It's a small challenge, pushing all of my digits in their new, cosy home. Small, since the opening that I slide them through isn't necessarily wide. I do enjoy taking on such challenges though, adore filling deserving gals such as you. Of course, I don't know how it feels to be you in this case, for I am too ladylike to have a clenched little fist between my legs.<br/><br/>While mine slowly vanishes into your tunnel, I watch the Waving of your own hands. "A slut, then." I acknowledge your new title, which is only fitting for a girl with a fist in her little sex. As I look down, I can no longer see beyond my wrist. Though I can surely feel you a bit better. My knuckles brush your tunnel from inside, your lower lips making a seal around my wrist as I pump my fist a few times into your stretched cave.<br/><br/>It's fair to say we've already established that you're a little slut. Your sluttiness, however, is to be tested. There're many ways to measure it, really. But I'll just check how shiny my hand will be when I eventually pull it out.<br/><br/>"Do you feel it, dear?" I twist my hand some, wriggle it back and forth, allowing your love tunnel to adjust to my hand, or force it to, for that matter. "Feel where I am?" For an intent exploration, I drill my hand into you. Closed fingers slide father in your pussy as I wish to explore depths even your boyfriend—or girlfriend—hasn't. It's no longer only my little fingers, or my tiny hand, that I have pummelled into you, but part of my arm as well. "Mmm, look at that." I sing, using my free hand to the trace the faint outline of the other. To emphasise the fisting of your damp little flower, I begin to push it back and forth in you. There is no way to be gentle while doing this to you, really. So, I pick up the pace, in a way, punching your very inners, knocking on your pierced gates. I can go deeper too, if you don't know your place.<br/><br/>It depends on how kinky of a gal you are, but I intend to make you experience things you couldn't with a most darling partner. My fist grazes against the tender walls that surround it. This time, in the opposite direction, till I pull it out. After the thorough exploration of your pussy, I want to focus on a different part of your naked frame, wish to make you question why your breasts are hard despite what I do with you.<br/><br/>The graceful butt that lands on your belly isn't quite wide as I sit on you. Both of my hands glide up your upper body. And I'm sure you could guess which one used to fill you. Brushing past your ribs, they climb over your mounds. My fingers spread on your breasts. Like a baker, I start kneading those tempting doughs. Firm but tender, I squeeze your bare hills. They'll be my lying detectors, as tits don't lie.<br/><br/>"If you must know…" Letting your nipples poke through the gap between my fingers, I tighten my grip on them, rubbing those nice breasts of yours in slowly drawn circles. "…I've been imagining laying my hands on them since the moment you ordered me that drink." I raise one of my hands, and sharply swing it back down in a slap. Grasping them from their bases next, I accentuate the pink peaks, shaking your mounds to have a feel of their heftiness. Another slap you can't see coming sweeps my left hand across your bust. At the end, I clutch them again, and draw my face closer to your orbs. Holding one of them like a rounded microphone, tip of my tongue repeatedly rubs against the nipple in rapid, upwards flicks. While licking this one, I attend to your other nipple as well with a lukewarm pinch. The clamps I'm planning to use on them require ample surface area to cling to, after all. So, I need those bits happy and stiff.