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One, just one
Long and skinny, it’s not enough. It’s a tease, a horrid tease, it makes me mad.
Two has a purpose
Two can stick firmly side by side and do curl-ups like they teach in books and magazines.
Two isn’t bad but soon I’ll ask for more.
Three, give me three, I need to feel the feeling of being full in a way
At first three felt like four, like a magician’s ruse. I couldn’t quite believe you that three wasn’t four.
Three hurt in that delicious, big way.
The next time around, though, three was the new two and I soon found my hips silently reaching for four.
And somewhere along the way, four snuck in.
But my eyes were closed and I couldn’t see the logical, I only saw colors as I focused on the sensations.
I close my eyes so that I may feel more intensely and more surely.
I close my eyes so that nothing distracts me from the climb.
Afterwards, in my giggly hazy post-game show, I was in happy awe when you said it was four, right up to the knuckles and a little bit of five, even! As I stared at your hand and marveled at the width my cunt just stretched, stretched like a toothless grin, I showed you how to form your hand so that five might gain entrance next time. It’s my goalpost and not yours, but you aim to please nonetheless.
It’s not until later that I think it over and I mentally compare his hand to His hand. The hand that’s been there is an artist’s hand, a drummers hand. Strong but long and thin. His hands rough and bigger, His fingers are thicker. And I wonder if His hand would ever have been able to gain full entrance. But I shudder a little when I remember that this was His curiosity as much as mine and he would have made that hand go in there, no doubt about it.
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10 Responses to “1-2-3-4 Tell Me That You Love Me More”
October 13th, 2009 at 4:17 pm
Great post.
And Feist is wonderful.
October 13th, 2009 at 6:33 pm
That was amazingly well written. And I love the synesthetic descriptions you used. I know just what you mean about His hand. He would have made it happen, and you would have loved it despite any pain.
October 13th, 2009 at 7:04 pm
Ahh lovely!
so well said.
Thanks~
October 13th, 2009 at 7:08 pm
I kept hearing the Count. “Three! Three fingers in my snatch, A-ah-ahhh.” This would be the best episode of Sesame Street EVER.
~oh dear lord thats funny but it also is so unsexy, lol
October 13th, 2009 at 9:18 pm
That was awesome!!
And I can totally get what Tracer B was saying about The Count on Sesame Street counting the fingers in your puss!! LOL
October 13th, 2009 at 9:21 pm
That was very well written and oh so delicious!
October 13th, 2009 at 11:59 pm
Nah. That cape? That fly suit? The Count was a pimp. Maria? Prarie Dawn? All them bitches was fillin’ his pockets.
October 15th, 2009 at 5:41 pm
“Giggly hazy post-game show”… I LOVE that. :-)
And I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes frances takes four like a champ and is a little shocked to hear it.
Two is mostly the go-to number, though. Two, going “here, little g-spot, here, little g-spot… GOOD little g-spot.” :-)
October 17th, 2009 at 5:44 pm
Lily, when it happens the orgasm will be SO huge. He will be able to hold on to your uterus as it contarcts over and over and over. Trust me. His thumb will be wedged against your G spot. Love your posts.
October 18th, 2009 at 11:26 am
I too am discovering the beauty of fisting, it is surreal, intense and goddamn wonderful. Haven’t made it quite to a fist or having an orgasm. But when I do I am sure the world will concave and internally combust!!