The Handymans Tender Touch: A Bi-Sexual Fantasy

Kiki klout

Kiki Klout,Arietta Adams,J Mac

The late afternoon sun streamed through the dusty workshop window, catching motes of sawdust that danced like gold dust around his sturdy frame. His calloused fingers, usually so sure and strong with wood and metal, trembled slightly as they brushed a stray lock of hair from my forehead. The air was thick with the scent of pine and his faint, clean sweat, a strangely comforting perfume that made my heart flutter. His eyes, a warm and gentle brown, held mine with an unspoken question, a silent language of longing that needed no translation. I leaned into the solid warmth of his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring thrum of his heartbeat against my cheek. A soft sigh escaped my lips as his hand moved to cradle the back of my neck, his thumb tracing slow, hypnotic circles on my skin. In that suspended moment, the world outside with all its rules and labels simply ceased to exist, leaving only this pure, electric connection. I could feel the tension in his shoulders soften as he yielded to the same overwhelming tenderness that was making my knees feel weak. It was a surrender not of bodies, but of souls, a delicate fusion of two spirits meeting in the quiet light. We stood there, wrapped in a silent understanding, two hearts beating a fragile, hopeful rhythm in the golden haze.