Here I am. Up at 5:30. Jake said last night that she might, just maybe get up and get out of the house early this morning. Not making any promises, though. I don't think it's going to happen.

It's been quite a while since I've gotten to do anything with Sara. We've missed two date nights, and that last morning visit didn't involve any sex. So it's been something like three weeks. Or maybe two and a half if you count whatever previous morning visit came before the no-sex one.

This is the weekend Jake and Deb are taking off to parts unknown, so I'll get to spend two whole days with Sara, but most likely she'll be bleeding. Jake also told me last night that since the timing on this weekend was bad, she might just take Deb off for another weekend sometime soon (I'd figure within the next two or three months). So that's cool.

But we're not likely to have the orgasm-o-rama we'd been hoping for. Dammit.

Guestbook stuff:

Rev, thanks for your words and experienced advice on my friend with Lupus. I did need to hear that. Unlike Sara, who in my situation would've done several hours of research on the disease by now, I have not done any self-educating and don't know much about it yet. So thanks for letting me know that it really is that serious. The gravity of the situation hadn't sunk in for me.

And look, a friend of my big sister signed my GB, too! Cool. I don't think I've ever mentioned that my oldest sister is a dyke. Ay-yup. She attracts airy, clingy femmes like flies to honey. I'll just have to trust her anonymous bud not to reveal anything disparaging I might say about my sister's latest.

See, we loved her last girlfriend. She was the best one ever. Lasted the longest (my sister's track record on longterm is not so great), and really fit in great with the pack of girls who go to Florida every year. That would be my family of four, plus both my sisters, my other sister's best friend from college and my oldest sister's flavor of the year. The last one actually lasted six years. I don't really know why they broke up.

The new one just doesn't compare.

And Amante, this is for you (especially since it doesn't look like Jake is going to be getting up and going to work anytime soon). . .

Fisting. God, I love fisting. It's a spiritual experience. For anyone who might not have considered the possibility, fisting, with lesbians anyway, is the act of putting your entire hand into your sex partner's vagina.

I did it with Deb quite often in the earlier days. I've done it with Sara once or twice, I think. I've taken it myself several times.

Fisting is the one sex act where being hung hand-wise is not a good thing. Jake has nice small hands. So does Sara, for that matter. I'm not ham-fisted or anything, but there's a noticeable difference, if you know what I mean.

Fisting is something you can't force. Or choose the night you want to do it. It has to be one of those extraordinary nights when the person you're fucking just can't get enough. When her juices are flowing and her cunt is voracious. I hear it comes easier to women who've had kids.

Like anal sex, your biggest assets here are patience and lube. Though I've certainly done fisting on numerous occasions without the benefit of KY. Sometimes she's just wet enough to take it. Sometimes I'll add a little bit of my own natural lubrication to the mix to slip in those last couple inches.

Up to the wrist.

If you've never done it, it's hard to imagine. When I've got my whole hand inside a woman, I get an unbelievable rush of power, and a humbling sense of the trust on my partner's behalf that it took to get there. When someone's got her hand inside me, I feel powerful too. Like a lion with the tamer's head in my jaws. Fierce. Tough. I think it feels emotionally different to Deb and Sara, though. Probably more like total surrender mixed with an amazed sense of accomplishment.

It makes your head fly.

You start out with a couple fingers, then three, then four. You slip your fingers deep up to the third knuckle. You take your time. You let her adjust. Sometimes if she comes a few times it will help her relax those muscles, sometimes it makes her clamp down harder and it won't work.

You tuck your thumb into your palm and ease it in, too. Then comes the hardest part. Getting the widest part of your hand through. You need lots of lubrication. You need to take it slow. You need to pay close attention to your partner. Signs of real pain, what she's telling you. In most cases, it's going to hurt, but there are different flavors of pain, so she has to be able to tell you to stop if it's not working.

I remind her to breathe. Breathe deeply. I encourage her. Ask her to push down on me when she's ready. I try to make my hand as narrow as possible. Touch her, but not in a way that will distract her. Praise her.

And when your fingertips have gone as far as they can go, you curl them down, fold them around your thumb. Try to make your fist into a small, tight, elongated egg shape. It's so incredibly tight. I've felt like my hand would be crushed and I didn't care.

And, oh my god, when she slips over that last little bit, you feel like you've summitted a mountain. It's amazing. Almost unreal.

Sometimes you have to just hold still there for a moment, and begin to work your way out soon.

On rare and wonderful occasions, I've been able to fuck, hard, with my whole fist. Moving her whole body with each push from the shoulder. With her hands gripping my shoulders or pounding the mattress. Both of us yelling, sweating, primal, animal. Unaware that anything else in the world exists.

Phew.

Okay. Now I'm all charged up with nowhere to go. Time for more coffee. Wishing I was one of those women who can masturbate in the shower now.