By Chris Ward

I went to Chicago mainly to attend the MAFIA parties that have become legendary events at every IML. MAFIA member Edward Edgington, famous for his double jointed hands, and his MAFIA buddies had decided to make this year's IML a special event for me. They knew who I was because of my editorial role at Trust Magazine. Ed picked me up at the airport and he and other Mafiosos gave me special treatment for the entire weekend. Thanks guys-you made IML 1998 one of the greatest weekends of my life. I think I fisted over 25 guys, and popped 7 handball cherries. They were ripe and sweet!

The Saturday night MAFIA party was a fisting extraviganza extraordinaire. Edward had worked his magic on my hairy hole on Friday--you guys who have not experienced a "professional top" need to give him a call. He really knows what he is doing (he is a founding member of the Association of Professional Fisters). I am proud to be in his company. My ass was worn out by this, the second ful day of IML. But was I ever horney! I had worked a booth during the day and was basking in the glow of the realization that I had become a fisting celebrity. I had not anticipated being so famous. But I liked the constant attention of so many hot men. Lets cut thru the shit--I was having the time of my life!

My Butt out of commission, I decided to do what I do best: top every hot hole in sight. The Party started around 10, and I worked over a few beginners (and added several cherry feathers to my cap). But I was ready for something more powerful. I asked Edward to find me a punch hole--I wanted to put on a show and deliver the best fisting of the weekend. I wanted to do it in public, so these MAFIA guys would not forget that San Francisco men know how to fist.

Edward introduced me to a hot leather stud who wanted my arm up his ass really bad. I think he was flattered that I showed intertest. After all, I was the celebrity at the party and there was a long line of guys that wanted me to work them over. I lead him to the sling of my choice--not one secluded in the shadows, but one that hung on center stage. I was out to show these mid-western boys what a Chris Ward Fucking Punch Fisting was all about. I asked Edward to join me. Together we would work this guy over and give him a fisting of a lifetime!

His Ass twitched in anticipation, and I think he was a bit nervous because of the big, spiked gauntlet I wore on my left wrist. I made sure he knew I was wearing it--and that I did not intend to take it off. My right hand, however, was the one I first fired up his shit chute. Little did he know that the gauntlet would also kiss his ass before the night was over.

The Fisting started out gently, Edward and I alternating in five minute turns. He moaned and groaned and loved the warm up. He was as good of a bottom as we were tops. That, after all, is why Edward introduced me to him in the first place. Right from the start Edward assumed the role of the healer, and I of the tormentor. In alternating fashion, I abused his hole and Edward soothed it--we knew that this would make him able to take our paws for hours. And it worked.

Punch Fisting is my specialty, and after about a half hour of warming up our bottom I whispered into Edward's ear, "lets get started." He took his hand out of the now gaping hole and without a moment's hesitation I fired by fist, hard and solid, right up his butt. I instructed him to look directly into my eyes, to breath deeply (no comment about what he was breathing!), and focus on taking it good. He smiled and grabbed my forearm with his ass. I grinned back and started punching. He got loud; I got loud. People started watching. I told him we were the center of attention and that for the next hour he was going to be the MAFIA MAIN EVENT!

He like being in the spotlight as much as I, and he performed well. I punched him hard and fast, coaching him all the while on how to breath, when to relax-- how to take it like a man. I fisted him with both hands--at one point he took both mine and Edward's at once. And he liked it when I shot my gauntlet right up to his sphincter--the sharp spikes pressing into his butt cheeks. I could have hurt him, but I am skilled at the craft of handballing. His nervousness added to the excitment.

Punching away as hard as I could, I marvelled at what this guy could take. As a bottom I could never do what he did that night. I envy his ability. I increased the energy and told him to FIGHT me. "Try to keep me out, buddy," I yelled. "Make it interesting for me! Just try to keep my hand out of your hole!" By forcing him to resist me it raised the stakes of the fisting--it became much more intense-- and perhaps a bit more dangerous. He fought me hard, but this is a battle I have fought a thousand times. It is a battle I have yet to loose. I threw my greassy gauntlet towards his face, watching him recoil. He squeezed my other wrist so hard it hurt!

Everyone was watching us, his cries of pleasure and pain attracting attention from every side. Words formed in my mouth, without me even really thinking about them. Forcefully, with my fist punching like a piston, I yelled at him. " Remember who is fisting you, buddy. This is about as good as it gets." He looked directly at me and I knew he would think about this moment of fist fuck bonding over and over again. "This is a punch fuck San Francisco Style! You ain't gonna have it this good until I come back to town!" He had a butt orgasm as I said these words. I slowed down, eventually letting my hand lay still in his ass. He took a while to relax and his smile never faded.

I had done my job.

Me at the MAFIA partry

I think this session was The Fisting of the Saturday night MAFIA party. I know he thought so. It was one the highpoints of my Chicago Adventure. When you read this buddy, please accept my thanks. Those were hours to remember.


Updated 5/24/05

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