Girl on the Net

There are two threads to the story I want to tell today. The first thread is so obvious it feels almost trite to mention it: I want to tell you about a particularly brilliant g-spot dildo, which stimulates me in a way not many others do. The second thread is about being hand-fucked. Not ‘wanked off’, not ‘masturbated’: being hand-fucked. Sometimes I write fucking stories that are about speed or enthusiasm or energy. I’ll tell you that this or that fuck was intense, or fun, or orgasmic. This fuck, though? This fuck was thorough.

He has this presence about him. This aura of skilled, concentrated calm. Sometimes he calls it ‘flow’ – when he’s working, and I’m sucking his dick beneath the desk. Other times it’s just intense focus, like when he orders me to sit still so he can roll a joint on my naked tits. And sometimes it has this tiny undercurrent of menace – playful menace, you understand. Like he has a filthy image in his head and I’m the canvas on which he’s going to draw it.

It’s this atmosphere I’m after when I ask him to fuck me with our newest dildo.

It’s small and curved, though I guess ‘small’ is probably a matter of opinion. It’s about average dick size, I think, it’s just that size gets skewed when people are creating artificial things: most of the silicone dicks we own are bigger than most of the guys I’ve slept with. It’s not that size matters, exactly, it’s just that’s what people believe.

Either that, or they want to get their money’s worth.

This one is smaller than the other dildos we’ve got, but curved perfectly. Not curved like most dildos are – with a nod towards the fact that you need a bit of bend to hit my g-spot. It’s curved like someone sat down and calculated precisely the angle and pressure that would be required to make my cunt muscles tense and my eyes open wide.

Like all of our sex toys, it sits in a drawer for two weeks because we get distracted by other things. Dirty wanks, quick fucks bent over in the hallway, that kind of thing. And also because I guess I’m waiting for the right moment. I don’t want him to fuck me with this in a playful way or a quick way. I want to catch him when he’s in this focused mode: when he’ll not just use it to warm me up for a fuck, but really settle into the act of fucking me with it. Laying it out on the bed like he’s a surgeon aligning his equipment, then ordering me to strip off my knickers and lie still.

Eventually, when the time is right, he does.

“Head down, arse up. Let me see your fucking cunt.”

Unngh… I’m not sure what’s hotter: the words spoken with the confidence of a man who knows I’ll do what I’m told, or the fact that while I fulfil his request I can hear him setting up the dildo and lube oh-so-neatly on the bedside table.

When I masturbate it’s slapdash and quick. It is, very clearly, a ‘wank.’ When he does it, it’s unquestionably a fuck. He’s not jerking me off or masturbating me, or doing anything that could be uttered in a half-arsed, lazy drawl: he is fucking me with his hands.

Fucking me. With his hands.

He takes the dildo and lubes it up. With care, of course. Slides it in to me and out slowly, like he’s testing just how far in to go and at exactly what point I’ll wriggle and shove myself backwards onto him. He holds it still, twisting slightly, until I moan.

“There?”

“Unngh.”

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, there. More. Fuck.”

The good thing about this curved dildo is that it can go all the way in. It’s best when it’s all the way in. The curve of the shaft puts pressure in just the right place, as he discovers when I gasp and squirm. Having found the right spot, he puts his other hand on my back to keep me still, and then swiftly buries it up to the hilt inside me.

Is it the specific physical sensations that make me shudder? Or is it the measured control with which he hand-fucks me? Precise, deliberate and hard. Having found the right spot, he sticks with it, ramming the cock home over and over and over until I’m squirming and the backs of my knees start to tremble.

“Do you like that?”

I moan, something that’s vaguely like a ‘yes’ and halfway towards ‘don’t stop’ and he keeps on fucking me.

Precise. Deliberate. Hard. Over and over.

And I shudder again, beyond delighted that I get to be the thing he’s focusing on. I get the physical sensations as well as the atmosphere, and I don’t have to choose which one of those is making me shudder again. It’s both.

It’s his whispers of ‘yes’ and ‘good girl’ and the presence of someone who doesn’t just want me to come, he wants to fuck me thoroughly.

It’s one beautiful dick curved just right, pressing up against my g-spot and making me bite the pillow.

When I’m just at the point of weeping, and thirty seconds before I start to come, he gives it one final push deep inside me.

He doesn’t do it as a finishing flourish, but as a note about what’s to come. He does it so that I can feel every nerve ending inside my cunt throbbing with the need to have him resume the fuck. So every inch of me is primed and eager for what comes next.

So I have something to clamp down on while he unbuckles his jeans.

The g-spot dildo I banged on about in this story is the 6 inch Ambit, by Godemiche, which I bought from them at Eroticon. They didn’t pay me to write this, I just really like that particular dick, though that’s an affiliate link so if you buy through it I get a cut. Also comes in the colour of OMFG space. Because they now support my site, you can get 10% off anything with the code GotnShop