MY FIRST FIST
by BUD CLARK

My first contact with fisting was, of course, in San Francisco.

I was out on the coast for a round of job interviews in the Bar
area.  My fluffy-sweater acquaintances in Cincinnati had scoped out
the territory the previous summer and were full of dire warnings
about South of Market in general and The Hothouse in particular,
so of course that was the first place I headed.  Now, fisting
wasn't exactly a deep, dark mystery to me...somewhere along the
line I had acquired the book from the movie classic "Erotic Hands"
and I'd been jerking off to that for quite a while.  You might say
I was into the concept if not the reality.

Well, The Hothouse was everything I had been warned it was...humpy
dudes wandering around in body harnesses leading their slaves on
leashes, the whole trip.  I nearly came when I walked into the
shower room hunkered down on a plastic hose while he sucked his
buddy's oversize cock.  I checked out the sling rooms, but I spent
most of the night doing conventional if rougher-than-usual sex.

I fell asleep with my door cracked.  The next morning I woke up
with this warm, wet feeling on my arm.  I looked up and there was
this hairy, muscular little dude impaled on my arm to the elbow!

Holy shit!  He looked down at me and grinned "Good morning"  "Good
morning yourself fucker."  " Can you dig it!"  "For sure, but I've
never done it before"  Well, that turned his motor on, and soon
became oblivious that he wasn't gonna dismount my arm until he had
showed me all the right moves.  We ended up with me punch-fucking
him doggy--style with a cheering audience of six or seven
leathermen. Well, my arm was busy most of the morning, but my
asshole stayed virgin.

I sorta filed the experience away and chewed on it until my next
trip to the coast.  I only knew one dude in Cincinnati that was
into handball, and we were friends, not fuck-buddies, so I didn't
get a chance to practice again until another job interview took me
to San Diego.  The job panned out. and I moved to California.

Now, you have to understand where I was coming from.  Cincinnati
is one of the most tight-assed Republican cities in the Midwest.

There was one gay bar and no baths.  If you wanted steam you had
to drive to Cleveland, Toledo or Chicago.  So the first couple of
years in San Diego I was like a kid in a candy shop...baths, bars,
and Balboa Park!

I fisted if I was asked, and if I was in a "top" mood I got off on
it to a certain extent, but something was missing.  What that
"something" was I found out one night at the old Fourth Avenue
Baths in Hillcrest.  I was cruising the "open" rooms and came
across this hot little blond surfer-type.  We started getting it
on, and our hands both started to go for the ass about the same
time, so he called a halt to go fetch the Crisco and poppers.  Now,
fisting wasn't particularly on my mind...I figured we'd trade fucks
and that would be that.  How was I to know that gay surfers in San
Diego get into handball?

Well. pretty soon we were pretty busy finger-fucking each other
while we sixty-nined.  Then he called a halt and sat up and looked
at me.  "Wanna go further?"  "As in what?"  "Fisting, man."  "You
or me?"  "Whatever," he muttered.  "Well, I've never had it, but
I'm up for trying." Bingo!  The idea of a virgin really pushed his
button, so pretty soon I'm on my back with my ass propped up on a
pillow and him sitting cross-legged below me.

"Your head's gonna get it done for you" he told me.  "You gotta
want me inside you.  It's just like takin' a big cock.  It'll hurt
like hell goin' over the widest part of my knuckles, but then once
it's inside you're gonna lose your mind!"  Well, we had smoked a
couple of joints and I was pretty mellowed out and the dude wasn't
tryin' to hurry me.  We rapped about all kinds of shit, but all the
time there was this gentle but insistent pressure at my asshole.

"How much you got in?"  I'd ask him from time to time but he
wouldn't tell me.  "Don't worry about it...just relax and enjoy."

I kept playin' with my cock and that made my ass tighten up, so he
pulled the laces from his boot and tied my hands behind my head so
I couldn't jack off.  Now I don't usually do bondage with a
stranger, but we were really into each other's heads by now, and
I figured what the shit, my legs were still free to kick if he got
radical.

We kept on like this for about an hour...then he looked me in the
eye and said, "Pull your knees back to your tits."  "is this it,
man?  I'm not sure I'm ready."  "You're ready...your fuckin' ass
is just beggin' for my hand.  Cummon, pull 'em back."  He got up
on his knees and started pushing my legs down with his chest until
his face was right over mine.  "Common, man, take my fuckin' fist.

You can do it!"  He shoved a popper under my nose and my ass caught
fire!  One fiery bolt of pain and he was in!  The fucker had his
goddamned fist up my butt.  "Slow deep breaths, man...take slow,
deep breaths.  Get used to it, then we'll play."  Now I was leakin'
gum like a firehose by this point.  I couldn't imagine it getting
any more intense/painful/better, but it did.  He gave me a few
minutes to calm down, then he shoved the popper under my nose again
and started to make a fist inside me.  "AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHH!  Take
it easy man!"  "Just makin' the fist, dude.  Now I'm gonna do a
little twistin'."  "Well, he did a little twistin' and I did a lot
of twistin' and yellin', but he just kept at it, slow and steady.

I drifted into a semi-trance impaled on this hot little dude's
hand.  Experienced bottoms say that there's a good deal of yoga and
meditation involved...now I understood what they meant.

He looked down at me and grinned.  "REady for a little depth?"

"You're running this trip, man.  You got me fuckin' tied up and
held down so I can't move anything but my eyelashes.  Guess if you
wanna go for dept I'm gonna have to go along!  "Fuckin'-A-right!

You just slide down on my arm fucker.  We're gonna go for the
elbow!"  Now, that might sound a little bit radical for the first
time, but once he'd gotten in past the knuckles it was a matter of
degree.  Actually, his outstretched hand and forearm was easier to
take than the clenched rotating fist.  "Can you sit up?" he asked
me after awhile.  "If you help me"  "I want you to see, man.

You've got my fuckin' arm up to the elbow!"  I didn't believe him,
but he pulled me up until I was bent like a pretzel and I could see
my red, tautly-stretched asshole around the beginning of his
muscular bicep.  "I gotta cum, man," I moaned.  "I gotta cum so
fuckin' gad!"  "Oh, yeah, shoot your fuckin' load!  Cummon,
motherfucker, shoot it!!"  He was givin' me long, slow strokes with
his arm...all the was out to the wrist and then all the way back
to the elbow!  He grabbed my cock and it was all over.  I must have
shot for five minutes!  The first load landed on the wall over my
head.  "YYYYEEEOOWWW!  OK.  OK, ease out, man,ease out!  He slowly
withdrew his arm and we collapsed.

"Like it?" he grinned.  "Like it! Jesus, I loved it!  You have
great hands man."  "You might be sore for a day or two."  "That's
cool."  "Wanna do me?"  "As soon as I catch my breath."  We
stretched out and dozed for awhile then I started to get itchy to
get into his ass.  It only took him about half and hour...he was
experienced, but I have fairly big hands.  He started to get a
little worried, though, when I started sneakin' a couple of extra
fingers up along side my hand.  "Hey, uh, I don't think I can take
much more."  "First time for everything, dude." I chuckled.  "Yeah,
well, I guess, only go easy, man, OK?"  "No problem...just relax
and enjoy."  Well, about another fifteen minutes I was shakin'
hands with myself inside this dude's steaming hole, and it was his
turn to beg.  "Oh Christ, let me cum, please!  Jack me off, man.

I gotta cum!"  Well, that presented a problem since both my hands
were busy, so I took his aching cock in my mouth.  He arched his
back and his asshole tightened around my wrists until I thought
they were gonna break.  He shot so hard I thought I was gonna
drown!  "JJJJJEEEEESSSSSUUUUUSSS!  Take it out...please take it
out!"  I slowly pulled one hand after the other out of his
exhausted hole.  We staggered to the showers and soaped each other
down, and then we crashed.  We exchanged phone numbers and played
a couple of times after that, either at the baths or at the FFA
parties.  I lost track of him, and the Fourth Avenue Baths closed
down, but I'll never forget him.