A promise to keep: She helps me rediscover my orgasm

Image by the brilliant Stuart F Taylor

This gorgeous guided masturbation/fisting story in which our narrator gets help to rediscover her orgasm is written and read by Carolyna Luna, and originally appeared on her website. 

I haven’t always had to pay for my orgasms. I’d given up caring about stigmas, however, when my years of anorgasmia were overcome under Naomi’s firm guidance. So when her text pinged that morning, I put my coat right back on and headed out.

“Two hours before I turn in the keys,” she’d written. “Now or never.”

My reply was instantaneous.


Taking precarious liberties over the pockets of black ice threatening to take me down, I walked the ten blocks to Naomi’s apartment from my office. It provided some distraction from the fact that I was rushing toward the finish line. She’d announced her plan to move away two months prior. I’d offered gracious congratulations, simultaneously doing the math in my head. Silent panic set in…I could afford just three more orgasms with her before being left to battle my nemesis — a body that frequently betrayed me. After a stop at the ATM, my hands trembled as I walked the remaining blocks to her apartment.

Minutes later, I stood in the center of her once cozy den, now empty, save for incense offering the familiar scents of bergamot and ylang-ylang. It grounded me. Then, a breeze as I turned to see Naomi shaking a blanket across the floor.

“No worries, little one,” she said. “A bed doesn’t make the difference.”

She’d recognized the concern in my expression. Naomi could read my face since the first time we met. Within the first five minutes, she’d called bullshit each time I looked down while explaining my situation. I’d told her I was nervous.

“Looks more like shame,” she’d replied. “Now, let’s get you over that. Do you think you’re the first woman ever to lose her orgasm?”

I’d barely managed to look up in response. “Do you think I’m capable after nearly four years?”

She’d gathered her thin, soft locs into a loose knot before answering, “Quit hedging and start telling me what you think you need to get you there again.”

And so began the delicious trials of every kink I could tolerate, sometimes scripted together and other times a delightful surprise. But it wasn’t until one evening, a year into it our explorations, that she finally got her fully closed fist into my stubborn cunt. The rush of adrenalin and dopamine oozed from every pore of my being and lifted me into a dissociative state of vulnerability. It had hurt so good as my walls first resisted, and then relaxed, against the tremendous tension and pressure. A few flicks to my clitoris with her other thumb whilst her knuckles strained against my g-spot, and the ensuing eruption was an oxymoron unto itself. There was no peak. No valleys. Only a steady, resounding feeling that had become so unfamiliar to me in the ensuing years that I had almost begged her to stop. Thank fuck I didn’t.


“Are you ready?”

Naomi snapped me back to the present moment, and departing from our routine, told me to undress myself. I acquiesced while wondering if she just wanted to get this over with.

Intuitive as ever, she winked and motioned to a box beside her.

“I have a gift for you, but you’ll have to earn it.”

Insanely curious, I asked, “how do I earn it?”

“Touch yourself,” she said. “Ready yourself while I watch.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d made me play with myself. But this felt so very different in the light of day. Every sound echoed off walls bereft of their punky pop art and Naomi was fully clothed. I’d come to trust her, insofar as I could trust anyone, so I knelt on the blanket and trailed my fingernails across my bare skin. Her penetrating gaze compelled me to lick my fingertips and use the warm saliva to tease my hardened nipples. Getting myself wildly hot and bothered quickly had never been an issue for me — it was both a blessing and a curse.

“Perfect.” Naomi praised. “Now lie back and use those pretty hands down below.”

I wasn’t surprised to feel my dark curls wet with arousal as I slid my fingers smoothly between my vulva. Using my thumb to part prominent labia, I tenderly massaged my clitoris and used my other hand to push eagerly against my opening. Contorting my body to try to reach the deepest of my inner spaces, my pointer finger was soon joined by the middle and ring fingers. Naomi looked silently over me. But the task of stuffing myself in that way proved difficult.

She finally spoke again.

“You can do it. You only think you still need me.”

My lips quivered silently.

Undeterred, she went on.

“You will do it. Promise me that you’ll keep trying, little one.”

Before I could protest, she opened the box beside her to reveal my gift.

I instantly recognized its general shape, but it wasn’t until she handed it over to me that the realization struck. It wasn’t just any silicone fist! It was Naomi’s fist — a life-sized replica that captured the distinctive bend of her thumb joint and the tiny, raised mole on the underside of her delicate wrist. Delighted, I looked up to find her holding out a bottle of her favorite lubricant.

“Try now. Show me how you’ll come all over my fist when I’m gone.”

I contemplated resisting when my eyes welled up with tears – a final, petulant attempt to convince her to stay. The singular sob I allowed to escape from my throat echoed in the near-empty space. But Naomi wasn’t having it.

Instead, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and pointed the camera at the whimpering puddle I’d made of myself, and hit record. She didn’t say a word. Naomi communicated all I needed to know from her raised eyebrow and a subtle nod. Her fucking superpower.

Despite the histrionics, my body was ready. It was always ready. Again – a blessing and a curse when there’s no guarantee I would find relief. I reached for the fist, and marvelling at how remarkably accurate it was, I took my time spreading the lubricant between the contours. I hyperfocused on the task, my racing mind reasoning that I needed the floor to support my back for some semblance of comfort. But the fist’s slippery heft would take some getting used to in that position. Surprisingly steadfast, it occurred to me that I could get up on my knees and lower myself upon it.

Holding the base against the floor, I slid the apex of one knuckle into my aroused cunt easily. But a few more inches in and I was met with a familiar resistance. A resistance that Naomi usually mitigated by removing her own fist entirely before sliding it back in. So I raised myself up and spent the next few moments grinding my clit against the bumpier parts of her clone, working myself up into even more of a wet, slippery frenzy. When I could take the tease no longer, I sat upon the fist again to that point of resistance, took a deep breath in, and pushed past it. I nearly lost it at the feel of its entire exquisite fullness so deep inside of my pussy. But I knew what to do now. One hand on the base, and the other massaging my clit, I rode it – up and down, rotating it slightly every few thrusts – the different contours proving a new sensation, mimicking Naomi’s signature technique.

Soon, I lay splayed and spent on the blanket, convulsing with the aftershocks inspired by both my climax and Naomi’s contended countenance above me. My chest heaved as I struggled to find my breath. Years prior, those moments immediately after coming resulted in my inability to meet her gaze. But I’d learned to look for comfort in her eyes, longing for approval and admiration.

“Did I do a good job for you?” I stuttered out, my eyes locked on hers.

Naomi smiled and reached down – lifted my chin so she could lean in close to my ear. Her scent of vanilla and cocoa butter enveloped me, and her gentle touch belied the gravity of the gesture.

“You did a good job for you,” she explained. “And now I have my own gift to remember you with, as well.”

Standing, she stopped recording and put the phone back in her pocket. Then, she took my hand to help me up off the floor before continuing.

‘Because… I’ll miss you, too, little one.”


If you enjoyed this gorgeous story, check out more of Carolyna’s fantastic work over on her site CarolynaLuna.com, and hear more hot stories read aloud at the free audio porn hub.

If you struggle with anorgasmia too, here’s a link to some great advice from Bish

If you’re interested in the creative badassery that might lead to having a silicone replica of your own fist, check out the absurdly-titled but fun-to-play-with ‘clone-a-willy’ kits – they can also be used to make fists, if you have a large enough mould/enough silicone, as demonstrated by Quinn Rhodes in this awesome how-to post

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