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For all the apparent confidence I might seem to have about buttsex, there have been times that it has completely terrified me.
Not because of the pain aspect. It’s never felt painful. Instead, I worry about poo.
***Please forgive me for discussing poo on a sexblog. If this squicks you out too much, go look at some pretty pretty pictures, ok?***
Rationally, I know my bottom is simply confused. It’s so conditioned to interpreting that particular sensation as needing to use the facilities that I get panicky when I’m first entered. I worry that poo will make an appearance, even though I know there’s none there. I worry even though I know that my partner would still like me even if we had a minor poo-tastrophe.
I know those things, and yet I do more than my share of panicking. However, the longer I have successful buttsex, the more my confidence grows.
Not long ago, my friend and I managed to spend several hours doing almost every single thing that a man and a woman can do to each other–except for buttsex. Not wanting to sully our record with anything but a complete performance, we set out to correct the omission.
I was so happily altered by our previous activities that I planted myself in the middle of the bed on all fours, not caring in the least that one hand and one knee wound up in puddles. I tilted my bottom up as he applied copious amounts of lube to us. I Zen-ed out while he entered me.
Once he was in me and moving slowly, I realized that I was not panicking. At all. My mind skipped right over the whole oh-my-god-I’ve-got-to-go feeling and went straight to the oh-my-god-this-is-fabulous feeling.
It was enormously enjoyable. It was so enjoyable that only moments later I was gushing down my legs despite the fact that I’d come about ten-thousand times not long before.
I gushed, and then I came in earnest. It was one of those orgasms that froze me in place and clenched every muscle in my pelvis. Apparently it felt pretty good to my friend too, because he wrapped his hand around my throat, clamped his teeth on my earlobe and moaned hard.
I nearly lost an earlobe and an eardrum but I didn’t care.
Let this serve as a note to my future self. Self, remember how easy it was this time. Don’t sweat that feeling of imminent poo-tastrophe. It’s not real. Remember.



