Saturday, March 28, 2015

An Ass-centric Party

Hey, Guys!

I hope you are still all on board for a fuck and fist party.  Right now there are the four of us.

2pm on Saturday, January 31.

You all know the address.  It’s fine to park in front of the house until 2am.

xxx-xxx-xxx—give me a text as you leave home, perhaps?

I will have the sling, bed and fuck bench ready.

It might be wise to bring a towel—I have quite a few, but once I use them under the equipment, I might run short.

Remember I don’t have a hose in the shower.  I do have a bulb for touch-ups.

Bring your favorite lube—though I will have a Crisco container for each bottom.  And the lube I use to fuck…

I will have water and maybe a hot, mulled cranberry juice.  BYOB after that.

What have I forgotten?

See you soon!!

This was the invite I sent to three fist players: a top, a versatile and a vers/bottom.  My guests have all been mentioned in these posts before.  Leather Top has played at my house and with our friends on the west side of the state.  He is a handsome man in his early 60’s.  He’s a former leather title holder and a very experienced man with his hands.  Roger is the versatile man I wrote about in His First Fist.  And I was indeed the first man to get my hand in the ass of this in-demand fisting top.  He is about my age, with a matching shaved head.  As it worked out, this day, he was all bottom.  The vers/bottom was the host of the party where I met Roger.  Daron is a bear of a man with a thatch of ginger hair on his head and a great pelt of it on his chest.  I know he can top for fisting, I have just never seen him do it.

This party was not like my usual fuck gatherings.  A fisting party, in my experience, is a much more laid back affair.  You can play for hours.  (We played 3 and a half.)  It’s not about getting off in the usual sense of fuck and release—though hopefully you are giving the man you are fisting sensations that are actually more amazing than a traditional orgasm.

“So how shall we decide?”  Leather Top asked me.   Roger had gotten on the fuck bench.  Daron was in the sling.  “Want to flip for it?”

I nodded.  LT flipped a quarter and said “Heads you do Roger, Tails you do Daron.”  The coin was caught and smacked on his thick, hairy wrist.  “Heads it is.”

I moved behind Roger’s pale white ass.  The moment I touched him he began telling me to fuck him good first.  I did what I almost always do; I fell to my knees and stuck my tongue into his hole.  As I rimmed, Roger huffed his first whiff of poppers.  Tonguing ass gets me hard.  I find it hard to just start to fuck with no kind of warm up.

Leather Top’s approach was the exact opposite.  He had two Crisco-ed fingers going into Daron as I started rimming.  I inserted my dick into Roger when I was ready.  LT smoothly inserted the rest of his hand into Daron.  I fucked Roger as deeply as I could and began inserting a finger into him along with my cock.  It was the act of getting his entire fist into Daron that erected LT’s cock and to use it occasionally as well.  I pulled out and began the slow stretch to start the process of getting my hand into him.  LT was now fucking Daron hard.  Opposites indeed.

These two men seem to get off more on girth than depth.  I know men where I can crawl into them up to my elbow and beyond, but these two were about that feeling of something wider than a cock popping through that sphincter.  I started to add fingers around my dick.  I added all four on my right hand.  When I was no longer using my cock as much, I had eight fingers, 4 from each hand, doing a lateral stretch of his hole.  This seems to be the move that shows me he is ready for my full hand.  My right, the slightly larger hand, went in first.  It was slow, steady pressure with a slight twist of my hand and wrist that gets it in there.  The punch fisting of so much fisting porn was nowhere to be seen in the playroom that day. 

I love fisting for it is an incredibly intimate act.  His life is truly in my hands.  The level of trust a fisting bottom places in me is pretty staggering.  The slow stretch.  The slower crawl into him.  How hot and wet and tight it feels.  The snap of the sphincter around my wrist after the heel of my palm enters.   Amazing.  The merest movement by me, so deep inside, sends off waves of sensation in the man I’ve entered.  I can stroke his prostrate—not with my dick—but literally.

I need to talk about holes.  I’m sure that there are men who play with big toys constantly who have the stereotypical gaping canyons gay men joke about.  Not these men.  They are muscle holes.  They Kegel regularly.  They have more control over their insides than some cum dump who is ass up in the motel room.  In other posts, I talk about how Marco can relax one moment to allow me in, and in the next moment squeeze down and force my hand out of his ass.  Daron can do the same.  Roger is getting there.  And if they can do that with my hand—and make it feel exciting—imagine what it feels like when they grip down on my cock. 

The first time I stuck my hand up an ass was in 1991 or 92.  I was at Man’s Country in Chicago.  I walked into the only sling room that they had back then.  A fucking hot muscle man was in it.  He liked my dick but asked for more.  I was willing, but a novice.  I was afraid I’d hurt him.  I instinctively inserted a couple of fingers carefully with a slight twist—no jabbing.  He groaned in pleasure and asked for the rest.  I added two more with the same twisting motion.  He reached down and pulled the rest of my hand into him as he relaxed his hole.  The closure of his anus snapping around my wrist hooked me on the spot.

Wanting to learn properly I spent a weekend at a gay resort where a fisting club had taken over the play area.  They had “hands on” demos.  I was declared a natural by the club president.  They couldn’t believe I had never bottomed.  I had a naturally empathetic feel for what was happening in the ass I was invading. 

I have found that most fistees are excellent teachers if they need to be.  They can help a partner through his first time.  Listen to them.  Watch their eyes, their faces.  Move slower than you might think.  Don’t jab.  And file your nails…

And back on that final day of January we took a break, drank some hot, mulled cranberry/pomegranate juice and switched partners to do it all again.

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