Popping Another Cherry

I'm not much for false modesty, so I'll just say that I have a minor reputation in fisting circles for being the best fister to pop a bottom's cherry. I'm about 5-8 and 165 or so, wear a size 9 boot and have a fat plump dick...alas, it's a shower more than a grower, but the girth would be enough for any bottom, if I could only get the damned hard like I used to. But...I have smallish hands that don't go with my feet. I also have pretty good stamina and prefer to stand when fisting, very often pressing my body against the bottom's, and finishing off by my grabbing my fat dick for some fisting with dick in hand. I'm also a top who doesn't push his bottom to the top's limits; I respect the bottom and it's the bottom who calls the shots, as far as I'm concerned.
After chatting interminably with a versatile pozman who said he wanted me to pop his cherry, we finally reconnoitered at a private playroom in the Mission District of San Francisco, on a quiet tree-shaded street of cutesy-pooh Victorian cottages...who would have thought that behind one of these doors lay one awesome helluva playspace with platform, mirrors, sound and video equipment, and a sling?
I worked this man over for a full hour and at first I thought he was bullshitting me about never having been fisted. He's done a lot of playing around with toys and such, and that is the best way to ease yourself into bottoming for a fist, no amount of dickfucking is going to do it. Well, I got this guy to Level One...all five fingers to the knuckle...Level Two would be to the wrist and we didn't get that far this time, this first time. But we will eventually. One year with this man and I'll have him proud of a fabulous, mellow, buttery ass that just swallows up a mean fist. The point of this blab is to announce that I...am...ready. Ready to indoctrinate any willing novice into the culture of fisting. I used to do this years ago at the legendary fistspace South of Market, and half of the guys honestly decided it wasn't for them. But the other half went to the limit and are now of the fisting brotherhood. It's dificult to ask an experienced top: 'will you break me in?' Some tops seem so unapproachable, especially when decked out in full gear. Well, I am approachable, so all you wannabe fisting bottoms, now you know.
This blog is about gaypoz culture in the 21st century but with a lot of historical cross references, so I'd be remiss if I did not mention that the biography of the seminal (figuratively and most probably literally) leatherman, Chuck Renslow, written by Tracy Baim & Owen Keehnen, is now out and available...'Leatherman: The Legend of Chuck Renslow'published by Prairie Avenue Productions, $24.99. Jack Fritscher reviews it in the Bay Area Reporter (6/9-15), and those leathermen who actually read will know where to buy it; otherwise you can start with our friends at Q Trading Company in Palm Springs.
A fist a day keeps the doctor away.

Gas Prices and Getting Laid

Has anybody else had a trick tell him that he didn't have enough money for gas? Therefore, he couldn't make it over to your place. And when you offered to help him pay for gas, he responded that the offer wasn't enough...I assume, to fill the tank of his SUV? And he doesn't host...ever. OK, no problem with that, I understand and respect the desire to keep things anonymous, a lot of guys don't want tricks to know where they live. I used to be like that, until I started hosting last year...mostly because I wanted to be comfortable and I couldn't have sex in the some of the bedrooms I traveled to, they were too goddamned tacky and by the way, not sexy...they were anti-sexy. Enough of that. I hope this gas issue isn't a trend, especially in oliocentric places like LA, Dallas, Houston and Atlanta. Hooking up was made a lot easier through the internet, but now high gas prices are keeping guys home, as guys have to worry about wasting gas on a flake, or worse yet, having to worry about having enough gas to get to work tomorrow. Who would have thought that gas prices would have to be factored into your plans for a slutty evening?

Necessary Roughfucking

Every self-respecting bottom needs to get roughfucked every so often. About once every six months, at the least. It keeps him on his mettle. When a top talks about 'long and slow' sessions, I want to get myself loose from that guy and right away, too. Suggestions of passion or tenderness, or god forbid, romance, are enough to chill my fire. I like it vigorous, athletic, spirited and hard. Maybe I need to get roughfucked more than the average bottom. Among the couple hundred tops who have fucked me in the past 12 months, only three have been roughfuckers. One is my fuckbud who gives it to me on regular basis (praise the Lord!), another is a certain Latin toppozfuckr down in the desert and whom I've blogged about, and the third worked me over last Friday night. A roughfucktop grabs the bottom without the slightest bit of gentleness and puts him where he wants him. He doesn't talk much, nor should he...the most I want to hear is...maybe...'fuckin' hot ass!' While I've commented on the various fuckstyles of the men who've fucked me, I can say that all three roughfucktops fucked in the same way. Oh, they'll go through all the various positions and that's all great, but when they're driving a load home, what they do is, first, put you flat on your stomach, two, put your legs as close together but still allowing himself to get his dick up your ass, and three, pin your arms and/or shoulders down, putting most of his weight on the upper half of your body, giving him plenty of room for full throttle thrusting. This is the best type of fucking, and the bottom has to concentrate and not lose the beat. This is what makes a true power bottom: he never loses the beat, he knows when to lead and when to follow. And with necessary roughfucking, the bottom follows. Even the most confident power bottom gives way to a roughfucker. Problem is, I doubt any body, even the most dedicated and effective bottom, can afford to get roughfucked night after night. That's what makes roughfucking so special and wonderful when you're lucky enough to get it. So, to 'Goliath'...any studly built top with hair down to his shoulders is 'Goliath' in my book...thanks for the roughfuck which I so desperately needed last Friday night. Hope to see you...in six months, but I wish I could call you whenever...necessary.