“Your Honor, I Plead the Fist.”

Sometimes I surprise myself.  I’m willing to try things today that I never would have considered 20 or even 10 years ago.

Take Tutti-Frutti ice cream, for example.  I have never, ever tried Tutti-Frutti.  Yeah, I think I’m going to try it!  I think that would be fun!


Or, take squirting, as another example.  Just this past week I learned that with the proper stimulation, I could squirt and squirt HARD!  Niagara Falls HARD!  Shake, rattle, and roll my entire body HARD!

To those women who believe squirting is a myth, I say this…  I was once a skeptic.

Now, I bow at the feet of Poseidon.

I found out that if I played with my pussy with my Hitachi on my clit and a G-Gasm wand working my G-Spot, I could have an orgasm so intense I would soak the sheets.  It was an orgasm so mind-numbing I came close to blacking out.  That first squirt-gasm was so intense, I wished I’d had it 20 years ago because I could have had 5000 more just like it by now!

My husband walked in on me just as my first ever squirt dribbled to a conclusion.  From the other side of the house he heard me screaming like a B-movie horror queen and raced to my aid.  The look on his face was a little bit frightening and funny, kind of like he just watched a space alien invade his wife’s body and do things with it that one just can’t do without space alien technology.

Now I’m a squirt whore!  I try to replicate that squirt every time I masturbate.  It’s not as easy as I thought, but I’ve hit the plunger twice in the week since my first experience.  Gotta hit that G juuuust right with some stimulation going on outside and BLAMO!  Squirt-o-matic!

But squirting wasn’t the only new trick I tried out this week.  This next little sexual oddity makes double-team masturbation and squirting seem almost tame by comparison.

The other night I sent an Internet pen-pal a fantasy involving fisting her.  It was all fantasy.  I just made it up.  I’d never fisted a woman in my life.

But she came back and said that, yes, she’d actually been fisted.  She further went on to say that she came so hard she squirted all over the guy doing the fisting.

Hmmm…  Sounds like a challenge!

My beautiful “Little Miss Butt Plug,” (or “LMBP” as I like to call her), is a super-slut, a sexpot’s sexpot.  She’s the woman I bow to for all things orgasmic.  If LMBP she says it can be done, it can probably be done.

My hubby happened to be looking over my shoulder as I typed my fantasy email to LMBP.  Here’s a rough transcript of our conversation.

“N.C…  You don’t really want to put your fist into a woman, do you?”

“Well…  Truth be told, darling, I almost did it to myself once and it feel pretty good.”

“Yeah, but…  N.C…  That sounds a little…  I dunno…  Sick.”

“How so, sweetie’?”

“Well  I mean…  Was the human body really supposed to have a fist in it?  It doesn’t look to me like a vagina is big enough to take a fist.”

I laughed.  How naive.  Father of three and he still doesn’t remember that I passed three bowling balls through my straw.

“Dearie…  The proof that I can take a fist up my puss is blasting her eardrums in the room down the hall.  Care to go rewind the delivery room footage?”

He laughed and shook his head.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.  But you stretched out over months to get to that point.  How would you do this?”

I arched my eyebrows, grinned, and said, “Well…  Let’s find out!”

So I lined up some special “us” time with hubby for Friday night.  It was time to experiment and get a little nasty!  The kid was out for the night, so it was just the two of us alone to get as freaky as we wanted.

LingerieOnBedI started by laying the shower curtain on the bed and then putting a comforter on top.  (Gotta save the mattress, eh?)  I made hubby put on his compression shorts.  (Love the way the package bulges in those bad boys.)  I glammed up, touching up my makeup, putting on garters, stockings, heels and a bra just to feel super-sexy.  I knew my puss was going to get a workout, so I didn’t even bother putting a scarf on kitty.

And just to be safe, I gave hubby a thorough manicure, to make sure we had all the jaggies off his nails.

(No, we didn’t do polish and talk Bridezillas.  He’s a guy, not a sissy.)

Everything was ready.  Houston radioed in and said we were T-minus 3 minutes to liftoff.  Hubby stood at the end of the bed and stared at me.  He had a huge erection but no clue otherwise.

“So, N.C…  How do you want to do this?  Should we make out first or something to…  You know…  To help you get warmed up?”

“Nope.  I want to get busy.  Eat me, baby.

He laughed.  “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

I pointed to my man trap.  “Stop yakking and get snacking, Jack.”

“As you wish, baby,” and down he dove.  Ohhh yes!  Lots of kissing the clitty, lots of slurping the slushy.

(Hey, girls, just a quick side note…  If you don’t have a man who eats pussy like a woman, you might want to find another man.  Hubby is the best!  His tongue…  His lips.  YES!)

Hubby took his time, got me good and full in the lips, and worked me up to my first orgasm.  I come at the drop of a bounced government check, so that wasn’t all that tough.  (Sorry girls, but sadly it’s true.  I come pretty easily.  Hubby never has to work that hard.  Usually within about five or so minutes.)

That was a good sign.  It meant my pussy was already warmed up for a fillin’.

“Okay, baby…  Take off those shorts.  It’s time to feed the kitty.”

“Huh?  I thought you wanted me to…”

“Yes, I do.  But just fuck me a little.  Gently.  You know how to do it.  That slow grind thing you do.  All the way in.  It really relaxes me.”

“Ohhh…  Okay.  You sure you’re ready?”

“Honey, I was ready before you even put your lips on me.  Get busy.”

And he did.  Gently, as requested.  He took me deep and rolled his hips nice and slow, grinding me down, getting me sweating.  I was so over-my-head in love with my boy I came again.  Twice in less than ten minutes.  SCORE!

Ready to go to the next level.

“Okay…  Babe…  Get off…  And…  Get ready…” I panted.  “Lie down so you can go in nice and straight with your hand.  You’re going to want your palm to face up once you have your hand inside me.”

“And you know that how, darling?  Been trolling the Internet for naughty stuff again?”

“NOOO…  That just happens to be where my G-Spot is and I want you to be able to hit it.”

“Oh.  Okay.”

“Alright babe…  Start with one finger.  Then just build up from there.  Until you hear me scream or say “STOP!” just keep working your way up as you feel my body react.”

“But…  Don’t you want any lube first?  Shouldn’t we use some KY or something?”

I slapped my pussy.  It squished.  “What do you think?  Do I sound like I need lube?”

“No,” he laughed.  “Quite wet already.  Okay.  As you wish…”  (Sometimes sweetie thinks he’s Wesley from the “Princess Bride.”)

He took his index finger and he worked it around my puss, slopping it up, teasing my lips, rubbing my clit.  I was getting ready fast.  I felt my body heading toward yet another O.

“Get it in me, babe!  FAST!  I’m going to come, and I don’t want to have to start from scratch.”


“OH YEAH!  Ohhh…  I can take two…  This is easy…  Go for two, babe…”


“OHHH yeah…  Ohhh yeah…  do it like that for a while…  Yesss…  Yesss…   Wow…  Okay…  Go for three…  Nice and slow…  Keep your fingers together like a beak…”

TRIPLE DIP!  (Nice and slow, as requested.)

“WOW!  OKAY!  Now I’m feeling that…  Okay…  Go with that for a little while…  Yeah…  I need to get used to that…  Ohhhh WOW!”

The feeling of fullness, of having the equivalent of a really thick cock in me, was indescribable.  Even my biggest dildo didn’t do it justice.  And the way his three crossed fingers got wider the further he pushed in was mind-blowing!  Hubby worked me like that for several minutes before I felt good about kickin’ it up a notch.

“Okay…  Okay…  Okay…” I panted like Pesci.  ” Put in the fourth…”

And IN they went, hand snugly slipped into my fleshy muff.


Now THAT was unexpected!  I felt like like hubby was taking a toilet plunger to my puss.  He was shoving the kid right back into my womb.  I knew I had to go all the way quick, because I would tire of the four-finger-salute if I didn’t get the whole fist in there fast.  Long breaths.  Slow breaths.  Here it comes.  Here it comes…


“What?  What does that mean?  Slow but fast?”

“JUST DO IT!  JUST DON’T HURT ME…  (PANT, PANT)  JUST DO IT!  Tuck your thumb…  Lead with your…  (PANT, PANT, PANT)  Fingers!”

“Okay…  Here goes…”

Ladies…  If you’re going to let your hubby fist you, be ready to coach, be ready to communicate, and be ready to SCREAM!  If your pussy is ripping open, back off fast!  I’m lucky.  With a three-baby pussy and Kegel-powered bliss, I seem to stretch pretty easily.  Your pussy may be a lot tighter and you may take a lot more warming up to get loose, so be careful.

But my pussy wasn’t even close to ripping open.  Hubby had worked me up so nicely (took almost 20 minutes to get there), and I was soooo sopping wet, I screamed…


As hubby pushed and pushed and pushed I groaned and unconsciously clenched.  It was reverse childbirth, feeling a human being’s entire body trying to cram itself back into my belly!  It was like that old joke.  “A man tries for 9 months to get out of a woman, then he tries the rest of his life to get back in.”  OH, hubby was gettin’ in, alright!


“Hey babe,” he asked with a note of concern in his voice.  “You okay?”


And in it went.  Pop!  And then the torture stopped as my opening shrank back to wrist size.  Instantly, I felt like my entire body was vibrating.  I felt like I had the head of the vibe touching every one of my erogenous zones all at once!  My nipples tingled!  My toes tingled!  My spine tingled!  I was panting and sweating and grimacing and red-faced and groaning and loving EVERY SECOND OF IT!

I looked down.  Hubby was in me wrist deep.  There was a slight bulge in my vaj.  It was the most erotic beauty I’ve ever experienced in my life.

I threw my head back and groaned, wallowing in ecstasy.  He kept checking in.  “N.C.  You sure you’re okay?  You look like you’re in serious pain!  This looks like childbirth!”

And I kept reassuring him.  “NO!  Believe me, baby!  I’m okay…  Ohhh I love this…  Ohhh yes…  I’m okay.  Start…  Just…  Ball it up…  Make the fist…  OHHH FUCK!  OH YES!  Turn your hand up!  YES!  JUST LIKE THAT!  OHHH YES!  Tug it gently…  In and out…  Slowly…  But DON’T pull it out…  YES!  YES!  OHHHHH GOD!  OHHHHH GOD!  OHHHHHH GOD!  YES!  PUSH YOUR KNUCKLES THERE!  YES!  RUB!  RUB THAT!  TWIST YOUR HAND!  YES!  OHHH…  NOW RUB!  RUB!  OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK!  RUB THAT!  YESSSSSSSSSS OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK!”

Hubby had applied perfect pressure on my super-stretched G-Spot with his knuckles.  I was losing all track of time.  I screamed, “OH FUCK! OH FUCK!” non-stop the entire time.  My mind was so scrambled, I didn’t realize he had his fist in me – twisting, turning, pressing, depressing – for almost 10 minutes!  

When he thumbed my clit with his other hand, my world disintegrated.

I write about this next phenomenon in my novels, and I know most women never experience this, but this is how it is for me.  I experience something akin to an out-of-body experience during powerful orgasms.  This was the most intense climax of my entire life.  It made my previous week’s squirting look like a virginal warm-up.  When I come hard like this, I see lightening flash across my closed eyelids.  My back and legs spasmed with such intensity my entire body lifted off the mattress.  I shook so hard that at first John though I was having a seizure.

And then it happened.

Every cell in my body exploded, my brain evaporated, and I squirted a gusher all over hubby’s arm!  I rocked and shook for almost two minutes like that.  I couldn’t breathe!  Everything in my head said I should beg hubby to get his hand out, but the sensation of having him so intimately invading my body was one I never wanted to lose or forget.

And that, girls, is the paradox of fisting!

For as much as I wanted him to take his hand out, for as much as I didn’t think I could endure another second of an orgasm that intense, I also never wanted him to leave!

In that instant of mindless euphoria I felt as if I’d achieved perfect oneness with hubby.  I felt as if it was how we were meant to live, with me walking around work every day with his arm dangling out of my body and him following me around on a mechanics creeper.  (Weird, I know.)  I don’t think I have ever felt a more intimate level of wholeness with hubby.  To trust a man like that, to let him put his hand into my vaj like that, trusting that he would never in a thousand years do anything but pleasure me…  Oh God!  WHAT A RUSH!

I looked down at him.  I couldn’t take it any longer.  I knew I was spent and I could not hold out.  I pressed my hand to my belly and felt his knuckles pushing through my flesh.  I blew him a little kiss through my grimacing lips.

“Easy…  Easy, baby…  Work it out…  OHHHH FUCK!  OOOOHHHH GOD!

Just as it felt a little like reverse-childbirth going in, it felt like childbirth going out.  I groaned and grimaced as yet again my vagina stretched to release his fist.  And then…  It was over.  Hubby lifted his arm, fist held high, and showed me my work product.

And we both laughed.

Hubby’s arm was coated in cum.  He kept holding it up and staring at it like it was a “Major Award!”  Sunlight streaked down from heaven and blessed his fist.

As my spent, heaving carcass melted into the comforter, hubby checked on my state of health.  “How are you, babe?  You okay?  Did I hurt you or anything?”

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was blacking out.  The rest of this narrative is reconstructed from hubby’s recollections.  I apparently kept touching myself all over, trying to remember where I’d left my tits, my puss, my arms, my legs, and ass.  I just had to be sure that my body hadn’t really exploded – like it felt – but was still in one beautiful piece.

It was.  Still all tied together as one sexy, oh-so-satisfied, spouse.

“I’m fine…  I’m fine…  I’m fine…  I’m so fine…  So fine…  Ohhh…  So fine…  So fine…”

I woke up an hour later, sans-shoes but still in my bra, garter belt, and stockings.  I found myself wrapped in a dry blanket, lying next to hubby in our bed.  He was naked, spooning into me with his arm draped over my chest.  I felt a familiar length of pulsing prick nestled between my legs.

I had apparently slept through hubby lifting me, cleaning me, removing the shower curtain, and swaddling me up like his baby.

As I stirred and stretched, I heard him whisper in my ear.

“So, crazy woman?  How as that?  Do you think you’ll want to do that again?”

I smiled.  “Baby…  How’s tomorrow night lookin’?”

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