Fisting: Filthy & Sexy

I am so fucking wet.

So needy.Two fingers fuck me. I spread my legs, an invitation to add a third finger. It doesn’t happen until I finally muster the courage to gasp: “More!”

He adds another, but it’s not enough. Not what I need now. I need more. More. More. More!

“Another.”

A fourth finger joins the first three. Somewhere in all of this I have begged for an orgasm, which has left me wet and even more needy than before. I want to be stretched. I want to hover on that thin line between pleasure and pain.

I want more.

I want his hand.

All of it.

I spread my legs wide, wider, widest, making my cunt beg for his harsh invasion, but is’s only when I whisper “harder” that he pushes himself up on his elbow, moves and kneels between my legs. He fucks me with four fingers, curls them to touch my G-spot and makes me climax again. I get wetter than I already was, grab my legs and held them open for him. One moment I am looking at him with feverish eyes, the next I throw my head back and wait for him to push, push, push…

He stretches me. There’s that delicious feeling. The pain of being stretches. Can I take this? Can I do it? Will the pain get too much. Can I handle it? I desperately want to touch my clit, but I don’t. If I do, it will be over too soon. The most gentlest of touches will tear an orgasm from my body and take away my desire of being stretched to the limit and filled with his hand. More pushing. More stretching. Hard breathing.

“Good girl,” he says as his fist slips inside.

“Your fist?”

“Inside.”

I can’t describe what I feel then. Every single time he pushes and pushes and pushes until his fist is inside me, there’s this feeling. I feel utterly sexy, and at the same time utterly filthy. I feel like a goddess, and at the same time I feel like a whore. He knows this. He doesn’t fist me much, but when he does, he knows how it makes me feel. It’s a feeling of victory while doing something forbidden; a feeling of pride for what my body can do, for the pleasure it gives, not only to me, but to both of us.

“What are you?” he asks.
“A slut.”
“Who’s?”
“Yours.”

His fist slowly moves inside me. I’m still have my hands on my thighs, holding my legs open for him. My eyes are closed, my breathing fast, my desire high.

“It feels so full,” I say.

He keeps quiet and I start to ramble.

“I love this so much. It feels so good. I’m such a slut. Your slut. Oh god I want to come,” and with those last words I finally let go of my legs and surrender to the desire of my loins. Two fingers move in circles over my clitoris, as I started talking again: “fuck me, fuck me with your hand, harder,” and then when it gets too much, I beg him to go slower, then harder, slower, harder, rub, rub, rub…

The muscles in my cunt grip his fist while my orgasm roll through my body, wave after wave. He only manages to gently pull his hand from my body – “careful, careful, careful,” I moan – when I come down from the high. Of course he is careful, but my cunt is tender and sensitive and still throbbing after the orgasm.

He pulls me close when he lies down next to me.

“My beautiful slut.”

Those words are enough to make me blush, and at the same time smile, remembering the sensations of moments ago.


Is fisting one of my, or rather, our kinks? Yes, it is. From the very beginning, even before we made our D/s commitment, we had ‘rough’ sex, and fisting was one of the things both of us enjoyed, and still do. We don’t do it much, as I have to be really wet and super horny to be able to take his hand, but when we do, it always leaves me feeling sexy and filthy, all at the same time.

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© Rebel’s Notes

7 thoughts on “Fisting: Filthy & Sexy

  1. I don’t know why I read this stuff in the middle of the work day. I’m ready to go take my husband to the bedroom right NOW!!!

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