Fucking His Fist: An Erotic Journey

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation. I was on all fours, naked and exposed, my ass pointed towards him, inviting him. He knelt behind me, his cock hard and ready, but tonight was not about his dick. Tonight, was about his fist and my asshole.

He started with his fingers, one by one, sliding into my ass, fucking me slowly. I moaned, pushing back against his hand, eager for more. He poured lube generously, his fingers slipping in and out with ease. I could feel my asshole stretching, the sensation intense and exhilarating.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I groaned, my cock hard and swaying beneath me. He said nothing, just continued to work his fingers in my ass, stretching me, preparing me for what was to come.

When he finally slid his thumb in, his whole hand buried in my ass, I let out a loud groan. He began to fuck me with his hand, slowly at first, then faster, harder. I could feel his fist stretching me, filling me completely.

“Fuck my ass,” I begged, my voice hoarse with lust. “Fuck it hard.” He complied, his fist pounding into my asshole, the sensation overwhelming. I could feel every knuckle, every contour of his hand as it fucked me, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

My cock was leaking pre-cum, swaying and bouncing with each thrust of his fist. I wanted to stroke it, to suck it, but I also didn’t want him to stop. I wanted his fist in my ass, fucking me, stretching me.

He leaned down, his free hand reaching around to stroke my cock. I moaned, the dual sensation of his fist in my ass and his hand on my dick pushing me closer to the edge. “Yes,” I hissed. “Fuck my ass and stroke my cock.”

His hand moved in sync with his fist