Foot fetishes, in terms of fetishes, are relatively commonplace. Such disgrace it is, for while feet tend to stay hidden most of the time in shoes and socks, the foot's more visible arm counterpart- the hand- has fewer fetishees to it's name. Shameful.
This work will be dedicated to the hand, for, while Rosbud and Mimosa may be the main characters, the idea of "hands for genetalia" is the true protagonist.
Sweeps are long on the planet of Alternia, and anniversaries rare. For Rosbud and Mimosa, their uncommon third-sweep anniversary was to be the next day. What better way to celebrate such an occasion than with a cake?
Mimosa was supposed to be gone for a few hours, so Rosbud- his boyfriend- took the opportunity to bake him up a pastry that would be just as alluring as him. In a bowl he tossed some eggs, flour, milk, butter, baking powder, and a splash of vanilla. The olive blooded troll even added in a dash of cinnamon, just for kicks. A mechanical whir filled the room as he flicked the mixer on. The cake- it was sure to land him some hot hot sexy times with Mimosa! Why, just staring and the batter alone was already really starting to arouse him…
Rosbud stopped the machine. The feeling… it was too much! Staring at the the succulent cake creation blend enticed a feeling deep within him. He... couldn't wait until tomorrow! Reaching down into the bowl, Rosbud took a glob of the sweet mixture and smeared it across his face. Then, slowly, yet surely, he smeared the sticky substance over his entire naked body.
Suddenly Mimosa stepped into view! "Hey Rosbud," the cerulean blooded troll sensually swaggered forward. "What's up? ;)"
Rosbud gasped, surprised, but quickly recovered. "I've been, uh, making a cake." he winked sexily back at the other troll, "It's been pretty hard, could you 'give me a hand' (if you know what I mean~)?"
Mimosa knew exactly what he meant. Grinning hungrily, he ripped off his clothes, his third hand poised at the ready. Rosbud, covered in the doughy cake creation, lept forward! The two made out, their tongues dueling for dominance like the knights of old. They slashed- back and forth, parry and thrust- their spit flying everywhere until Mimosa was just as slippery as Rosbud. Finally, in a surprise play of events, Mimosa won the fight! His tongue reigned victorious and claimed the metaphorical tourney purse.
Mouths worn out from the battle, the two leaned back and prepared themselves for what came next. Rosbud pulled out his secret arm (thankfully the two of them were both lefties) and clenched Mimosa's pleasure digits tight. Mimosa mimosmoaned.
Rosbud released Mimosa's meaty palm. Using their extended flesh limbs, they started the ritual they'd spent many long, sexy hours preparing. First came the hand slap, then the wrist bump, then the fist bump, the double side shake, the locked elbows. Rosbud shuddered with ecstacy. Their "secret handshake" always managed to get him going, and the slippery lubrication that covered them both did wonders.
They sped up, going faster and faster until their movements were nothing but a blur. Mimosa grunted out of pain and pleasure as he flexed the muscles of his thrust limb around Rosbud's. It went on for what felt like hours, and on the twenty-fifth pass of their grand ritual, they both came: explosively and at the exact same time!
Rosbud collapsed with Mimosa directly on top of him. Their energies were spent.
It was the day of Rosbud and Mimosa's anniversary, and the common cake was lacking. Instead, they had a gooey dough that covered the floor of their kitchen. How messy!
Using a mop, Mimosa worked at the floor, his three arms stabilizing the hardened wood. While he did that, Rosbud broke out the troll Windex and rubbed at the stains with three separate cloths.
Suddenly a bang resounded from the front door!
The couple stopped what they were doing and stared, but only for a moment. Then, Rosbud rushed up and over, barely a moment passing until his hands were resting on the doorknob. His slender tool of seduction grasped a gun he'd hidden conveniently underneath the doormat for situations just like these.
"Who's there?" He moaned. Behind him, Mimosa creeped forward, his pleasure appendage brandishing a kitchen knife from the room before.
The olive blood cracked the door open and peered out. On the ground outside was a card from their friends.
"That's nice of them!" Mimosa sighed out of relief. Taking the knife from his pleasure center, he used the extra limb to grab the envelope.
"Yeah," Rosbud grinned. "It really is nice!"
The pair stumbled back indoors and went back to cleaning. A cake was missing from their day, but happiness surely was not.