Fishnets, finger fucking, and fish and chips

Today’s blog post is written for a friend who assured me that there is no such thing as too much smut that features fingering. I admit that I don’t spend as much time finger fucking cute humans as I’d like to, so this filth is an attempt to inspire me to do a little more – and to turn y’all on in the process!

Includes semi-public sex and D/s dynamics. Oh, and affiliate links. 

This blog post is now available as an audio recording! Click here to play:

Walking through the darkness next to my partner, warmth and the smell of vinegar emanating from the package in my hands, is my favourite part of the week. It’s late on Friday evening and after a week apart I know we’ll be having sex when we get back to my flat – especially as she’s just spent the last two hours with her hands all over me but not really allowed to touch.

“I think I’m getting better.”

“You definitely are. But even if you weren’t, I’m having so much fun. Spending time with you where I can call you Sir and you can threaten to spank me is incredibly… freeing.”

“True. Though I think you’re just taunting me with those fishnets. Do you have any idea how close I came to just ripping them off you earlier and finger fucking you? I could have used your bound arms to hold you off-balance over my knee so you couldn’t do anything but squirm while I spanked your cunt?”

The cold air, and the fact her hands are full of newspaper-wrapped fish and chips, makes me brave.

“Are you accusing me of dressing in a way that will I know will make you desperate to fuck me at a time when you have to keep your hands off me? I know better than to tease my dom when she’s having to concentrate on what she’s learning and can’t drag me off someplace private to fuck be until I scream.”

My oh-so-innocent tone is barely masking my giggle, and the look she gives me shows that she doesn’t believe a word that I’m saying. In fact, it’s the look that usually tells me that in less than a minute I’m going to be pinned against the wall and regretting my smart mouth because she’ll have devised a delicious way to torture me. She wouldn’t do that now, though, not when we’re walking home from Rope Bondage for Beginners, the class we agreed to sign up for when it became clear that we wouldn’t be able to move to the same city for several months yet.

Would she?

Her arm moves quickly, and then her hand is on my neck and she’s guiding me away from the main street into a side alley. She backs me into the wall and uses one hand to push my skirt up and both hold it out of the way and pin me in place. She gets down on one knee, and presses her face against my crotch, inhaling the noticeable scent of my arousal.

“Oh, you’re not wearing panties. Bad, bad girl.”

There is something incredibly hot about her thrusting her fish supper at me and telling me to hold it, then wiping the grease off her fingers on my thigh. The contrast of slippery grease and tight stocking against my leg feels dirty and wrong and it makes my cunt wet. I realise I’m holding my breath when she rips the crotch of my tights and I can hear the fishnets give way to her lust.

“Lube?” I pant, but she’s already reaching into her jacket pocket and bringing out a small bottle. She squeezes some on to her fingers, coating them well before she slides one into my cunt. She looks up, checking I’m ok before adding another finger. They curl inside me, each movement careful and calculated. Her eyes are on me, but by now finger fucking me is all but second nature to her and I trust her completely with my body.

Especially when her fingers graze against my g-spot and my cunt clenches around them. It’s all I can do from moaning in pleasure. She grins.

“You’ll have to come quick, little slut, or they’ll see you like this. Be a good girl and fuck yourself on my fingers, will you?”

While she does more work than I give her credit for in the moment – angling her fingers just right so they press against my g-spot again and again – the fact she’s making me work for this turns me on even more. Fear of being caught, the thrill of how exposed we are here, and the delicious shame from jerkily moving my body up and down her fingers brings me to the edge of the orgasm far quicker than I expected.

“May I come sir? Please?”

“Come for me,” she says, and permission has barely been granted when my cunt muscles squeeze and eyes shut and it feels like I’m aware of the pulse that surges through my body. My hands tangle in her hair as I come, but it’s not the dominant action she would make it – I’m merely using her to ground myself.

She wipes her fingers on my thigh again, so now there is lube and my own wetness there as well as the grease from the chip boxes that I’m still clutching. It feels like she is marking me as used, as a well-fucked slut. My cheeks are going to be flushed red the entire way home, which I have no doubt will lead to more teasing. I laugh, leaning back against the brick wall and closing my eyes, just for a second. She’ll only be happy that I need a second to recover from that finger fucking.

 

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Do you want to read the sequel to this story, which includes breath play, choking, and a glass dildo? If you want to support my work – so I can spend more time writing filth and creating audio porn – please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi.