Fists of fury

I’d been trying for quite a long time, and it’s not exactly a thing I feel that I can talk particularly openly about, with a few exceptions, but towards to the end of last year I got fisted.

It wasn’t Santa Claus, I just thought the accompanying picture was vaguely amusing.

I had read a great deal and talked to other people who had done it and as they said, most of what was stopping me was entirely in my own head, although a good teacher is a wonderful thing.

I was supposed to be away for the weekend with another man and had been let down at the last minute, another unexpected opportunity came along and I grasped it. I didn’t know it was going to happen, I just went with the flow and followed his advice and it just happened. I suppose I was waiting for another guy to do it with me, but it’s just proving to be too complicated and I can’t keep waiting.

I’ve done it a few times now and have been pushing my limits a little each time. One guy I enjoy playing with has fairly huge hands and that’s the next challenge, although I still need to learn to control my breathing a bit more.

It’s a fairly extreme act, to most people, but it’s not painful and the intense connection it brings is absolutely incredible.