How to Have Anal Sex For the First Time (If You Are Me)

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Begin innocuously enough. Go out for dinner with the crush/bang-buddy/friend to whom you’ve just given a blowjob. Get a little drunk with him, on big pints of locally-brewed beer, and laugh at all the jokes he’s making because weed and BJs make him cheerful.

While talking about your sexual goals for the year, suddenly have a brilliant idea – but the kind of idea that maybe only seems brilliant because you’re drunk. Start to tell him, but think better of it. Cover your mouth with your hand. Blush a lot. Shake your head. Let him pry it out of you, because the more that you keep it inside, the better an idea it seems. Finally: ask him if he wants to be the first person to fuck you in the ass. Because you want it. Because you trust him. Because he’s been on both sides of butt stuff plenty of times before and knows what he’s doing.

Be pleasantly surprised when he immediately agrees, and yet also not surprised at all, because he’s sweet and chill and adventurous and seems to genuinely like you. Concoct a plan with him, involving a hotel room and hours of slow, luxurious warm-up. Nod sagely when he tells you, “Let’s sleep on it and decide tomorrow,” while knowing in your heart of hearts and butt of butts that you’ve already decided and the answer is yes. Pay the cheque and tipsily stumble back to his place together. Give him one more BJ for good measure before saying goodnight.

The day before, text all your friends and tweet to all your followers about your sodomous plans and get their advice. Put your favorite butt plug in and leave it in for hours on end, to re-acclimatize your ass to penetration after a long stretch of none whatsoever. Masturbate idly while the plug is inside you, savoring that weird mix of pleasure and unfamiliarity. Wonder idly if you should’ve invested in an anal thruster for a more realistic warm-up.

Send dude a link to a cheap hotel listing, which is your indirect-and-yet-very-direct way of saying, “Yes, I still want you to fuck my ass.”

Pack a bag full – and I do mean full – of toys and other sexual accoutrements. Two Pure Plugs, the Ryder, and the large Ripple. Two bottles of lube. Black latex gloves. A zillion condoms. A tightly-folded Throe. The Pelt, incase of spanking. Salsa, Tango, and Hitachi. Put the Uncut #1 in there because you’ll want something roughly the same size as the dick that’ll be going in your ass, and when you put the Uncut in your mouth to test its size, you think, “Yeah, that feels about right.” Start getting real fucking excited.

While tipsy at a Valentine’s Day party, hide in the bathroom and sext the dude: “Very much looking forward to doing things to you with my mouth tomorrow.” Because you’re slightly obsessed with blowing him. Squeal when he texts back, “Bring toys.” Later, actually scream, at a totally inappropriate moment during the Valentine’s party, when he sends you a picture of a woman getting DP‘ed with toys. Because, holy shit, he’s going to DP you. Go home and add the Eleven and Double Trouble to your already-bulging toy bag because you suddenly want him to ram you with something big and heavy.

The morning of, do what you usually do when you’re anxious: journal a lot, listen to soothing music, and worry disproportionately about how to do your makeup. Have a breakfast of 3 Oreos and a cup of coffee, because you’re too nervous to eat real food and also because coffee will help clear out your system. Go about your day, running errands and writing and doing chores, while inevitably unable to focus on any of it.

As the sun starts to set, glaze your body in coconut oil so you’ll be nice and soft for him. Get in the shower and shave your legs, your armpits, your vulva, your butt. Like most lengthy femme rituals, this is more about the way it makes you feel than the way it makes you look: eliminate some of your anxiety by eliminating all of your body hair. Wash your body with Lush’s “The Comforter” shower cream, because smelling like berry candy makes you feel like the hottest, beautifulest babe. Fill a bulb syringe with lukewarm water, squirt it into your ass, jump up and down a bit, then let the water flow out of you. Do this a few times, until you feel confident and clean.

Put on some cute underwear, a comfortable outfit that’s easy to remove, and minimal makeup that won’t flake off if you end up face-down on a bed. Take deep, calming breaths and then dance your ass off (no pun intended) to energizing songs for a last-minute burst of confidence.

Walk to the streetcar stop, carrying your heavy-as-fuck toy bag. Ride the streetcar and wonder what the other patrons would think if the bag accidentally spilled open and they saw all your butt plugs and fancy dildos. Get off where Google Maps tells you to, and walk toward the hotel. Start feeling intensely dizzy, partly from anxiety and partly from the exertion of toting sixteen pounds of sex toys through snowy city streets.

Arrive at the hotel, which is small and strange and reminds you of The Shining if it was shot on no budget. Schlep your stuff up to the second floor and find the room number that the dude texted you. Smile when he opens the door for you, because he’s cute and you like him and you’re happy you’re gonna do this with him of all people.

Tell him you’re anxious. He is too. Assuage your nervous hearts with weed for him, gin and chocolate for you, and giggly makeouts for both of you. This is a never-fail prescription.

Give him a beej. For two reasons. One: his dick is excellent, and having it in your mouth turns you on faster than just about anything else. And two: if you get nervous and back out of your buttsex plans, you won’t feel as bad about it if he’s already come. This move is strategic. Or… strabeejic, if you will.

Lube up a Pure Plug and slide it into your ass, while he gives you sage advice on technique and angle, like some kind of butt sherpa. Laugh a lot, because he’s doing silly impressions and voices for your amusement, and think: yeah, I definitely chose the right person to do this with.

Let him do stuff to your nipples and clit and G-spot, because holy fuck, he has talented hands. Do your best to give directions, because sometimes you get too shy to boss people around but you know you’ll need to be a top-notch communicator tonight if he’s gonna fuck your ass. Don’t come yet – you wanna save that for later.

Bend over and let him take out your Pure Plug and switch it for the Ryder. Recall when you first bought your Ryder, years ago, and tried to put it in with no warm-up and not enough lube, and how goddamn awful and stupid that was. Enjoy the contrast between that moment and this one: the slick way he slathers lube on the plug and lines it up just right. The utter ease of taking a big toy when you’re really ready for it. The encouraging words in your ear as you back up onto it and it slides in, pop, no pain, no problem.

Make out some more. Touch each other. Giggle. Play. This isn’t a race. There’s no schedule. No marks to hit. No obligation to follow through. Just do what you feel like. Teach him how to spank you. Show him how you like your clit touched. Tug on his chest hair. Kiss his cute face.

Recognize your readiness by how relaxed you feel. Anxiety dissolved and apprehension bested, grab a condom and some lube and get him hard in your mouth. Pull the plug out, slowly. Bend over the edge of the bed with a Hitachi pinned between your clit and the mattress. Smile against the sheets, because this feels like a game.

As he slides into you, breathe deep, cleansing breaths of calm focus, and then fast, heavy breaths of unexpected pleasure. Moan, writhe, bite your lip, grind against the Hitachi. Think about how easy it was for him to push into you. How hot, hard and slippery he feels inside you. How good this is, how much better it is than you even expected. Feel completely safe, and taken care of, and respected, and filled, and fucked.

Stop him after a couple minutes, because the sensation is… a lot. Curl up beside him and high-five him when he announces, “So, you’ve officially had anal sex now!”

When he asks how he can get you off, let him choose between the Eleven and the Double Trouble. Smile as he weighs each in his hands, taking the decision as seriously as you knew he would. And then lay back and let him fuck you so perfectly with the DT while the Hitachi’s mashed against your clit, until you come in the long and loud and wild way that you only ever come with partners who make you feel unashamed. Kiss his big lubey hands when he wraps his arms around you afterward and says, “That was hot.”

Once you’ve come back to earth, put your clothes on and go out for celebratory dinner and drinks at a nearby pub. Because, hell yeah, good sex is worth celebrating.

 

This post contains a sponsored link. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

My First Threesome Was a Smash Success

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On Friday night I cracked open a fortune cookie and it told me my life is becoming more of an adventure… in bed. I didn’t give this prediction much thought, because, you know, it came from a fortune cookie.

But then, the next night, I had my first threesome, so maybe the cookie was onto something.

 

I have a beautiful, blonde, effervescent friend who I’ve known for almost 10 years. We met through Livejournal and bonded over a shared dorky enthusiasm for musical theatre. As it happened, we both ended up running in the same sex-positive feminist circles as we got older, so we’ve been reconnecting recently after a long period of mostly being casual-pals-from-afar.

She invited me over for what we thought was going to be a quiet night: dinner, conversation, and “Netflix and chill” in the literal sense. But then we went a little hard on the wine, some clothes came off, and we got into some slutty chats with her rowdy roommate… One thing led to another, and it was decided we should go out. My friend gave me a cute dress and jacket to wear, and we put on some sky-high heels and headed out to a loud underground bar.

She and I got to talking about a dapper dom guy we both know and have both banged, and we agreed (half-jokingly, except completely-seriously) that we should have a three-way with him someday. I am standing on the precipice of having a full-on Slut Phase and my blondie pal had agreed to be my mentor in this endeavor – my Slut Sherpa, or the Dumblewhore to my Ron Sleazy, if you will – and orchestrating a threesome seemed like a great way to kick that off.

When I get tipsy, I get flirty and text-happy, so of course we notified our mutual bang-buddy of our plan, not really expecting him to take us seriously. But, y’know, we’re foxy babes with feminine wiles, so he agreed pretty quick. “That’s a lot of babe for one dude,” he texted, to which I replied: “I think you can handle it.”

He met us at the bar and we cabbed back to his place. We talked for a long while, and did that tipsy thing where you all giggle over Facebook photos of your exes, and the boy let me borrow a pair of his socks because my feet were cold (quel gentleman). And then we migrated to the bed and cuddled a bunch. And boobs were (consensually) shoved into faces, and then she started giving him a blowjob while I kissed him… which I wish I’d been more alert/sober for, honestly, because holy shit, it was the logical next step in my blowjob porn obsession. Hnnnggg.

It’s often hard for me to remember the order of events in sex with just two people, because bodies blur together and pleasure makes brains into mush… so with three people, obviously this problem is exacerbated. Plus, when cute people are doing pleasurable things to me, my eyes tend to drift closed, making it hard to follow the action. But I do remember a cock in my hand, and mouths on my nipples, and a hand rubbing me through my panties, and fingers in my mouth, and a hand on my throat, and my tits being slapped, and and and… smiling-face-with-heart-shaped-eyes

Eventually my beautiful friend took off my panties and started going down on me. She had already displayed her blowjob prowess earlier in the night and now she was proving her cunnilingual skills too. I don’t know if you have ever had the experience of knowing someone platonically for a long-ass time and then having sex with them, but… wow. It is eye-opening and strange and fantastic.

If our threesome was a porn scene, what happened next would’ve been the centrepiece shot: he started fucking her from behind while she continued licking and finger-fucking me. His thrusts reverberated through her body so I could feel their impact too, so it was like he was fucking both of us. Ummm, yes.

I can’t remember too clearly but I think we wrapped things up with him coming in her mouth while I dozed beside them. (I am a sleepy person and had had a lot to drink, okay?!) And then we cuddled some more, and checked in with each other about our feeeeelings, and it was niiiice.

Afterwards, the boy asked me, “How many threesomes have you had before?” and I sleepily held up my hand in an “O” shape and said, “This many.” And then probably grinned like an idiot.
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When we got up to put our clothes back on, I found that my friend had neatly folded my underwear and the dress she’d let me borrow, and had put them in a pile for me. (Perfect sex partner etiquette.) We kissed our gentleman-pal goodbye and walked to the subway station together. She took this photo of me on the platform, and it sums up the whole evening pretty well: dishevelled post-sex hair, cute dress and jacket borrowed from her, warm boy-socks borrowed from him, red wedge heels I’d switched out for flats, and a goofy, sleepy smile on my face.

Shortly after this photo was taken, a random guy came up to us and asked us how our night had been. We burst out laughing, and my lovely amiga told him we’d “cemented our friendship” that night. He kept pressing us for details, and I don’t know if it was because I was tipsy or tired or just bursting to share the news with someone, but eventually I told him, “We just had a threesome with a guy we’ve both banged before.” The dude’s eyes practically fell out of his head, and we just laughed.