The Gorgeous Maids of the Fist
The Pleasures of Fisting
by Silk
For some time now, simply being fucked by my husband just didn't cut it for me.
I understand the key to a good performance is to leave you yearning for more, yet it seemed I was peaking sexually, while he was slowly losing interest... until he turned fifty and plunged sexually. Call it midlife crisis.
So, I decided to think outside the box.
"Fuck me as hard as you want!" I told the male escort I hired. He was reaching the grand finale, and I relished the way my breasts were smacking together as my nipples brushed against the cotton sheets. The cherry on top was that the blinds in our hotel room were open. After being quite the prude in my twenties, I found the thought of being watched a bit over-the-top arousing.
As I lay on my stomach on the bed, my bouncing, drooping breasts and "mature" figure on full display for anyone in the adjacent office block, I hoped he'd switch to fucking my ass while fondling my breasts and pinching my large nipples.
But, the twenty-something (whose name I promptly forgot) veered instead with a low growl as I ground my sensitive pussy against his balls, attempting to accommodate him as much as possible. Despite my efforts, however, his erection had begun to soften.
"Geez, sorry, mate," he said, his face probably conveying utter dismay, "actually, it's been a pretty crappy month for me... and you're drop-dead gorgeous," he added, looking sheepish and shy.
To ease the tension, I spread my legs apart hopefully and he lifted his head, suddenly appearing much more wolfish. "You know what? I'm sure I can still help you out."
And help he did.
His tongue felt incredible, as it flitted around my clit, deeply exploring my pussy, which I've always adored. I had to bite down on my tongue to prevent myself from coming - I was so determined not to waste his service. As he stimulated me with his tongue, he inserted first one long finger, then another and another, until he had four inside of me.
My body had stretched out like never before, and I craved not only more of him licking me but also his hand to become like a living dildo and fill me up.
"Ahh," I moaned softly and he removed his fingers, probably thinking he was hurting me. I, however, had to prevent myself from grabbing his wrist and instructing him to thrust deeper.
Surprisingly, by the time I was alone again, he had once again achieved a full erection.
He switched to missionary position and, with a strong young cock occupying me and the weight of his body pinning me down, it didn't take long for me to orgasm.
"Wow," he remarked afterward, as we finished the final drops of the champagne. "I nearly managed to fist you there. That was insane."
Although I had heard about fisting, I assumed it was something only porn stars or women with many children could do - born wide open.
So, after returning home from my supposed "conference" a day later, I looked it up on the internet.
30 minutes later, I felt considerably worldlier - and incredibly moist.
That night, I carefully shaved in the bathtub while sipping one of my husband's vintage bottles of champagne.
After about twenty minutes, as I began to feel slightly intoxicated (both in terms of alcohol and horniness), the doorbell rang. I stopped fondling my clit and reached for my phone.
"The door's open." I sent a message. "Come upstairs, I'm in the bathtub."
As the footsteps climbed the stairs, I slumped down into the bath, positioning my freshly shaved cunt above water's surface.
The lock clicked.
"Did you bring the lube?" I asked the second young escort I'd treated myself to that week.
He nodded silently.
"Then I want you to stretch me."
It took me only one full orgasm to get his entire hand inside me, and, just as he did so, my husband came home.
He didn't seem angry; instead, he and the escort flanked me in front of the bathroom mirror. They both used me as a receptacle for their urges, taking turns to fuck me from behind. When they'd had their fill, they both ejaculated on my face and tits, leaving me to clean up afterward.
I coerced a Tinder date in Newcastle to forcefully insert his hand against the wall in his apartment hallway, then I dropped to my knees and took his penis in my mouth until it ejaculated within.
After this, I allowed a group of college boys I had met in a bar to tie my ankles to the bed posts and repeatedly fist me. A week later, I was fisted in the shower by a builder as his friend took footage. Additionally, I recorded myself fisting my own, now quite hairy, vagina from the rear before squatting with my puffy lips and wet pussy dripping. This video was then posted online while I masturbated with a dildo as I read through the comments.
My frustration mounted when I realized that dating platforms hadn't integrated a box for hand size.
Almost every man I encountered enjoyed the concept and browsing online seemed to indicate that numerous 'normal' women relished this activity. Having managed to persuade my spouse to experiment with swinging, a venture that did not take much effort, I had met Sarah.
Regrettably, swinging proved unsubtle. The majority of the men were far from handsome while the women left much to be desired, both in terms of appearance and demeanor. Additionally, they were constantly judging us. As a fervent proponent of experienced professionals, I would willingly choose them over the amateurs.
All the same, my husband relished the experience of fucking other men's wives while I observed, and I was eager to fulfill other needs elsewhere. Consequently, swinging led to a gratifying improvement in our sex life.
After meeting Sarah, everything reached new heights.
I had heard whispers about her from some acquaintances in the swinging world, yet she typically spent her time with her boyfriend in Spain. Irrespective of my skepticism, there were allegations that she had slept with fifteen men in one night, and the pinnacle of her feats was being reamed by a horse dildo, her pussy filled with his ejaculate.
Before Christmas, we received an invitation to a gathering in Chelsea.
This residence, located near the road, resembled a country home in Oxfordshire more than it did a city house. Upon my entry, I observed several familiar faces, coupled with a slew of individuals I had yet to encounter. Immaculately attired (for the moment) and both wealthy and attractive, these people struck me as potential partners for the night when I might forfeit my swinging inexperience and allow someone to penetrate my vagina.
After entering the stately drawing room, filled with classy furnishing and sipping a Martini, I considered the prospect of experiencing a sexual act that would forever alter my life. Little did I know...
"You must be Martha." The middle-aged man in the high-end suit addressed me; his words were factual, rather than inquisitive. I was briefly thrown off by this jibe as his age and attire might have conveyed respectability; however, this could not have been further from the truth. This tough character had the physique of a retired boxer or a still-active enforcer. His piercing eyes, broad shoulders, sturdy jaw, and bulging hands stood out.
Dry-mouthed, I considered the implications of his hands within me.
"Mr. Taggard," I attempted a warm smile, "this house brimming with stunning people is a marvel. Thanks for the invitation."
"I've seen you online." His tone delivered a crushing blow as I thought back to the footage of the builder fucking me in the kitchen.
"And?" I struggled to maintain my composure, fighting the urge to visualize his cock inside me. This powerful man remained motionless and expressionless, providing more fuel for my fantasies.
"And you should meet my partner, Sarah."
Whoa, my mind swelled with a mix of dread and anticipation, realizing the moment had arrived for me to truly be fucked! With Mr. Taggard (RIP, I never learned his given name), he pummeled me into the bed and inserted his substantial, blunt cock into my agog vagina. My voice was scarcely audible at first but soon descended into rhapsodic screams of ecstasy.
"Ohholyfuckme, yes, fuck me!" I shouted, no longer caring.
He paused briefly before I felt his weight shift to my upper body, causing my MILF breasts to jiggle. Although he continued to grip me, his hands did not release. Unexpectedly, he pushed his penis into my mouth. I turned to spot my partner smiling and holding his phone camera. As Mr. Taggard ejaculated down my throat, the intense sensations caused my stomach to churn.
Freaking awesome!, I contemplated as my senses overwhelmed me.
Incredible! I thought to myself. A few minutes ago, we were just engaging in polite conversation as we ascended the stairs, heading towards a bedroom with a massive bay window that overlooked a well-cultivated garden thoughtfully lit. In truth, I was the first to take action - not overtly subtle - I undid the top buttons of my cocktail dress while we walked together so he could see that I wasn't wearing any underwear. Additionally, my erect nipples were clearly visible through the silk of my blouse. This was enough to get him going, and as soon as we reached the bedroom, we started having sex. His penis was short, but remarkably thick, reminiscent of the gnarled root of a tree and completely solid, like him.
Soon enough, my first ferocious sexual encounter was over, leaving me lying wanton on the bed in front of a group of people, most of whom were filming. I was drenched in sweat and my wet pussy was swollen and gleaming. I lifted my legs up and spread them, exposing myself entirely.
After this intense sexual experience, I expected one of the guys - another dominant male, the next in line - to come forward, but there was a sudden shift in the atmosphere inside the bedroom. People made way for someone to pass through.
When I saw Sally, I was surprised; she seemed younger than I'd imagined: around 35 years old, extremely slender, and there was no sign of her supposed slutty nature.
She wore a robe that fell open to reveal a body half girlish, half womanly: small, perky breasts with nipples that would undoubtedly grow bigger with age, a flat stomach, and, the only indication of her prowess, a fleshy pussy, with lips that looked inviting, even with her legs closed modestly.
She extended her arms, flexed her fingers, and examined my ruined pussy. Then she grinned at me. 'Can I?'
Unable to resist the folks staring, I smiled and spread my legs wide apart, encouraging her to proceed.
'Certainly.'
Her slender hand moved easily into me without resistance and felt fantastic. I had never experienced a female fist before, and it was gentle yet rewarding. Eventually, she had her entire hand buried inside me up to her wrist. As she moved her hand in and out, she leaned in to lick my clitoris. It was sublime.
After a while, she asked, 'Can you take two?'
'Yes, please.' Her hands were petite, and I was certain it would be manageable, even though I had never inserted two hands before. Prepared to give it a shot, her second hand slid underneath the first, pulling my labia apart in a way I'd never experienced before. My clitoris, completely exposed, stood up like a small penis, and she began to lick me instead of sucking on it. It seemed almost as if it were a penis and the sensation was strange but not at all unappealing. I relaxed further, stretching myself to my limit (or so I thought), and just as I approached climax, I pulled one of her wrists in even deeper, causing her to thrust faster.
'Gnaaarggrgh, ah ah ah ohhh!' I groaned like an animal.
By this point, I could have stopped, but I'd never felt so aroused in my life. Having a room filled with people watched me, I'd never felt so debauched or like a slut.
As Sarah removed her hands from me with a wet pop, I flipped onto my stomach and presented my now enormous, drooling vagina with its swollen, wet labia for all to see.
'I want your boyfriend to fist me,' I announced.
*******
'Ooooooh, ahhhhhh!'
His hand was large and demanding. I felt like he was forcing his way inside me with a mallet. There was no energy left to scream, and by the time my final orgasm came, I was somewhere else, only conscious of one thing: the explosive expansion between my spread legs.
Satiated, I lay on the bed, still warm and drained. Casually, I watched Sarah receive a fisting from my own husband. Her shaven pussy - her lean legs and captivating arse made it appear fuller - was first in line as he inserted his hand. Next, he spread her open with lube on her puckered anus, and slipped his hand into her, fisting her in both places, making her groan low and deep as she leaned over to lick my nipples with her delicate mouth.
Towards the end, he removed his hand from her occupied pussy and focused on her anus. I had a perfect view of his fist stretching her open, her pussy leaking and spasming with each forceful thrust inside her. I ached to lick it clean, but I just couldn't summon the energy ...
*******
It's incredible how much we can take.
And so, once a month, you'll find us in Chelsea, entertaining a select group of London's finest. We even have our own club for people with similar inclinations: Those who enjoy being pushed to the limit ... and beyond. It's called 'Les Jolies Demoiselles du Fist.'
