1. Shaun is model-pretty, he mostly just fucks older married women, but he says I’m fun.
It’s Homecoming night, my Budweiser soaked blue gown is flipped up over my waist. Heavily scented with pot and Drakkar Noir, he leans in and whispers “I want to be the first to fuck your ass.” Shaun promises to go slow. If I like it, he says, then I’ll want to do it again.
He scoops a translucent fingerful of Vaseline from a little tub, then rubs the outside of my asshole in little circles. Slowly, he slides one finger, then two, gliding them in and out for a long time. I almost fall asleep from the rhythm. I lie on my stomach, he nestles in close, guides his dick in. It doesn’t hurt a bit.
2. Lee is hiding something, I find out exactly what in his toolbox one day. When he comes home from work, I throw the box of condoms at him. We’re young and violent. I’m seven months pregnant and freshly twenty-one years old. He says he bought them so he could fuck me in the ass. I call him a liar, stab the little blue packets through with a kitchen knife.
Weeks later, I find another box in the crawl space. Bitterly, I ask him if he was still planning on ass fucking me. Shoving me face first onto the water bed, Lee rolls a condom on. He holds me down and forces his dick in my ass. The condom isn’t lubricated. Biting my lip, I refuse to make a noise. He frees one of my hands, and I hold the heaviness in my stomach. I cry the next time I shit.
3. When I visit Eric, his nightstand is covered with pill bottles. Dirty glasses sticky with brown liquor are stacked on the dresser. He takes so many pills that his cock won’t work. Instead, he licks my ass, long and slow, for hours, until I feel like I’m floating away.
4. Dean is gay. I find out two months into our marriage. One night, I catch him jerking off to a VCR tape of Asian guys wearing sailor costumes. I stare at the screen a moment, watching them smile and suck each other off. I pivot and go back upstairs, trying to process it. Gay doesn’t bother me, it’s the cheesy porn that I can’t wrap my head around. Sailors? Really?
He’s been afraid to tell me, to tell anyone. We order a pink rubber dong from the back of a magazine. Neither of us knew we had to buy a harness, so I have to hang onto it while I lay on his back. All the lube makes it too slick, I jab awkwardly and hope it goes where it’s supposed to. We divorce a few months later, but not because of this. Dean will never come out. Years later, I hear that he ends up remarried, five kids. I don’t know if he’s happy.
5. Edward says I have to tell him exactly what I want in bed. He says he can’t read my fucking mind, for fuck’s sake. I tell him I love having my ass licked. He leaps from the bed and shouts “Jesus fucking Christ, you don’t just say something like THAT to people. Fuck!” and stalks off, still naked.
6. On his back, Brian spreads his legs open wider. “How many fingers is that?” he gasps. I slip a third into his ass. My hand cramps, I tell him to try getting on his knees. The plasticky lube scent and the salt of sweat mingle, the room feels hot and close. I smooth a towel out and put on a clean latex glove. Thrusting his ass in the air, Brian says he’s ready to keep going.
I work another finger full of lube into his asshole. I keep working fingers and lube until everything is in except my thumb. Eyes closed, Brian reaches back and tugs his cock. I fold my thumb in closer to the palm of my hand. With my free hand, I reach for the video camera. Through the viewfinder, I watch my knuckles slip deep into his ass. My hand folds into itself and Brian groans. I whisper to him how beautiful he is, how much we both needed this. He peaks, I can feel everything shudder from the inside. “You’re so beautiful,” I tell him, “this is so beautiful.”
4 thoughts on “Six stories about anal sex”
I love how the words ‘anal sex’ conjure up just one image in most people’s minds, yet you can tell six very different stories about it.
Lizzie’s right – and are these all from the same person’s viewpoint? Unless the chronology is mixed up they seem to be from different people.
Rimming really is lovely though, isn’t it?
Like all my other stories, these are all my stories. This one is in chronological order…who is the same person at 17, 25, 30, etc? I feel like I’ve totally been different people at different times, who doesn’t, right?
Well, that just makes you even more interesting!