Fist-started

One fist. One cunt. Two brains. Neither of us were up to much limit pushing today. Dunno why. It was just the way it was. We did want to play; we wanted connection. But I couldn't push into any sort of fear, or unfamiliar pain space. Short, sharp intensity was out. Build-up was in.

After last night's play with the other new vaginal insert I was more into making myself available. More into the submission. I've learned that these things can change in the course of a scene; that I/we can have a shift in what we are ready for, and that that's fine. I needed to be clear with myself and James that I wasn't feeling up to a big challenge (at least initially).

"How about fisting?" he asked. "Yes!" We had only done it once before, and I was keen to try again. Familiar territory was a good plan. This time we used the sex sling, he used his left hand rather than his right, and he had the Magic Wand ready and available.

But first we had a bit of a lie down and cuddle in the bedroom. We got to talking, and were inspired to just have a little warm-up with the soft drink can, and trying to hook the Erostek up to it. The can itself slipped in quite easily, once it was all lined up, but sensation-wise it was a miserable failure. It was a reminder of basics physics: the sensation is strongest at the smallest contact point – in this case the TENS pad on my mons. It might not have been a raving success, but we felt good about having tried it out, and we were inspired to move to the Black Room for more punchy adventures.

I love it that our dynamic is flexible. I don't need him to micro-manage every aspect of a scene for it to work for me. He is still in charge, regardless of any details I manage, and I'm real good with that. It was good we had organised the room before…walking in it was all set up and ready to play. Me, naked, positioning myself in the sling; him adjusting the lights.

One, two fingers in. Three fingers, four. All good. Plenty of lube from the can still there. He hands me the lube. Good. I'm responsible for adding it as required. It's those side bits that need it. I know how it goes this time. I know when the breath-with-the fucking-stretch-feeling needs to be held. Little ins and outs, getting closer but not quite. I realise what I need is to push into it and hold it. I suggest that, and he does it, and then he goes for it. Bam, he is in! Fuck it is still stretching! Slightly panicky with the intensity, but knowing it will settle. He realises he needs to go in just a bit further, tells me he is going to do it, does so, and aaaaaaahhhhh… Yes, he really does have big hands, and getting his wrist settled at the entrance made a big difference.

Now after that point I get confuzzled. I know he started moving a little, but it was pretty intense, especially when he hit my cervix. He handed me the Magic Wand to control. That was great. At some point he started pinching my nipple. That was OK, but it overloaded me a bit so he stopped . The combination of his hand moving little bits, and the low setting on the Magic Wand (which is more ‘throbby') was fantastic: not overwhelming, but a firm build up to orgasm. Or should I say orgasms. There were orgasms. Lots of them. They started rolling and rolling. I can remember shrieking them out, eventually. I realised at some point that he was moving his hand right in and out but, ya know, I was kinda too busy to think about the details. I loved catching glimpses of his face as he fed off my reactions. His visceral pleasure flowed right back to me as my cognisance disappeared with another series of handy thrusts. It was perfect. Pleasure focussed, but intense and intimate.

I don't know how many orgasms later it started to hit that overload point, and I was able to communicate that I needed a wee break. Off went the Magic Wand, and his movement stopped. Just resting with his hand inside me. Sensing, appreciating, breathing. "More?" … "That would be greedy. Yes, more please."

More had me shrieking and shaking. "Do you think you can cry from orgasms?" I didn't know. So we went for more. No crying, but more had me partway there, close even. Open like an open thing. Quivering. Enough for now, today.

We went back to the bedroom to calm down a bit. Cuddles. Body worship. How is it I always feel so lucky to be able to stroke him? There is a luxuriousness to him that is delicious. Lucky me! It wasn't long before he had me licking and sucking, and then "Fuck me now, bitch." Rawr. That really works for me – though I was wondering what the hell will this feel like?

It didn't take too much to make me come again. My cervix was ripe and tender, and it was like we had been fucking for ages. Then the quivers started again. He found the most delicious squeeze of my breasts, which were extra tender with my upcoming period. It felt really good to have the intensity over my whole breasts, rather than focussed on the nipples. I have no idea what he was doing (well I do now, 'cause I asked) but it all felt incredibly good. It made me yowl a bit, but not overload. (Well, "not overload" is probably inaccurate: it was overload, but at a familiar and manageable level.) How does he know when I am at that comfy edge, rather than the dangling, suspended-by-him edge? Does it feel different for him? I am not sure for how long we fucked, but I wasn't in charge. All I can remember now is that he said "Come for me one more time." My thought was "No I can't," but what I did was come. I love his quiet voice. It doesn't need volume for it's power. It is enough.

Typing now and remembering – or at least trying to remember – has put me back into that diffused space. My capacity to focus goes askew. My peripheral vision is more powerful than my central vision. Drifty. Brain faded. I can feel the inside of my vagina. I don't often feel that – usually the sensations are more general. There are aftershocks running from my cervix down the front of my cunt, through my G-spot to my clit. A wetness creeping to my labia makes me check. Hah. Yes. My period has been fist-started.

It was a good morning.

Republished with permission from SapioSlut. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.