I belong to the Anal Sadists and Sluts (A.S.S.) group on Fetlife, and recently read the discussion What Do you Like to See? by Lochai. He’s got some beautiful photos, and has recently started (or is starting?) a new kink-on-demand video thing over at kink.com with girls doing/getting/giving enemas/assplay. I’d find it more fun if it wasn’t only g-on-g, actually. Which is, hmmm, something else to post on, perhaps. Anyway, got me to thinking about my own assplay journey and turn-ons, so I thought I’d share.
I was first introduced to the idea of anal play in Nancy Friday’s book of women’s fantasies, My Secret Garden. That was the first time I realized that assplay could be erotic, even that anal sex existed, that there was such a thing as erotic enemas. Or enemas at all, actually. I lived in a household where I was never taught about my own menstrual cycle, much less anything else that “unsanitary.” (And I wonder why it took me–is still taking me–so many years to get over the “shame” of monthly bleeding. Duh.) Anyway, back to anal play, I remember fantasizing for a long time about those things, long before I ever explored any of it in reality. Images, both real and imagined, were all I knew for a long time. I didn’t know what any of it might feel like, but the visuals of a cock pushing into a tight, round hole, the asshole opening up to receive it… Or an enema nozzle, sliding in, slippery and clandestine, before it begins to pulse with water… those sustained my masturbation fantasies for a long time. Later, I would discover the realities, both pleasurable and painful (which has its own kind of pleasure) in all kinds of anal play, but it is still a mixture of the physical sensation and mental images that get me. It is as much about my mental of image of him standing over me, hand in my hair or gripping my shoulder, his cock teasing the waiting opening of my ass, as it is the feeling of him pushing inside me, my body resisting at first before slowly, achingly, opening up to him.
So yeah. “What do I want to see?” resonates with me, because all the while I am experiencing the physical aspects of it, I am also, almost vicariously, experiencing my visual imaginings of it. Those images are playing in my head as I am feeling the reality of it. When I saw a recent set of photos, with me tied down by my neck, hands high above my back, legs open and ass on display…wow. That was like seeing all those mental fantasies come to life. All those porn shots, all those images in my head–right there, in the flesh. And it was me! I’ve fantasized about having a cock before, but that was the first time that I truly missed not having one, not having been the man standing there behind me with a hard cock to thrust into that dark, tight, musky hole, knowing that eventually it would open for me, knowing that eventually the body beneath mine would succumb, spread around my cock, the tightness I’d find there…
But there’s more than that. As much as I love the images, the physical sensations, and hearing the words (for a time just fantasizing about someone growling in my ear “I’m going to fuck your ass,” was enough to send me over the edge when I was teetering there), there’s another element that twists desire deep inside me: embarrassment. Even just writing about it makes me a little flushed, a little breathless. In seeing those things in my mind’s eye, in seeing those “wrong” things being done to me, I feel a deep embarrassment and humility. It is one sexual act–assrape, anal sex–that can bring me down to my submissive state rather than a sexual one, even when it is feel-good ass sex. It doesn’t inspire that ferocious sexual animal in me, but rather something meek, open, accepting, even when it’s making me hotter than hell. It’s a strange mixture.
The other day, when W had me wear a buttplug to lunch, it was as much the insertion of it–and the remembered embarrassment of that act–as it was the wearing of it that got to me. The whole time, as we drove to restaurant, while we walked inside, as we sat at lunch, I knew that he knew I had this thing in my ass, and that I had presented myself to him so that he could push it inside me, and I had that image in my head, staring me in the face, so to speak.
Remembering laying across his bed, knowing he was behind me, looking at my ass–no let’s be brutally honest here, not just my ass, men look at my ass all the time and it doesn’t embarrass me–looking at my asshole. If I could have squirmed away right then I would have. And then I felt his finger slide around the outside, felt the lube he was (kindly) using, and the image of it was almost too much to bear. I held my breath, squeezed my eyes shut; I didn’t want the embarrassment of watching what he was doing even in my imagination. And he hadn’t even put anything inside me yet. It was that knowledge, that he had that power over me, to tell me, “we are going to do this,” to make me open myself, that secret part of myself, to him that way, that made my stomach do flip-flops, that fucked with my head later.
There were the physical sensations: the feeling as he slid his finger into my asshole, such a deliciously embarrassingly pleasurable sensation; the slight release and relief and bit of disappointment as he slid his finger back out before placing the buttplug just there, at that tight opening of flesh; the pressure as he pushed it in, forcing me to open to it; the pain of pushing it all the way in, before the almost-bliss when it was finally all the way in; and the feeling of it stretching me painfully, filling me. And there were the emotional sensations: acute embarrassment, denial that I want it, that I want to feel exposed and made vulnerable this way. And the images all the while in my head, playing like a dirty movie: him standing over me, my legs and ass spread for him, his finger in my asshole, his hand pushing the plug inside me, and me, opening to him, my asshole spreading around the buttplug, clenching around it and holding it tightly inside me. It was enough to send me spiraling into subspace, just that easily. Nice.
Thank you, Nancy Friday, for such a sweet beginning to a lifetime of anal play.
