Fisting 101, An Introduction to Fisting.
Are you attracted?
Are you ready to take the plunge?
There are a lot of guys out there who are ready...mentally, that is...but don't know how to start. And fisting can be intimidating to the uninitiated, mostly because fisters are so confident. And fisters have to be; fisting is a very advanced demonstration and manifestation of sexuality. And then again fisters themselves can come across as very clique-y, I think, because there's an element of trust that is critical to the enjoyment of fisting. And such confidence must be earned. It's just the nature of things and not personal.
When I first started fisting, I felt like a third wheel, because everybody else was older, more experienced and expert in what I saw as the most masculine form of sexual intimacy between men. And they all seemed to know one another, travelling hundreds of miles for the experience, enthusiastically trading partners and fisting jokes. Yet there is a certain cult-like air to the proceedings that seems impenetrably exclusive. This I know from my own experience.
Don't be intimidated.
Aspiring fisting bottoms can communicate with me. I'm happy to initiate anybody who's interested, but an even better course would be to attend FistFest. Start by going to mynewsletterbuilder.com and the Fistfest website will come up. Fistfest will include demonstrations and commentary for men wanting to learn how to take a fist pleasurably, and nobody will feel awkward or embarrassed while on the learning curve. I've just returned from the most recent Fistfest which was in Palm Springs and I understand there were no demonstrations - I hate the term 'workshop' - but only because of the physical set-up at the Helios Resort, but the event was fabulous and I would have arranged to initiate anybody who was interested or just plain curious. Now there are Fistfests planned for the Parliament Resort in Augusta GA and at the Saratoga Springs Retreat in Upper Lake (Clear Lake), CA, so make plans now.
And don't be shy.
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Sunday, May 8, 2016
Passings: Jok Church Remembered
He certainly was easy to spot at community events crowded with leathermen: he was the short dude in red...leather. He was also active in the fisting community, and that is how I came actually to meet him, but in the past week reflecting upon Jok's life and death, I realize that he had been part of my life off and on for decades, although I didn't know it at the time. Jok Church died of a heart attack last week and my days since have been filled with recollection and reflection.
I first heard Jok on the radio when I was growing up in Sacramento and where he worked to establish and drive KZAP which was about as weird as Sacramento allowed in those days. That alternative radio station and its involvement in community affairs helped to shape Sacramento into what it has become since. In the those days, Sacramento pretended to be a small farm town full of hicks. KZAP was the breath of fresh air; first the air waves, then the kids who grew up there and changed the place. In a way, Jok influenced my own life without my knowing it. Even now I remember KZAP. From there, he went to a radio station in San Rafael, and as I reflect on this information supplied by leather impresario Larry Shockey, I have come to realize that Jok and I tricked at the Post Street Baths in San Francisco, sometime in the early 80's back in the pre-condom era. We had some real nice sex, and chatted a bit afterwards when he mentioned he worked at a San Rafael radio station, which I remembered after all these years because it was like...pretty esoteric...he didn't seem like the type. But he was short, cute and with a great ass and as it follows, a vigorous bottom. I'm getting a little hard as I write this. Guys, he was a really nice guy.
The times were not only pre-condom; they were pre-internet and Jok's best years were ahead of him.
The layout at his house, a few steps east of Castro Street, is equipped with everything required for a sophisticated digital graphic studio of a man who probably bought the very first MAC. I'm guessing that Jok could see the future in this innovation and all of its potential. A pioneer of the Internet Age, he maintained close relationships forged from early associations with Apple, Lucasfilm, Adobe and Google. Jok created cartoons for children's cable TV, and comic characters Beakman and Jax, this information brought to my attention by fellow mourners, for when I came to know Jok through the fisting community, he simply said he was a 'writer of children's books' and that is how I remember him.
I have blogged about our fisting adventures without actually naming him. I'm doing so now: he was the original and literal Hardass, and one of the most challenging bottoms of my fisting career and certainly the most intense. He had lived through some surgery which resulted in a very unusual asshole. And as far as fisting went, imagine trying to fist a small space between two bricks and that is what it was like fisting Jok. And we didn't care, although we had to prepare ourselves mentally. Like I said, it was intense. Jok accepted all of this and told me everything before I stuffed so much as a pinkie up there. He knew what he wanted and how to get it done: with Jok I learned how to lube his ass with a caulking gun from Lowe's.
R.I.P., sweetie. I'll never forget ya.
Billy Twee
I first heard Jok on the radio when I was growing up in Sacramento and where he worked to establish and drive KZAP which was about as weird as Sacramento allowed in those days. That alternative radio station and its involvement in community affairs helped to shape Sacramento into what it has become since. In the those days, Sacramento pretended to be a small farm town full of hicks. KZAP was the breath of fresh air; first the air waves, then the kids who grew up there and changed the place. In a way, Jok influenced my own life without my knowing it. Even now I remember KZAP. From there, he went to a radio station in San Rafael, and as I reflect on this information supplied by leather impresario Larry Shockey, I have come to realize that Jok and I tricked at the Post Street Baths in San Francisco, sometime in the early 80's back in the pre-condom era. We had some real nice sex, and chatted a bit afterwards when he mentioned he worked at a San Rafael radio station, which I remembered after all these years because it was like...pretty esoteric...he didn't seem like the type. But he was short, cute and with a great ass and as it follows, a vigorous bottom. I'm getting a little hard as I write this. Guys, he was a really nice guy.
The times were not only pre-condom; they were pre-internet and Jok's best years were ahead of him.
The layout at his house, a few steps east of Castro Street, is equipped with everything required for a sophisticated digital graphic studio of a man who probably bought the very first MAC. I'm guessing that Jok could see the future in this innovation and all of its potential. A pioneer of the Internet Age, he maintained close relationships forged from early associations with Apple, Lucasfilm, Adobe and Google. Jok created cartoons for children's cable TV, and comic characters Beakman and Jax, this information brought to my attention by fellow mourners, for when I came to know Jok through the fisting community, he simply said he was a 'writer of children's books' and that is how I remember him.
I have blogged about our fisting adventures without actually naming him. I'm doing so now: he was the original and literal Hardass, and one of the most challenging bottoms of my fisting career and certainly the most intense. He had lived through some surgery which resulted in a very unusual asshole. And as far as fisting went, imagine trying to fist a small space between two bricks and that is what it was like fisting Jok. And we didn't care, although we had to prepare ourselves mentally. Like I said, it was intense. Jok accepted all of this and told me everything before I stuffed so much as a pinkie up there. He knew what he wanted and how to get it done: with Jok I learned how to lube his ass with a caulking gun from Lowe's.
R.I.P., sweetie. I'll never forget ya.
Billy Twee
Monday, May 2, 2016
Free Ballers Beware: The Heartbreak of Butt Pimples
As a few of you have noticed, I have been out of commission for quite a while. Now I could have written about the colors of the condoms my recent tops wore, but that is not what this blog is about. Yes, I have been getting fucked with condoms only because I think it's rude to question somebody who's slipping one on before slipping it into me, and it's been so unsexy for me as all I can think about is that I'm being denied the pleasure of his raw cock. Oh well.
That's not why I was put out of commission, though. A condom is one thing, but underpants are another. All fellow free ballers...take note. Don't scratch your ass! Ever. No matter how itchy your sweaty butt gets, keep them paws off. An afternoon of basket swingin' in Palm Springs...that desert place now enjoying its early seasonally hot days...was fun; I like showing it off. But it got really hot under this synthetic fiber (a sort of polyester), that my butt was sweating buckets. And I scratched. And scratched some more. I scratched my ass by rubbing the fabric, and before long, I realized that I had scratched myself into a rash. And as everybody knows, a rash of butt pimples on a horny bottom is the end of civilization. And the end of one's sex life, at least for a while. There's still no fetishist out there who's going to appreciate those ugly little pink buggers. Without going into more detail, the rash was enough to cool any interest in this one hot ass. So let this be a lesson to all fellow free ballers, specifically those of you looking forward to a hot summer: keep your hands out in front, and try to think of it as safe sex.
That's not why I was put out of commission, though. A condom is one thing, but underpants are another. All fellow free ballers...take note. Don't scratch your ass! Ever. No matter how itchy your sweaty butt gets, keep them paws off. An afternoon of basket swingin' in Palm Springs...that desert place now enjoying its early seasonally hot days...was fun; I like showing it off. But it got really hot under this synthetic fiber (a sort of polyester), that my butt was sweating buckets. And I scratched. And scratched some more. I scratched my ass by rubbing the fabric, and before long, I realized that I had scratched myself into a rash. And as everybody knows, a rash of butt pimples on a horny bottom is the end of civilization. And the end of one's sex life, at least for a while. There's still no fetishist out there who's going to appreciate those ugly little pink buggers. Without going into more detail, the rash was enough to cool any interest in this one hot ass. So let this be a lesson to all fellow free ballers, specifically those of you looking forward to a hot summer: keep your hands out in front, and try to think of it as safe sex.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
