Source: Unknown

As far as terms go: ‘fisting’ is problematic.

It’s used because well, duh it’s hell of effective–immediately obliterating any ambiguity regarding its meaning.

Yet, with ‘fist’ routinely associated with  the context of ‘fighting’, ‘fisting’ arrives on the scene back filled with at least an implicit connection to violence.

In keeping with this fisting depictions tend to emphasize the extremity and violence of the act. I don’t want to yuck anyone’s yum–if someone wants to have violent sex with (a) consenting partner(s), I support them. But to me, fisting has less to do with extremity and violence than trust and intimacy–again not that those things are in any way mutually exclusive.

She lay face down on the bed in my dorm room. I sat beside her, two fingers to stimulating her g-spot.

Shimmering pre-orgasmic tremors curled my fingers slightly and  I began to twist my wrists side-to-side.

More. Her voice strangled and husky.

I introduced my right ring finger. Letting it gently plumb her wetness, her warm depth.

I teased her clitoris with my thumb for a moment before corkscrewing my fingers in her again, Her body began to tense.

With both hands she reached back, grabbing my arms: more.

Four fingers; More.

Quick–like dropping a heavy rock into thick mud, my hand was consumed up to the second joint of my thumb.

Are you okay? I asked.

She nodded, pressing my pillow around her face with both hands–a muffled: don’t stop.

I met resistance, pushed into it until little by little the widest part of my hand disappeared.

Her breathe–short, sharp gasps sending shimmering contractions racing along the musculature of her back and thighs

Instinctively, I licked the finger tip and gently massage her clitoris with my left hand. A long, atonal moan stretched itself out from her throat into the room. I twisted my hand so the first knuckle of my thumb moved over her g-spot.

Her moan stuttered and caught in her throat; my hand was suddenly immobilized and then shimmering spasms cascaded in waves.

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