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"https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5761/5761978_laruf_179._self_service.jpg", "thumb_huge_x": "300", "thumb_huge_y": "300", "thumb_large_x": "200", "thumb_large_y": "200", "thumb_medium_x": "120", "thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "pools": [ { "pool_id": "103270", "name": "Fisting", "description": "đź’Ş", "count": "6", "submission_left_submission_id": "3689975", "submission_left_file_name": "5686947_laruf_198._happier_hour.rtf", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5686/5686947_laruf_198._happier_hour.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5686/5686947_laruf_198._happier_hour.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5686/5686947_laruf_198._happier_hour.jpg", "submission_left_thumb_huge_x": "300", "submission_left_thumb_huge_y": "300", "submission_left_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_left_thumb_large_y": "200", "submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "120" }, { "pool_id": "102603", "name": "Story sketches", "description": "Short, 1000-word one-off pieces on a single scene", "count": "26", "submission_left_submission_id": "3723953", "submission_left_file_name": "5748387_laruf_202._wondering-tags.rtf", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5748/5748387_laruf_202._wondering-tags.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5748/5748387_laruf_202._wondering-tags.jpg", "submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5748/5748387_laruf_202._wondering-tags.jpg", "submission_left_thumb_huge_x": "300", "submission_left_thumb_huge_y": "300", "submission_left_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_left_thumb_large_y": "200", "submission_left_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_left_thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "description": "Kit wanted a nice wet self-fisting story for his monthly subscriber story reward! So you fuckin bet I was more than happy to oblige :3c\n\nPlease please PLEASE have me write more fisting. I fucking love it.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Kit wanted a nice wet self-fisting story for his monthly subscriber story reward! So you fuckin bet I was more than happy to oblige :3c

Please please PLEASE have me write more fisting. I fucking love it.", "writing": "Kit twisted his head and arched his back, shoulders pressing down against the carpeted floor, footpaws bracing as well to hoist his lower body up into the air. This was the best angle he could get for this, even though his weight pushed in at one shoulder and he felt the strain in his neck begin to sear and tighten, but – it was worth it. It was so, so worth it. A little bit of an extra push, a squeeze binding his fingers and thumb together, and… he trembled, shuddered, jerked as his full fist slopped up past the plump, protruding lips of his wet canine spade yet again, reshaping the ring of muscle around it, plunging into slick slimy depths just inside.\n\nThe tiger held himself there for a moment, panting, rhythmically squeezing around his buried wrist and then relaxing again. Just inside his own body he could feel the elevated beat of his heart and the constant, eager tension of those silky-slick internal walls, hot wet meat slurping and squishing around his paw; he spread his fingers, slowly at first, until he could feel the malleable folds of flesh suck into the spaces between, then clenched into a fist again, and-\n\n-pulled it right back out of himself again, having to lean over a little bit to accommodate the extra tug of his spade pulling with the girth. The warm, glistening flesh pulled with the movement, sleeving along his wrist and paw, tugging outwards, pulling out from inside with some of the wrinkled folds just within. Then his fist pulled free with a slurp and a wet fling of thick, sticky ropes of juice and mucus and arousal, the glistening wetness already splayed out across the carpet beneath him and his tail lashing with fervent eagerness.\n\nFor the moment he paused to catch his breath, elbow braced against the ground, fingers loosely spread with the gooey slime of his self-enjoyment sagging down in between. Eyes halfway lidded, mouth hanging open, Kit watched the way the light danced across his own wetness, licked his lips, swallowed, then rolled more fully onto his back and hoisted his legs up towards his chest. With his other arm he held them there, constricting his breathing a bit, then worked to mash the sizeable heft of his sex down in between.\n\nThen he ran those same fingers back and forth across himself, playing with the mass of meat, jiggling it in his palm, squishing it like a stress ball, spreading it around all four fingers and thumb so that he could hear the moistened lips smack apart from one another, then slop together again. Then yet again he bunched them together and pressed in, nudging against the almost-pucker just inside, wrinkled folds of those walls easily parting the further he pushed… and this time he worked with his hips instead of his paw, grinding himself across his fingers, nudging further down until first came that growing sensation of pressure and fulfillment – suddenly spilling over when the bump of his wrist pressed on in.\n\nHis back arched again, he gasped and gritted his teeth, and every muscle in his lower body reflexively tensed around his buried paw, once more drawing it slightly deeper inside. Panting with short, quick breaths, Kit paused there, again wriggled his fingers, shuddered with the feeling deep inside of him, and tightened his grip around his legs, tugging his lower body up closer.\n\nBit by bit he pressed deeper, scooping his insides open around his clenched paw, deliberately moving this way and that to feel the impressions against his constricted belly. At this point it had become more a matter of flexibility in his arm rather than an issue of the size; the tiger swallowed, grunted, and released his legs, carefully scooting his knee underneath his working arm, and once again began pulling his paw back out.\n\nAs he tugged, he watched the plump, squishy flesh bulge out around his fist just as it would a tied knot, lifting the fur and skin surrounding it, pulling at his tailhole underneath where he could feel the growing, trembling tension. Kit bit his lip again, clamped down around his wrist, tried to balance the two, and then moaned out when yet again he yanked free, this time with those muscles turning from squeezing to pushing at just the last moment. Beyond his control, his entire lower body jerked and juddered with the overwhelming wave of pleasure, loose meat of his spade jiggling; he rolled his head to the side and pressed that paw to his muzzle, both to stifle the breathy, panting moans and to bask deeply in the rich coating of his own scent.\n\nEven afterwards, still the tiger continued to rock his hips, the heft of his sex pulling, dragging, weighing across himself. He breathed in through his nose, held the warmth in his lungs, sighed out through his lips, did so again; he parted his fingers and wiped himself across his muzzle, then once more spread his legs and lifted his hind end, this time with both paws sliding down his flat belly. Eight fingers slid easily in between the full, plump lips, finding the tension of the muscle inside, stretching it open; he swallowed, set his jaw, then pushed, clenched, pushed again. All of those interior walls squished together, mashing outwards towards the parted opening, welling up around his fingers; he swallowed again and pushed harder, slick wetness spraying and then flowing, then trickling back when he relaxed again.\n\nThen once more pressing in with his paw, this time clenched into a fist from the start. It took a bit more force, a bit more punch, but when he lodged up inside himself Kit gasped and jerked, then just as quickly yanked it back out – and forced it in again. He lifted his leg up, yanked it out, flexed his toes, pushed in again, back and forth, working what tension remained inside of him into loose, sloppy ease.\n\nBefore long, though, he lowered himself back down, paw buried past the wrist, and struggled to catch his breath. I need… to work out, he thought, teasing his fist right at the interior rim there; I wanna keep going, but… damn arm just… gets too tired. Or maybe I can just… call a friend over...", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Kit twisted his head and arched his back, shoulders pressing down against the carpeted floor, footpaws bracing as well to hoist his lower body up into the air. This was the best angle he could get for this, even though his weight pushed in at one shoulder and he felt the strain in his neck begin to sear and tighten, but – it was worth it. It was so, so worth it. A little bit of an extra push, a squeeze binding his fingers and thumb together, and… he trembled, shuddered, jerked as his full fist slopped up past the plump, protruding lips of his wet canine spade yet again, reshaping the ring of muscle around it, plunging into slick slimy depths just inside.

The tiger held himself there for a moment, panting, rhythmically squeezing around his buried wrist and then relaxing again. Just inside his own body he could feel the elevated beat of his heart and the constant, eager tension of those silky-slick internal walls, hot wet meat slurping and squishing around his paw; he spread his fingers, slowly at first, until he could feel the malleable folds of flesh suck into the spaces between, then clenched into a fist again, and-

-pulled it right back out of himself again, having to lean over a little bit to accommodate the extra tug of his spade pulling with the girth. The warm, glistening flesh pulled with the movement, sleeving along his wrist and paw, tugging outwards, pulling out from inside with some of the wrinkled folds just within. Then his fist pulled free with a slurp and a wet fling of thick, sticky ropes of juice and mucus and arousal, the glistening wetness already splayed out across the carpet beneath him and his tail lashing with fervent eagerness.

For the moment he paused to catch his breath, elbow braced against the ground, fingers loosely spread with the gooey slime of his self-enjoyment sagging down in between. Eyes halfway lidded, mouth hanging open, Kit watched the way the light danced across his own wetness, licked his lips, swallowed, then rolled more fully onto his back and hoisted his legs up towards his chest. With his other arm he held them there, constricting his breathing a bit, then worked to mash the sizeable heft of his sex down in between.

Then he ran those same fingers back and forth across himself, playing with the mass of meat, jiggling it in his palm, squishing it like a stress ball, spreading it around all four fingers and thumb so that he could hear the moistened lips smack apart from one another, then slop together again. Then yet again he bunched them together and pressed in, nudging against the almost-pucker just inside, wrinkled folds of those walls easily parting the further he pushed… and this time he worked with his hips instead of his paw, grinding himself across his fingers, nudging further down until first came that growing sensation of pressure and fulfillment – suddenly spilling over when the bump of his wrist pressed on in.

His back arched again, he gasped and gritted his teeth, and every muscle in his lower body reflexively tensed around his buried paw, once more drawing it slightly deeper inside. Panting with short, quick breaths, Kit paused there, again wriggled his fingers, shuddered with the feeling deep inside of him, and tightened his grip around his legs, tugging his lower body up closer.

Bit by bit he pressed deeper, scooping his insides open around his clenched paw, deliberately moving this way and that to feel the impressions against his constricted belly. At this point it had become more a matter of flexibility in his arm rather than an issue of the size; the tiger swallowed, grunted, and released his legs, carefully scooting his knee underneath his working arm, and once again began pulling his paw back out.

As he tugged, he watched the plump, squishy flesh bulge out around his fist just as it would a tied knot, lifting the fur and skin surrounding it, pulling at his tailhole underneath where he could feel the growing, trembling tension. Kit bit his lip again, clamped down around his wrist, tried to balance the two, and then moaned out when yet again he yanked free, this time with those muscles turning from squeezing to pushing at just the last moment. Beyond his control, his entire lower body jerked and juddered with the overwhelming wave of pleasure, loose meat of his spade jiggling; he rolled his head to the side and pressed that paw to his muzzle, both to stifle the breathy, panting moans and to bask deeply in the rich coating of his own scent.

Even afterwards, still the tiger continued to rock his hips, the heft of his sex pulling, dragging, weighing across himself. He breathed in through his nose, held the warmth in his lungs, sighed out through his lips, did so again; he parted his fingers and wiped himself across his muzzle, then once more spread his legs and lifted his hind end, this time with both paws sliding down his flat belly. Eight fingers slid easily in between the full, plump lips, finding the tension of the muscle inside, stretching it open; he swallowed, set his jaw, then pushed, clenched, pushed again. All of those interior walls squished together, mashing outwards towards the parted opening, welling up around his fingers; he swallowed again and pushed harder, slick wetness spraying and then flowing, then trickling back when he relaxed again.

Then once more pressing in with his paw, this time clenched into a fist from the start. It took a bit more force, a bit more punch, but when he lodged up inside himself Kit gasped and jerked, then just as quickly yanked it back out – and forced it in again. He lifted his leg up, yanked it out, flexed his toes, pushed in again, back and forth, working what tension remained inside of him into loose, sloppy ease.

Before long, though, he lowered himself back down, paw buried past the wrist, and struggled to catch his breath. I need… to work out, he thought, teasing his fist right at the interior rim there; I wanna keep going, but… damn arm just… gets too tired. Or maybe I can just… call a friend over...", "pools_count": 2, "title": "Self Service [Sketch]", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/rtf", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "14" }