This is NOT a sexy blog post. There’s poo talk, peeps. I’d call this one more of a cautionary [and fucking embarrassing] tale.
I’ve got a question for you:
What’s the obsession between men and anal sex lately?
*I’m not deliberately gender stereotyping. I’ve just had more men than usual trying to crawl into my ass than women.
Don’t get me wrong, if anal sex is on the menu, I’ll order it from time to time, but if I’m being really honest, I don’t actually get anything from anal play. I like it because it’s naughty and it makes me feel naughty, and also because it’s a little taboo, and also because it hurts a bit and I quite like pain … but I don’t like it at the same time, for a multitude of reasons. It’s not going to make me come unless there’s clitoral stimulation involved at the same time (rare, in my experience). It also hurts and feels uncomfortable. That’s how it makes me feel, I can’t argue with that. And it’s also messy. But I’ll get to that in a moment.
The guy I’m with now [The Guy I Couldn’t Get Rid Of] and quite a few men before him have been obsessed with the idea of anal sex, and I feel like I made a bit of a mistake in introducing it to the table too soon, within just a few weeks of dating. As a general rule, I hold back on anal until I’m 100% sure I’m going to embark on a relationship with someone. It’s the kind of thing I wouldn’t put out there the first time I fucked a guy, you know? But this guy and I, we’d been making out and fooling around, smoking a bit and generally gettin’ frisky … it just kinda happened. And then it just kinda happened again. And then again. And now I’m kinda wishing I hadn’t done it already, because it feels like I’ve gotta do it every time he asks for it … because why not?
Other men have been just as enthralled by the idea of putting it in my ass, although they’ve not been as overzealous as this current one. The Lapdog, for example, was a big fan. And Big Love enjoyed it from time to time, but he didn’t mind if I didn’t want to … and he also didn’t mind when I suggested getting experimental and popping things in his ass to see how they’d feel. The Hubby was firmly against that idea but still pushed for me to open my ass to him even on days when I really didn’t want to.
My experiences with anal haven’t been great overall. My very first experience was horrendous. It emotionally scarred me and made me wary of anything to do with anal for many years to come. He was the guy who liked to tie me up and blindfold me [Number 2], even doing so the very first time we ever slept together. He took me to a house party one night, got me good and drunk, backed me into a literal corner and then shoved his cock in my ass, dry. Completely dry. No lubrication, no warning, no asking for permission first … nothing. I remember being in pain, scared, and completely unable to get myself out of the corner. It was traumatising. I was traumatised!
Thankfully, most men I’ve anally played with since then have been a little more clued up to things, understanding that a bit of lubricant will get you a long way. But it’s not just the lubrication and pain thing that worries me. My concerns go deeper than that, and in my defence, all of my concerns stem from experiences I’ve actually had. It’s not like I’ve got all these scary thoughts on anal without even trying it myself.
Like the story I’m about to tell you now …
A guy and I were doing the anal thing. He had fun, I tolerated his lengthy dick in my ass, and we got to the end. Grunts, groans, explosion, yadda, yadda, yadda, time to get cleaned up. Except it wasn’t just his spunk that I needed to clear up. There was something else.
There was a poo.
A teeny-tiny little rabbit pellet-sized poop had escaped my butt (and since mine was the only lubricated, played-with butt, I’m going to assume I was the culprit) and found its way on to the bedsheets. Our activity had moved things around a bit, and it had gotten itself stuck to the hairs of his leg. His knee, to be precise. There were little smears on my white bedsheets and a pellet of poop had gotten stuck to (and a little bit smeared around) his leg. It was our goodnight fuck and I tried to stay awake for long enough to hear him fall asleep so that I could then do something about the actual turd on my bed and his leg, but all of the fucking made me fall asleep too. The next thing I knew, it was morning. I woke up seconds before he did and immediately remembered that there was still an actual lump of turd on the bed and his leg … and probably in a worse state than it had been the night before.
So, I did the only thing I knew to do: I kicked him out of my bed, immediately sprung into action taking the sheets off to wash them, shouted something nonsensical about germs and bacteria and pretended not to notice that the guy I was currently sleeping with was staring at me like I was some crazed lunatic.
Of course, that only really solved the problem with the turd on my bed. What about the turd on his leg? Well, by that point, he’d already noticed the offending lump and started picking it off. He didn’t seem freaked out or grossed out by it. Maybe he thought it was a lump of chocolate? We had been eating chocolate the night before, after all. He didn’t say a word to me about it. I didn’t say a word to him about it. Neither of us has said a word about it to this day. And I’m REALLY hoping it stays that way, because what am I meant to actually say when he turns around and asks me if I shat on his leg and my bed that one time?!
Sadly, that’s not the only uncomfortable poo story I’ve got to tell. That wasn’t the first rabbit pellet-sized situation I’ve had. I was in an actual earthquake on the other side of the world at about the same time an actual poo pellet escape my ass during some vigorous anal sex — and he fucking noticed it. I was mortified, as you can probably imagine, and he [Big Love] thought the entire situation was nothing short of hilarious. It became a little inside joke of ours. Whenever I needed to be calmed down, he’d simply remind me – in a not-so-fucking-jokey-way – about that time I accidentally shit the bed during anal sex in an earthquake and how he could tell other people about the story anytime he wanted.
Well, fuck you, Big Love. I’ve told the story now. Whatcha gonna do?
Not that he could say anything, of course; I pulled a vibrator out of his ass with an actual lump of poop on the end of it once.
ANAL SEX IS SOMETIMES REALLY MESSY, YO.
Is it any wonder why I’m not rushing to let ‘em do it? Maybe we’ll come back to this topic another day …