My fingernail fetish
We never officially met until the summer after my junior
year of college, but for me, we went back almost ten
years. I distinctly remembering seeing her at my seventh
grade bake sales, which were every Tuesday in the
library. I was a kid, awkward and horny. She was a class
mother.
She was tall, about 5'10", with long features. Her neck
craned gracefully over her buxom chest; her thighs
always stretched below her skirts, showing a little too
much leg for a woman who must have been in her late
thirties. I also distinctly remembered her thin arms
which she used when she talked. And then, her hands.
She always wore jewelry on her slender fingers leading
up to her beautiful nails. Her nail bed must have been
1/2", and she always kept her them at least another 1/2"
past the tip of her fingers. She obviously cared for her
nails, because every time I saw her, she was doing
something different. Usually, she wore a French
manicure, although she would vary her tips, something
rounded, something angular. Every so often she wore a
burgundy color. And once, right around Christmas, she
simply wore pure snow white.
I always looked forward to those bake sales. Whatever
she was selling, I was buying. I still get excited
thinking about her she would have to scoop change off
the table, or how she would use her talons to gently
life a brownie off a paper plate. The brownies were the
best because she would usually get a few crumb stuck to
her nails, which she would lick off. Nail by nail, she
would open her mouth, stick out her tongue, and lick.
I had to have been her best customer, and she knew it.
We began exchange smiles after a few weeks, and I
eventually accepted that she knew I had a crush on her.
However, I assumed that she didn't know about my
fascination with her nails. Until she caught me looking.
It was the end of the year. I was staring, infatuated,
at her mouth as she was removing the last, stubborn bit
of a Rice-Krispy treat from her long nail on her middle
finger. She had a slight grin on her face, and was
taking a little longer than normal. I must have been
sporting a rather obvious adolescent erection, and I
couldn't help myself but to look her in the eyes. And I
swear, she winked at me. I wasn't positive, hell, I
couldn't ask. But for years, that wink stayed with me as
the centerpiece of my most frequent fantasies.
I saw her rarely after that year. I had learned her
name, Eve, and I knew that she had several children at
my school, although none in my grade. During high
school, I would occasionally see her picking up her
kids, with her long nails gently curved over the
steering wheel of her Jaguar. I saw her once at a video
store and once at a book store, but I knew that I
couldn't approach her. She was married, for God's sake,
and she had children who were younger than me. But I
promised myself that, when I was older, if I ever had
the chance even just to talk to her, I would go for it.
What would I have to lose?
Which brings me back to the summer after my Junior year.
I had been called to jury duty, which seemed like a
drag. However, like many of you, I saw the bright side
in these kinds of situations: I might just see some nice
nails. I arrived early and took a seat in a rather drab
room, waiting for instruction when Eve showed up. She
was a little older now, but hadn't lost any of her looks
or class. And she had gained about 1/4" on her nails.
They were more beautiful than ever. She was wearing a
nice, standard, French manicure, and I was going wild.
It was the situation I always dreamed of. I was now
twenty-one and more confident. I knew that this was
going to be my last, best chance to talk to her. She
took a seat and pulled out a book. As she read, she
placed her right hand on the page, spreading her fingers
for anyone to see. She held the cover with her left
hand, with her thumb sticking straight into the air.
Long nails of any kind excite me, but, personally, I
always go absolutely with when I see the inside of the
nail. And there was her long thumbnail pointing to the
ceiling, waving back and forth. However, I didn't have
the guts to talk to her. What would I say? "Hey, uh,
Eve. You probably don't remember me but I was a horny
seventh grader who bought like, fifty fudge squares from
you in the late 80s. How about you forget your husband
and screw around with me in my car?"
We were soon called to our first trials. The way jury
duty works it that everyone is separated into groups and
you go before a judge to be considered for a trial. Each
group was about thirty people and each jury was twelve,
so over half the people would be rejected for a
particular case. That morning I vowed that I wouldn't
get stuck on any trial, but I had a new purpose in life.
I would get stuck on a trial with Eve.
She wasn't in my first group. It was some drug case and
I made sure that I wasn't going to be selected. When the
judge and lawyers asked me how I felt about legalization
of drugs, I lied. I've never done drugs, nor have I ever
had any respect for anyone who has, but I told them
that, yes, drugs should be legalized and that I
sincerely felt that drug prosecutions were a waste of
time and taxpayer's money. That was all it took. Thank
you for your time sir, but the county will not need your
service in this case. Please go back downstairs and
reenter the juror pool.
I knew she was going to be there when I got back.
Actually, I can't remember seeing her there, but I felt
that the next time I knew I would be lucky. When they
called out her name, I actually stood up, willing that I
would also be called. And I was. I reported to the
courtroom.
She was there when I arrived. I could have sat next to
her, but I hesitated. Now, I didn't just want to say hi
or exchange smiles. I wanted to be on a jury with her,
and I didn't want her to think that I was weird (and why
would she think that?) Early on, she was chosen and
passes their "are you biased and going to send this guy
the chair for stealing a car" test.
The case concerned a police officer accused to stealing
from the evidence room and selling the good to pawn
shops. Pretty dumb case, and pretty open and shut. This
time, when I was called, I was Mr. Clean Slate. They
asked if I had any relatives in law enforcement. I said
no. (My uncle's a cop.) They asked if I was ever a
victim of a crime. I said no. (Of course I've been a
victim of a crime. This is America, isn't it.) And, with
the grace of the nail gods, I was accepted.
If I had any complaints about this experience, it was
that I had a bad seat. I was in the front row of the
jury box, and Eve was in the back. Normally, I would
keep turning around, just trying to get a glimpse. But
this was a courtroom. I couldn't just raise my hand and
say, "If it would please the court, I have a little
fetish I would like to indulge in and there's a woman
twice my age who I've been lusting after since the
Reagan administration just a few feet away. Your honor,
may I have your permission to take in her sexy nails and
retire to the bathroom to jerk off."
I had to be patient.
After a few words from the Judge, we adjourned for
lunch. The jury was sent to the cafeteria. We weren't
supposed to talk to anyone else, so we all sat together.
I took a seat directly across from, and we began eating
in silence. Finally, an elderly man decided to break the
ice. He asks that everyone say their names and where
they are from. We went around the table. I couldn't care
less about everyone else's life story. I was just
waiting for Eve.
I knew that we had the same hometown, so when she said
it, I remarked that I was from there, too. She smiles
and we talked about it briefly. I didn't care about the
content of the conversation. Here I was, finally looking
her straight in the eye (with occasional glances towards
her nails, of course), talking to her like an adult.
We finished our meals quickly and had some time to kill.
Everyone made their way back to the courtroom and milled
outside, waiting for everything to get moving. I
approached Eve, and just started talking. Where exactly
do you live? How long have you lived there? She was
talking with her hands, as she always did, and I noticed
something different.
Back in seventh grade I had memorized everyone
millimeter of her hands and nails. If there was such a
thing as a forensic nail artist, I could give a good
enough description that they could put up wanted
posters. Imaging that. America's most wanted sexy nails.
When I saw it, my blood rushed straight from my brain to
you know where. She had always worn her engagement ring
and wedding ring. But they had been replaced with newer,
smaller, rings. Did this mean...
"So, does your family live in town?"
"Well, my children are either in college or have
graduated. And since my husband and I separated, I've
been living alone."
I knew this was my time. I started flirting, smiling,
laughing. And she was responding. At one point, she
placed her hand on the forearms and gave a slight
squeeze. Her thumb nail gently dug into my skin.
"Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you?"
"No. Not at all."
We soon filed back into the courtroom. I had no idea
what they talked about that afternoon, and I didn't
care. I just wanted it to end so I could talk to Eve.
After we adjourned for the evening, I approached Eve.
The trial didn't seem like it would last long, and I
figured that I had to make every moment count.
"So, Eve." I was calling her by her first name. "Since
we live so near to each other, do you want to carpool? I
can pick you up tomorrow."
"Sure."
She was going to be in my car. We were going to talk. We
were going to be alone. I was in heaven.
She gave me her phone number and address and I told her
that I would be there at a quarter to eight the next
morning. I barely slept that night, and I made sure I
was clean, well dressed, and ready for the morning.
When I pulled into her driveway, I saw her house for the
first time. I was a modern, sleek building with- what
else?--well manicured lawns. I didn't want to just honk
and hurry her out. Instead, I went to the door and rang
the bell. She answered in her bathrobe and apologized
that she wasn't ready. I assured her that it really
wasn't a problem. She sat me down in her kitchen,
placing her hand on my shoulder, and poured me a cup of
coffee.
Her nails were simply beautiful. White, pure white, and
nothing else. Glowing, glossy, but not flashy. Simple,
and elegant, but still very different. She is only one
of three women in my life ever to wear pure while nail
polish, and she pulled it off beautifully. I saw in her
kitchen and drank my coffee, relishing in the smell that
she left behind in the room.
It took her a while to be ready. When she finally
emerged, she was wearing a powder blue suit, showing
some leg just like how I remembered her. Her top was cut
rather low, exposing a little cleavage. She also wore
heels probably a little too high for jury duty. But who
was I to complain?
When we were finally in the car, we noticed that we were
going to be late. And we knew that you can't be late for
court. The judge doesn't care that I've been in the
presence of a goddess. Eve was a little worried, too.
She said that she would tell the judge that it was all
her fault, but I told her not to worry. By this time it
was 8:30 and the courthouse was about forty-five minutes
away. So I started to speed.
I was a little timid at first. I didn't want Eve to
think that I was an irresponsible kid. But as I started
going faster, I noticed that she was into it. Her claws
dug into the seat and he teeth showed through her smile.
"Are you doing all right?"
She tapped her heavenly hand on my leg. "Keep it up."
I couldn't believe it. She was having a great time. I
never could have guess that this suburban mother had
such a wild side. She laughed as we passed cars on the
freeway and kept tapping my leg as I wove between
traffic.
When we finally got to the courthouse, parked the car,
and ran to the courtroom, we were still ten minutes
late. We were the last ones there and we took our seats.
After sustaining an accusing look from the judge, we
were told that the defendant had agreed to a plea
bargain and we were free to go. That's all. Thank you
for playing.
Eve and I left the courthouse and just laughed. We had
risked our lives to get there, and it was over before it
began. Then she placed her hand on my shoulder and asks
if I wanted to get some food.
We went to a freeway diner and sat down. It was only
10:30. Neither of us had anywhere to go that day, and we
settled down for a meal. She asked about me. College?
Pretty good. Girlfriend? Not currently. And as she asked
about me, I asked about her. Is she dating? A little.
But she felt that she needed to change her image. She
said that she's looked the same for over fifteen years,
and maybe it was time to update. She said that now she
was single, she should be a little more current. Maybe
change her wardrobe. Or cut her hair.
"Just don't change the nails."
I had never complemented a woman's nails before. (This
was before I saw all the pages on the net and got more
confidence and understanding of my interest.) I had no
idea how she would react. But I had made the leap. I had
mentioned the nails.
"You really like the nails?"
"They're amazing! Don't you think so?"
"I guess. My husband liked them. But I guess I don't
know how other men would react."
"Trust me, they're beautiful."
She smiled and held them out for me to get a closer
look. I finally had them in my hand. She gently stroked
my arm.
"You have goosebumps."
"Can you blame me?"
She pulled her hands away. I thought I had said too
much. Did I scare her? Did she remember who I was, how I
pined for her?
Suddenly, I felt her tapping on my knee. She stroked my
leg, and I reached out my hand. I put mine on top of
hers and grabbed her fingers. Then I went farther and
began to massage her thigh, getting farther and farther
up her skirt. I figured I might go as far as her
underwear. Unfortunately, she wasn't wearing any. My
hand had found its way to her vagina. As I touched her
pubic hair, she leaned over to me and whispered into my
ear.
"Forget the food. You can eat at my place."
As I stood up, she noticed my erection and gently
scratched it with her forefinger. I grabbed her hand and
lead her to my car.
"You were driving pretty fast this morning. Let's see if
you can do a little better."
I tore down the freeway, never dipping under 80. We
didn't talk much in the car. Just staring. Every so
often she would lean over and kiss my neck and drag her
claws across my chest. As we took the exit to her house,
she grabbed by crotch and began to rub me. Finally, her
long fingers, her meticulously manicured nails, and
their beautiful white polish where just where I always
dreamed they would be.
We pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the car.
Once inside her house, she lead me into the bedroom. I
opened her jacket to reveal a simple bra. Then I
unzipped her skirt to reveal her naked pussy. I could
smell excitement as I laid her down and, well, went
down. I could have stayed there forever. A goddess like
Eve deserved to feel pleasure. As I worked with my
tongue, she placed her hands on my head, scratching my
scalp and the back of my neck.
"It's your turn."
I sat up on the bed and she bent down and swallowed my
penis into her mouth. As she worked the head with her
tongue and lips, she played with my shaft and balls with
her nails. At one point, she had my entire ball sack in
the palm of her hand, gently squeezing and ticking.
Overcome with pleasure, I spurted cum into her mouth. I
had never come so much before.
She swallowed most of it, but a little spilled onto her
lips and cheek. As it dripped towards her chin, she let
go of my nuts and gently scooped my seamen into her nail
on her middle finger. Then she placed her finger in her
mouth. It was exactly what she did years before with the
homemade snacks at the bake sale. A small smile spread
over her face and she worked her tongue to lick her nail
clean. I looked her in the eye, and she winked.
"I think I remember you."
I stopped terrified. Did she think I was some freak?
"I always thought you were just some kid with a crush.
Now I know, you're some sick pervert in love with my
nails."
She paused. "Fuck me." She reached into her night table,
and pulled out a condom. "I assume you want me to put
this on you."
And how! Holding the package between her thumbs and her
fingers, she tore it open. Then she slowly removed the
rubber, holding it with her nails. She leaned over me,
so her hair flopped over my head. She unrolled it onto
my penis, gently unrolling it with her long fingers. And
she sat back and spread her legs and grabbed my back and
pulled me into her.
I entered her with a rush I think I will never feel
again. She was by far the oldest woman I had ever been
with, and I was expecting her to be loose. And she was,
at first. But she knew how to use all of her vaginal
muscles. As I rode her back and forth, she used her
skill to squeeze my dick into submission. We sat up,
with her on my lap and my dick in her cunt. She dug her
claws into my shoulders as I lifted her up and down. She
was experienced and knew then I was about to cum.
"This might hurt a little."
She leaned back off the bed so her head almost reached
the floor, only holding on to me with her talons in my
lower back. Suddenly, I felt a prick in ass, as she
speared her left pinky into my hole. It was the first
and only thing ever to go up there. The tip of the nail
must have come close to my prostate, because I began to
come uncontrollably. I jerked back and unloaded, ever
more than before. She came at the same time, wiggling
and moaning beneath me. Spent, I keeled over on top of
her and we both fell to the ground.
We stared at each other, laughing and kissing. She
brought her hand up to my mouth, allowing me to suck on
her right hand. When I got to her ring finger, we
noticed some blood. I assumed it was the anal
penetration, but it was on the wrong hand. She turned me
over to see that I was bleeding from my back.
Apparently, as we both were writhing in ecstasy, she had
torn off a small, raised mole on my lower back with her
nail. She retrieved some gauze from the bathroom and
patched me up.
"I guess this means that you'll have something to
remember me by."
She threw her arms around me as we shared a long, deep
kiss. We made love for the rest of the afternoon. I came
three more times. She came at least three times that. I
kissed her entire body. She scratch me entire body. It
was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me.
We met a few more times that summer. Of course, we knew
that we couldn't ever have a normal relationship.
Really, neither of us was looking for one. We made love
several times. I even convinced her to take me along to
her nail appointments a few times. But she was getting a
divorce and I was going back to school.
I only saw her once after that summer. I was at Staples,
picking up some printing paper, and peeking down the
aisles, searing for long nails. She was shopping for a
day planner, but had a man on her arm. As I approached
her, I noticed that she had a new engagement ring. I
waited for her fiancé to leave and I sidle up beside
her. She looked down at me, lifted my shirt, and gently
scratched my lower back, right over the scar she had
given me. And then she walked away.
Keys: MF oral fingernail fetish
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