Fist Me All Year

It’s the fourth annual International Fisting Day (well, it is in the US – it was yesterday in New Zealand), and I’ve had some amazing fisting experiences this year – so now seems like a great opportunity to share them. This year has been all about give and take, and when it comes to hands in *cough* new places, that’s never been more true!

January

Take yourself back to the very first day of 2014. Do you remember what you were doing?

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Open Me Up

For me fisting is one of the hottest, more intimate, sexual acts out there.  To trust a partner enough to relax, to open wide, to envelop them within you – to cradle them tight and deep and incredibly slickly – is an act of such mindfulness that I have done it with very few people.

Fisting isn’t quite as it sounds (any more than a blow-job is!) – but the name puts many people off trying it. I think that’s a shame, because the sensations – both as the fistee and the fister – are amazing.

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Sodom: Enter the fist

Oh, Sodom was real. But you needed to know the right people. Not the ‘popular’ people, or the ‘in’ crowd – that wasn’t the way to this back entrance, for they had no idea this place was anything more than a legend (not that it stopped them dropping the name). To get an invitation to Sodom required a very different journey indeed …

**

It began, for Ayn, with a date. Not that she knew at the time that this date would be the one that would change her life, of course. You always hope that there’ll be a spark, or something exciting, but who knew that meeting Yvonne in that everyday, sunshiney cafe would be the thing that started it all?

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Pain versus pain

It’s been two weeks today since I took my last painkiller. Technically I am still allowed to take some – I could have taken up to four last week, and up until Sunday this week I am able to take three – but I haven’t needed to.

The last painkillers I took were on my flight over to Melbourne. I haven’t taken any since. This is a HUGE thing. Because remember that chronic, daily, never-goes-away-ever migraine? The one I’ve had for over six years? I take painkillers for that.

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Fisting Me Gently

I love being fisted. It doesn’t happen too often – it takes a long time, a lot of lubricant, and a very persuasive hand – but the sensation of being filled beyond full, where every flex and movement and stretch of muscle translates itself across my body, is delicious.

I have only ever been fisted successfully by Apollo. Which is not so say I haven’t had a lot of fun trying with other partners! Hylas with his (comparatively) enormous hands has never gotten past four fingers, but it’s a blast getting that even that far. Apollo, though, has hands smaller than my own – and that means sometimes we’ll come home from work on a warm Friday afternoon, slide out of our clothes, and relax on the bed with our end-of-week Gin and Tonics and our delight in each other. Those afternoons are our Fisting Dates.

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