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“Fuck, that feels good. I like that it’s not something everyone does. Not even something every kinky couple does. But more than that, every time we do it, I’m taken back to our first time when you so boldly told me that once your fist was inside me, you owned every inch of me because you had touched all of me.” She sucked in a deep breath when he circled her clit with his other hand. “It makes me wet every time I remember that night. And repeating it just keeps me reminded of how much I belong to you.”
“Such an excellent answer. For that, maybe you should come again one more time before I continue.”
He picked up the toy and held it against her clit while he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her. “That’s a good girl. Come all over my fingers. I want to feel it. Show me how desperate you are for this.”
Her whimpers grew louder as the orgasm built.
“Please let me come,” she cried when the sensation was so intense, she was certain she might explode.
“Come.”
When she squeezed his fingers, he pushed forward again and worked his pinky inside her. Then he tossed her the bottle of lube, and she knew they were getting to the hard part.
Getting past his knuckles was painful, but it was also the part that pushed so much sensation against her clitoral nerves from the inside, that she was positive her clit would explode any second as he pumped in and out of her until he finally pushed in, sending a sharp twinge of pain rolling through her.
She used the bottle to add more lube for him, and he continued until the last joint of his thumb had breached her tender entrance. Fisting was one of those kinks that often led to kink shaming. Sometimes people even questioned the mental health of those who enjoyed it, but there was nothing wrong with either of them, and they did it because it fed their most basic desires.
The music changed just as he formed a fist inside her, and she gasped as he rotated his wrist in time to the frantic orchestra music.
“Russell, please. I need to come again,” she cried out.
“Tell me what you’re experiencing. How badly do you need it?”
She twisted her face and gripped the towel beneath her as she did her best to focus on his question instead of the fact that her clit seemed like it was a balloon being over-inflated. That was such an appropriate description, she went with it and told him exactly that.
He chuckled and leaned forward, blowing cool air over the swollen nub. She jerked, and he stilled her with a hand on her shoulder. “Careful, baby. You must need it pretty bad.”
“Please, Sir,” she whimpered.
“You can come. Squeeze my fist, baby.” As he spoke, he dragged one finger of his other hand over her clit and that was all it took. She convulsed around him, and he continued turning his wrist to drag out the orgasm.
Once he was inside, he never stayed long because she would get too worked up and risk injury from all her moving as the orgasms became more and more intense.
But he worked four more orgasms out of her with dirty talk and gentle external stimulation.
“That’s a good girl. Are you going to remember who you belong to from now on?” he asked when the fourth one crashed into her, and she screamed out his name.
“Yes, Sir. I’ve never forgotten. But the reminders are so… so fucking good.” She was breathless as the last tremors of the orgasm left her.
“They are so good. I love how perfectly your cunt wraps around my hand.”
He picked up the vibrator and handed it to her.
“Last one, baby. I’m going to pull out now. My cock needs to be inside you soon.”
Exiting could sometimes hurt worse than entering, but if she used the toy on her clit while he eased out, it made it easier to tolerate.
“You’re fucking amazing, Gemma. Never forget that.”
She turned the toy on and nodded for him to begin the process of pulling his hand free.
The final orgasm crashed into her right as he got to the hardest part, and the pleasure and pain combined to send her off a cliff so intense she wasn’t sure she was coming back from it.
But soon he was pulling the toy away from her and stretching his body over hers. When had he removed his clothes? She barely remembered him moving after he’d pulled his fist out of her.
“Do you want me in your sore little pussy or your tight little ass?” he asked, tweaking one nipple as he kissed her softly.
“Take my ass, Sir,” she begged.
