fornix / 30X30 / oil paper wood / 2014
We didn’t have any lube in the house, so my left index finger was just teasing her tightness from underneath, her hips propped up on the pillow and ankles on my shoulders. I wet my other hand in my mouth and then made sure she was wet, too; I’d been smacking her around earlier to get her warmed up, and it worked. “Sorry,” she giggled just after she came the first time. “Am I in trouble?”
She was, if not in the way she thought. I pushed two fingers on my right hand deep inside her slippery hole, downward, not curling them up like I usually do. Then I pressed up with my left hand until they could feel each other. Through her.
She gasped and arched and grabbed the sheets. “Oh,” she remarked.
“Too much?” I said.
“No,” she said. “Keep going.”
I fucked her with my right hand. “Jesus,” she said, “I’m so wet I’m making pond sounds.” Then I tilted my fingers–mine can bend backward a bit; we’re both flexible in our own ways–and pushed until I felt, well, bone.
“What IS that?” she said, her eyes a little wild.
“I think it’s your tailbone?” I said, and probed a little harder. “No wait–I think it’s the back of your pelvis.”
“HOW?” she said.
I pulled my hand out and sucked some of her off my fingers, then drew a little diagram on her stomach. “Okay, so this is your vagina, and this is your cervix at the top. But it protrudes a little downward into the vagina, so there are pockets at the top and bottom. The vaginal fornices. The anterior one is what you can feel when I’m inside you and I’m pressing down on your lower belly from outside. Just now, I was exploring your posterior fornix.”
“It felt a LOT,” she said.
“Do you want more?” I asked.
“Yes please,” she said, and pulled my hand back, and then my head down between her thighs.