What a night Last night! Ouch! My whole body aches, but
it’s the kind of ache I crave. No work today, that’s for
sure. I can just imagine the shocked looks on the faces
of the girls in the office if they knew how I get my
sexual pleasure. The reserved, prim and proper public
relations specialist, whom everyone thinks is so
delicate and sweet.
I’m only 25-years old, I think I’m beautiful, with long
blonde hair, and a firm petite body and a high paying
job. That’s why I can envision those old cows in the
office puking up their lunches if they knew that my cunt
floods like a burst dam whenever I have a fist shoved up
my asshole. That’s right, I make no bones about what I
am — The Fist Fuck Queen of the Big Apple. The closer
to the core of my bowels, the riper I become!
I can remember when I lost my anal cherry to a fist so
vividly that it seems as if it happened moments ago,
though in actuality, it’s been almost a year. I started
going out with Brad, and I knew from the moment we laid
eyes on one another that the only thing on his mind was
fucking me. He thought he was hot shit, a big stud. The
arrogant bastard even started boasting about putting his
“whopper between my buns.” So one night, I gave in to
the inevitable. In all honesty, I’ve never been one to
turn down a cock, especially a big one!
Brad had a big one, all right, about nine inches. When I
first saw his prick, proud and erect, I remember having
the overwhelming desire to devour it. I think even he
was surprised at the way I deep-throated his meat. As
the head of his cock intruded deep into my larynx, and
gurgling gasps of pleasure escaped from my mouth, Brad
started playing with my cunt, ramming his fingers in and
out. But he shot his load down my throat before I had
the chance to let his fingers lead me to my own orgasm.
Since his prick wasn’t able to return to active duty
yet, I guided his hand to my pussy and motioned for him
to put his fingers back to work. At first, Brad inserted
two fingers into my open box. It felt so good that I
moaned for him to put another one in. He was starting to
enjoy himself, also. He worked three fingers into my
cunt, rhythmically twisting them in and out.
I was soon bathed in my own joy juice. And then, before
I knew it, Brad had shoved all five fingers inside of my
wet hole. At first, I was scared that he was going to
rip my cunt open, but as his wrist disappeared into my
vagina, an uncontrollable surge of exultation began
welling up in the pit of my stomach, spreading in great
waves down to the pulse of my womanhood. Brad’s fist
plowed into my pussy, and I began to shake in the throes
of a giant orgasm.
After he slid his hand out, literally soaking wet, I
needed a few minutes to recover. But as my orgasm
subsided, my desire to be filled up increased. It was as
if my eyes had just been opened to a whole new world. I
knew then and there that a cock, even Brad’s large one,
would never again be able to fully satisfy me. I wanted
something bigger, longer, harder, and more exciting. I
wanted a fist!
I had read about how popular anal fist fucking had
become, and I was always curious about it. I always like
to try new things, especially in sexual matters. So I
told Brad that I wanted him to fist fuck me up my
asshole. He stared at me in disbelief, stammering. He
was scared. He made excuses: he would rip my asshole
open and cause me internal damage; he would get shit all
over his arm; the idea was “weird and for fags.” But I
told him that if he didn’t do what I wanted, that would
be the end of out relationship, the end of our deep
throat sessions. That did the trick.
I knew from my reading that certain steps had to be
taken if fisting was to be enjoyed. I also knew that the
preparation would only serve to add to my excitement and
enjoyment. Step one was to clean out my bowels with an
enema. I kept an enema bag in the house for medical
purposes, but was never really into using it for sex.
But when Brad inserted the nozzle into my puckered hole,
a shiver of excitement raced through my body.
As the water made its journey into my intestines, my
heart started beating faster, knowing that the
passageway was being cleared for Brad’s fist. And when I
shit out the enema I felt relief, not because the
pressure was released from my bowels, but because I knew
it wouldn’t be long before I felt Brad’s fist
corkscrewing its way deep into my chocolate channel.
But there was still another step to take. Opening a
large jar of Vaseline, I told Brad to scoop up a few
globs and massage it thoroughly on his hand and up his
arm. When the length of his arm and hand glistened from
the petroleum jelly, I felt confident that the time was
at hand, if you’ll pardon the expression.
I got down on all fours, propped up by a pillow, and
spread my ass cheeks as wide apart as possible. Then
Brad plunged one of his Vaseline coated fingers into my
asshole, which was pleading to be plundered. When he put
his second finger in, I could feel my sphincter begin to
relax, lubricated by the jelly and my own juices.
When his third finger plunged into the inner sanctum of
my rectum, my clit actually started to tremble. Easing
his fourth digit in, Brad began swirling his fingers
deeper into my dirt tunnel. I didn’t feel any pain, I
just felt intense ecstasy. It was as if the sensitive
nerve endings of my anus were singing out in joy! When
Brad finally squeezed his thumb into my asshole, and all
five fingers danced around inside my most intimate of
orifices, a great emotion seized my entire body.
As if possessed, I yelled, “More! Shove your fist all
the way in!” Brad, caught up in the moment, did just
that. I could feel my anus opening to accommodate his
entire fist. My bowels sucked up Brad’s hand like a
giant vacuum! He pushed his arm in and out of my shit
passage.
Brad, too, had become excited; his breathing was heavy
and labored. As for me, I was past the point of no
return. My orgasm started somewhere in my intestines,
gathering momentum until my clit vibrated and my pussy
felt as if it was going to burst! I came, and came, and
passed out!
After that night, every time I saw Brad I demanded that
he fist-fuck me. Yet he seemed to be growing more and
more tentative. I think that he thought he was turning
gay or something, the intensity just wasn’t there. And I
was damned if I was going to give up what had become my
greatest joy, fisting. I liked Brad’s big dick when he
fucked me the regular way, but I was determined to have
what I really wanted.
That’s when I met Tim. A mutual friend introduced us. We
had dinner, hit it off right away, and went back to my
place. He wasn’t classically handsome, but he had vivid
blue eyes, which seemed to burn a hole through my body
into my soul. The sexual chemistry between us was
magical.
I told him how badly I wanted to please him, and how
badly I wanted him to please me. But I also told him I
was “different” sexually, that I craved the “unusual.”
He responded that he’d been involved in every possible
sex scene, and the kinkier the better! That’s when I
knew that I had found the ideal lover. And that’s also
when I told him that I was a devotee of fisting.
Tim wasted little time getting down to business. First,
he licked my clit and tongued my pussy. Then, when I was
good and excited and on the brink of coming, he turned
me over. I didn’t quite know what to expect next. I felt
Tim’s smooth tongue sliding along the crack of my
asshole.
He then descended straight down to my bunghole. His
tongue flickered around the opening. The prodding of his
tongue against my tight rosebud felt so very good. He
was lapping away, almost as if there was buried treasure
deep within my asshole. Then Tim’s tongue struck gold,
brown gold, as it burrowed right into my asshole. He
pushed his tongue as deep inside as possible, and it
didn’t take much of his ass lapping to make me come.
Tim asked me where I kept the Vaseline. I told him, and
he went and got it. When he returned, he spread my ass
cheeks apart, stretching them to their limit, then
liberally began spreading the grease around my anus. His
fingers darted in and out of my asshole, basting my
insides with the lubricant. What a great feeling!
Asking me if I was ready, Tim quickly inserted his
middle finger into my asshole. Then, without warning, he
rapidly jammed his four other fingers inside, in one
fluid motion. I was breathless. He wasn’t anything like
Brad, unsure of himself. Tim knew what he was doing, and
how to do it!
In the next instant, Tim’s whole fist was pushing its
way into my Hershey highway. I was soon overcome by the
sheer speed and firm strength of his motion. When his
fist was buried in my asshole up to his wrist, I surely
thought he world stop, Brad always had, but Tim’s fist
continued to pile drive its way deeper into my anus. I
could feel his arm inching its way into my stomach. I
was stunned, but my screams were those of pleasure, not
pain. It soon felt as if his arm was punching out my
intestines, his fingers wiggling deep inside, where no
man had ever gone before. His arm was buried to the
elbow.
Becoming like a wild animal in heat, I bucked and
thrashed about the bed, frantically rubbing my clit as
if my hands had a life of their own. Needless to say,
when I came I saw stars! it took me a couple of hours to
come down from that sexual high!
From that incredible night on, Tim and I have been
inseparable. No, we don’t always use fisting as part of
out lovemaking; some nights the missionary position is
enough to provide terrific orgasms. But whenever Tim
does fist fuck me, you better believe that it’s special.
We’ve also come up with countless variations of fisting.
I won’t soon forget the night Tim first rammed an 18-
inch dildo up my ass, then his own cock, then his fist,
in rapid succession. That was wild. And I still cream
when I think about the time that Tim simultaneously
fucked me in the cunt with his cock and in the ass with
his fist. He pounded away in unison, pumping both his
prick and hand in and out of my respective holes.
We both came like gangbusters! And I’m still trying to
take both fists up my asshole. So far the most I’ve
managed to accomplish has been one hand and one finger
of his other hand. But I’m sure that if we keep on
trying, I’ll be able to accomplish the feat one day;
practice makes perfect!
But last night was one of my most satisfying yet. Tim
and I had an intimate, romantic dinner, candlelight and
the whole works. We were both incredibly horny and we
almost ripped each other’s clothes off. After some
heated foreplay, which included a most satisfying 69
session, we were ready for the main event.
Tim gave me an enema, greased up, and was soon ready to
fist his way into my heart, not to mention bowels! Yet
there was something different about him: he was more
animated than ever. He seemed to take almost maniacal
pleasure in thrusting his fist in and out of my asshole.
When he sensed my orgasm was at hand he uttered,
“Darling, I want this night to be special. I know how
badly you’ve wanted to take both hands up your ass, but
since we’re not at that point yet, let’s do the next
best thing.” I didn’t know what he meant, but I was soon
to find out.
Continuing his frantic fist fucking into the deep recess
of my bowels, Tim suddenly plunged his other hand into
my cunt! Like a piston, he worked both hands in and out
at the same time, one massaging my rectum, the other
forcing my pussy to open wider than seemed possible,
plunging his fist deep into my snatch, my cunt felt like
a whale swallowing up a passing ship.
It was truly the most exquisite feeling that I’d ever
experienced. When I came, I almost jumped two feet off
the bed. It felt like an atomic bomb had been set off
inside my body! But Tim wouldn’t stop there. He kept on
fist fucking both of my intimate openings until I lost
count of how many times I came. This kept up until he
was too exhausted to lift his arms and I was too sore to
prod him on.
Fuck! Here I am thinking about last night and the sheets
on my bed are dripping wet. Now I’m horny again. I guess
it’s like when you have a hangover. They say the best
thing for it is the “hair of the dog that bit you.”
I guess the best thing for a sore cunt and asshole is
the “hand of the stud that fucked you.” What did I do
with that damn phone? Oh, here it is. “Hello, Tim, my
love, why don’t you come over? I’ll make lunch, then you
can fist me tonight!”