Elaine Miller
Fist is a story I first submitted to Best Lesbian Erotica 1998. They accepted the piece, and then chose to publish an excerpt of it. That made the name of the shorter piece From Fist.
In the fall of 2000, I, along with David Bloom and William Moysey, did an evening performance at Living in Leather, in Seattle. One of the performance pieces was this shorter-still adaptation of From Fist, called (I couldn't help myself) From From Fist.
William Moysey accompanies on drums. A few of the drum notations were left in the piece, but you'll have to use your imagination.
From From FIST by Elaine Miller
I fucking love a woman who knows what she wants.
She was so wet that my two fingers slid inside her, smooth, like they belonged. Her eyes were closed, a half-smile was on her lips. The hot, slick, sweet fucking pull of her lit a fire in my belly.
She was tight at first, and I touched her gently, two fingers sliding in and out so slowly—and she hissed under her breath at me, frustrated, pushing at my hand, trying to capture more.
"Hang on a second." I said. "I'm going to get a glove"
Ignoring my words, she continued to push towards me, tugging against her bondage as she tried to work my fingers deeper.
I pulled out, rolled her over fast, pivoting her neatly despite the rope at her wrists, and gave her six fast, sharp smacks on her quivering butt. She yelped with the first (BEAT) and began kicking, so I held her legs for the rest (5 BEAT), then rolled her over to face me again. Her round butt was way too tempting, and if I didn’t get it out of sight I might spank her all night.
She waited more politely now, looked flushed and annoyed, but breathlessly watching, impatiently squirming, as I placed the bottle of lube in a hot water bowl, and snapped on a glove. When I glanced her way, eyebrow cocked, she flushed a little more. Her eyes now round and innocent, she bit her lip, pulled her knees up, and slowly parted them. I hurried.
Climbing back on the bed, I touched her hands and arms, checking for circulation, ready to shift ropes if need be. As I felt one hand, then the other, she returned the squeeze. Her slim fingers went around my wrist, an unmistakable gesture of measuring, of gauging the thickness of my wrists and the size of my hands.
She was greedy and opened to me quickly, flowering around me as I fucked her, doing the holding back for both of us as she thrust toward me. I took my time, making sure she was relaxed, going from two fingers to three, then four, tucking in my thumb and adding lots more lube. She was slick and hot and her core was calling to me—and then she relaxed suddenly, pulled her knees up a bit more, and went still. She held her breath as I pushed slowly past the last bit of tension and my hand curled inside her, grasped by her cunt.
Inside her.
(drum cue wait for -- Elaine)
Struck by rapture, I could not move at all until she demanded it, couldn’t imagine a moment more perfect than this until she proved it to me, pushing herself farther onto me, wrapping her cunt around my forearm as she made a continuous purring sound. I rocked my hand inside her.
No matter how many times I fist a woman, one thing never changes: the sense of awe I feel as the thickest part of my hand slips past the tension and the last few inches of me disappear inside her of their own accord, slick and with a rush. My hand curls into a fist like a sleeping cat, and her cunt flutters around me, around my wrist. Sometimes she is so tight I can’t move for a while, and I sit there, shaken to my core at the trust and raw energy between us. Sometimes she has room inside right away, and I can pump inside her. My mind is entirely wrapped in my fist at times like these: wrapped in my fist and all the way inside her cunt, hot and slick and wet and pulsing. I can fuck forever like this, the familiar burn in my shoulder muscles ignored, almost unnoticed.
I pushed the heel of my left hand against her clit, putting on a bit of pressure—just a little. Her sweet cunt convulsed around my fist again. She sucked in her breath and moved her hips against that hand now, grinding her clit against me, already spiraling up toward coming.
"Stop." I said
(drum cue wait for -- Elaine)
She kept going.
"Don't move." I said "Really. Not at all." I stopped, although she didn't. I let my hand go limp inside her, went with her movements instead of against them so she couldn’t catch any friction or pressure, and took my other hand away from her clit, letting in the cold air.
Scream of protest. Much wriggling around.
I ran my hand along her smooth brown skin until I reached her breast, grasped her erect nipple between two fingers, and rubbed my thumb over it hard. Another gasp and clench, as she pushed her body toward me. I gave her nothing.
"Stop moving." I reminded her.
I heard a slight noise and realized she was grinding her teeth. But now, now she was still.
When a few moments had passed and she had not moved again, I brought my fingers to her clit and began strumming it slowly, trying to tease her into moving. She didn't, only growling slightly. She made such beautiful sounds, such cat-in-heat sounds.
"And I want you to be quiet, too." I said.
She cast me an incredulous look, more than blunted by her fuzzy expression, but she went silent, only the hiss of her breath, the flaring of her nostrils, and the expression on her face showing what she felt.
I pulled her legs up over my shoulders; leaned over her, and fucked her hard, (drum fill) my fist pushing her limits, stretching her with each thrust. Mouth opened, she stared at the ceiling for a second, making no sound, then gave a muffled gasp with each inward push, chewing her lips as I got faster, until she was panting continuously, staring at me. I loved watching the tug of emotion behind her eyes, which got wider and wider the harder we fucked.
After what seemed like an eternity of pushing and pulling, sliding through her in an erotic haze, she whispered something I had to slow my movements to catch.
"Please let me scream," she repeated, and I saw stars.
Releasing her with a nod, I felt a snarl lift my lip as I let myself go, sliding all the way in with each stroke, watching her yank mindlessly at the rope around her wrists, muscles straining, as she wrapped her strong thighs around me and pulled me closer, shoving back at me, impaling herself on my forearm. She chanted "Fuck fuck fuck fuck…" Sometimes she screamed.
I could feel when it was time, and I placed my wet thumb on her clit, my left hand pressing into her belly, feeling my fist inside her as it pistoned back and forth. I nudged her clit from side to side in rhythm with my thrusts, and within seconds she sucked in her breath, long and deep, and just fucking exploded, wrapped around my fist so tight I could feel my wrist creak. I felt it deep in my cunt, she came so hard; arched off the bed, stabbing herself on my arm, working her clit against my thumb, shuddering over and over, her cunt pulsing now, beating like a great, slow heart inside her.
