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G’s last experience with anal play had been the very antithesis of ideal, so when she hinted that she’d like our meeting to include some elements of bottom-lurve, I resolved to give her something that would work backward in time to replace her previous pain.

We talked it over before hand, my friend and I did.  “We shouldn’t push it,” we promised each other.  “We don’t want to overwhelm her,” we said solemnly.

And we wondered, “Do you think G would like to see our assfuckery?”

So we asked.  Her answer came back as yes, yes, most emphatically yes she would like to see.  She quizzed me hard on the mechanics.  Would it be all right if she watched our encounter from his perspective?  Did it really feel good to me?  And most importantly, would we be gentle when toying with her bottom, and stop if she so requested?

My answers were all in the affirmative, although I’m sure you didn’t need me to say that.

On the night we were set to play, I carefully assembled a cache of supplies.  Silicone lube.  Baby wipes.  Towels.  Condoms.  And the prettiest little buttplug I’ve ever seen.

We ate dinner, we visited, we eventually got naked; when I saw that look in his eye I handed him a condom and jutted my behind into the air.

There have been many times in my life when I’ve felt shockingly exposed.  Receiving oral in public, being the first to skinny dip at an adult pool party, and getting prepped for a c-section spring immediately to mind.

But I’m not sure I’ve ever felt as exposed as I did with my friend entering me slowly from behind while G watched.  She could have been taking notes.  She should have been taking notes, considering how raptly, how intently I could feel her eyes on the juncture between my friend and me.

I lost track of who was touching me, but later found out that it was G who was running her hands up and down my back, G who was stroking my hair, G who eventually grabbed my friend’s hips and pushed him into me while murmuring words of encouragement to us both.

Conventional wisdom suggests that the bottom should be a heavily guarded secret, exposed only to one’s doctor and only in the most severe need.  Shame reigns supreme where the asshole is involved, but why should it?  Properly cared for and after much loving attention, its sexual possibilities are vast.  Having both G and my friend enjoying my behind brought on ripples of greedy, frantic lust — and eventually greedy, frantic orgasms.

Later perhaps I’ll write about what my friend and I did to G, but for now I’ll leave it at this:  I find the combination of blush-inducing exposure and attention infallibly thrilling.

Hm.

Perhaps this is why I not only enjoy the occasional observed buttfuckery, but also why I write a blog?