Fisting at San Francisco Pride

As in recent Pride weekends, Sunday night found me in the Victorian on 18th Street at a seasonal fisting party hosted by a former Mr. San Francisco Leather. This is group of hardcore fisters that includes some recognizable porn performers, leather royalty and dare I say, intellectuals. These are hardcore, and by that I mean, guys who live the leather lifestyle, most of their good friends are leathermen and I suspect, some dress in some form of leather, every day of their lives. They go to the movie dressed in leather, they go out to dinner in leather, and I've even some a leatherman in cap, vest and leather pants doing his laundry in a very public laundromat. Interestingly, the guys here whom I've fisted in the past, didn't exactly give me a rush, although they were polite. Leathermen are uncommonly polite, as a rule, and they...we...adhere to an established and acknowledged etiquette. So the evening involved new meat, except for its conclusion, which I'll get to in a minute.
My first leather bottom looked like a funky rural gay...skinny bod with tattoos running the length of his body, the design looked like a string of decorative coral, and on his back, the design depicted figures in sexual coupling. He had a lot of facial hair, and it was wiry, and slightly unkempt, and when he smiled it was obvious that he had lost most of his teeth. Hence, that rural aspect. I got on early that he was nowhere as experienced as some of the other pigs in the room (we were in the fisting attic), and he was nowhere as noisy as some expressive bottoms. I let him take the lead and we had a good session. The second bottom was a young Chinese dude, a little filled out but not fat, whom I'd traded glances with earlier...he seemed shy which is what he turned out not to be. First of all, he had a splendid asshole...my fist pretty much slipped right in and I took it easy at first, doing a lot of probing with my indices, feeling various niches and nooks deep in his ass...where were we going here? His butt was like a deep, velvety canyon, with slippery tucks and rolls...fabulous, the best ass I've had in long time...one of those times when as a top I was enjoying physical pleasure through my hands, arms. And he got me hard. Then this Chinese fistboi (he seemed really young!) ordered me to fuck him...and I obliged with some hard manly thrusts, which scared me a little...I was in really deep, almost to my elbow. Pump, pump, pump...I, personally, was thrilled...I had made him very happy and I myself felt pleasured. I found out as we were leaving, his next milestone would the big 4-0, but in the semi-darkness of the fisting attic, his unlined, plumpish face and naive smile gave him the look of a teenager. Two great sessions...and it was already after midnight, and on a school night, but I decided to make one last check of the fisting basement, the other playspace in this Victorian...all other rooms save for the kitchen and the baths, are off-limits behind their closed doors.
There are three slings in the attic and only two in the basement, but the basement has a small private room off to one end, a doctor's examination table, a rimseat, a TV, and a big mattress in the middle of it all. I like getting fucked in a sling, it's my favorite position. By midnight, the slings had emptied out, and I got into an available one, especially since I noticed that a former trick, a former San Francisco Leather Daddy, was across the room, observing an expressive bottom getting fisted in the other sling. Leather Daddy had fucked me two years ago on the floor in a crib at a playspace in the Mission. I remember him but I doubt he would remember me, as it was one of those anonymous fucks in the dark, and I was on my belly so he wouldn't have seen my face anyway. After topping the cute Chinese kid, I cleaned him off and smeared the leftover J-Lube on my ass and dick. So lubed, I lay in the sling and couldn't be more obvious about what I had in mind. Leather Daddy came over and slipped in his dick which my butt just sucked in, and gave me a restrained fuck, meaning that either it was too late, maybe he was a little tired or used up, and wanted me to do most of the work, so that's what I did...I maneuvered my butthole around his big fat black dick. Grabbing the chains of the sling, and arching my back and moving downwards, I was able to feel that schlong in my ass and it wasn't totally hard. Maybe Leather Daddy couldn't really get 'into' me and this was some kind of mercy fuck. We broke it off after about 10 minutes. Then as he stood a few feet away from me, wiping up, I decided that I wasn't going to give up so easily. I went over to him, got down and sucked my own mancunt off his black cock. This excited him, and he did get rock hard. I stepped back and on to the mattress, got on my back and Leather Daddy climbed on my ass and started to fuck me for real. Now dad is a leather bear with a bit of belly, not flabby but there's a roll of meat on there, and this made it hard for me to jack myself. I hoped he wouldn't lose interest, but I gambled that I wouldn't mess it up for him: I rolled over and got on my knees. Daddy followed and started to give me a real manfuck, adjusted my legs to suit himself like the confident top he is and by his breathing and sexy muttering, I concluded he thought he might be able to come. Where did this energy come from? What had I done? Maybe my ass looks better from that angle, but thankfully, he got really 'into' it. Neither of us came, but who cares?
On my way home I walked down 18th St. and the Pride crowds were diminishing but not disappearing...there was still a line to get into the Badlands, the Mix was crowded when I went in to take a piss. The Bar on Castro was crowded, too, as was The Cafe, the Twin Peaks, lots of streeet traffic, a lot of cops...it was 1 a.m. on a Sunday. Last call would be in 30 minutes and there were still lines to get in. But it was mostly a bridge and tunnel crowd and they didn't interest me, and they all seemed to know each other and I didn't know any of them, and furthermore, I am of a certain age. It wasn't that I was tired...I wasn't, really...but I know I didn't look my best, after a night of fisting and fucking. No close-ups after 1...p.m. or a.m.