Les Jolies Demoiselles Du Fist

Les Jolies Demoiselles du Fist

By Silk

For a while now, being fucked just by my husband hadn't quite hit the spot.

I know the secret of a great performance is to leave you wanting more, but it felt like I was peaking sexually, just figuring out what I liked, whilst he was beginning to coast ... before hitting fifty then nose-diving. Sexually.

So I had to get creative.

*******

'Fuck me as hard as you like!' The male escort I'd hired was on the home straight, and I was currently loving the way my tits were slapping together, as my nipples grazed the cotton sheets. The best bit was that the blinds in our hotel room were open. From being a bit of a prude in my twenties, I was secretly loving the idea of being watched.

As I lay face down on the bed, my new slutty cunt and most-definitely MILF tits on display for anyone in the office block opposite, I hoped he'd switch to fucking my arse, whilst grabbing my tits and twisting my huge nipples.

But the twenty-something (whose name I'd already forgotten) came instead with a low groan as I ground my throbbing pussy into his balls, trying to get every millimetre of him inside me, to tip me over the edge ... but it was no good, he was already going soft.

'Er, sorry,' he said, as I flopped on the bed, my face probably the picture of frustration, 'it's actually been a bit of a slow month ... and you're pretty gorgeous,' he added, looking like a small boy.

By way of an answer, I parted my legs hopefully and he smiled, instantly looking more wolfish. 'Well, that said ...' he stared at my glistening, freshly-shaved pussy, 'I'm pretty sure I can still be of service.'

And that he was.

His tongue felt amazing, as it darted around my clit, and into my pussy, which I've always loved. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself coming -- I was that determined to get my money's worth. As he licked and sucked expertly, he inserted first one long finger, then another and another until he had four inside me.

I don't know if it was the champagne earlier, or the fact I had half come a few minutes ago but as his fingers went deeper, I felt my pussy loosen: I suddenly wanted more, for him to keep licking but for his hand fuck me like a living dildo. I felt stretchy and full and on the verge of something big ...

'Ah,' I cried softly and he withdrew his fingers, assuming he was hurting me. But I had to resist the urge to grab his wrist ... to guide him in. All the way.

Amazingly, my boy was rock hard again by now, so he switched to fucking me missionary. The wonders of youth. With a nice young cock inside me and the weight of his body pressing me to the bed, it didn't take me long to come.

'Wow,' he said afterwards as we lay there, finishing the last of the champagne. 'I nearly fisted you there. That was amazing.'

I'd heard about fisting, of course, but I assumed it was one of those things only pornstars could do or women who'd had several children. Born sideways.

But when I got home from the 'conference' a day later, I looked it up online.

After half an hour, I felt several years wiser ... and I was also soaking wet.

*****

That night, I shaved myself carefully in the bath whilst helping myself to one of my husband's bottles of vintage champagne.

After about twenty minutes, just as I was getting a bit of a buzz on (including the one between my legs), the doorbell rang. I stopped slowly rubbing my swollen clit and reached for my phone. "The door's open" I texted. "Come upstairs, I'm in the bath".

As I heard footsteps on the staircase, I slid down the bath and hooked my long legs over edge of the roll top bath so my newly shaved cunt was exposed above the waterline.

The bathroom door opened.

'Did you bring the lube?' I asked the second young escort I'd treated myself to that week.

The young man nodded but didn't say a word, as ordered.

'Then I want you to stretch me.'

It took me one full orgasm to get his whole hand inside me and, just as he did, my husband walked through the door.

I thought he might be angry but, instead, they pulled me out of the bath and took it in turns to fuck me in the arse in front of the bathroom mirror: my tits lolling and my cunt gaping as they had their fill. When they were ready, they both came over my face and tits and left me to clean myself up.

*****

Oh boy!

After I discovered fisting, I couldn't get enough -- especially when I found I had a talent for it. I've always got very wet quickly, so I didn't need much lube, if any, I just needed to be turned on enough and that wasn't hard, the mood I was in these days.

I persuaded a Tinder date in Newcastle to fist me up against the wall in the hallway of his flat, then dropped to my knees and sucked his cock until he exploded in my mouth.

I allowed myself to be fisted on my back, my legs spread and my ankles tied to the bed posts by a group of college boys I met in a bar. A week later, I was fisted in the shower by a builder I had round, whilst his mate filmed. I also filmed myself fisting my own, now quite hairy, cunt from behind, then squatting, my lips puffy and pussy drooling. And I posted it online and fucked myself with a dildo whilst reading the comments.

It actually pissed me off that dating sites didn't have a box for handsize.

Almost every man I met liked the idea and looking online there seemed to be enough amateur porn about to suggest quite a few 'normal' women were into it. By now, I had convinced my hubby to try swinging (it didn't take much persuading) and that was when I met Sarah.

*****

If I'm honest, swinging was a bit of a bore. Most of the men weren't exactly Adonis and the women a bit too vanilla for my liking. And judgey. Give me a pro -- someone who's paid to know what they're doing -- any day of he week.

But Hubby liked to fuck other mens' wives whilst I watched and I was happy to oblige if he let me get on with my extra-curricula elsewhere.

So I was happy to be the voyeur (and suck the odd cock to pass the time) and let him enjoy himself.

Frankly, our sex life had never been better.

Then I met Sarah and everything went up a gear.

*****

I had heard about her from a few fellow swingers, but she spent most of her time with her new man in Spain. In any case, I didn't really believe the stories: like fifteen men in one night, and the grande finale of machine fucking a horse dildo with a pussy full of their spunk.

Then, just before Christmas we were invited to a place I'd heard about in Chelsea.

I must say, on arrival, I was impressed: the house itself was set back from the road, looking more like a country house in Oxfordshire than Central London.

As I walked in, there were a few of the usual faces dotted about, but a lot of people I'd never seen before -- immaculately-dressed (for now), rich and beautiful.

This could be the night I lost my swinging virginity and actually let someone fuck my pussy, I thought as I surveyed the tasteful drawing room with a fresh martini in my hand.

If only I'd known.

******

'You must be Martha.' It was a statement of fact, more than a question. I turned to the older man in the expensive suit who had just stepped alongside me.

'Y-yes.' I was momentarily disconcerted: mentioning the man's age and his suit might have given the impression that this was someone respectable -- but this was very far from the case. This man had the physique of a retired boxer, or an only semi-retired hitman. Gun metal eyes, broad shoulders, strong jaw ... and huge, muscled hands.

I took a gulp of the cocktail and tried very hard not to think what it would be like to have them inside me.

'Mr Taggard,' I managed a smile, 'this is a beautiful house, full of beautiful people. Thank you for the invite.'

'I've seen you online,' he said flatly and I felt something like butterflies when I thought of this gangster, with his veneer of respectability, watching me being fisted by my builder in our kitchen.

'And?' my mouth was dry but a tell-tale swelling told me my pussy was anything but. He looked at me for a few moments deadpan and I couldn't help imagining what his cock was like. Then he gave the ghost of a smile.

'And I think you should meet my girlfriend, Sarah.'

Holy, fucking shit, this is what it's like to really be fucked!, I thought, as Mr Taggard (I never did get his first name), pinned me to the bed and rammed his thick, stubby cock into my grateful pussy.

For the first couple of minutes, I was speechless, then I was trying not to scream in ecstasy ... then I gave up

'Oh god, fuck me, yes, fuck me!' I screamed. I just didn't care anymore.

He grunted and I felt his weight shift up my sweating torso as my MILF tits wobbled. His hands continued to pin me to the bed as he thrust his cock into my mouth. I turned to see my husband grinning, his phone camera out, before hot spunk hit the back of my throat and I swallowed.

Wow! I thought. Five minutes ago, we'd been making polite conversation, as we moved upstairs, to a bedroom with a huge bay window overlooking an immaculate garden tastefully lit. To be fair, I'd made the first move -- not so -- subtly undoing the front buttons on my cocktail dress as we walked together, so he could see I wasn't wearing panties. That and the fact that my braless nipples were poking through the silk of my blouse tipped him over the edge, because the minute we got to the bedroom we started fucking. His cock was short, but incredibly thick, like the gnarled root of a tree and hard, like him.

The furious first fuck over, I was lying spread-eagled on the bed, in front of a dozen strangers, most of whom were filming. I was covered in sweat and my cunt was glistening and puffy. I raised my legs up and dropped my knees, opening myself up.

I'd just been fucked by the strongest man in my life, with the thickest cock infront of a roomful of strangers ... and right now I wanted more.

I had been expecting one of the men to step forward -- another Alpha male, next-in-the-queue -- but there was a sudden change in the atmosphere in the bedroom room and people parted to let someone through.

My first thought when I saw Sally was she was younger than I expected: about thirty-five, very slim and no hint of the slut par excellence her reputation claimed for her.

She wore an ivory robe that she slipped off to reveal a body somewhere between girlishness and full womanhood: pert breasts but nipples that would only get bigger with age, flat stomach and, the only hint of her talents, a fleshy pussy with deliciously pouting lips, even standing there with her legs closed in false modesty.

She stretched her arms and wriggled her fingers as she studied my own ruined snatch, then grinned. 'May I?'

The room had gone deadly quiet now and I smiled back and raised my hips, leaving no-one in any doubt, where I craved attention.

'Certainly.'

Her slim fist entered me without the slightest resistance and it felt fucking fantastic. I'd never been fisted by a woman before: it was gentle, almost sensual. Before too long she had her whole hand right up to her slim wrist inside me. As she fucked me slowly, she bent down and started to lick my clit. God it felt good.

After a bit she looked up. 'Can you take two?'

'Yes, please.' Her hands were so small, I was sure I could. Even though I had never attempted it before, her second hand slid in under the first, stretching my labia in a way that I'd never experienced before. My clit was now totally exposed, sticking up like a small penis and she proceeded not to lick but to suck it gently. It felt like she was giving me head: unusual and totally sexy. I loosened even more, to my max (or so I thought) and just before I came, I grabbed one of her slim wrists and pulled her in even deeper, making her thrust faster.

'Gnaaargghh, ah ah ah ohhh!' I groaned like an animal.

I could have stopped there, but I'd never felt so turned on in my life. With the room crowded, all eyes on us, I'd never felt like such a cunt-fucked, whore.

As Sarah slipped her hands out of me, with a delicious squelch, I flipped myself onto my front and stuck my arse and now cavernous hole, with its swollen, dripping labia into the air, for everyone to see.

'I want your boyfriend to fist me.' I said.

*******

'Ooooooh, ahhhhhh!'

His hand was rough and impossibly large. It felt like I was being fucked with a mallet. I had no energy left to scream and by the time my final orgasm hit me I was somewhere else: delirious, only aware of one thing: the stretched fullness between my slutty legs.

Finally sated, I lay on the bed, warm and weak. I lazily watched Sarah take a fisting from my own hubby. First in her shaven pussy -- her slim legs and arse making it look all the fleshier -- then someone poured lube all over her puckered arse hole and she guided hubby's hand in, and soon he was fisting her in both holes making her moan low and deep, leaning across to suck my nipples with her small, pink mouth.

Hubby finished by removing his hand from her delicious pussy and concentrating his efforts on her arse. And from where I was I had the perfect view of his fist making her pretty pussy drip and sag open with each thrust into her puckered arse. I longed to lick it but I honestly didn't have the energy ...

*******

And so, once a month, you will find us in Chelsea, performing to a select party of London's finest. We even have our own club, exclusive membership for people with shared tastes in being pushed to the limit .... and beyond: it's called Les Jolies Demoiselles du Fist.

And it's amazing what we can take.

JUST THE BEGINNING