Fourth of July Handgag

I was helping out today, volunteer work, with a community Fourth of July event. Over by the beer tent there was quite a crowd, and I noticed this one woman, thirtyish, ash blonde, a beauty, with long shapely slender flawless legs. And the thing was, her hands! Because she had big long broad smooth exquisitely shaped oversized hands, large feminine silky smooth hands.

And this one fellow kept hitting on her. He had tendencies toward a beard, mid thirties by my guess, looked like he was a long distance trucker by day, or maybe a diesel mechanic. Fueled by beer, he kept hitting on her, and she was sort of going along with it.

And the thing I noticed was, Mr. Diesel Trucker kept getting her to slap the palm of her hand against his palm, like high fives, and he kept doing it with her again and again and AGAIN, as if he was obsessed with palm on palm handslap action. And she was a couple of inches taller than him, and her large smoothbacked beauteous hands were a good deal larger than his.

And Mr. Diesel Trucker kept it up with her, over and over, and he seemed to be making headway on it, and then (this is where I perceived he was a fellow kink) he progressed to prolonging each palmslap, drawing it out, frantically pressing and rubbing and smushing his upheld palm firmly against her palm, drawing it out each time for five or ten seconds, pressing rubbing palm-to-palm friction like nothing you'd see a person ordinarily doing, and he was just going crazy over it. And finally she seemed to recognize there was something weird about his hand-on-hand obsession, and she drew back, pivoting her bare shoulder with its rose tattoo away from him, and I thought maybe he'd overplayed his hand with her.

But then this tall beauteous leggy woman took him by the hand and drew him out to dance. Because there was a band playing by the beer tent (don't ask me what they were playing, it was country music, but I'm about as unmusical as they come) and couples were dancing, and now she whirled him out and was dancing with him, this sexy thirtyish blonde, and it was all the more obvious she was taller than him, and her hand much larger than his hand, her big smooth hand engulfing his.

Then after the song ended, they stopped dancing, and Mr. Diesel Trucker was standing there, animated, talking with her, as if hoping to pick her up, and maybe this Fourth of July would be his lucky day. And then he leaned toward her, his face lighting up, and he said something -- I couldn't hear what, by this time the band was launching into their next number -- and he must've said something bad to her, musta gone too far, because that's when it happened.

The handgag.

Because all of a sudden this tall big-handed blonde, standing beside him and to his right, put her left arm around his shoulders, and she clamped her hand tight over his mouth. Clamped her large long smooth broad feminine powerful hand tight over his mouth, thumb up alongside his nose, and as they walked back toward the beer tent together, she kept her hand fastened over his mouth as she talked to him, shook her head, talked to him as if admonishing him and giving him a little lecture, and she kept her hand planted firmly over his mouth all the way back to the beer tent.

And the look in his eyes was like sheepish, embarrassed, uh-oh, as if he knew he'd overstepped his bounds with her. Sheepish, but at the same time oddly excited, in a trance of glory. And when they got to the beer tent she took her hand away from his mouth, after probably an eight second handgag. And now he was talking with her, even more animated, and holding his hand up in the air like let's do some more of that weird palm to palm action...

Only soon this hot large-handed blonde was turning aside from Mr. Diesel Trucker, and she was chatting and flirting with other men there at the beer tent, and then she was out there dancing again, only this time she was dancing with Mr. Cowboy Hat, who was taller than her and didn't display any odd hand fixations. And Mr. Diesel Trucker stood off by the beer tent, drowning his feelings at this turn of events with another can of Bud Light.

And I noticed as the afternoon unfolded that this blonde gal, thirty, never stuck with the same guy for long. She'd chat with one fellow, a dance or two with him, and then just when the fellow looked as if he thought he might be getting somewhere with her, she'd drift away from him, and on to the next guy, as if she enjoyed the attention of leading them on for a brief while before skipping to the next.

And from Mr. Diesel Trucker she passed to Mr. Cowboy Hat, and then once Mr. Cowboy Hat got really warmed up and hopeful she jilted him for Mr. Air Force Tee-Shirt (also wearing a cowboy hat), and then after a while she drifted away from Mr. Air Force Tee-Shirt in favor of Mr. Pompadour Walrus Mustache, and on and on it went.

Some time later I noticed Mr. Diesel Trucker wandering back through the scene, between the beer tent and the band, and I noticed him eyeing this beautiful blonde gal. In particular, I noticed him staring down hungrily at her large long smoothbacked beautiful womanly hands, as if he treasured the weirdly extended palm-rubbing high fives, and the eight-second handgag, that he got off of her.

And it was clear to me (as in it takes one to know one) that Mr. Diesel Trucker was a serious hand freak, turned on to get some hand action with such a hot woman, electrified to be the beneficiary of a Fourth of July handgag.