Warning: Explicit Content!

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Guess what I’ve been up to for the last two days that I’ve had off work? Actually, I’ll just tell you, because I don’t think you could guess even if I gave you one hundred hints. I’ve been partaking in what can only be described as filth, and now it’s time for me to tell you about some very explicit content.

I have fucked, ate dinner, fucked, drank some wine, fucked, talked, laughed, fucked some more, and fucked a little more on top of that. I’m rocking an amazing glow and a twinkle in my eye that can only come from hours upon hours of hardcore fucking… and I’ve ticked a few more things off the sex list. But I’ll get to that in a moment. For now, let’s start at the beginning…

Explicit content

It feels like a good time to introduce you to a chap called My Mr. Grey, or just Grey for short. He’s number 15 on my list, and he decided to surprise me with a little visit. For once, his two days off coincided with my two days off, completely by accident.

He lives at the other end of the UK and drove more than twelve hours to surprise me at work. No prior warning. No heads-up text. Nothing. I turned around at work and there he was, a smile on his face and a hotel room card in his hand.

He looked… different. Older? Better. His short hair had the beginnings of grey highlights, plus a developing bald patch that would look terrible on anyone but him. There were a few more crow’s feet around his eyes, but that just added to his appeal. He seemed taller than I remembered, and more defined. When he wrapped his arms around me and gave me the biggest bear hug, I actually went weak at the knees. Like, literally. Butterflies and all!

We went for coffee once I’d finished work and caught up on our time apart. Then, it was his time to check in at the hotel, and my time to go home and frantically shave my legs. I’m never prepared for his visits. How can I be when he turns up completely unannounced?

I chose my prettiest, flirtiest dress for the occasion – a rich, deep blue colour with pale spots all over, and lots and lots of layers to the skirt. No underwear, of course. I never ended up wearing them for long with Grey around.

He picked me up exactly on time, tooting the horn of his shiny black car to signal his arrival.

“Hey, you,” Grey said, beaming. “I’ve missed you.”

“Hey, you!” I copied. “I’ve missed you!”

There was a gift bag on the passenger seat, just like there always is, and I let out a giggle of excitement. Those oh, so familiar gift bags are almost always filled with the filthiest array of toys and accessories.

I peered in the bag and scrambled around in the black tissue paper, pulling out a black box and a bottle of Liquid Silk lubricant. It was his favourite lubricant, and then it became my favourite. The black box contained a black velvet bag, and inside that, was a set of silver love balls.

“You spoil me,” I purred, and he just rubbed my thigh in response, edging the hem of my dress higher.

You see, Grey and I have this unspoken agreement: he turns up, then we fuck all night. That’s how it is, and that’s how it has gone for more than a decade. Whenever we’re single (and occasionally when we’re not,) he comes to my end of the country, then we fuck for hours. Sometimes, we fuck for days. Literal days.

Dinner soon leads to drinks – for me, never for him. Those drinks soon lead to a very domineering Grey trying to usher a slightly pissed me into the elevator and into his room. Fun drunk, not incapable-of-consent drunk. Obviously. Grey would never take advantage of me. Well, not unless I wanted him to.

We barely made it into the hotel room. Scrap that: we didn’t make it into the hotel room. His hands were all over me in the elevator, and then again in the hallway, and then again up against his door – and we kissed all the way. I’d almost forgotten how good Grey’s kisses are. Great kisses, actually. Powerful, yet tender. Soft, yet hard. One hand tangled in my hair; the other cupping my face.

I leaned against his hotel room door as he fumbled around for the key card. He leaned in, slipping the card in the slot, kissing my neck as he did so. I was, quite frankly, putty in his hands. He could’ve fucked me right there and then in the hallway – and I wouldn’t have protested for a single second.

We barely managed to kick the door closed after us as I scrambled to get his clothes off. I couldn’t wait to get him undressed, and I told him as much.

“I have a surprise for you,” he mumbled.

My hands hovered over the zipper of his jeans. “A surprise?”

Grey nodded. He didn’t say anything else, though.

I carried on removing his clothes, kissing the newly exposed bare skin, all sorts of ideas running through my mind. A surprise? Did he have something up his ass? A toy hidden in his pants? A new penis?!? You never predict what he’d do, say, or buy next.

It was none of those things. The surprise in question was actually a selection of brand-new piercings in his cock… which I definitely was not prepared for. He is kinky, sure, but I didn’t realise he was the piercing kind. He has no tattoos or piercings anywhere else. I always thought he was too… square for them.

I watched as he took them out, one after the other, leaving them on the cabinet with a loud clunk each time.

“I’ve been stretching this one,” he said, poking the tip of his finger through the largest piercing hole – the Prince Albert. “Try it yourself.”

I’d made my way through a few glasses of wine at that point, so my inhibitions were at an all time low.

And I mean, ALL TIME low.

As you’re about to find out…

I ran my fingers over his quickly stiffening cock. I must admit, the holes and metal freaked me out just a little, and my trembling hands hesitated before daring to get close. Second by second, minute by minute, the reality of the situation dawned on me: I was in charge. I had the power. That never happens with him.

I slowly slid my pinkie finger through the largest hole, the one that he’d demonstrated with, and I was almost too scared to push in case I damaged him. Grey just grinned and nodded me on, utter joy emanating from his entire body, so I followed his lead.

I was wrong.

I wasn’t in control; he was.

With my pinkie through the piercing hole of his cock, I led him around the hotel room for just one lap before guiding him back to the bed. He was in control, but I had the power, and it was an odd ratio for us. I didn’t know what to do with it. What was I meant to do with my entire finger through his manhood? How many laps were acceptable? What should I/we do next?

Thankfully, Grey took over in that way he always does. He started slow, kissing and teasing me with his fingers before flipping me over so my front was pinned down on the bed. Then, he tied up my wrists with the blue satin belt from that floaty little dress. My whole body vibrated with need, excitement, nerves, and every other emotion in between.

Grey danced his fingertips over my skin, starting at my buttocks and trailing out to every limb. He swooped and teased torturously close to my cunt. Not close enough, though. Each almost-touch was met with a bratty, frustrated groan, but he carried on regardless, swooping close, then fluttering away again.

By the time he finally touched me, where and how I wanted him to, I was practically a puddle of desire beneath him. He slid one finger in with ease, caressing my clit with another, then added a second.

“Remember to say stop if it gets too much,” he muttered.

Too much?

I didn’t have time to contemplate his words; he added a third finger to the collection, his spare hand working its magic with gentle nudges of my clit. Pain joined pleasure, as did pressure. I felt… full. Packed. Stuffed to capacity. To my surprise I didn’t hate it. I didn’t feel the need to say stop. It wasn’t too much.

Yet.

The palm of Grey’s hand pressed against the small of my back, and I braced myself. I knew what was coming: another finger. A fourth finger. Could I take it? There was only one way to find out. I exhaled loudly, and he went where no man had ever dared to go before: four fingers deep inside me.

We were both surprised that I’d managed it.

He stilled, as did I. It was unchartered waters, and waters we’d never discussed exploring. We had discussed safe words, though, in great detail. Grey had vehemently insisted upon it. He’s a professional in this kinky fuckery business; I’m just an innocent, naïve beginner.

He pushed a little, and it was too much. Too much pressure, too much inside me, too much pain, too much of everything. Just… too damn much.

“Stop,” I cried out, my wrists grappling with their satin restraint.

And he did. Immediately. He didn’t pull out, or push forward, or move a single muscle. He just stopped, just as I’d asked, and just as he’d promised.

I’m not sure which one of us moved, but someone certainly did. An audible pop shattered the silence. A searing pain exploded between my legs, and Grey released a muttered, “Wow!”

I’d moved. My body had moved like it had a mind of its own. Grey’s entire fist was inside me, and once that searing pain had dissipated, a whole new feeling took its place. A final nudge from me told him everything he needed to know, and his spare hand returned to its focus.

He wasn’t expecting my body’s reaction. Nor was I. The kissing, touching, laughing, and foreplay had wound me up to phenomenal levels of desire. I was fit to burst before he’d even touched me, but with his fist inside my cunt and his spare hand deftly working on my clit, I came – hard, loudly, and with the satin restraint painfully cutting into my skin.

What followed was a whole load of sweaty, messy, empowering, disgusting, passionate, hot, sticky sex. Hours of it. Endless fucking. It was animalistic, then it was soft and tender. Hardcore one moment, then teasing and sensual the next. We had every kind of sex, the best and the worst.

He packed it all in.

Literally.

The rest of our two days together flashed by in a blur. We walked and talked, wined and dined, then fucked all over his hotel room until the sun came up.

We didn’t once mention the fisting, though. Not even a hint of a mention.

It’s not something I’d like to do on a regular basis, but, as first time fistings go, I don’t think it went too badly. I’d probably order it off the menu again. Only with Grey, though, of course.

So, yeah, I got fisted for the first time.

7/10: a painful ‘lil treat.

The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: Fuck Flashbacks.

Thanks so much for reading my blog today! 🖤

You can read all about My Mr. Grey, from start to finish, right here. 

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