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.

Fisting a Poz Businessman in the Afternoon

I'm guessing that travelling salesmen have earned their place in the American sexual consciousness through the simplest of ways...by being available. These guys have also been characterized in various media, like books...movies, certainly...as being unattached in a new town...horny as hell...and an easy hookup...good for a quick suck, fuck...and then never seen again. True, maybe, unless you're part of the fisting brotherhood. A good fist is hard to find. Once found, a bottom can only want more of it. I think I connected with this traveler through Asspig. Yeah, Asspig.com. A hot bottom taking fist at a local Holiday Inn, obviously a business guest and posting in the middle of the afternoon. You know, you just can't decide you want to get fisted. Being a fisting bottom requires preparation, and sometimes preparation becomes a long and involved process; of course I'm writing about cleaning out. So when a man goes through the effort of cleaning out for taking fist, he doesn't want to let all that go to waste. So you post on Asspig and hope for the best. When I'm feeling up to fisting, I'll post on Asspig; but most of the time the avaiable bottoms are in Keokuk, Iowa or Binghampton, New York and here I am in San Francisco. But occasionally, things do work out. Imagine my delight to find a travelling businessman holed up in the Holiday Inn, conveniently just off Market St. and ready to go for RIGHT NOW. And oh, by the way, it's about two in the afternoon. It takes me a while to park my car in a safe (read meter maids, not break-ins) spot and take the street car to the Holiday Inn, but once there, we enjoyed a great session; he knows what he's doing, he's experienced and testing his limits, he wants me to probe more, he has fine interior buttchitecture. What's not to like? We give him a good time and he's appreciative since he's had at least one flake already, and a third guy does show up but he's not as commanding as I am and soon leaves, feeling a bit like a third wheel, so he never gets that guy's fist. I call the session out after about 90 mins., that's long enough for a break, but this guy is expecting somebody else later so I bid my leave, and hope I'm leaving him in good hands. Postscript: We buddylist each other and hope to meet up in his home town, a few hundred miles down the coast...I'll be there in April and hope to report on another great meeting. He gave me his Barebackrt handle and I checked him out, and he's poz...something we didn't discuss before I barefisted him. So much the better...travelling salesmen can sometimes be seen again.