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If ever I imagined it happening, I expected it to require charts, graphs, gold stars to indicate progress, meticulous measurements (with calipers?), calculators, computer simulation programs, medical advice, and (perhaps) a stunt-double or two.
Instead it just happened, as effortlessly and comfortably as you’d slide into your favorite pair of gloves on the first chilly fall day.
And it felt fan-fucking-tastic.
The first frantic round of fucking was over; we were both satisfied enough that we could slow down and explore–or “push my boundaries,” as he likes to call it. “What do you want next?” he asked, as we stood looking down on the bed, bodies freshly washed and sated but wanting more, always more.
“I want you to finger me until I come a hundred time,” I told him, only half-joking.
He pushed me down and did exactly that, only he also kissed me as he was fingering me. I love that combination. I love not knowing when to expect wet-hot lips on my clit. The anticipation kills me and excites me all at once.
I got lost in the orgasms. My name? Who cared. His name? Eh. Where we were? When I needed to be home? What was going on down there? I couldn’t be arsed to think about it. All I cared about was that his fingers continued to move in my pussy and that his lips continued to kiss my clit.
But gradually it crept into my severely-altered consciousness that something felt different. Not bad different, just something I’d never felt before. I felt stretched. I felt full. I felt fabulous.
“What are you doing to me?” I asked in a drunken voice.
“Don’t you know?” he said softly. I could hear his smile as he answered.
“You’re fingering me. But how many fingers do you have in me?”
“You can’t tell?” He was teasing me now.
“Three?” I guessed, but a sudden pleasure-inducing movement inside of me made me sit up on my elbows. “What are you doing?”
“I’m fisting you.” His voice was as calm as if he were reporting the weather.
“You are not!” I reached down to feel. I felt the base of his hand. And his wrist. And that was all.
In further proof, he ever so gently wiggled his thumb on one side and his fingers on the other. I had to put my head back and came some more; there was really nothing else I could do.
When I was (briefly) done coming: “How did you do that?” I must have sounded as amazed as if he’d suddenly conjured a rabbit out of an empty hat. Or made a rabbit disappear into an empty hat–perhaps that would be a better comparison.
He laughed and very very gently slid his hand out of me, grabbing for the lube bottle. “I have small hands.” He applied more lube to me (I groaned) and to his hand. “I let you have my first two fingers.” This he demonstrated, stroking them slowly into me, curling them up to meet my g-spot. “Then I changed fingers.” Again he showed me, sliding in his middle and ring finger. “Then three fingers.” His forefinger joined the happy little celebration in my vagina. He kept it there for a minute, making me come again. “And then I put in four fingers.”
God, the stretching. I would have thought that it would hurt. It didn’t. It only felt full, so full of pressure against my g-spot and my bottom. “And then?” I asked him, not hardly believing that he could get his thumb in too.
“I kept four fingers in you for a long time. You weren’t paying much attention.” He kissed my clit then. That’s likely why I hadn’t been paying much attention. “Then I curled my thumb under, and…” He slid his entire hand in, with a very gentle “pop” when it slid home.
I gasped. That’s what that huge feeling had been. The knuckle of his thumb pressed right against my g-spot, and then he began to pivot his hand gently inside of me. The feeling was enormous.
I have no idea where the rest of my body was as he continued to fist me. Usually I have some memory of nipples pinched or arms thrown asunder, legs spread wide or braced against a wall, head arched back or buried in a pillow, hips rocking or absolutely still. For this, I could tell you nothing but that my cunt was full to bursting and I sloshed with wetness as he ground into me.
And I came, a lot.
He took one of my few remaining virginities. And later, I took one of his as well.
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