The lost art of fingerfucking

It’s the domain of first dates, back seats and outdoor, stolen-moment sex. It’s the almost-fuck, the limbo sex act that lies in the nether regions of foreplay and digits dripping with post-coital fluids. A hand can be even more sentient than a cock (at times). It’s typically faster and more furious than cock. And most importantly, it can hone in on the g-spot immediately.

My g-spot orgasms are brought on most fiercely, breaking down every iota of my resistance, by a strong, steady and relentless hand. Cocks can do it, and hail the ones that can, but there’s a particular charm to three wildly splayed and hyper-kinetic fingers exploding inside me. Or a hand the practically lifts me by the cunt and across half of the bed.

The g-spot is also the home of the female squirting phenomenon. Stimulated in the right way, a woman can emit a small to an outrageous amount of fluid.

In a particularly ironic twist of fate, given our ass-tabooed and largely homophobic culture, the male g-spot, or prostate is located in the ass. The male prostate gland is akin to the female g-spot – it is located about the same distance inside, responds to the same curved finger that coaxes, grows, flicks and at times pounds into submission. It swells when happy, puffing out and hardening, and then finally releasing with its own version of homo triste.

Photo: Bela Borsodi

"I will make you open there."

The Basque rinsed the soap off the brush. Now he brushed the vulva lips, up and down, gently. At first, Bijou contracted herself even more. The men’s heads leaned closer. The Basque, holding her legs against his erection, meticulously brushed the vulva and the tip of the clitoris. Then the men saw that Bijou could no longer contract her buttocks and sex, that as the brush moved, her buttocks rolled a little forwards, the lips of the vulva parted, at first imperceptibly. The nakedness exposed every nuance of her motion. Now the lips parted and exposed a second aura, of a paler shade, then a thrid, and now Bijou was pushing, pushing as if she would open. Her belly moved in accord, swelling and falling. The Basque leaned more firmly against her writhing legs.

"Stop," begged Bijou, "stop." The men could see the moisture oozing from her.

- Anais Nin, Delta of Venus

Photo: unknown