Slings For The Uninitiated
Entry posted by ErosWired
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In the shadowy recesses of most sex dungeons and play spaces, many bathhouses, and every sex club ever devised, is at least one sling. You may have one of your own, if you are an aficionado. Slings are a kind of useful sex furniture suspended from the ceiling, not unlike a hammock except that they are basically dissimilar from a hammock in most respects.
Allow me to expound, with the caveat that I have lousy luck in slings. I have been fucked exactly four (4) times so far in slings, and have no idea what I am doing wrong. I can, however, provide a short list of what other people are doing wrong with respect to slings and the men who inhabit them.
Foremost, slings are for fucking. The point is for the bottom to climb into the sling, settle in with his legs elevated as though he were in a gynecological exam chair, his ass exposed and vulnerable over the end of the sling, and await the assault. When results are at their best, the assault consists of serial breeding by an array of Tops who take advantage of the available ass in a congenial, hail-fellow-well-met, even perhaps competitive fashion that leaves a pool of commingled semen as a slipping hazard on the floor beneath. In my experience, however, not all men are familiar with this basic function of slings.
Over the course of my last two CumUnions, I have made an effort to occupy the sling (for which there is a dedicated room in the bathhouse) for two purposes: 1) to offer my ass to Tops who might prefer not to enter an individual's room, but might do so in a "community room" like a sling room; and 2) to try to discover what prevents me from getting the full sling experience. Each time, I positioned myself carefully in the sling, wore my own leather leg cuffs with snap links for easy positioning on the hanging chain links, and wore a blindfold made from a handmade navy handkerchief with white polka-dots (hankie code for bareback-and-cum-inside). Thus arrayed, ass exposed strategically, suggestive of helpless vulnerability, offering anonymity, and signaling, to those in the know, the willingness to take it bare, I awaited my first eager fuck. I say "eager" in that I have always considered slings more the realm of the aggressive Top, as the modality lends itself to Top control; there being little the bottom can do to set the pace, rhythm or depth of penetration. All to the good, if the Top relishes that kind of control.
Each time, with uncanny similarity, the first contact has been from a hand reaching down to fiddle with my cock. At first, I didn't try to conceal it; later I put on my solid steel cock cage. Didn't matter. The hands played with my cock, which was not hard, slapped my balls, attempted to pull my cage down far enough to feed it into my anus(!)... and then departed. I can only assume that if they had been able to get me erect they would have tried to suck me off or jack me until I shot before leaving. The fact that this happened every single time, within minutes of my donning my blindfold, became frustrating.
Hands did not limit themselves to my cock. They also enjoyed slapping my ass - then slapping my chest, twisting my nipples, smacking my belly, slapping my thighs, attempting to tickle me over every inch my body (I am not the slightest bit ticklish) and striking my chest with first fists and then knuckles. On my last attempt, the nipple-twisting became so savage that I finally had to say, "Okay, that's enough of that," and then, more emphatically, "I said, THAT'S ENOUGH" and grab the hand that had ignored my original statement. The guy instantly apologized, and I explained to him that the sling was meant for fucking and not for any sort of BDSM activity, which would have required some negotiation up front in any case.
Then there are those men whom I have observed using slings when I have not been in them, species discussed in another thread around here somewhere, the Sling Lizard (Slingasaurus obnoxious) and the two varieties of Sling Hog, Slingasus rotundus and Slingasus immovabilis, the latter of which is distinguished by his disagreeable temperament. All of these suffer from the same evident misconception that the sling is a hammock-of-imagined-fantasy or a sort of hammock-with-remote-possibilities. It is, I suppose, possible that they have, in fact, the correct view of the thing, and that those of us who actually expect to get fucked when in a sling are the ones unconnected to reality. Regardless, I have always been careful to limit my sling-time to avoid being misidentified as one of the above fauna, and also to avoid having my goddamn cock smacked off.
I welcome any input from those of greater experience with slings who may be able to correct and/or confirm my observations. I would love to add a good sling-bang to my list of life accomplishments, but at my current pace, I fear I will remain among the uninitiated out of sheer ignorance.
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