Posts tagged orgasms
Handy Work

I've fallen in lust with a lot of hands over the years.

The muscular and veiny hands of a certain fuck buddy. Every part of him strong and sadistic. His fingers would wrap around my throat, our eyes locked so he could sense the exact moment I needed him to release me for a gasp of air before he clasped my neck again. Or the times the outline of his handprint was left on my flesh after a good beating.

The lovely long digits topped with impeccably done nails of a once upon a time lover. Everything about her graceful and stereotypically feminine in ways I'll never be. My rough hands with chipped nails traced her ample breasts and long curls. As her manicure would dance along my body, delicate and nurturing until they weren't. Until they grabbed at my flesh stealing the air from my lungs with the suddenness of her measured cruelty.

The callused and wrinkled fingers of the photographer. The one I broke all my rules for and fucked. It was because of those old and weathered hands deftly handling rope, running it through his palms delicately to create works of art. The contrast of knowing the rest of his day those same hands held tools of blue collar work.  Hammering and drilling machines by day only to carefully weave rope on the bodies of the models he worked with at night.  I treasured the moment that he would finish binding me and use those dirty old man hands to hurt or pleasure me. Sometimes both at the same time.

I'm in lust with my current love's hands for entirely different reasons. They aren't physically strong or aesthetically beguiling, however in the dark they create magic. It's rare to meet a largely straight fella who is so thorough and deft with a fingering. Usually it's a purely utilitarian foreplay that ends once the main event begins. But he's continued to surprise me with the endless pleasure he doles out. Guess I shouldn't be too surprised, after all, nerds are real good at pressing buttons.

Once he spent an entire afternoon alternately tormenting and pleasuring me with just his hands. Dancing on the fine line between “never stop” and “fuck you, no more!” That sweet spot when so many orgasms become too many which when applied properly becomes the bliss of swimming through pleasure that seems to never cease. The bringing someone to a peak and letting them ride it and imagining you're finished with them only to shock them by carrying on and forcing another peak and yet another until they forget how to breathe.

When he was finished I was so high I couldn't even walk.

They have another benefit, my love's hands, they're small. Just about the size of mine which makes them perfect for fisting. That thing I've long desired, often asked and begged for but hadn't experienced but twice before him.  Few lovers have had the combination of reasonably sized hands and being game for something so naughty. So it took until my love to find someone up for such a thing.

I remember the first time, how excited we both were. Gloves and lube and vibrator at the ready. He used those sneaky blissful fingers on my clit until I was ready for him to start penetrating me with them. The first two easy, the third more of a challenge but not much considering how hungry my cunt is. The fourth slipping in with little extra effort but then the fun begins. That sweet push and pull between “that's too much and it hurts” versus “that's too much and holy fuck give me more.”

He grinned up at me from between my thighs with a hint of worry behind his delight. My love fears hurting me but I keep trying to explain to him that I want him to hurt me. He's welcome to ravish me to bite and slap and spank, to toss me over things and roughly have his way. But that isn't his style. He can however overwhelm me, that's in his wheelhouse, that we both enjoy.

And as he starts the process of folding his thumb in his palm to add the bulk of his hand to my already stretched cunt I'm beginning to feel overwhelmed. I enjoy the pain but also worry about it being too much to take. So he slows his pace, me tapping his other hand when I want him to stop what he's doing and let me process the moment. This works well so that soon he has the widest part of his hand inserted and has the greatest shocked but thrilled look on his face. An expression I adore evoking in him. I giggle at him before laying back and breathing deeply, preparing myself for the final push.

“Ouch ouch ouch I can't take more. Stop.”

“That's good because it's all in.”

It's my turn to look shocked. The last thrust of his fist inside me had been so intense and happened so quickly I didn't have a chance to process it happening. All I'd noticed was pain so I hadn't allowed myself to notice the delicious fullness of having so much inside me so deeply. Once he let me know I didn't have to endure any more I was free to let the pleasure wash over me. It was amazing looking down to see his wrist end where it met my vulva. Everything red and wet and hungry at that intersection.

Now I was worried about him wondering if it hurt to be stuffed into such a confined space. I didn't want to hurt his hand with the fierceness of my sexuality. I've been too much for almost everyone my entire life but I didn't want to actually break him with my cunt. But he assured me it was fine and he was enjoying himself so I asked blushing and surprisingly myself at being embarrassed at the thoroughness of my need when I asked, “can I try to come on your fist?”

“Of course!” He practically threw my favorite vibrator at me and watched wide eyed as I moaned and wiggled while vibrating myself to climax. The sensations were so new and so much that it didn't take more than a minute before I orgasmed. An orgasm so intense all I could get out was nonsense while holding onto the sheets with my free hand. The waves of it hit me again and again, my cunt muscles clenching around his hand so hard I had to check he wasn't wincing in pain. Instead he was smiling and doing his best to further overwhelm me by moving his fingers the tiniest fraction of an inch. Which felt like he was enthusiastically finger spelling inside of me or something equally gymnastic. Every sensation was so acute with my muscles so stretched and so awake.


To my surprise my love was thrilled to find something so simple that could get such a reaction. So this sweet nerdy man is the one out of all my lovers that is willing to make my fisting dreams come true. He never stops surprising me. And now when we sit holding hands or we fan our hands together I can't help but think about his fingers inside me, that these small but dexterous hands cause me so much pleasure, our naughty little secret.

Vulnerable: Rope Journaling 10-26

We’d been at a ropey play party earlier in the day and I’d been under the weather for the proceeding couple weeks, so I’m sure Mr Right knew he was in trouble this particular evening. 

I was just a wee bit pent up.  Like the sort of pent up when it’s been building for so long you sort of forget how in need of release you are because you’ve spent so long tamping down the desire. That desperate tickle in your belly. So at a certain point all it takes is someone running a finger down your arm to make you nearly jump out of your skin.  I was that tightly wound, dangerous and in desperate need of any sort of release.

Rope in hand, I approached Mr Right and undressed him, leaving him standing naked and goose fleshed in front of me. Wanting to keep him wrapped up tightly for a good long while, I started by binding his hands together in a mummy-like position and fashioned what I hoped would be a relatively comfy but secure harness from there.  Once I was sure he couldn’t escape I tossed him into the bed and pointed at where I wanted him to sit, building him a nest of pillows so he’d be sitting relatively up right.

I dumped the rest of his rope out on the bed and began plotting. How to best accomplish what I had in mind without hard points?  Did I have enough rope?  Would he hate what I was about to do?

As we bantered--always the sarcasm and sass, the way we communicate, flirt, and as switches how we encourage whomever has decided to be in charge—I became more sure of myself.  Not long after I got both of his legs frogged in on themselves, he said something that provided all the motivation I’m usually lacking, because I’m a sadist but I don’t want to hurt my sweet man friend.  Sometimes he needs to remind me, he isn’t that sweet.  I don’t remember the words, but I recall the daring look in his eyes as he pushed, seeing how far he could or would go.

I grabbed the blindfold from my bag and secured it around his eyes.  Still there was a snarky smirk on his lips which I wiped away with a kiss before taking the breath from him by tying the rest of the blindfold’s length to the headboard so that he couldn’t loll his head down. He’s often shy with his eyes in the bedroom but I wanted him present now and I wanted to “punish” him by removing his ability to hide his face from me.

The smirk was gone as I continued, pulling first his right and then his left leg up and out to the farthest points of his head board and tying them off.  His legs spread as wide as I thought he could handle and up off the bed so he had to work at holding himself up, no easy comfy position for him to relax into tonight.  Oh no.

He looked so delightfully vulnerable and exposed just then that even without having touched him or him having touched me, I was wet.  But I waited, not giving into my needs just then. Teasing myself just as much as him as I ran the pinwheel along his open thighs, then tracing the ropes around his legs, then his ass and belly.  I laughed cruelly as he whimpered and squirmed, trying to escape but only having a mere couple inches of wiggle room, all he could accomplish was exposing new and more sensitive parts of himself, which I of course teased and tormented.

When he was thoroughly on edge I began interspersing the pin wheel and the smacks with the palm of my hand with tentative movements of my face near his cock.  Not even my mouth, not yet.  Just the soft warmth of my face and perhaps my closed lips to tease him with the proximity, the promise of what would come eventually but not yet.  

Each time I would play at opening my lips to take him in my mouth I would instead pull away and spank or tickle him a new.  When I finally licked at the head of him, the sound he made was like a cry, a pained and grateful mew that had me grinning. 

I teased him with parted lips and tongue for as long as I could before I couldn’t torture myself any longer and finally took him in my mouth.  Again that sound just on the border of pain, so happy to be getting what he wants that the pleasure almost hurts.  I draw that moment out by slowly licking and sucking the length of him. Making even the doling out of pleasure a tease and I’m rewarded with so many more noises.

Soon I sense he can’t hold his legs up any longer so I begin untying them, releasing his legs so that he can stretch them and I can revel in the rope marks they’re decorated in. Before he can become too at ease, I reach into the bedside table.  He’s smart, he knows what comes next. 

I carefully place the condom on him, straddle his legs and tease him with my proximity for only a few moments before climbing on top of him.  It’s my turn to sigh and moan as I ride him, our faces so close that as I enjoy him, it’s relatively soon that the blindfold falls off and we smile at one another.  And as much as I enjoy him bound, I want his hands on me, I want to be tossed around, I want to tangle our bodies together in ways that aren’t possible at the moment.  So as I move against him, I somehow manage to untie his arms, freeing him to touch me. And when my legs tire in this position, I turn to face away from him, rewarding him with his favorite view as I slide up and down the length of him, ass in the air.  

He must roll me onto my back soon after this because I have no memories other than of endless orgasms.  Of vibrating myself to climax and insisting that me fuck me some more, coming on him as I whisper naughty nothings in his ear.  The pleasure so much that I lose track of the events as we try to destroy one another with deliciousness, falling asleep in a sweaty, happy pile.

In the morning we wake to a bedroom floor absolutely covered in rope that takes two days to fully untangle. And it was so worth it.