Coming of Fist

A Coming of Fist A true story. Chapter 1

At age 17, I should have seen the signs, but I didn't. Still thought I was "normal" but probably just going through a phase. I even figured I'd eventually meet a nice girl and get married one day.

But not just yet. Not with all those teenaged hormones raging through my body. I wasn't wasting much time analyzing exactly what was making my dick stay hard all the time. All I knew was that the dirtier my thoughts while I jacked off, the better it felt. And the more I jacked off, the dirtier my fantasies became. And in retrospect, these were definitely not the kinds of sex fantasies that would suggest future "normalcy" of any kind.

But I still didn't know that.

On hot summer days when I was home alone and my parents were working, I'd go out in the garden, pick myself a fresh cucumber well heated from the sun, and take it and my hidden jar of Vaseline up on an impromptu sun deck I'd made on top of our house's back patio roof. It was very private back there, out of sight of neighbors and any unwanted visitors. I even pulled the ladder up behind me once I got up there so that nobody could see it, climb it, and surprise me.

Once up there, I'd strip off all my clothes and tan naked. That alone would have raised most disapproving eyebrows in my Bible-belt community. But when I'd stick my index finger into that well used jar of lube and slowly insert it up my so-called virgin butthole, immediately a welcome itch would start building deep inside me that only something much bigger than my finger could scratch.

That's where the cucumber became my second best friend (along with my left hand). I'd get myself all hot and horny, grease it up and start sliding it up my ass while Mr. Left jacked away at my always eager dick. It didn't take much stimulation at all in those days to rapidly shoot a load of cum all over my stomach. But at that age, I was good for at least 7 or 8 loads in an average afternoon and by the time I was done hours later, that cucumber would be mashed into a mushy pulp still clamped between my unsated asslips.

That summer before college not only did I get the best tan of my life, but I finally woke up to an amazing set of revelations about my budding sexuality. As the weeks went by, I realized that the thinner, shorter cucumbers of early summer gradually were steadily being replaced by longer and thicker ones. By Labor Day, I was eagerly seeking out the longest, fattest cucumbers in the garden, hungrily ramming them in and out of my butt while the late summer sun beamed down on me.

The second revelation of that summer was the introduction to my armpit. I fell in love with the feel and smell of sweat on my body. I'd previously been so conditioned to never allow my pits to stink that I had no idea how much of a turnon a rank underarm could be. I'd lie there in the sun with a thick cucumber up my ass, my left hand jacking my dick, with my nose buried in my armpits and -- let's don't mince words -- it was fucking intoxicating.

The final and most significant truth came with the ever-growing set of fantasies that filled my mind up on the roof on those long afternoons. I began to dream about being caught in the act by a group of roofers sent by my dad (unbeknownst to me) to fix our roof. One by one, those big rough hairy muscle brutes would rape my mouth and my ass while I faked the role of the abused rape victim. But secretly, I loved it and I jacked off over and over again to images of their pounding dicks inside me, their sweaty chests and smelly armpits dripping all over me, even their wickedly hot piss splashing down all over me while they laughed at how they were abusing this hot jock muscle boy.

All my fantasies centered around me being brutally abused, controlled and violated, particularly up my ass chute. The more I fucked myself on those big green cukes, the harder I wanted it -- particularly from a rough, mean, and deathly hung stud.

And I still get a small chuckle every time I think about my father complaining that some unknown neighbor was stealing all his cucumbers.

Despite all this, I was terrified at being discovered. I thought I was the only person in the world with such freaky filthy thoughts. So I stayed in the closet all through college and for years after before I finally admitted both to myself and the world that I was never going to come out of this "phase."

Along the way, I over compensated for my secret gayness by developing a forced butch persona that, when combined with some decent muscles from the gym, made more than a few nellie heads turn when I finally did get up the courage to come out.

But the guys I mostly attracted were into my jock body and butch exterior (read: topman). They all wanted me to shove my healthy-sized dick up their own itchy butts and my ego was flattered enough to do just that. Meanwhile, I developed quite the secret collection of ever- larger dildos that, more times than not, would get a full work out as soon as my bottom boy tricks would go home.

By now I could take a monster size plug up my ass, usually accompanied by a rough trade porno video where some butch leather stud was abusing some other equally butch leather guy. The rougher the video's action, the more turned on I'd get. It was only when I saw my first fist fucking video that I received an epiphany. From that moment on, I knew that was my major fantasy and also knew I'd never be satisfied until I found a way to make it happen.

It was something I not only thought about now every time I shoved something up my ass, it was becoming almost an obsession. I was totally enthralled with the idea of some stud pushing his big hairy fist straight up my asshole and then taking abusive control over my body.

I was online in the local gay chat room early one Friday night. I was bored, a little horny, and admittedly, had been drinking a bit. Okay -- I was slightly drunk and not so slightly depressed over still not getting the kind of hard action I needed to truly satisfy me. Otherwise, I probably would never have had the courage to do what I did.

When I saw the screen name "FistMaster" sign on, my heart skipped a little beat and I immediately looked up his profile. It said he was a "100% dominant top," into leather, sweat, raunch, S&M, B&D, the whole fucking nine yards with fucking being one of his favorite past times. But it said his most favorite thing in the world was royally fisting a guy's ass for hours on end, making him beg for it, and turning him into a total slave for his fist. What's more, he said he specialized in breaking in novices.

I figured if I didn't go for it now, I'd never get a better chance, so I sent him an instant message. Seconds later he answered, telling me I had a hot profile. We exchanged pics and I couldn't believe my eyes. He was handsome in a rough hewn way, had a heavy beard stubble, and was in great shape with big pecs, arms, and shoulders that suggested he was a construction worker or something similar. His pic showed him nude in a leather master's harness and his dick completely soft honestly hung halfway down his leg. He looked just like my fantasies had always dreamed about: a classic, square-jawed rough trade leather stud.

I sent him my bare chested pic and he apparently liked what he saw when he asked if it would be okay if he called me. Minutes later the phone rang and I heard a deep voice ask for the fake name I'd given him online. We talked for almost an hour and I discovered that in addition to being one kinky topguy, he also had a brain and, in fact, worked construction by day so he could be an aspiring writer at night. His name was Jim. Early on, I also gave him my real name Blake. I liked him so far so I decided to take it to the next level.

Going against my safer judgement, I was totally ruled by my balls and not my brain when I asked him if he'd be interested in doing a scene that night. It took him about a half a second to say "You bet" and another to slip into a much more commanding tone of voice.

He called me "boy."

"Boy, are you clean inside?" he demanded.

"Well, I took an enema earlier," I said.

"AN enema?" he growled. "Just ONE?"

"Uh ... yeah .. I guess so," I replied.

"That's YES SIR to you, boy," he snarled over the phone. "And there will be no guessing."

"Yes Sir," I sort of stammered, wondering what I was getting myself into. He had no clue where I lived at this point, so I could still escape by merely hanging up the phone.

"Boy, I want you to get out that enema bag and give yourself another TEN FUCKING enemas in the next two hours. You got that?"

"Yes Sir," I answered, still wary. But my dick was so hard I was on the verge of having an orgasm just from the sound of his voice.

I will be at your house exactly two hours from now and when I knock at the door, you'll answer it buck naked and your ass will be completely cleaned out. You got that, boy?"

"Yes Sir," was all I could still muster in response as my dick jerked yet another notch harder.

"Are you wearing deodorant?"

"No sir."

"Good boy. What do your pits smell like?"

"They're a little ripe, sir. I don't use deodorant unless I have to."

"Good boy ... I want you smelling rank and raunchy for your daddy."

"YES SIR!" I was getting into this now and the "sir" was starting to feel pretty natural.

I gave him directions to my house, which was about a half hour out in the country from his home in Cleveland. It was private without close neighbors who would see or care who arrived at my door or who answered it naked.

And as I started enema #2 a few minutes after hanging up, I realized that one man's fantasy could be another man's opportunity to become an ax murderer. Was I doing something insanely stupid by inviting this unknown master-type to my home? But as the rush of warm water filled my guts, I closed my eyes and remembered the line from "Risky Business," the early Tom Cruise flick: "Sometimes you just gotta say, 'What the fuck!"

Pretty goddamn appropriate for what I was about to do, I thought. But relaxed and fortified by a few drops of vodka in each of my enemas, I was soon feeling little apprehension. In fact, my ass wouldn't stop squirming. I couldn't wait for him to get there.

Precisely at 10 p.m. on that Friday night, the doorbell rang and, as instructed, I opened it wearing not a stitch. He was wearing tight thread-bare jeans and no shirt with a leather harness across his broad hairy chest and flat stomach. A leather arm band punctuated his pumped up left bicep and a red bandana thrust out of his left pocket. A tattoo of a clenched fist and a bulging flexed bicep decorated his left deltoid.

I had quite a collection of fist fucking flicks by now so I knew exactly what each of these symbols meant. Hell, this guy could have starred in any of 'em..

He handed me his over-sized leather duffle bag which was surprisingly heavy and looked me over from head to toe, probably purposefully taking his time to see how long I'd stand in my open front door that way. His black pickup truck was parked in the driveway. When I didn't flinch, he finally gave me a wink and a smile and said my photo didn't come close to doing me justice.

I invited him in and poured him his drink of choice, a vodka and Sprite. A double. Still naked, I felt a little self conscious as his eyes never left their steel gaze over my body. I guess I looked okay; well, maybe really okay. I stand just at 6' tall, have a hairy chest that's well developed from the gym, and have big biceps, triceps, and forearms. Not body builder quality, just more of the construction worker build. It's always been a fantasy type for me, so I love being occasionally mistaken for one at the bars, even though I work as an account executive in a large ad agency in Cleveland. The tattoos on my left bicep and right shoulder helped further the blue collar image.

"Damn, boy, I'm gonna have fun with you, tonight," he grinned as he took healthly gulps of his drink. "Big butch stud like you giving it up to me," he continued. "There's nothing I like more than making muscle boys like you go crazy for my fist. At first it's gonna hurt a little, but I'll see to it that you get properly warmed up. Then you're gonna beg for it. You're gonna beg me for my fist until your cute little hairy ass is pounded into a pulp. And by then you're gonna be so fucking horny, you won't care. All you'll know is that you got to have my arm all the way up to my stinking armpit. That sound hot to you, boy?"

I'd long ago been beyond the point of reason. I just wanted to get fisted.

"I'd like that a lot, sir," I said, not being able to stop shivering a little.

"Good boy," he said as he grabbed the back of my neck in his hand and pulled me into his raised armpit. "Get a whiff of this, boy, as a taste of what's to come."

He forced my nose into an armpit that smelled of surprisingly fresh sweat, as though he'd showered earlier but hadn't bothered with deodorant for a long time. I inhaled deeply and immediately felt a rush unlike any I'd ever experienced. Goddamn! I couldn't help sticking out my tongue and running it through the lather produced from the early summer day's sweat. He smelled and tasted like the rawest, most masculine man I'd ever encountered, light years ahead of the perfumed armpits of the vanilla guys I'd fooled around with for all those wasted years. I finally had found myself a real man ... and he smelled every inch like the roofer stud I'd hungered for since those teenaged days on my parents' roof.

He reached for his bag and pulled out a bag of rolled joints. I hadn't done marijuana since college, so I wasn't real sure about doing it now.

"You'll need this to relax," he said as a command more than a comment.

"Yes Sir," I replied, deciding to go with the flow, even though my better judgment said I should try to keep my wits about me.

He lit the joint and took a toke and handed it to me. I took a long drag and handed it back. Soon it was gone and I was feeling a nice little buzz.

His fingers were playing at my crotch the entire time we were smoking the joint, nudging at my balls and nibbling at my asshole. I was hard as a rock and the smoke (true to form) was just making me even hornier... as it always had in the past.

"Grab my bag and get your hungry ass up to your bedroom," he ordered.

"Yes Sir," I obeyed as he followed me up the stairs, pawing my ass every step of the way.

We got to my bedroom, which was dominated by a king sized canopy bed. Jim roughly pushed me down face forward on my stomach and without pretense, had his talented mouth on my asshole in about two seconds flat.

Believe it or not, I had rarely been rimmed before. The guys I'd been to bed with were usually much more interested in me rimming them before I fucked them. This was one incredible sensation ... no doubt enhanced by the joint we'd smoked and the heavy beard stubble that felt like delicious sandpaper rubbing against my tender flesh.

He must have eaten my ass for 20 minutes, generously tonguing what seemed like pints of his spit inside my hole, making it loose, eager, and incredibly hot for more.

He turned me over on my back, with my head hanging over the end of the bed. He unzipped his jeans and pulled out an amazingly big dick, now fully erect.

"Suck it, boy. Get it wet enough to fuck your butch ass."

I needed no encouragement as he slid his cockhead into my open lips. I could taste the slight salt of his last urination and I liked it, filed the thought away, and slid my tongue in and out of his foreskin. He pushed it forward until the head was knocking on the back of my throat. Normally, I'm not real talented when it comes to deep throating a really large cock, but the strange angle of my head and his standing position allowed him to slip it deep inside my throat without any gagging or discomfort on my part.

We both moaned in heat at the same time as he began fucking my throat with a thick piece of meat that had to be at least 9 or 10 inches long. I felt like I was at his complete mercy and I loved it. I loved him taking control. Here I was, the previous top guy allowing some leather stranger with a big dick to fuck my open and willing mouth at his speed and discretion.

Without notice, he abruptly pulled out and roughly turned me around so that my legs were thrust in the air off the edge of the bed. He gave me no warning as he rammed his dick all the way inside me with one powerful thrust, using only his copious spit as lube. I realized instantly that he hadn't put on a condom and I was torn between being frightened and being even more turned on by the risks of being barebacked fucked.

I vaguely remember shouting for him simultaneously to both fuck me harder but not to cum in me.

He was moaning, groaning, and ramming in and out so hard and fast I knew he couldn't last long. It made me even hotter to see that he was just as turned on as me. Finally, he pulled out and emitted a loud roar as he shot ribbons of cum all over my cock, balls, stomach, and chest.

It only took a couple of jerks of his big fist on my dick before I was joining him. I came harder than I could ever remember cumming before and I instinctively knew that if I could feel this fucking good with just a dick albeit big dick up my ass, just imagine how good his fist was going to feel up there!

He released my legs from his shoulders and began lapping up all the collective sperm on my front side. As he worked his way up my chest, he eventually connected with my lips and deposited our combined loads deeply into my mouth. He collapsed on top of me and we kissed I mean really deep kissed for the first time. Sweat poured off his body and dripped onto me. I was beyond happy. And he had just begun.

Jim rolled off me and reached for a side compartment on his bag. He pulled out a small plastic ziplock back filled with a white substance.

"What's that, sir?" I asked.

"C," he grunted.

"I don't understand, sir," I questioned.

"It's called crystal. Crystal meth. When you do this stuff, it's gonna go directly to your ass and make you so fuckin' horny that even my fist won't be enough for you."

"I've never done drugs beyond a joint or two before," I said somewhat apprehensively. But the squirm in my hips and the gleam in my eye had to have given me away.

"I know what you need, boy," he grinned. "Just trust me and I'll see to it that you have a fucking hot time. You just need to just give it up and let me call the shots from here on out. I won't let anything happen that you don't want to happen, okay?"

I thought for a few seconds and then decided to go once more with Cruise's "what the fuck" line.'

"Hit me." I said. He reached back and roughly slapped the back of his hand across my face.

"Hit me WHAT," he demanded.

I winced from the unexpected blow, even though it wasn't landed particularly hard. As the seconds passed, the sting actually started tingling in a not-too-unpleasant way.

"Hit me, SIR" I replied. "Again, please."

He laughed and playfully swatted me again in the same place. A part of me actually was disappointed he didn't make the second blow as hard as the first one. But he was holding a full baggy of crystal and I realized that the primary intent on his part was not to spill its contents.

"Wet your finger and stick it inside," he ordered. "Get a little glob on it and then stick it under your tongue."

My innocence depleting by the second, I obeyed and stuck my overly wet index finger inside the bag. I ended up with a sizeable glob of the white stuff and before he could tell me to shake some of it off, I stuck it in my mouth.

"Shit, dude, you took a fucking huge hit," he said. "You've never done this stuff before?"

"Nope .. I mean no SIR," I replied.

He chuckled a little to himself and said "Okay ... if you get to fly high, so do I," and he placed an equally large glob of the wet and bitter powder under his tongue, telling me this method was just as good as snorting the stuff and a hell of a lot easier on your nose.

"Fasten your seat belt, boy ... you're in for a rough fucking flight!" he grinned as he carefully placed the bag of C on the night stand and wrapped his muscular arms tightly around me.

He wrestled me around in a 69 position so that my ass was directly above his mouth and his rehardened dick knocking at my mouth. Immediately, his hungry lips began licking and biting enthusiastically all over my freshly fucked ass..

It was a though he couldn't get enough of eating my ass, the fires within him clearly building as the crystal started to take its effect. I could feel it inside me as well as his tongue frantically lapped at my rosebud, teeth occasionally biting the tender flesh, making me writhe uncontrollably above him as I fucked my throat up and down over his raging hard dick.

It was as though I had unending sexual energy as I bobbed his cock in and out of my throat without any gagging or discomfort at all. I wanted his dick in me ... I NEEDED his dick in me and after who knows how long, I heard him scream loudly into my asshole as he shot gallons of sperm directly into my mouth. I was beyond caring about what was safe or unsafe at that point. I just needed to drink his big creamy load and I was doing so as fast as he could shoot it into my mouth.

His dick softened quickly in my mouth and, as I would later learn, would be the last time it'd be fully erect for as long as we took lines from the crystal. I, amazingly, was hornier than I could ever recall being with his lips still sucking incessantly at my asshole. Yet, my own dick had somehow gone from missile hard to noodle soft.

Jim raised up and turned us both over.

"Now you're gonna feel what it's like to be your daddy's hot little ass toy," he leered with a slight slur.

"Yes, sir," I managed.

"I want to hear you ask for what you need, boy," he replied.

"I want your fist, Sir."

"You want what? I didn't hear you, boy."

YOUR FIST, SIR! I WANT YOUR FIST NOW, SIR!

"Where do you want it, boy?"

"IN MY ASS, SIR! PLEASE, SIR... I REALLY NEED IT NOW, SIR!"

The crystal had me by the balls, so to speak, at this point, and I was on fire with the need to have this big stud's muscled arm all the way up my ass.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a full can of Crisco and a roll of plain white paper towels.

"Roll on your back and put your legs in the air," he ordered.

I eagerly complied, hotter than I'd ever been in my life.

He dipped his hand into the open can of Crisco and began a slow, gentle massage of my ass lips. Gently, he slipped first one than two than three fingers up my hole. This was nothing for a guy who'd just been royally fucked and who was used to inserting huge dildoes up his ass on a regular basis. I let him know quickly that he wasn't dealing with a candy ass.

"More, sir. Please... I can take it, sir," I moaned.

"Okay, boy. Be careful what you ask for," he grinned as he planted his whole hand at the entrance to my ass and began a steady, hard pressure to gain its admittance.

It hurt. It really did. But it was the kind of hurt that I didn't want to go away. Here was an incredibly built, handsome, stud master with his big hairy paw trying to fuck its way inside me and there was no way I was going to wimp out with whatever hurt it was temporarily causing.

He reached over for his bag again and pulled out a brown bottle that I'd seen used in the fist fuck videos I'd jacked off to countless times. Poppers. I knew what these were. I'd even used them from time to time when someone would hand me some on the dance floor. He handed the bottle to me and I unscrewed it and thrust it first under Jim's nose. He took a couple of snorts and I then inhaled deeply.

That was all it took when combined with the crystal to put me over the edge. Between his rush and my own, we both let go with primal screams as his hand plunged completely into my ass all the way past his wrist.

"OH FUUUCCCKK!" I yelled.

"YEAH, BABY, YOU'VE GOT IT ALL NOW, MAN. I'M FUCKING FISTING YOU!" he shouted.

I can't begin to describe the ecstacy of what it feels like the first time a real man's fist invades your ass. Aside from the obvious feelings of being ultimately fucked and filled, it's also a sense that without question you're out of control. That someone else has power over your body and is driving and steering it in whatever direction and speed he chooses. It's also a feeling of connection the ultimate intimacy of which I'd never felt before. It was all of these things surging through my blood, my brain, my ass, and my being all at the speed of light.

Of course, the crystal helped.

A Coming of Fist -- A true story. Chapter 2

"I own you now, pussy boy," he snarled as he began to work his fist slightly in and out. "Once you've had my fist in you, you'll never be satisfied with anything else."

His words were rough but his actions were decidedly gentle as he kept pushing more Crisco in my ass all around his wrist. He was working his hand slightly in and out, taking it almost all the way out and then slowly pushing back in. I could tell he was patiently warming up my ass, getting it ready for what would inevitably get harder, longer, rougher.

"How's that feel, boy?"

"Oh incredible, sir. Oh it's too fucking good for words, sir. Just uh keep it up."

Suddenly I felt his free hand slap hard against my pecs and he'd developed a pissed off leer on his face. He slapped me again, this time really hard against my abs.

"You like that, asshole? You like me slapping you around you with one hand while I fist you with the other?"

"Oh ummmm yes sir," I moaned as I tried to squirm my ass even deeper on his fist. He'd warmed up my ass well and I was started to feel a deeper itch that needed scratching.

"I need this, sir. Please keep it up, sir. I need more of both, sir."

"Take another hit of poppers, but give me one first," he ordered.

We both took healthy hits and that sent him on a brutal assault of abuse. His right hand started truly fucking my ass for the first time while his left hand pummeled my chest, stomach, and occasionally, my face, with hard slaps that sent pain and pleasure all over my skin.

'I'M GIVING IT TO YOU NOW, YOU FUCKING FAG! TAKE IT! YOU LIKING YOUR FUCKING, BOY?

"HARDER, SIR. OH, PLEASE, SIR MORE ! FUCK ME!" I begged.

His fists alternated abuse to the point that I lost sensation of time, speech, anything except the burning need to have his fist ramming in and out at breakneck speed. His blows on my outer body only made me hotter as my skin was sizzling from the repeated slaps. I was totally out of control and I was in absolute lust with the topman who had seized all control.

I must have blacked out for a second because I came to with the sensation of something biting my nipples. Hard. I looked down and saw he had moved up to feast on my hard muscled pecs. I have very large nipples, partly from genetics and the rest from the way I've pulled and stretched them during jackoff sessions over the years. I've always loved it when somebody would lick 'em but until now, no one had really clamped down on them like this. And it was turning me on even more if such a thing were possible.

His fist was still inside me, but he'd slowed the pistoning down to just a slow, steady pressure. It felt like he'd gone deeper in me, but I couldn't be sure. I was so consumed with the sea of sensations he'd created in me, it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended.

He was moaning loudly around my tit, biting it hard, chewing and jerking roughly at it as though he were some beast trying to tear off a piece for his dinner.

"Damn, boy!," he muffled "you got the finest fucking nipples I've ever tasted. I could just stay here and chew on these big babies all night long" as he clamped his teeth down really hard causing me to scream out.

"That's right, boy. Let your daddy know you're alive," he groaned through his bites.

He slowly fisted me deeper as he feasted on my nipples for what seemed like hours. We both took occasional hits of poppers which would cause us both to, if possible, even further heat up the intensity of his abuse.

It was during these rushes that he would clamp down especially hard on my tit while inching his hand ever deeper inside my ass. Even in my wild state, I could tell he was a master at his craft, using the pain in my tits to distract me from his fist penetrating even further inside me. I knew this and yet I didn't care. I loved it. I loved him. I loved every fucking wonderful act of pain and pleasure he was inflicting.

And I still needed more.

Of course, the crystal still helped.

I could feel his fist starting to pull out and I wasn't ready.

"Please, sir. Please keep fucking me," I said. "I don't want it to end yet, sir."

"End?" he laughed. "Fucker, we've just begun," he grinned. "That was just round one, boy. We've got at least a dozen more to go," he chuckled as his fist slowly popped out of my well used butt hole. I felt like I'd just shit out a log and that my insides were now all about to fall out. He could read my mind.

"Don't worry, dude. It'll snap back quicker than you can say 'fuck me.' Besides, we don't want to wear you out just yet, although I have to say that you took my fist like a pro. You sure that was your first?"

"Damn straight .... sir," I added with a proud grin.

"Look at this," he smiled as he held up the arm that had fucked me so royally. The crisco mark was halfway up his thick forearm, only inches from his elbow.

"I took that much?" My eyes must have been a mile wide.

"Yep. You're one hot amazing little fucker. Particularly for being your first time. And that was just the appetizer, dude."

He wiped off his arm with some paper towels and offered up his armpit now really ripe from all our sweating and let me feast on it for several minutes. It was turning me on again and he could tell.

"Slow down, pig. I gotta take a leak in the worst way." He got up from the bed and started towards the adjacent bathroom.

"Sir?" I asked, still flying from the C and the poppers and the incredible rush from his armpit.

He turned around.

"Sir ... could I ask a favor?"

"Sure, boy. What is it?"

"Sir ... I've always wanted to know what it'd be like to have a stud like you piss on me. If it's not a turn-off, I'd really like it if you would do that to me."

"Turn-off?" he grinned. "Are you fucking precious or what? I was hoping to eventually get you just high and hot enough so you'd beg me to use you as my toilet. Get over here now, pig!"

I scrambled out of bed and followed him into the bathroom.

"Get in the tub and on your knees," he ordered, changing his voice back to the deep and commanding master-voice I was starting to crave.

I climbed in and faced him, looking up at his towering height and sweat-gleaming muscles above me. To this day, I cannot imagine a hotter picture than the one he presented over me. Never had I felt so wonderfully depraved and submissive, so willing to accept -- even beg for -- his hot piss... so glad to be his pig.

"Tell me what you want," he said.

"Your piss, sir!"

"How bad do you want it, boy?"

"I need it bad, sir. I need your piss on me so bad, sir." I groaned. I was starting to squirm, wishing it were possible to also have his fist back inside me.

Without seeing it come, he reached back and slapped me hard across the face. Then again. Even though it hurt, I could tell he was careful not to hit so hard as to really bruise me.

"You fucking pathetic pig," he sneered. Get your toilet mouth on my dick."

I was on his big limp cock like a puppy nursing his bitch. I rolled it around my mouth, loving the feeling of letting its girth and length fill my mouth so completely without being hard.

And then I felt the first drops hit my tongue. It was just a little stream at first and I hungrily lapped it up. It tasted a little salty but sweetly delicious. I wanted more.

His stream started spurting out more urgently now and I was doing all I could to swallow it. It nonetheless starting leaking out of my mouth and running down my neck and check, blending with the heavy sheen of sweat that had broken out on me.

He pulled his dick out and began hosing me with it, spraying thick streams of piss on my chest, in my face, all in my hair, and down around my crotch. I was desperately trying to drink as much of it as I could, on fire with the need to have his tasty urine filling my stomach.

"You kinky little shit!" he grinned, clearly pleased with me. "You love wallowing in this man's hot piss, don't you?"

I moaned as he continued to wash me.

"Thank you, sir .... oh god ... it's so hot, sir!"

Finally, the stream reduced down to a trickle and he let me put it back in my mouth where I eagerly drained the last few drops. This had been so good I didn't want to give it up, but he pulled out and told me to stand up.

Piss was dripping off my body as he put his arms around me and gave me a strong bear hug, pressing his sweaty chest tightly against mine, mixing it with the piss he'd just sprayed all over me.

"You'll be my toilet slave from now on," he said gently as he stuck his tongue deep in my mouth, tasting the last remnants of his own piss.

He dropped to his knees with me still standing in the tub and looked up.

"Now, boy, give your daddy a drink."

He placed his lips around my penis and drew its length deep into his mouth. His eyes looked up at me and I could read his firm visual command to start pissing.

It took me a minute, but finally it started. And within seconds I was shooting a wicked stream of piss directly down his throat. He gulped rapidly, not missing a drop. When I finished, he stood up, hugged me again, and planted his lips against mine. When my mouth opened, he gave me a mouthful of my own piss which I eagerly gulped.

I still liked his better and, following his next orders, went and got him another extra tall glass of Sprite and vodka..

A Coming of Fist -- A true story. Chapter 3

"Jump in the shower and rinse yourself off a little," he commanded. "Don't use any soap and make sure you don't get those ripe armpits wet. I want those babies reeking. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," I said as I stepped into the shower and pulled the door closed.

"Leave it open, asshole," he ordered, holding his drink in his hand.

"Yes, sir," as I turned on the water and began rinsing as best I could without wetting my armpits. It was strange having this guy watch me shower but I started getting turned on as I ran my hands over my tits, gently pinching them, never feeling his constant gaze leave me. I felt like an object of desire ... his desire ... and despite the daddy/master boy/slave roles we were playing, I'd never felt more like a man in my entire life.

"That's enough. Dry off and come back to the bedroom."

He left and I quickly toweled myself off, pausing just long enough to take a long whiff of my sweaty pits. Good! They were still stinking to high heaven... just the way my Fist Master had ordered.

I came back into the room and saw that he'd pulled several more new things out of the black bag.

"Here, take another hit of the C ... you're gonna need it," he ordered. This time he used his own finger to grab the white powder and as he brought it up to my open mouth, I noticed it was not much different in amount than my first big hit, but figured what the hell I'd loved -- no, craved -- everything we'd done so far. He took an equal size hit himself and then stared at me with a rather evil look that half frightened me, but mostly just made me excited with anticipation.

"We're gonna play a little fantasy game, boy. Only you're gonna believe it's for real. It's real simple. You're gonna pretend you're 18 and home alone. You're gonna be up in your bedroom with a big fat cucumber up your ass and your big brute of a daddy's gonna come home and catch you in the act."

My god, how could he have guessed? I hadn't told him what I used to do with cucumbers at that age.... I'd never told anybody. He was either a psychic or a god ... maybe both.

He continued to stare intently at me. He was taking this very seriously and I could tell this fantasy -- for whatever hidden reason -- was a major turn on for him

That made two of us..

"The rest of the scene is gonna be a surprise. From that point on, you'll do whatever I tell you to do, exactly the way I tell you. Got it?"

"Yes sir," I said. My heart was beating so fast that I thought I would pass out.

"Is your ass into trying this, boy?" he asked, giving me the option of backing out, I suppose which was a good sign I'd likely be okay when it was all over.

"You bet, sir I mean ... daddy sir."

"Good boy. You're gonna have a hot fucking time as long as you do what I say. You got any cucumbers?"

"Uh ... no sir ... I don't think so."

"Then we'll have to use this," he said as he reached one more time into the bag and pulled out a thick butt plug.

"I'm gonna go downstairs and have another drink while you get yourself all hot and bothered on this baby here. And just remember ... when I come back, you're 18 years old, your ass can't ever get enough action, and you've got one fucking mean stud for a dad."

"Yes sir .. uh dad," I replied, getting into the role. I'd always had such wild fantasies, actually creating the reality of this one would be easy. Several minutes later, as the latest hit of crystal started to kick in again, I was already getting turned on about the mystery of what was about to happen.

I was on the bed on my hands and knees, rubbing the thick plug around my itchy ass hole. I lubed it up generously with some crisco and then began to stick it in. As good as it felt to have something else back up my ass, I instantly realized that a mere dildo would never again be good enough to satisfy me again now that I'd had Jim's er, DAD's fist and arm inside me.

Nonetheless, I started getting into the son role as I began fucking it in and out, squirming my hairy butt all around the butt plug, wishing it could come to life and morph into my dad's thick wrist and forearm.

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

I woke from my daze to see my dad standing at the entrance to the bedroom.

"Dad ... uh ...oh shit ... I thought you were at work."

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? SHIT ALMIGHTY, I DON'T BELIEVE IT! MY BIG JOCK SON IS FUCKING HIMSELF WITH WHAT'S THAT? A FUCKING CUCUMBER?"

"Dad ... please .... I'm sorry ... God ... I thought you were ..."

"You thought I was at the construction site for the day, didn't you, you little fag. And here you are with a fucking green vegetable all the way up your asshole. GODDAMNIT, BOY!"

I'd been so startled by his appearance that I still had the plug all the way to the hilt with the ridge at the end trapping the plug inside me. I reached back to try and pull it out and he walked over and roughly knocked my hand away.

"How could I have raised myself a fucking faggot! Well, boy, if it's a dick you really want up your queer ass, then we're gonna let you keep this thing stuck up there while you get your punishment. GET UP! And don't you fucking let that thing pop out of your asshole!"

Dad aka Jim went over to the black duffle bag Jim had brought and pulled out a section of white rope.

"Turn around, boy, and put your hands in front of you."

I obeyed as he wrapped the cotton rope around both my wrists and then tied them together. I could tell that he'd left just enough play in it to keep the circulation from being cut off.

"Lift your arms up, boy," he ordered as he took another length of rope and tied it to the post on the bed's steel canopy top. I was suddenly trussed up like a side of beef and, despite the genuine fear (and the crystal), I could feel my dick getting hard.

"Look at that," he sneered. "The little faggot is liking this. He's got a fat cucumber up his ass and a hard dick from his daddy tieing him up. Well let's see how much you like your punishment."

He reached into the bag and pulled out a wide leather belt. It was old and well worn, but it was nonetheless a very powerful symbol being held by this hot daddy stud still wearing his leather harness.

He slapped it a couple of times against my chest and I quivered in excitement. My dick was amazingly erect already and I couldn't wait to feel the belt's cruel sting. But I knew I also had a role to play.

"Please dad ... please don't hit me with that," I begged. "I'm sorry, dad. I can't help it if my ass gets so hungry for something in it. It never used to until coach ..."

"COACH!" he roared. "WHAT ABOUT COACH?"

I grinned to myself at the way I was steering him exactly where we both wanted this to go.

"It's nothing, dad .... I shouldn't have said anything. Just give me my whipping and let's get it over with."

He lashed the belt across my belly really hard, causing me to groan loudly in welcome pain.

"What did Coach do?" he demanded, now angrier than ever. "TELL ME BOY!" as he lashed another welt across my heaving pecs.

"Well, coach comes over sometimes when you're away on a construction job and he likes to uh fuck me. He told me as long as it's just between two straight jocks just getting their rocks off, it'd be okay and that it didn't mean either one of us is queer."

"BULLSHIT!" my father raged, slamming the belt across my body again. I couldn't help but groan again in sweet pain/pleasure.

"Your fucking fag football coach is coming over here and fucking my big jock boy in the ass!"

"Please dad ... I promised not to tell .... please just keep it between us."

He suddenly reared back and lashed the hardest force yet against my chest.

"YOU FUCKING WHORE!" he yelled as he sent another lash on my stomach. I couldn't help it ... my dick lurched forward even harder now.

He started plummeting the belt all over my body, starting with the chest, moving to my back, and spending lots of time on my tender ass cheeks.

I was screaming loudly, begging him to please stop, all the while hoping he'd keep it up for hours. All those years of fantasies about being abused were finally being realized.

He finally stopped and was breathing heavily, sweat dripping off his pumped up muscles. I wanted desperately to lick it all up. He grabbed my jaw between his bulging fist and clenched it tightly.

"Tell me, boy ... what else did the coach do to you?"

"Well ..." I stammered, out of breath myself. "He'd make me suck on his cock ... and make me lick his butthole too. Sometimes he'd .... uh dad, this is so embarrassing. Please just whip me some more, okay?"

"You sick little slut, you're actually liking this, aren't you," he snarled, the gleam in his eye signaling that he was real pleased with my performance. "BOY, TELL ME EXACTLY WHAT ELSE HE DID TO YOU -- NOW!"

"Well ..." I stammered, "sometimes after he'd fuck me with his dick, I'd still be really hot and turned on and my ass would still be so fucking hungry -- so he would put his fist up in me and fuck me that way."

"Goddamn! You perverted little whore!" His voice was much calmer now. I could see a change coming over "dad" and I couldn't wait for what came next.

"Well, I can see that I need to step up your punishment another level, boy. I need to inflict some real hurt on you so you'll never let Coach anywhere near your cunt ass again."

"Please dad, I need it, sir. I really need you to punish me, sir. I need you to let me know how bad I've been. Please punish me hard, sir!" I was pulling against the ropes, desperately needing his belt, his fist, his power, his fury.

He reached up and untied the rope that was connected to the bed, keeping my wrists still tied together. He roughly led me over to the corner of the room where, unnoticed till now, he had spread an old blanket of mine on the floor. My set of barbells, complete with full weights on them, were against the wall. He pushed me down and tied the rope around my wrists to the barbell rod. He then pulled the red bandana from his left back pocket and tied it around my eyes, effectively blinding me. My pulse rate quickened as I realized that I was now powerless to stop absolutely anything he wanted to do to me.

He shoved a bottle of poppers under my nose and told me to breath deeply.

I heard him do the same as I suddenly felt another onslaught of lashes against my back and ass. These were even harder than before and I realized he'd switched from the belt to a sort of riding crop with a wide leather head on the end. It made a delicious sound as it swished through the air, connecting with my flesh with a intense splash of isolated hot pain. I writhed in glorious pain-pleasure as he whipped me, loving the vile obscenities he shouted at me as he did so.

He stopped and my ears followed him over to the weight bench in the corner, sliding it over behind me so that he could presumably sit on it while he whipped me. The new whip was feeling pretty fucking wonderful by now, but I realized that my ass was squirming so hard on that butt plug, it was desperately trying to get something more.

He reached forward and pulled it out in one plop, making me briefly moan.

"So, you little pig whore ... you like your coach's fist stuck up your ass, do you?"

"Yes sir," I moaned. I was so hot, high, and horny now, I was beyond shame and I couldn't distinguish between my roles. "Please give me your fist, dad. Please fuck me hard, sir. I need you inside me so bad, sir."

"Your punishment ain't over, boy. In fact, it's just beginning. But before you get my fist, you're gonna have to deal with some big time hurting, you worthless piece of shit!"

I shuddered in anticipation as I heard him get up and go get something from the bed. Then I heard his heavy boots dropping on the floor in sequential thuds and the rustle of denim sliding off his legs. I had no clue what he was up to.

The subtle ting of the crisco can jostled against the wood floor and I was thrilled at the thoughts of his hand sliding back inside me for a rough fist fuck.

"Take several hits, boy," he ordered as the popper bottle reappeared under my nose. I heard him do the same and as the rush hit me, I could feel the tips of his fingers tickling my ass cheeks.

I pushed back, impatiently wanting him to push in when I realized that it wasn't his hand knocking at my back door. He was going to put his fucking foot in me!

He squished his crisco-laden toes all around my asshole, lubing it liberally for the onslaught to come. I'd never imagined a foot going up my ass and I was suddenly on fire for him to do it.

"Oh please, dad ..... please fuck me with your foot."

"BEG FOR IT, PIG!" he shouted as he landed a hard blow of the whip across my shoulders. I shuddered in excitement as the wave of pain flashed across my back.

"GOD, SIR, this is so HOT! PLEASE FUCK ME WITH YOUR FOOT, DAD! PLEASE SIR, I NEED IT SO BAD!"

He sent another couple of lashes across my back and pressed his foot hard against my ass. I could feel him curling his toes into a narrow point as he pressed firmly against the hole. He pressed forward and I pushed backward until suddenly, he was in.

"It hurts, sir!" I moaned genuinely. This was the thickest thing I'd ever tried to get inside me.

"It's supposed to hurt, pig. That's why I'm fucking you with my big size 12, you whore. You let the coach fuck you with his fist and you expect me just to pleasure you with the same?"

I kept pushing back against his foot, trying to get it in far enough so that the pain would turn to pleasure. I moaned loudly as I did it, not sure where the pain ended and the pleasure began.

Keeping his foot amazingly steady, he leaned far forward and shoved the bottle of poppers back under my nose. I inhaled deeply, taking an especially strong hit.

That was all I needed. Suddenly his foot was the finest fucking thing I'd ever felt. He started shoving it in and out, fucking me with it as he continued to rain lashes down on my back with the crop.

"Take it, boy! Take your daddy's big fucking foot up your faggot ass. You liking this boy?"

"Oh YES, SIR!" I shouted. "Please sir ... please give me more, sir!"

He stepped it up another notch and started really shoving his foot hard in and out of my heaving ass. I was close to being out of control and I begged him to go even harder with both his foot and his whip.

After an eternity of nearly out of control abuse, he slowed down as we both caught our breaths. I was drenched in my own sweat and the sweat smells coming from both of us were just as overwhelming as the poppers had been.

"You really got into that, didn't you boy?" he asked. His voice was normal again and I could tell he'd exited the fantasy.

"Yes, sir. I liked it a lot. I don't want it to end," as I squirmed back for even more of his big foot in me.

"We're not ever gonna stop," he said. But it's time to move on. Hell you've been pumping on my foot for most of the last hour."

I had no idea we'd been doing that for so long but was nonetheless sad when he slowly pulled it out. I heard the sound of paper towels being torn and figured he was gonna clean up his foot and then untie me.

But the ropes and the blindfold stayed on. I heard him get closer behind me and then smelled the poppers as he held them under my nose once again. He took a snort also and then told me to just go with whatever came next.

I felt his fingers at my still heaving asshole and realized he was trying to insert his dick inside me. The crystal had made it pretty soft but it was still a long piece of meat even when totally flacid. He got it inside and then pressed it all the way until I could feel his crotch hairs scratching my tenderized ass. The poppers had given me a nice buzz and I had an overwhelming feeling of warmness inside me.

That's when I realized he was pissing up my ass.

"Yeah, baby ..".he groaned "...take your daddy's hot piss all the way up your fucking boy pussy."

It felt incredible and I was moaning as loudly as he as my first piss enema filled me up with hot its soothing, seething warmth.

"Oh .... mmmmmm ....thank you, sir," I groaned as I wiggled against his thick piece of meat.

"You should thank me twice because you're gonna get a nice hit of second hand crystal in a few minutes,." he grinned as he pulled off the blindfold and started untying me while his dick stayed inside me, acting like a cork..

"Thank you twice, sir," I said, literally feeling a renewed rush all over again.

He pulled out, grabbed the poppers and the crisco and led me on unsteady feet back into the bathroom. Feeling really full, I started to head for the toilet but he stopped me and told me just to hold it in a little longer. He then stepped into the over-sized bathtub and stretched his long legs out as he laid back.

"Get in, boy," he ordered, "and get on your hands and knees above me."

I wasn't real sure what he was trying to do, but he helped me get into position so that my ass was just above his chest and my head was just above his dick. I couldn't help but put it in my mouth, hoping I'd get just a little more piss.

And I wasn't disappointed. He still had some left as he pissed his final streams deep into my gulping throat.

Then came the surprise.

"Let both take some poppers and then I want you to do something really raunchy for me, boy."

"Yes sir," I replied as I took a strong hit and handed him the bottle.

"Now squat down," he ordered as I felt his lips come into contact with my ass.

He stuck his tongue deep inside me and I knew there was no way I could hold in all the piss he'd hosed up there.

"Sir ..... I can't hold it ...." I warned.

He pressed his mouth even closer and I knew then what he wanted.

I tried to control the flow ..... a little at a time, but it wasn't easy after all the fucking my ass had endured so far that night. But he eagerly sucked at my asshole like a man dying of thirst. This was so hot I couldn't stand it as I released his piss back into his mouth a little at a time.

I had probably emptied about half of his piss and it felt like he'd drunk every drop. He pushed me up and said heatedly, "Quick ... hand me the lube."

I reached up and grabbed the can of crisco as he told me to get my ass up and on my hands and knees above his face.

He stuck several globs of the white stuff in and around my ass and wasted no time in sticking his fist straight up my hole.

"Oh thank you, sir," I managed as his big thick hand once again found its way home.

He pressed forward, sliding what felt like a big part of his wrist and forearm inside. I could feel it squishing and mixing with the piss that remained up there and, as he began to pump, I could feel it leaking out around his arm and down my thighs as he fucked it in and out.

He had a bird's eye view of his fist in my ass as I was literally right above his face.

"This is so fucking beautiful," he moaned. "I wanna get my whole fucking arm in you, boy. You want that, boy? You want your daddy's big arm all the way?"

"Oh yeah .. oh yeah, sir. Please give it to me, sir. Please stick your whole goddamn arm in me."

I was hot and high and beyond all reason at this point. I just wanted him as deep as I could take it and he was clearly turned on by his power over me to make it happen.

"Okay, boy, for this to work you're gonna have to make it work. As I push in, you're gonna have to open up inside and push back. Just will it to happen, boy. Concentrate on relaxing yourself inside and just let me slide it in."

"Oh yes, sir .....yeah .... it feels really good so far, sir."

"You're doing real good, boy. You've almost got my elbow. Take another hit of poppers and just go for it."

I breathed deeply from the bottle and knew immediately that I'd pass this test with flying colors. As the rush consumed me, I just sat down on it, pushing inches more deep inside me within a matter of seconds.

"Goddamn!" he shouted. "You're taking my whole fucking elbow! Shit! You're almost all the way up my bicep now!"

I was breathing hard and trying to not hyperventilate. I had a Mack truck parked up my ass and I was trying desperately to hold on to some sense of reality. But as he wiggled his fingers deeply inside my guts, I lost it.

"AHHHHHH ..... Uhhhhh .... FUUCCCCKKK ME!" I screamed. I babbled incoherently as he started fucking his arm in and out of my hole. I realized at some point that I was doing most of the fucking as I raised myself up and down as fast as my thighs would lift me.

He just kept saying "Goddamn" over and over again. I think he was totally amazed that I was taking his brutal fucking so deeply so that his only words that could come out were "goddamn!" Of course, he was also soaring really high on the crystal as well.

Finally, my legs gave out and I collapsed on top of him with his arm still deep inside me. He slowly and carefully pulled out until just his fist remained inside.

"Mmmmmm," I moaned. "Please don't stop."

He laughed as he indeed pulled out what must have been one exhausted hand and arm.

"You are such a fucking beautiful pig! We'll take a little rest, boy, and then start all over again. How's that?"

"Okay, sir..... whatever you say sir." My body was exhausted but my butt remained as insatiable as ever, if not even more so now. I managed to get out of the tub and stepped in the shower to wash the crisco and piss and ass juices off my lower half. Jim soon joined me under the warm spray, hugging me tightly as he stuck his tongue down my throat. I could taste the combination of piss and ass juice in his mouth and it made me start getting hot all over again.

"Take a short little enema and come find me," he said.