Bottom's Butt Clamp Makes Top 'Cry Uncle'

There is a thrill for every fisting top as he enters a new fisthole.  I like to feel my way around the asslips first, and caress the tender meat found there.  A well-used hole, like a beautiful flower responding to a blaze of sunlight, opens up and simply swallows a top's probing fingers.  A new tight ass is something different, more of a mystery, I'd say.  We can make a tight ass open up much to the pleasure of the hosting bottom, but it takes work and patience.  A dedicated receptive bottom not only works with his top, but actually takes the lead.  Last night's session with a new fisthole was gradual, and challenging requiring concentration, but in the end, it was a very satisfying success.  After a long while of holding my fist in place while my fingers danced in his hole...I commanded him to take a long hit of poppers...then a deep breath...and my right wrist finally slipped completely in.

I love fisting a big man.  No, wait...I love fisting a big man with a big hole.  A big, experienced, well-used hole I can swirl my hands with a bit of artistic flourish while deep in his ass.  A pocket bottom is a different story.  While a pocket bottom - and happily they come in all colors - is a delight to fuck...you can do all kinds of great things like flip them around, and toss 'em like a salad....he has to be fisted differently.  He's best in a sling.  He's good on a ledge or the edge of a bed, though the top will have to crouch down or kneel on the floor...that's OK...but flat on the bed requires some adjustment.  Now, I'm a shorty, too...5-6 they tell me...so we fisted on a flat bed whilst I lay on my back, too, but crossways against the bottom so he could place his legs on my chest or belly, that made it comfortable for him and accessible to me.

Too bad, my fist wasn't all that comfortable, though.  After a prolonged period where we got him comfortable by keeping my fist in place while my fingers did their magical probing, I sensed that his tight ass was getting even tighter...a veritable clamp around my fist, like a vise applying enough pressure that my wrist started to ache.  That's some tight ass, but like I said, we eventually got the hand in as far as the wrist. That was as far as we were gonna get that night.   By then it was getting hard for me to ignore my discomfort, and it's not my style to bark out commands, Nazi-style.  The bottom was eagerly wanking himself, so I asked him, his being new, if he could cum that way and he said yes, so I say, go ahead and cum...which he did.

My current niche as a fisttop seems to be breaking in newbies or guys who want to explore their limits through a gentle hand.  I'm looking forward to taking this dude to the next step.  And any other interested dude out there, for that matter.  I'm getting to love that tight ass that makes me Cry Uncle.

Poz Bottom Gets Fisted With His Own Cum

On a quiet, well-tended suburban street of neat, substantial houses in Southern California, a man is getting fisted in the middle of the afternoon. This appointment was arranged online through a popular website...a pretty ordinary means of getting laid, or in this case, fisted. I'm the fisting top and I love daytime sessions on a weekday because it usually indicates that both top and bottom are at leisure to play when it suits them. This hook-up is especially nice because it involves my first redhead...ever. Well, a blondish reddish sort of lean tiger with zero body fat and a stiff crewcut...basically, a novelty of the best sort, enhanced by a genial personality. And oh yeah, it gets better thanks to a nicely shaped dick that looks like a mouth watering plump pink pork sausage. So in this suburban setting, the session starts with my getting thoroughly porked and taking a very generous juicy poz load. That's good for a start. My part of the bargain is to stuff this lean mean fisthole with my very talented hands. At first glance the hole looks rather small but this guy is an experienced bottom...I mean, I noticed him a long time ago and buddylisted him and I've been tracking him like a bloodhound ever since. When I saw him online, I hit him up, but whatever his history, it still looks like a pretty small tight hole. Looks are often deceiving. This talented fistchute took my hand easily, one deep breath and I was in like an oiled slippery slide and I did the old five finger exercise hitting his interesting combination of deep corners. But while this was going on, I detected the unmistakeable aroma of cum. His cum. My ass. As I squatted to get a better fisting angle, I felt by buttlips quiver like they wanted to dump, so I quickly cupped my free palm under my hole to catch whatever might come out. What I got was the big fat load of poz cum that he had shot up my ass. This was just too good to pass off lightly. I withdrew my other hand and lubed both hands with him cum, and after asking him politely if I could fist him with his own cum, that's exactly what I did. This was a very satisfying accessory to the action, and one I wish would happen all the time. I had to ask him first, though. To get his permission. After all, there is an etiquette to fisting. And the first rule is mutual respect. Ah, like I didn't know he'd say yes. Thanks, my man, for a great suburban afternoon session, cum and all.

Treasure Island Media Revives 'Breed Me'

The landmark bareback porn video 'Breed Me' is now available to all you children out there.  This video was released in VHS format and is not available in dvd, as far as I know, but it is available through the Treasure Island Media feature, TIMFUCK...and I advise you all to check it out.  You must realize how important this porno is.  The Father of Bareback Porn, Michael McKey, introduced some bareback sex in a fisting video he directed for Hot House...that video was called 'Depth Charge 2,' and for a few minutes we are treated to some bareback sex, and a little bit of cum oozing from a freshly fucked hole; there's also a lot of barehanded fisting, a lot of fisting.  This would have been around 1997...the AIDS cocktail had just been introduced, the 'seropositive' stigma had been relaxed, and people were taking chances again in the pursuit of satisfying sex.  Keep in mind there were fucktards who had been barebacking all along and when they were videotaped, they became objects of controversy and awe.  Michael McKey then began producing videos on his own...'Bareback The Movie', followed by 'Bareback 2, Once in a Blue Moon.'  These productions came out of Phoenix, Michael McKey's home base.  About the same time, a guy named Paul Morris came out with a video called 'Bareback Lunch,' and we were titillated by his audacity...here was condomless sex without apology or qualification, in defiance of the political correctness of the time.  Then Paul Morris followed up with a little effort entitled 'Breed Me.' 

From the very first minute, we were captivated by the straightforward depiction of willful, dangerous and unapologetic, cum-drenched sex.  A faceless subject with the use of a dildo, coaxes rivers of cum to flow from his used and abused asshole.  It was shocking at the time, as so-called safe sex was very much the order of the day.  As far as we could tell, it was all very real...no phony cum concocted from pina colada mix here.  And with the music and sound effects, the sense of taboo was greatly enhanced.  The rest of 'Breed Me' features an anonymous bottom taking numerous loads.  These are internal spunk deposits, and occasionally we may see a pearl of cum on an asscheek, but in the mood of the time, the very sight of a dribble of cum was radical, scary, sexy and to a great many of us, completely irresistible.  A taboo had been broken. 

'Breed Me' when compared to some of the stuff coming out today, will seem restrained, but trust me, it had quite an impact when it came out, so enjoy it by imagining the response it provoked among the AIDS mafia and self-appointed protectors of the gay constituency.  This video changed everything and Paul Morris kept up the pace with 'Raw Shots' One and Two, and Hot Desert Knights entered the marketplace, eventually linking up with Michael McKey, and the rest has been history.  RJ Parker is the only identifiable performer in 'Breed Me,' otherwise there are no faces shown.  So watch with the understanding that 'Breed Me' made possible every single second of bareback porn you enjoy today.

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.