So, I’ve been reading your blog a lot lately, and I like how positive you are about sex and stuff. So anyway, here’s the thing, I’ve been watching and getting off to some odd porn (umm scat porn) and it sometimes makes me feel ashamed and weird and I met this guy on grindr who’s into it and wants to do it with me and i kinda want to do it, you know, like if I’m really into this thing I might enjoy it and if not well just move on, but I feel very strange for kinda liking this stuff in the first place, WWYD? What advice would you give me? Cause I dunno I sometimes feel very… weird after I jerk off to this stuff. Hope I didn’t freak you out or anything lol. (BTW if you’ve done this kinda stuff what advice would you give me?)
Sweet little shit pig, you can’t freak me out. One of my favorite people in the world keeps scat porn on his phone.
Here’s a story. When I first saw fisting porn, I didn’t think it was real. When I realized it wasn’t fake, I was horrified. I quickly closed the browser window. Days or weeks later, I looked it up again. I was sitting in my car in the parking lot outside of a tanning salon and it was raining. I pulled up Pornhub on my phone and typed in “gay fisting.”
The first vid showed a guy pushing out a rosebud and I minimized the window, then deleted it. It was too much. It still is. I’m still squeamish about rosebudding, a part of fisting I try to overlook, something I don’t feel ready for, even though I am.
At some point, I jacked off to fisting porn — a one-off, novelty jackoff, something not to be repeated. I wasn’t like those guys. My hole would never look like that. They’ll never be able to shit or live normally, I thought (this later got debunked by pro fist bottoms who can shit fine). I felt like I was watching what happened when people stop caring about themselves, people who’ve given up on being healthy, who’ve taken fetish too far.
Over the next few years, I dated two men, became HIV-positive, and lived my life. And after about two years, I started talking about fisting with guys on Scruff and Grindr. I moved back and forth across the country. Months passed. Then one night after a day at the beach, I met someone with years of fisting experience and small hands. At some point I reached down and felt his forearm. I felt lower, to his wrist. But there was no wrist. He was in me. He was fisting me.
Trembling, I counted to ten, took a hit of poppers, and breathed. He gently tugged back, the wide part of his knuckle pulling against my hole from the inside, teasing it, tempting it back open. Then, forward, gently. Back and forward. Back and forward, rocking me like a buoy. I leaned back. I took it. I let go. I started moaning. The memory still makes me tremble.
I can’t explain fisting. I can’t give a logical explanation for it. I just know how it feels. It is the most intense and beautiful feeling I know.
It still scares me. Regardless how you see it, it’s tissue trauma. It’s risky, especially if you go too fast or push yourself too hard. It’s easy to get hurt. Developing your skill as a fist bottom requires a degree of body modification that you have to accept and embrace. That still scares me. I still sometimes feel strange for liking it. But all this fear and shame vanishes when I’m in the moment, when he’s pulling out and pushing in, building speed until I’m in another dimension, roaring my heart out.
Like scat play, fisting inspires disgust and horror, especially to people who aren’t into it. You already know this. You put the crux of your confession in parenthesis — the equivalent of whispering in text form. Parenthesis are apologies, a way of shying away from the text inside them. I know this sounds both cheeky and hard to do, but stop putting parentheses around the things that turn you on. That sounds really cheeky, so I’ll say it clearer: Stop wringing your hands over what people will think and own the blunt fact that you’ve jacked off to shit play.
You already know that many guys — including many adventurous, kinky, bareback-only pigs — draw a line at shit. You’ve seen it on countless hookup app profiles: “No blood, no brown.” What you like is a tabooed “extreme,” something guys will judge you for, something you’ll lose potential playmates for, something people will talk about when they talk about you. You could get hung up on that, but it doesn’t change the reality. You can accept it or not.
Meet this guy. Ask him how to play. Ask him about safety protocol. I don’t know much about scat play or what your specific fantasies are. Try it twice (at least two different occasions or at least two different playmates).
This is easier said than done, but don’t trust what you think. Trust what you feel. Only then can you learn the truth.