Diary Of A Fisting

(please respect my copyright December 2001)

Introduction

This story is fiction that has a basis in fact, the reader should not worry themselves about which is which. All important information is accurate.

As sex involves two people, a man and a woman it seemed to me that there is always two stories to be told. This is my attempt at doing this. Both are recounted in the first person. His narrative was in plain typeface and hers in italics.

As I am experimenting with a writing style in using this format I would appreciate any feed-back on the style as well as on content and any other issues raised.

* * * * *

Morning

HER DIARY:

My pussy is already dripping in anticipation. S rang he is coming over tonight. I told him that we are running short of KY - only half a tube left. I'm like a bitch on heat. Whenever I am like this my legs seem to be opening involuntarily, my labia feels as if they are six inches apart. It is as if I have spread my legs to their greatest extent, although I know I am sitting with my knees together.

After this cup of coffee I shall go into my studio and begin to paint. Big red angry skies with clouds that are swirling, expressing passion through their motion. God I wish he was here already.

HIS DIARY

N phoned today, randy as hell - to tell the truth I'm randy as hell too. We've used nearly all the KY - really ought to buy some shares in the company or put in a wholesale order. To be honest she is the sexiest woman I have ever known, well our sexual proclivities dovetail together.

Years back I had this thing with a younger woman, N divorced me. The fling was fun for a few weeks then it became boring. She lay on her back opened her legs I shoved it in and pumped away. That is not saying that she was not enthusiastic, she was - she would thrash about like mad, and she gave a good blow-job. But anything else, anal, bondage, etc., was a no-no. I suppose she was too young to appreciate the finer side of sex. It is strange, whenever I start to get geared up for a real session with N a part of the process is running over the past.

HER DIARY:

I'm in my studio flinging paint on the canvas, elliptical clouds bursting open into delicate pink flowers. My pussy is aching for his touch. It's so real it's almost as if he is there already. When I am like this I cannot bear to see him outside the house. I just have to look at him, look at his hand, and I'm wetting myself - I'm wetting myself anyway when I'm like this, I can feel the fluid, hot and sticky running down the inside of my thighs. As I told you, I only have to look at him and I want to drag him to bed.

HIS DIARY:

I have to try and concentrate on editing this film. Looking at video of the interior of a car, even a race car is not easy when all I can think of is sex with N, but this is the film that pays the rent and keeps body and soul together. When I listen to the audio track the protesting growl of the engine reminds me of those pistons pumping up and down in the cylinders, which links by lateral thinking with sex.

Tonight I'll wear my leather jeans - that turns her on.

HER DIARY:

When we are going to have a heavy sex session he always wears leather. He knows that when I see him in leather I cum. I want to tear the jeans off him and at the same time another part of me wants him to keep them on. To feel the texture of the leather against my naked flesh.

HIS DIARY

Years ago when I had a bike we went out for a run along the coast road. Stopped by a little cove, walked down to the beach stood watching the silver moon-path across the water. We went back to the base of the cliffs, took off our leather jackets and I buggered her there.

HER DIARY:

The sea beat out the rhythm as he pumped up and down in my ass, the jackets were cool and sensual beneath me. The buckles and zips dug into me. The pain was exquisite. Afterwards all the way home I could feel his still warm spunk swilling around inside me. That's one of the reasons why I prefer anal, after my cunt's been fucked the spunk runs out, when he has shot up my ass it stays there and I can still feel him. Sometimes when he has gone home I keep it in there for days until it's too painful to hold any longer.

If my kids knew what I got upto they would be shocked. Like most young people they think that once you have turned forty you should be sexless, now the oldest is forty and my daughter is not far off they have probably amended their ideas, probably now people become sexless at fifty. I'm in my mid sixties the first time I had sex was in a field when I was thirteen and I hope I'm still doing it when I am eighty.

HIS DIARY:

All I can think about is tonight, for two pins I'd chuck this work to one side jump into the car and go to N's right now. But waiting, anticipation is part of the fun. I've been fixated on women and their cunts for as long as I can remember. The past is running through my mind like a film. When I was a child my favourite game was playing "doctors and nurses" with the little girl who lived up the lane from us. We would go into the hayfield. Where safely hidden by the high corn stalks she would lie down and remove her knickers. I would kneel between her parted legs and explore her bald slit. I was intrigued by the hard ruby bud that nestled there and the golden stream that jetted from her when she peed. - An innocent game, we were both about six or seven. I wonder what happened to her, did she grow up to be as addicted to sex as I am? When I was thirteen I first had sex, to tell the truth I soon found it to be pretty boring. Then in my mid teens I had this part-time job in a book-shop, it was there I discovered the art of sex.

Some people would say that it was books made me into a pervert. I would say that I was already perverted I just needed a recognition of my inclinations. In those books I found myself, I read "My life and loves" by Frank Harris. Then I found my true self when I read De Sade, the Marquise showed the true nature of my sexual inclination. And I set out on a life long quest to find a woman whose desires dovetailed with mine.

HER DIARY:

I am sitting on the toilet pissing. Every so often I squeeze myself tight cutting off the golden jet mid-stream. The pain of stopping sends a sting coursing through my belly and a warm glow in my womb as my ecstasy builds up. Eventually it happens pulsating waves flow down my pussy my bladder relaxes and I simultaneously pee and cum. As I piss and pleasure myself my mind goes back to when I was a little girl, it was then I first discovered how pleasurable it was to stop a pee mid-way through. I would fill my bladder by drinking glasses of water then spend ages in the toilet at the bottom of the back garden pleasuring myself.

Now when I sit here pissing I dream that he is here touching me whilst I pee, and just before I cum the dream becomes so vivid that I can literally feel his hand playing with my labia teasing my clit.

My first husband was a sexless prat, all he ever wanted was to make babies or turn over and go to sleep, usually the latter. Many nights I would lie there bathed in perspiration born of frustration whilst he snored in the bed next to me. And he had the nerve to wonder why I was not the faithful wife.

The only form of rough treatment he knew was with his fists. Typically of men like that he was a coward, never arguing with a man he would come home and vent his rage on me, and like a fool for years I took the beatings.

That might sound paradoxical, when you consider the man I love now will take a whip or a cane to me. But that is sex, he doesn't beat me violently, although at times I hurt more than when my first husband thumped me. The bruises even the cuts from the whip and cane are special - they are put there with love and received with love, one word from me and I know he will stop. I might be the submissive but I am the one who is in ultimate control - those are the rules of the game. Yes, game! That is what sex is isn't it - a game, and games are played for enjoyment.

I knew that he was the right man for me, when I saw him in his leather gear with his motorcycle, I felt his eyes undressing me. I could have walked away or as I did stand and let him feast his eyes upon my clothed nakedness.

HIS DIARY:

She was with her husband, we were talking motorbikes and she was lusting after me positively begging for it. So why not give her a try, I thought. When I asked her out she feigned reluctance for all of half a minute.

HER DIARY:

He treated me like an animal and I wanted him more and more.

HIS DIARY:

I did not want to waste time. We had a couple of drinks, then went back to my place.

HER DIARY:

I'd never been treated like it before. As soon as the door had closed behind us he told me to strip. No preliminaries, no pretence at seduction on the couch, - simply "I want you naked now." I was going to protest he knew it, I realised if I did not strip it would be all over. It was delicious that feeling of being dominated the choices had been removed.

HIS DIARY:

As soon as she had stripped I took her into the bedroom. My wet finger established that she was hot for it. Gently I began kissing her feet working me way up the insides of her legs until I reached the upper thighs. Her legs were spread inviting me onward and upward.

HER DIARY:

I trembled on the edge of an orgasm, a man had never induced a climax without entering me before. Then the bastard hung me up, at that moment I could have screamed - a puff of cool air on my cunt and he stopped.

HIS DIARY:

I rained butterfly kisses on her face. I held her still when she tried to pull away as I kissed and tongued her ears. I turned her onto her stomach and kissed her shoulders, moving down her spine. She trembled when my tongue entered the crease between her buttocks. Using both hands I parted the cheeks and carried on down. She tensed when my tongue reached the tight rosebud of her anus. I ran my tongue round the bud. She did not resist when I turned her onto her back. I kissed her neck and shoulders.

HER DIARY:

I had always been self-conscious and embarrassed by my small breasts, sitting on my chest like two fried bantams' eggs. I did not want him or any man kissing them. They were a source of inferiority, to my mind useless. They had not even been able to serve their biological function I had always had to bottle feed my three children.

HIS DIARY:

Ignoring her protests I grasped her shoulders and held her down as I kissed her breasts. When I sucked and teased her nipples she went berserk, but I persisted until suddenly she went limp.

HER DIARY:

My breasts hurt realising I could not fight him off I gave up as I fought to relax myself the unexpected happened I came!

HIS DIARY:

As I went down over her belly she carried on cumming. This time when her legs parted I lapped at her open cunt, and stirred her clit. Carrying on further I liberally licked at the tight rosebud of her anus.

HER DIARY:

He put my legs on his shoulders. I eagerly awaited his entry as he teased me by running his cock over the lips of my cunt. Then he parted the lips and ran his cock over my clit drawing it down further and further. It was so unexpected.

HIS DIARY:

I rammed my prick up her ass. For a moment she was stunned and lay still. Then she wriggled with pain. The next minute she started to cum and once she started she did not stop.

HER DIARY:

I paid him back I dug my nails into his back and pulled him into me. Through the pain I was cumming. Wave after wave of ecstasy flowed and I responded by clawing his back. He fucked me with animal brutality, like a tigress I clawed him. I could feel his skin clogging under my nails as his hard prick bored into me.

HIS DIARY:

Both of us went for it like rabbits.

HER DIARY:

I was not an anal virgin, but before the anal sex I'd had, was with of the traditional type. Where the woman is on all fours or bent over a chair facing away from the man. I think my partners had been relatively inexperienced, so I had come to associate anal sex with unpleasant pain.

Being buggered face to face was a new experience. Each thrust into me his pelvis was grinding into my clit, his pubic hairs irritated, tickled and stimulated my exposed labia. When I felt his hot spunk pulsing into me I knew anal sex could be the best sex.

I held his softening cock in me we lay until it stirred into some semblance of hardness and he screwed me again.

When he eventually pulled his dripping cock out of me my anus felt as though it had been beaten with stinging nettles and my legs ached.

But I knew he was right for me when he was so gentle as we lay in one anothers arms bathed in that warm after sex self satisfied glow.

HIS DIARY:

After the violence of coupling we lay kissing savouring the moment we had shared. Tasting the saltiness of each other's sweat bathed bodies. Maybe we dozed I am unsure. My cock was stiff again.

HER DIARY:

I awoke on my stomach my legs spread.

HIS DIARY:

She was still asleep on her stomach. The rosebud of her anus was red and angry swollen - pouting as if it was about to flower. The temptation was too great I reached by the bed for the KY and anointed her.

HER DIARY:

He put something cool on my anus, at first I thought it was an ointment. Then the pain as with a hard thrust he entered me.

HIS DIARY:

She gasped as I gently pushed into her.

HER DIARY:

We rolled onto our sides. I could not vent my pain by scratching him. His hands clasped my breasts. He began to squeeze and knead them, using them as handholds to pull me back onto him as he thrust in. The pain was excruciating - I fought to relax - then the warm waves began and the pain transmuted into an exquisite pleasure. He was doing everything I disliked, hands playing with my breasts, tongue entering my ear, nibbling at my earlobes.

HIS DIARY:

"Stop!" She cried. I ignored her, if she insisted I would stop but this was a test was she the woman I was looking for? I was not gentle I did not want to be gentle I wanted to own her to posses her body and mind. She had to be mine, completely and absolutely.

HER DIARY:

I looked in the mirror. How could I go home, even my husband could not fail to notice my bruised breasts. With his lack of interest in sex, it was unlikely he would notice that my sex and ass looked like raw meat. The bruises or the satisfied look in my eyes.

HIS DIARY:

I knew she was right for me!

HER DIARY:

I wanted him. I wanted more of him. And I was willing to be his whatever the price.

Afternoon

HIS DIARY:

The film is still not edited, I have spent too much time thinking about sex. Memories running pin sharp in the subdued hues of Eastman Kodak colour film documentaries. So much more gentle than Technicolor or video. I wish that some camera manufacturer would give Eastman as a setting on digital cameras. I must not forget to take the camera this time. Last time I got halfway to N's and realised I had left the camera behind.

HER DIARY:

The paint is flying onto this canvas. It is the only way I can prevent myself sitting down in a permanent wet-dream until he arrives. At lunch-time I could not help myself, I gave way to temptation and drank a litre bottle of Coke Cola. I spent nearly an hour in the loo - I lost count of how many times I made myself cum. It's a good job women aren't like men - cum and have to rest before they can perform again. I'd never be able to perform because I'd have too many anticipatory wanks.

Still the clock has not stopped ticking. It's strange it always seems that time is standing still when you are waiting for something. When I am painting time seems to fly by, but when I stop time seems to be frozen. Although the second hand of the clock moves, the minute and hour hands freeze in place.

I'm covered in paint when I have finished I shall take a bath. I always have a bath before one of our sessions. At first it was his kink not mine, but now I have got used to it I would not like to have pubic hair, it's nicer to be all smooth down there. So when I have finished I shall go into the bathroom, before I get into the bath I will wet all around that area cover it in shaving foam then shave it.

HIS DIARY:

She will be in the bathroom by now, she knows I prefer her shaved. At first she was a bit reluctant but now the ungodly shave is a part of her pre-sex ablution ritual. Speaking of ablutions I must trim and manicure my finger nails. She claws hell out of my back yet insists my own finger nails are trimmed down to the quick. Actually I agree with her it is important that I keep my nails as short as possible, then filed so there is no possibility of my scratching her.

I hope she is wearing the dress that unbuttons the whole way down the front, and her bra with the front fastening. I do like easy access to her body before we go up to the studio or bedroom.

The instant I go into her house I shall instruct her to remove her panties. Walking around with her panties removed makes her feel terribly vulnerable, it is something that she would not do by choice and therefore it is an easy way to make her feel dominated. It's a cycle of events, she does not like to be without her pants, so my making her remove them induces in her feelings of being dominated as a consequence she begins to cum. The dampness running at the top of her legs embarrasses her, reminding her of her naked vulnerability. She knows that she is naked because I ordered it - she knows she is dominated - she begins to cum!

HER DIARY:

What shall I wear? Whatever I choose he will find a way of making me feel dominated by making me do something I would not do out of choice. His favourite is to make me remove my pants. I quite enjoy it really, it makes me feel deliciously wanton, sometimes I feel positively wicked. Because it is something I would not do from choice, it does make me aware that it is his bidding I am doing and that in itself is exciting. He has made me go through a period with no knickers and no pad, just using tea-towels tied like nappies. It was horrible and exciting at the same time.

I bet you are thinking - she doesn't have periods at her age, but I assure you I bleed every month - the secret is H.R.T. - It keeps me young physically and mentally.

But tonight I think I will pre-empt him! I want him to take me as soon as he walks through the door. I do not want to spend the evening with a bottle of wine and music. I want to feel him doing it to me. I want to feel him forcing me. I want those parts of me that feel as if they are open to be opened by him.

That is the secret of this kind of sex, it is not quite what it seems - it is topsy-turvy, upside down. He is my master I am his slave, but it is I the slave who is in ultimate control, who decrees what happens and what does not happen.

The Act

HIS DIARY:

She did not greet me at the door so I walked in. She was in the living room. Kneeling on the carpet. Naked except for her studded collar and handcuffs. She did not lift her eyes when I entered.

HER DIARY:

A tremor went through me when I saw his leather encased legs. He is so good at this role playing. It was quite scary as without comment he put his camera bag down. Then walked around me, the only sound was the gentle creak and rustle of his leather jeans. It seemed to be an eternity that he circled me.