I couldn’t attend the Melbourne February Soxster party due to other commitments but I hear it went really well. It was the last event to be held in that space.

Felix did this write up. I remember when he could barely take one fist – they grow up so fast. 🥲 I know it’s very fisting focused – and it’s important to note that the parties aren’t just about that but it’s a great perspective.


There was an air of relaxation in the place, people talking inside, all in jockstraps, exposed. Lots of touching – hugging, touching each others’ shoulders, going outside for a chat or a vape and rubbing circles on each others’ bodies. I bumped into a few people I knew and we talked about how they wanted to open me up for play. It started with one, with big hands. As they opened me up, they kept reminding me that they had big hands, so I shouldn’t be dissappointed if they couldn’t get a fist in. But then slowly but surely their face changed as they worked me open. Shock, surprise, greed and mirth. With one fell swoop, their fist was in, and their demeanour, which had been calm and collected, became focussed, dedicated and appraising. I knew this look, and egged them on. Deeper and deeper they went, opening me up like some deep tomb that was being excavated – slowly but surely with the greatest of care – until we eventually took a break to rest. I then spied the host after taking a break to laugh with the guests, and we set about for a reuniting of our bodies. Now, into a sling and slowly but surely worked to gape me. It was ecstacy to be that open, vulnerable even. To give what the host deserved and more. Singles, then doubles went in and out, blossoming my hole into a gash of an orifice. He saw the determination and calmness in my eyes, and called over two others with smaller hands – his request to have them work me over and attempt to triple me. And god damn did they come close. Thrice the two glided their slicked, subtle, sleight paws into my silky smooth cave, and nearly achieved their goal. But in the failure of that came an appreciation of the journey – nearly three, two and a half, two and three quarters, almost there… no. But there’s always next time. One of the two remained with me, keen to work me over until I was a blubbering mess. The precision and tension of his punches was unmatched – just enough to coax my body to open more, always more, always deeper, into the abyss of pleasure. I came, then came again, then pissed, and pissed and pissed until I could not bear the stimulation. Smiling, and grateful, we kissed deeply, and I ended the evening, grateful, open, vulnerable and satisfied.