The love of my life and I spoke of fisting and toyed with it a few times over the years unsuccessfully. Perhaps we were
afraid of tearing something or I may have been
scared of the pain. This was before I was an established
masochist. Besides, we'd start doing that and end up moving on rather quickly. :)
Jeremy was my first attempt beyond that. It was in the back of slave george's mini-van while the sun was rising in the sky after we'd been playing the night away at Paddles. Jeremy kneeled bewteen my legs, enticingly dressed in one of his full black latex outfits. He put on latex gloves, dripped lube on his hand and began to tease me a bit. The vision was odd, but quite erotic. I felt as if I had some mad scientist toying away down there. *smirk*
Two, then three, then four, then five fingers inside of me...I closed my eyes to get lost in the feeling. I also closed my eyes to prevent motion sickness since slave george was in the process of driving us home and the skyscrapers were going by just a little too fast. Five fingers, up to the knuckle -- Just one more millimeter was all he needed, but no matter how much I relaxed I wasn't able to receive his fist. He argued that I technically was fisted, but I wasn't consoled.
We had a foursome on another occasion during which Jeremy rather easily fisted my friend Indigo as I watched. It was a beautiful sight to watch, but nonetheless, I was a bit taken aback that it had been so easy for her and it hadn't yet happened for me. I rationalized that it was because she tended to date um, larger, guys. My biggest concern has always been the quality of head that I get. I asked her advice, regardless.
"Try bearing down like you're giving birth."
"It's going to hurt a little anyway, you just have to get past that point."
She tried to coach me through it when I made another attempt with a fellow submissive chick named nadine. I was lying on the medical exam table at Paddles. First off, nadine had long nails and had to stuff the tips of the gloves with cotton so she wouldn't tear up the gloves or me. Even though she said she was bi, she was more like a 3 on the Kinsey scale and was hesitant about doing it, but she had been commanded to do so by her Master. Her touch was too gentle; the mood was wrong; the arousal wasn't there.. Again, it came down to needing that last millimeter. It sure as hell wasn't going to happen this time around.
After that, I had tried with Alberto. He was Dominant, and was usually able to put me in a nice, happy, sexually submissive headspin. I was anxious, excited and overeager to make another attempt. He told me that he wouldn't let me have his cock again until I took his fist (which wasn't teribly narrow, mind you). While he meant well, these words only frustrated and upset me more and I began to lose all hope for a success fisting experience.
A weekend TES-sponsored kink event hit the city in mid-August. I had discussed the possibility with Jeremy of trying again and he reminded me that there's no guarantee that it would happen despite my efforts to convince my body that it would, but that he would be willing to do it. Saturday night at Paddles, I was flirting with a man named David that I had met earlier and felt a connection to on a crowded elevator. I brought up fisting. David's interest was piqued as it was something he had done before and enjoyed greatly. We stalked out the gynocological exam table and moved on in the second another couple had evacuated.
I couldn't help but have a moment of panic. It was the first time I was playing with David. We had barely spoken to each other prior to that day, though we'd seen each other many times before. We shared a kiss, and a few light caresses that evening. Here I was about to let him do something so personal, so intimate and intense. Staring into his eyes, feeling his warm energy soothed me. I stripped and hopped up onto the table.
I could see the crowd gathered behind him despite the bright overhead light that was shining on me. I looked into his eyes and the crowd faded away since the raw intensity between us was overwhelming. He began.
With each probe I melted around his hand a bit more, our eyes locked the entire time, a huge grin plastered on both of our faces. It didn't take long to get to the last millimeter, though instead of pushing it at that point, he refocused on pleasuring me and building me back up to it. The last millimeter came again, and again. He told me to fuck his hand and I began grinding my hips against his hand, pushing, trying to open myself up to him...to no avail.
We paused, hugged, talked, kissed, caressed. He told me that fisting is no different from fucking, a comparison I had never made before, and I could see that there was a definite truth to it. He asked me how I usually prefer to have sex. " On my hands and knees of course," I replied with a smile. He smiled. I flipped over and slipped back into space.
Within five minutes his hand was part of my body. I didn't want to move an inch because I felt so full. I didn't want him to even breathe for fear of his hand moving around too much inside of me. It was a dash uncomfortable, but not unpleasant. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply a few times and focused on the hold he now had on me. I looked back at him to connect with him and we both couldn't stop smiling. It was amazing! I had a spiritual orgasm.
At this point in time I realized that I wanted a picture since I like chronicling events via photo. The only problem was that my camera was in coat check and neither of us were in a position to run and get it. *snicker* I called out to Indigo, who wasn't that far away, but she was occupied with one of her submissives as well. David talked me out of it with the consolation that we'd just have to do it again someday.
A few minutes later, I started to feel a slight burn and we both recognized the need to pull out. Giving birth to a hand was quite a strange and unusual feeling, and I felt as if my insides were going to come out along for the ride. And then there was emptiness. I collapsed slightly and mourned the loss of his hand. My cunt was throbbing, yearning to be filled again, feeling as it never has before.
I was in awe. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly as he caressed my hair, peeking once or twice to watch him stare at me with a smile on his face. He was obviously just as amazed by the experience. I had the feeling that we had known each other in a past life earlier that day, and that experience strengthened that vibe.
We were reborn through each other that night.