152 lines
8.6 KiB
Plaintext
152 lines
8.6 KiB
Plaintext
MY FIRST FIST
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by BUD CLARK
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My first contact with fisting was, of course, in San Francisco.
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I was out on the coast for a round of job interviews in the Bar
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area. My fluffy-sweater acquaintances in Cincinnati had scoped out
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the territory the previous summer and were full of dire warnings
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about South of Market in general and The Hothouse in particular,
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so of course that was the first place I headed. Now, fisting
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wasn't exactly a deep, dark mystery to me...somewhere along the
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line I had acquired the book from the movie classic "Erotic Hands"
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and I'd been jerking off to that for quite a while. You might say
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I was into the concept if not the reality.
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Well, The Hothouse was everything I had been warned it was...humpy
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dudes wandering around in body harnesses leading their slaves on
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leashes, the whole trip. I nearly came when I walked into the
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shower room hunkered down on a plastic hose while he sucked his
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buddy's oversize cock. I checked out the sling rooms, but I spent
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most of the night doing conventional if rougher-than-usual sex.
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I fell asleep with my door cracked. The next morning I woke up
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with this warm, wet feeling on my arm. I looked up and there was
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this hairy, muscular little dude impaled on my arm to the elbow!
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Holy shit! He looked down at me and grinned "Good morning" "Good
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morning yourself fucker." " Can you dig it!" "For sure, but I've
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never done it before" Well, that turned his motor on, and soon
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became oblivious that he wasn't gonna dismount my arm until he had
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showed me all the right moves. We ended up with me punch-fucking
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him doggy--style with a cheering audience of six or seven
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leathermen. Well, my arm was busy most of the morning, but my
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asshole stayed virgin.
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I sorta filed the experience away and chewed on it until my next
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trip to the coast. I only knew one dude in Cincinnati that was
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into handball, and we were friends, not fuck-buddies, so I didn't
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get a chance to practice again until another job interview took me
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to San Diego. The job panned out. and I moved to California.
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Now, you have to understand where I was coming from. Cincinnati
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is one of the most tight-assed Republican cities in the Midwest.
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There was one gay bar and no baths. If you wanted steam you had
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to drive to Cleveland, Toledo or Chicago. So the first couple of
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years in San Diego I was like a kid in a candy shop...baths, bars,
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and Balboa Park!
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I fisted if I was asked, and if I was in a "top" mood I got off on
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it to a certain extent, but something was missing. What that
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"something" was I found out one night at the old Fourth Avenue
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Baths in Hillcrest. I was cruising the "open" rooms and came
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across this hot little blond surfer-type. We started getting it
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on, and our hands both started to go for the ass about the same
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time, so he called a halt to go fetch the Crisco and poppers. Now,
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fisting wasn't particularly on my mind...I figured we'd trade fucks
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and that would be that. How was I to know that gay surfers in San
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Diego get into handball?
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Well. pretty soon we were pretty busy finger-fucking each other
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while we sixty-nined. Then he called a halt and sat up and looked
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at me. "Wanna go further?" "As in what?" "Fisting, man." "You
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or me?" "Whatever," he muttered. "Well, I've never had it, but
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I'm up for trying." Bingo! The idea of a virgin really pushed his
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button, so pretty soon I'm on my back with my ass propped up on a
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pillow and him sitting cross-legged below me.
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"Your head's gonna get it done for you" he told me. "You gotta
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want me inside you. It's just like takin' a big cock. It'll hurt
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like hell goin' over the widest part of my knuckles, but then once
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it's inside you're gonna lose your mind!" Well, we had smoked a
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couple of joints and I was pretty mellowed out and the dude wasn't
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tryin' to hurry me. We rapped about all kinds of shit, but all the
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time there was this gentle but insistent pressure at my asshole.
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"How much you got in?" I'd ask him from time to time but he
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wouldn't tell me. "Don't worry about it...just relax and enjoy."
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I kept playin' with my cock and that made my ass tighten up, so he
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pulled the laces from his boot and tied my hands behind my head so
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I couldn't jack off. Now I don't usually do bondage with a
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stranger, but we were really into each other's heads by now, and
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I figured what the shit, my legs were still free to kick if he got
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radical.
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We kept on like this for about an hour...then he looked me in the
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eye and said, "Pull your knees back to your tits." "is this it,
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man? I'm not sure I'm ready." "You're ready...your fuckin' ass
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is just beggin' for my hand. Cummon, pull 'em back." He got up
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on his knees and started pushing my legs down with his chest until
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his face was right over mine. "Common, man, take my fuckin' fist.
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You can do it!" He shoved a popper under my nose and my ass caught
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fire! One fiery bolt of pain and he was in! The fucker had his
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goddamned fist up my butt. "Slow deep breaths, man...take slow,
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deep breaths. Get used to it, then we'll play." Now I was leakin'
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gum like a firehose by this point. I couldn't imagine it getting
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any more intense/painful/better, but it did. He gave me a few
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minutes to calm down, then he shoved the popper under my nose again
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and started to make a fist inside me. "AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHH! Take
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it easy man!" "Just makin' the fist, dude. Now I'm gonna do a
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little twistin'." "Well, he did a little twistin' and I did a lot
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of twistin' and yellin', but he just kept at it, slow and steady.
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I drifted into a semi-trance impaled on this hot little dude's
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hand. Experienced bottoms say that there's a good deal of yoga and
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meditation involved...now I understood what they meant.
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He looked down at me and grinned. "REady for a little depth?"
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"You're running this trip, man. You got me fuckin' tied up and
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held down so I can't move anything but my eyelashes. Guess if you
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wanna go for dept I'm gonna have to go along! "Fuckin'-A-right!
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You just slide down on my arm fucker. We're gonna go for the
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elbow!" Now, that might sound a little bit radical for the first
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time, but once he'd gotten in past the knuckles it was a matter of
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degree. Actually, his outstretched hand and forearm was easier to
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take than the clenched rotating fist. "Can you sit up?" he asked
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me after awhile. "If you help me" "I want you to see, man.
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You've got my fuckin' arm up to the elbow!" I didn't believe him,
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but he pulled me up until I was bent like a pretzel and I could see
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my red, tautly-stretched asshole around the beginning of his
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muscular bicep. "I gotta cum, man," I moaned. "I gotta cum so
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fuckin' gad!" "Oh, yeah, shoot your fuckin' load! Cummon,
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motherfucker, shoot it!!" He was givin' me long, slow strokes with
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his arm...all the was out to the wrist and then all the way back
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to the elbow! He grabbed my cock and it was all over. I must have
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shot for five minutes! The first load landed on the wall over my
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head. "YYYYEEEOOWWW! OK. OK, ease out, man,ease out! He slowly
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withdrew his arm and we collapsed.
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"Like it?" he grinned. "Like it! Jesus, I loved it! You have
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great hands man." "You might be sore for a day or two." "That's
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cool." "Wanna do me?" "As soon as I catch my breath." We
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stretched out and dozed for awhile then I started to get itchy to
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get into his ass. It only took him about half and hour...he was
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experienced, but I have fairly big hands. He started to get a
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little worried, though, when I started sneakin' a couple of extra
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fingers up along side my hand. "Hey, uh, I don't think I can take
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much more." "First time for everything, dude." I chuckled. "Yeah,
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well, I guess, only go easy, man, OK?" "No problem...just relax
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and enjoy." Well, about another fifteen minutes I was shakin'
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hands with myself inside this dude's steaming hole, and it was his
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turn to beg. "Oh Christ, let me cum, please! Jack me off, man.
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I gotta cum!" Well, that presented a problem since both my hands
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were busy, so I took his aching cock in my mouth. He arched his
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back and his asshole tightened around my wrists until I thought
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they were gonna break. He shot so hard I thought I was gonna
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drown! "JJJJJEEEEESSSSSUUUUUSSS! Take it out...please take it
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out!" I slowly pulled one hand after the other out of his
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exhausted hole. We staggered to the showers and soaped each other
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down, and then we crashed. We exchanged phone numbers and played
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a couple of times after that, either at the baths or at the FFA
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parties. I lost track of him, and the Fourth Avenue Baths closed
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down, but I'll never forget him.
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