palms toward him as I backed against the steering wheel. He looked down at the cuffs, passing his fingers beneath me as if he was investigating some invisible fluid. When he cocked his arm back again, I could feel the wind he generated, and I wiggled my fingertips just a little.

He seemed shocked and delighted at this motion, so I did another, making my fingers wave at the base starting with both leather pinkies and going up through the digits to make a wave motion, touching my thumbs when I was done.

“I don’t get how this is possible. You’re obviously not an invisible person, you couldn’t fit there.” His dark eyes searched my seams for an explanation. “I’ve had these gloves for two years. You’re not suddenly haunted, are you?”

I closed the fingers of my right hand and turned the whole of it so that my thumb was downward. I was able to make him laugh! I’d heard it before, many times, but I’d never been the cause before. I never considered what that might be like, and…it was amazing. It redefined what his laugh meant to me. I’d made him happy! I’m not just aware of visible light, you see. The spectrum I see in is a little more intimate. I could actually sense the tension drop in him when he laughed.

“Well, if you’re not the invisible man, and you’re not a ghost, what are you?”

How would a pair of gloves explain the situation? It took me a moment, but I thought I had something worked out. I let one of my gloves drop atop the dash, going limp and allowing it to deflate. I pointed to his waistline, and I made a stroking motion with the glove I left inflated. When he seemed to get it, I took my pointer finger and went from his pants to the glove I left on the dashboard. When I pointed at the deflated glove, it came to life once more, and I finished by putting both of my palms up.

“No way,” He said. “You’re saying I…did this?” Yay! Leading yes or no questions make this easy. I just put my thumb up in response. He looks around the parking lot again. “With my cum?” He asks quietly. This time I put my palms up again, shrugging. I don’t know for sure, really. Am I a special pair of gloves, or is his cum special?

“So…is that why you were, uh—going for the pants?” He asks. I wave a hand a little before giving him a slow thumbs up. I hope he’s getting at least some of the nuance in these answers. His expression shifts a little now, and I can feel his gaze dancing over my leather. He’s considering something, I think. There’s a tension returning to him.

“Were…you gonna give me a handjob?” I didn’t think he’d ask quite like that, but here we are! I give him the okay signal with one hand and a big thumbs up with the other before I approach his waist again.

_

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