I happen to know two really awesome fisters (fist bottoms) in Minneapolis: GearKidMN and WillCo68. When I moved to Minnesota almost five years ago, I didn't know anyone in the state who was kinky. I quickly became friends with both of them despite the fact that I hadn't ever really thought about doing any fisting. The porn I had seen of it was kinda hot and I thought maybe one day I'd like to do that.
You know how if you let your hand get too close to a vaccum hose, it grabs hold and doesn't ever let go?
Surely enough, they taught me how to fist. First GearKid, then over the following summer, I took WillCo's graduate certificate program in Fist Topping (I'm still waiting on my diploma in the mail). It's interesting - before I met each of them, they didn't know each other that well. Now, it would seem that they are in a continual friendly battle with one another (a race to the bottom?). Occasionally they fight over my hands.
They both have buckets they keep their toys in. One night about a year ago, I was fisting GearKid after a Gear Night at the Eagle and found a billiard ball (the 3 ball) at the bottom of his toy bucket. I don't know why it attracted my attention, but I had quite a bit of fun sinking that ball into his corner pocket. Here's a favorite technique I found I liked: after he's sufficiently loosened up, put the ball in, fist him, and then spread your fingers and grab the ball once you're inside (a kick shot?).
Now, the thing that I love about the group of friends that I keep is that we all very open about our kinkiness, and we all know how to laugh about the kinks that we have. After listening to enough stories about "billiard games" with GearKid, and determined to find out on his own, WillCo surprised me with a couple of billiard balls of his own.
So I was fisting WillCo in his sling (about 3 feet off the ground). I'm wearing rubber, there's a lot of J-Lube everywhere to keep things open and loose....and I put in the pool ball. WillCo and I have a light-hearted yet intimate approach to the sex that we have. We frequently joke around and laugh with each other while we're going at it. Why would a billiard game be any exception? While he had the ball in his ass, I reached down for the bottle of J-Lube to re-wet my hands...and he laughs at something. This causes him to contract everything, and he dropped the ball.
From three feet in the air.
Onto a wood floor.
At 2:30 in the morning.
Since my hands were occupied by the lube bottle and lube, I couldn't react quickly enough to grab it before it rolled away. All I could do was shake my head praying it didn't wake up his downstairs neighbors.
But in my tipsy drive to play with that ball, I decide to get down on my hands and knees and crawl underneath WillCo (who's still in the sling) go to find the ball. Pressing my head to the floor, I found it underneath the radiator. I reach out to grab it and accidentally brush the plastic clothing mannequin that was leaning against the wall right there...and she starts to fall over on me and toward Willco, still laying in the sling.
I grabbed the ball and jumped up and back to press the mannequin against the wall with my back. That stopped it from falling. But in the middle of all the chaos, I had a nano-second of reflection on the fact that this is my life: Friday night, wee hours of the morning, wearing rubber, covered in sweat, lube, pre-cum, holding a dirty, sticky billiard ball and wrestling a plastic mannequin (and the feather boa she wears).
I don't think life gets much better than this.
(Side note: I haven't written much about my escapades lately because I fell into that trap of "If I'm too inappropriate, it will hurt my ability to book speaking gigs." Then I was reminded that my blog is supposed to be a truthful, honest account written by me about my journey for those who want to read it. So fuck all that. Prepare for the return of my life in electronic copy.)