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One thing Serena Campbell has always fully believed in is being open about her sexual wants and needs with her partner. Well, perhaps not always, thinking back to how she used to grit her teeth through Harry Walton’s awkward attempts at cunnilingus when she was 16. But she is far from a blushing teenager now, more than used to telling the person she’s with about what she wants or if what they’re doing isn’t working for her—not that the latter‘s been much of a problem recently, Bernie is considerably more conscientious than any of her former lovers; certainly more than Edward, more than Robbie, and even more than the eager young Canadian she once became acquainted with at Ric Griffin’s alumni party. But still, she believes that if someone wants something, especially in the bedroom, they should ask for it. As simple as that.
She’s been thinking about how to bring up this particular subject for a while, and she plans the timing delicately. She waits until after dinner (she doesn’t need Bernie choking) and after dishes (or breaking a glass in her hand), until they’re settled on the couch, their feet touching under the blanket just as always. She smiles over at Bernie because she can’t not smile at Bernie, filled with the unbridled joy that she is slowly but surely learning to claim, to revel in.
“I’d like to try fisting,” she says, as calm as may be. “Well, I’d like you to fist me. If you want to, of course.”
Bernie still manages to choke a little. On air apparently. She gulps a couple of times, looks at Serena red-faced, eyes wide.
“You'd what?”
“I'd like to try fisting. While you were gone,” Bernie screws her face up at the mention of that but Serena drives forward, “I did quite a fair bit of research. Into lesbianism, that is. Fisting was a popular subject, as was tribadism though that’s a conversation for another time, and I think I'd enjoy it.”
Now Bernie just looks confused. She holds her hand up in a fist, looks at Serena slightly horrified. Serena laughs and shakes her head, reaches over to uncurl Bernie's fist, rearrange the fingers into a point.
“Honestly Bernie!” she says, “you're the experienced lesbian here.”
“I—Alex and I never. I mean. We just did the basic stuff. There was never any…”
“And you never watched lesbian porn? Ever?”
“No!”
“Really?” Serena can't stop herself from asking that, who doesn't watch porn?
“Really. I was straight Serena! Well, married anyway. And ummm…”
“What?”
“Well in Kiev. I mean. If I needed to,” she blushes then and Serena has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. How can a woman who does such sinful things to her with her mouth be incapable of saying the word ‘masturbation’ aloud? “I mean. If I felt the urge I just um. Well I just thought of you and that, well, that was enough.”
“Oh you darling. That's adorable.”
“Thank you? But you um. You've watched porn?”
“Loads.”
“Right. And you'd like to try, um,” Bernie holds her hand up, still in the position in which Serena had arranged it.
“Fisting. Yes.” She stops for a moment, smiles across the couch at this lovely, if occasionally clueless, woman she's lucky enough to have in her life. “Obviously should you not be interested I’ll leave it be, but…” She smirks a little and pitches her voice low in a way that she knows drives Bernie wild, “are you saying you’re completely unaffected by the idea of me writhing on your hand begging to come?” Bernie is quite obviously not unaffected, her eyes widen and a slight blush colours her cheeks. And then the next instant Bernie’s reaching out and pulling Serena into her lap in a jumble of awkward limbs. She’s kissing Serena insistently and Serena happily sinks her hands into Bernie’s hair and returns the kiss with gusto. After a moment, Bernie pulls back.
“Wait. Did you mean—now?”
“No. Oh god no Bernie. That's something that takes more than a bit of planning. And research. And lube. Quite a lot of lube.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Then Bernie is kissing Serena again, and then she's surging up, pressing Serena back against the cushions of the sofa as she drops her lips down to kiss hot burning trails along her neck. She sucks at Serena’s pulse point as she worms her hand between their bodies. She undoes Serena’s trousers one-handed and moves her hand inside. She brushes the tip of her finger against Serena’s clit, smiles at the resultant hitch of breath. And then a thought strikes her.
“You’re not. I mean, Serena you’re not unhappy with our sex life are you?” Leave it to Bernie to bring this up with her hand down Serena’s pants. Serena cants her hips up into Bernie’s hand needily as she replies.
“I am very very happy with our sex life. I’d just also like to explore other experiences. With you. Variety being the spice of life and all that.”
“So this isn’t… Um there isn’t something I haven’t been giving you?”
“There will be if you don’t start moving your hand again.”
That makes Bernie laugh, that halting braying laugh that’s as much a release of tension as true mirth. She grins into Serena’s chest before kissing it, her fingers beginning to move once more.
“So, fisting?” she says, and there’s a depth to it now, an interest Serena’s glad to hear.
“Mmm. Later, my love.” She puts her hand tenderly on Bernie’s face and draws her in for a deep kiss.
Monday morning comes all too soon. Serena is already sat at her computer working on some departmental paperwork and ingesting as much coffee as humanly possible when Bernie strides into the office and closes the door.
“I did some research after I got home Sunday,” she says without preamble and Serena looks up to see Bernie leaning over her desk her eyes alight in that way they only get when she has a plan she’s determined to see through.
“Oh really?” Serena leans back, picks up her coffee cup and takes a sip, licking her lips afterward and exulting in the way Bernie’s eyes follow her movements. “About what, exactly?” She asks coyly.
“I think you know.”
“Hmmmm. Nothing’s coming to mind…”
“Right.” Bernie comes closer so she’s murmuring into Serena’s ear, “well if you need the specifics I’m referring to me fucking you with my entire hand and you, oh what was it again? ‘Writhing on my hand begging to come’?”
“Ah. That. Well now that you mention it I guess I do remember that conversation.” And then she’s biting her lip and closing her eyes because Bernie is kissing her neck in that way she loves and she’s doing her best to not lose her grip on her coffee cup, not to lean so far back she falls out of the chair.
“Good,” Bernie says then, matter of fact, as she straightens. She walks around to her desk, sits down, acts as though she isn’t aware she just turned Serena into a puddle of desire. “My research was varied and highly successful. I’m very excited to, uh, try my hand at this particular act.” She’s talking about it as though it’s a new surgical procedure or something, though her eyes twinkle at her own pun. There must be something wrong with Serena, with how hot she finds Bernie’s professional voice. “Oh by the way Serena?”
“Mmm?”
“During my research I stumbled across something referred to as ‘size kink’.”
“Oh,” and that makes Serena fumble a bit because really how does she have that conversation with Bernie? How is she supposed to try to back up—at 8:15 on a monday morning in their office no less—the fact that she’s always loved the burn of penetration, that her preference in partners always leaned towards the more well endowed?
“It was very intriguing. I think you and I will have to do a bit of shopping.”
“Shopping?”
“Obviously our collection is somewhat lacking in that regard. And the options out there are, well, varied and fascinating I would say.” Serena can feel herself gaping but Bernie just smiles that little half smile at her, “well I need to go look after a few charts. Lunch later?”
“O-of course.” Then Bernie’s leaving and Serena’s left in the office trying to figure out what the hell she’s gotten herself into.
As doctors they both lead busy and unpredictable lives but they’ve gotten good at managing to carve out time for themselves. So it’s only a couple of weeks after their initial conversation that Serena finds herself about to find out if her interest in fisting will truly hold from the hypothetical to the actual.
It’s a little weird, the tension that crackles between them as they get home, eat dinner, pour out a couple glasses of wine in the kitchen. It’s this nebulous excitement for what’s about to be, something Serena hasn’t really felt since their first couple of times. Every time they have sex is great, amazing in its own way, but this giddy tension is new and fun and exciting. When Bernie reaches over and takes her wine glass out of her hand, places it out of the way, and draws her into a deep kiss she returns it eagerly. She lets Bernie press her up against the counter, can feel it dig into her back, ignores it in favour of sinking into the sensation of the kiss. It’s strong and as good as ever, Serena parts her lips so Bernie’s tongue can brush against hers and moans into the kiss; Bernie tastes like Shiraz.
Bernie works her knee between Serena’s legs, presses up against her as her hands make short work of Serena’s blouse. She tugs off Serena’s vest, undoes her bra, and Serena is quite willing to forgive Bernie’s cocky grin because Bernie’s scraping her teeth against Serena’s neck, pressing her thigh harder against her center, cupping her breasts in her hands and pinching her nipples with the perfect amount of pressure.
They pull apart. Or, more accurately, Bernie pulls back. And that’s what this night is so far: Bernie initiating, Bernie leading, Bernie being in charge. Serena finds it hot as hell, ignores the part of her brain that wants to examine why in favour of falling deeper into the heady pleasure of snogging Bernie in her kitchen like they're teenagers, like they don’t have a perfectly serviceable bedroom just a few yards away.
Bernie grabs Serena’s hands then, tugs her away from the counter, pulls her into said bedroom. She pushes her onto the bed, crawls over her and kisses her for a moment before concentrating on her neck once more. Serena almost wishes she hadn't ever let Bernie know just how sensitive she is there—only now Bernie’s sucking hard at that spot just below her jaw and Serena doesn’t regret anything. Bernie moves down the bed, encourages Serena to lift up her hips so she can pull off trousers and pants in one go. She grins down at Serena, presses her thigh—still clothed in those sinfully tight black skinny jeans—against her center and grins a little wider at Serena’s gasp.
“You’re still clothed. Not fair,” Serena says as Bernie leans down to kiss her again, her hands moving to unbutton Bernie’s blouse. Bernie just tuts quietly, grabs Serena’s wrists and pulls them away as she drops a gentle kiss to her lips. She moves Serena’s hands up, places them over her head and pats her arm.
“Don’t make me tie them there,” she says, matter of fact, but she breaks into a wicked smile at the way Serena’s hips thrust up at the thought of it. “Hmmm, now that’s something we may need to explore later.”
Serena means to say something witty. Return with a retort that Bernie wishes she were so lucky but before she can Bernie’s got two fingers inside of her and her thumb on her clit and Serena’s mind goes a little blank. (And really, who’s she kidding? She’d let Bernie tie her up in a heartbeat. Might even request she pull her old uniform out of storage before she does so.)
Bernie moves down her body, sucks at the soft flesh over Serena’s hipbones—an erogenous zone Serena hadn’t known she had before Bernie came into her bed, spent hours exploring her body with scientific precision. She curls her fingers a bit, rubbing the pads against Serena’s g-spot, working her up in an ever increasing pattern of pressure. Finally she leans down, sucks Serena’s clit into her mouth, strokes it with her tongue harder and harder and then Serena’s coming, her cunt clenching around Bernie’s fingers and her hips grinding down against her face.
Bernie does not stop there. She pulls back, wipes her chin on her forearm like she always does, and reaches to the bedside table for the lube. It’s a huge bottle, with a pump on top; they’re two perimenopausal women who can’t keep their hands off each other. Serena would be buying the stuff in bulk if she could. And then Bernie’s back between Serena’s legs. She thrusts two fingers back in, Serena’s cunt still clenching from the aftershocks of her last orgasm, then adds a third, relentlessly building Serena up and up again. It’s rough and perfect and amazing and before Serena can even get her head back on right her hands are clutching at the sheets and her hips are coming off the bed as she comes again.
Her breath is coming in desperate gasps, perspiration cooling her skin, Bernie adds another finger and it's amazing: that delicious burn of penetration that Serena absolutely adores. She thrusts her fingers in and out, adding even more lube.
“Okay?” Bernie asks and Serena can only nod in reply. It's so much more than okay, it's bloody amazing. Bernie’s watching her carefully, her hand never stopping in its movement and then her thumb is slipping inside of Serena and Serena has to close her eyes because it's amazing, this feeling, it's challenging and overwhelming. It’s something bordering on pain but also purely pleasure and she is consumed by it. She feels Bernie’s hand slip inside of her and oh . It's even better than she imagined, so much more, so much she can barely handle it. She can feel every single movement of Bernie’s fingers inside of her, stroking against her walls.
“Oh fuck!” She can't help but cry out, “oh Bernie !” Her eyes fly open in time to see Bernie lean down and lick across her clit and then she's coming. Coming stronger than she thinks she ever can remember and she's crying out—wordless. She can feel herself gushing onto Bernie's hand as her fingers clutch uselessly at the sheets.
She feels Bernie gently slip her hand out of her long before she can bring herself to open her eyes. When she finally does there are spots on her vision, she can't bring herself to move, can't do anything but lay there bonelessly, trying to catch her breath and looking down at Bernie.
“Did I?” Serena looks down the bed and sees the patch of wetness on the sheets, the shiny lacquer on Bernie’s chest. “Oh dear. Sorry about that.”
Bernie shakes her head. “Don't you dare apologise for that,” she says immediately. “That was amazing. You were amazing.”
“Mmm. You weren't half bad yourself.”
“I wasn't was I?” Bernie leans forward and gives Serena a quick kiss, still looking far too smug.
“As soon as I can move all my limbs, I'm going to wipe that smug look off your face.”
Bernie laughs, softly but still with that adorable halting cadence. “Sure you will.”
It's enough of a challenge to spur Serena to action, she leans up and captures Bernie’s lips in her own, presses her back against the headboard and starts to make good on her words.