The "Up-the-Butt" Girl

Nothing gets a conversation between women moving like the discussion of anal sex. If there was ever a more polarizing sexual topic among women, I don't know what it is.  Except maybe swallowing, which Stoney could be writing about right now, so maybe we'd best compare notes in the future. 

Anal sex can be summed up by a large percentage of women in two words - "exit only."  I know this because I used to be one of these women and my friends predominantly are as well.  The thought of a guy putting his junk where the sun don't shine was horrific.  Because first, and I hate to state the obvious, POOP comes out of there.  And second, if anyone has ever had a "slip" (you know what I'm talking about here girls, a little too wet, doggie style, and then BLAM! something slides into the wrong place, really hard, and you think someone split you in two from behind) - a slip will kill any woman's interest in having anal ever again. But I'm a different girl these days, and I'd like to make the case for why I am.

My name is Rita Danger, and I like anal. 

I did not always like anal, for the reasons stated above, not to mention my own extremely low pain threshold in general, and quite honestly, my own self-confidence.  My transformation toward becoming a fan of anal was gradual, and now anal has become just another part of my sexual repertoire - and I recommend that you give it a chance and make it part of yours.    

I was gently convinced to lose my anal virginity through I guy who I trusted implicitly when it came to sex, and with whom I had no inhibitions.  Yes, faithful readers of this blog, it was the Reddi Whip guy.  I’M SORRY, I KNOW YOU ARE PROBABLY GETTING TIRED OF HEARING ABOUT HIM BUT NOW YOU KNOW WHY YOU DO.  He was amazing. But I digress.  One night, while I'm lying in bed with him, totally exhausted and satisfied by one memorable session that included at least three orgasms for me, he climbed on top of me while I was lying on my back, spread my legs wide, and started stroking my nethers with his (still) hard dick.  He was rubbing all of the wetness around and around, up and down, all over the place, which made me even wetter.  Then he slid into me, while he was on top, and I was on my back.  It was an intrusion, don't get me wrong, but I was so relaxed and so wet and so ready that it felt amazing.  It was the type of pain that caused immense pleasure.  I had no idea what that meant until that moment.  He thrusted very, very slowly at first and then gradually picked up the pace, but never too fast and never too hard.  Then he started rubbing my clit.  I was so into it, I could hardly even make any noise - it almost took my breath away.  It was one of the most vivid memories I have of a single sexual act in my whole life. 

I was a little sore the next day. But it wasn't terrible, and that first poop was a little rough, but nothing unmanageable.  The next few times that we had anal, it was the same - always as the finale of an amazing night, always with me on my back and totally relaxed and satisfied.  It was never like "So, do you want to try anal again tonight?"  He just magically made it happen.  Then we moved into trying it when I was on top, which was still a good angle.  I finally tried it with him doggie style, and that was the most invasive of the angles - the double black diamond of anal, for you skiers out there. It took at bit of getting used to - he had to go very slowly but I gradually got used to it.

Here's something that I learned, since my girlfriends who I swapped sexual tales and advice with weren't anal girls - you get used to anal sex like you get used to working any muscle.  It's not as invasive after time, and now it really doesn't even hurt at all unless I'm not wet enough.  One guy I had anal with (we'll call him The Coach) even had what I consider a really big dick (I've seen a few, if you can imagine) and we had anal with zero problems.  Now, if your man is barely squeezing into XL Magnums, I might be a little wary, but just keep trying.  (And fuck you for that nonsense anyway - you should be sharing that wealth!)  I also can't stress the importance of lubrication, whether it's natural or you jump up and get a big old tube of something.  It won't kill the mood, he'll be so excited you're willing to do anal that he won't' give a shit. 

I know you might be aware of this or have guessed it, but guys LOVE anal.  Most guys.  So the big payoff here to me is the reaction of the guy.  The noises Reddi Whip made and the things he said during anal were so hot, it made it just that much more amazing.  And with some of the others, their reactions have been very similar.  And if you do it once, they always want it again, and you eventually get the coveted begging, "pleasepleaseplease let me slide it in your ass pleasegodpleaseohfuckyeahthatsitfuck".  I am a huge fan of making a guy so hot he can hardly see straight, and anal is definitely one of the things in my repertoire that does it every time.  Most guys say it does feel tighter, so it's a different sensation for them, but mostly it's the naughtiness/dirtiness factor. 

Which brings me to my last point about anal - a lot of girls, especially those that are looking to be someone's wife and mother of their children, don't want to be the "up the butt" girl.  I don't know if you are aware, but there is a teensy double standard that exists out there when it comes to women and sex versus men and sex.  It's likely that you're a whore if you're reading a blog like this (I mean because you have sex, and want to read about it) whereas your guy friend would be a stud.  You may have heard of this double standard?  So I think that's an issue for some women with anal as well - if you're not sure your guy is in it for the long haul, you don't want to be that chick let him stick his dick in your ass back in 2011, and you don't want him to think that because you are into anal that you are couldn't have lunch with his mother.  It's a slippery slope, Reader, I get it.  But if your guy embraces your healthy sexual appetite in general (and likes it when you do your other dirty stuff that you do) then maybe you should give him a little treat when he's been especially good.  Rita does not have to worry about such things as marriage and babies, since she's been there and done that, and is perfectly fine with the fact that she is considered a whore by some people's standards.  She is having a blast getting it up the ass. 

-Rita

The Ambassadors, Part 3 - The Darling

Okay, so where did we leave off?  Oh yea, The Darling!!!! So I invite him over on a random Tuesday night somewhere around 10PM.  He walks into my house and does a quick survey (after my dog jumps on him, and damn near racks him in the balls).  Nervously, he looks at me and says “Seriously, this is where you live? You own this?”  I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, keep in mind I’m slightly older than you.” We walk through the kitchen grab a beer for him and some wine for me and as I let my dogs out he peeks over my shoulder. “Seriously? That deck is fucking huge!”  I laugh again. “No, seriously, I’m 10 years older than you!”

Within beverages in hand, we make our way to my screened in porch and start chatting.  For being a 21 year old male, he’s actually quite intelligent and fun to talk to.  A few drinks in and I’ve learned about his family, what he’s going to school for (oh yeah, that’s right - he’s a college boy), how he doesn’t think he’s ever gotten a woman off (seems promising, right?) and all about how much he likes to party.  This is when he informs me how “anxious” he gets about sex. “When I first turned 21, I made some poor decisions. I had a few one night stands.  The next day I always woke up freaking out. Like, ‘what if I got that chick pregnant?’ or ‘what if I have an STD?’” I simply stare in disbelief as he continues babbling on. (Is he trying to kill his chances here or what?) “So I got online and did a whole bunch of reading about STDs and AIDS and all that shit?” This is where I stop him and change the subject. Mostly because he’s now killing MY fucking mood and, frankly, my buzz too.  We come back in for a refill and he finally grabs his sack and starts making out with me in my kitchen. 

So we make a mad dash for the bedroom and start going at it like, well…like a couple of 20 years olds.  He finishes quickly and looks disappointed in himself. I smile and reassure him that we can do it again and his face lights up. So we take a break and smoke a cigarette. Yes, dear reader, I smoke every so often:  1) because I can and 2) because it’s delicious (especially after sex).  

We go back in the house and have it again.  This time it lasts longer and I tell him not to worry about getting me off because I know just what to do to help myself in this situation.  After about 30 minutes, we are both blissfully happy and decide to smoke again before cashing out.  So he takes his watch off and curls his skinny little ass up around me and we go to sleep.  Before we go to sleep though, he informs me that he has an internship interview in the morning and needs to be up and on the road by 9:30am so I set 3 alarms to insure that this happens.  I intentionally set one a little bit early and wake him up with morning head.  It just seems right.  Like a little goodbye gift to blow his fucking mind. Literally. Afterwards, he bounds out of bed and seems scattered about getting to his interview, says he had a great time and bolts.

In true Rita fashion, she’s texting me before 9am wanting the dirt so I meet her for lunch.  I give her all of the juicy details from my night with The Darling. I inform her that I told him I’d teach him to give a woman an orgasm, if he would teach me to play poker.  (And yes, I realize this is pun and actually really funny but I’d really like to learn to play poker and I like sex, so it works out in my favor twice!). Life was good, I was about to get some regular tail.  As we stand to leave for lunch, I notice that The Darling has text me. OOOOWWW! And then I open it:

The Darling: I hate to say that I told you so but just like I said this morning the anxiety hit me like a tsunami! Although it was the most incredible sexual experience of my life I think I have to become cellibat until I am married.

I need to point out that I transcribed that just how it was written.  He managed to spell tsunami correctly and then fucked up the word ‘celibate.’

So after Rita and I picked our jaws off of the fucking ground, she ranted about what a fucking douchebag this kid was all the way back to her office. She was more angry than I was and I was fuming (mostly because I gave him morning head. Wasted morning head on a little doucher).

In just a few short months of being single, I managed to make someone celibate. Go ME!

So weeks go by.  Months, almost.  Then guess what happened, Reader?  During one of Rita and I’s Stumble Home Sundays I texted him (yup, drunk texting fail. It’s kinda my thing).

            Stoney: Still celibate?

            The Darling: Yes. Even though it’s killing me.

Five days later, he reaches out and wants to come over. He says he’s given up on celibacy.

I have his watch. I’m guessing he can’t remember where he left it. Fucker.

-Stoney

Fishing

Here's what single people do sometimes - they look for a date on-line.  YEAH, WE SAID IT.  People do this and no one really likes to admit it.  But it's not just the exception these days, it's the rule.  There are sites for everything that you are looking for - Single Parents Meet, Cougar Life, Match, eHarmony - just for a start.  Then there's Plenty of Fish.  POF is a free site for "dating".  We use quotes here, because experience proves so far that it's really more of a hook-up site, rather than anyone looking for a relationship.  Which is why Stoney has been on it for a couple of months, and why I recently joined.   

We are of the strong mind that the following guidelines - nay, RULES should be applied when posting a picture or creating a profile for online dating:

1. Do NOT post a picture that you have taken of yourself in your bathroom. We don't care how pretty your pink iPhone case and shower curtain are, this just makes you look like you have no friends that are willing and patient enough to take a good picture of you.  In which case, we don't want to meet you anyway.

2.  Do NOT post pictures of yourself with other women (or men if that's the team you play for). Regardless of whether it's your sister or friend's wife, it makes you appear arrogant. And we weren't born yesterday. 

3.  Use spell check! For fuck's sake, Bill Gates invented that shit for a reason!  Employ it.  Otherwise, we think you're an idiot.

4.  Shirtless photos and 'dick pics.'  This must be addressed.  Shirtless photos of you on a beach or a boat (or something similar) taken by a friend are fine.  Shirtless photos taken of yourself in your bathroom mirror are narcissistic and once again, make you look like you are ate up with yourself.  In which case, you don't have time for us because you are busy being awesome. 

4.5 Subcategory: Dick-pics.  Although you cannot post these on the various dating sites directly, you feel the need to text these to us. (This should and likely will be another entire post, but needs to be mentioned here as well).  NEWSFLASH!  Dicks are not attractive to women as a standalone feature. These pictures do NOT turn us on when we open them on our phones.  We do, however, open them, laugh and then share them with our friends (both those who are in our company and anybody else we can forward them to).  We aren't going to call you just because we have a picture of your penis. Again, these pictures make you seem cocky (yup, pun intended).

5.  Backgrounds in the images that you choose tell a lot about you.  Clean up the beer can tower and take down the 1970s picture of your grandparents or simply choose a different background.

6. Advice: Let a female friend choose your profile picture.  Trust us, she knows what women find attractive.

7.  If your profile indicates that you do not smoke (or drink), do not then include a photo of you smoking (or drinking).  You are automatically assumed to be a liar.  (I can't believe I had to point that out!)

8.  Don't lie about your body-type.  We aren't fucking blind (well, some of us may be but in those cases eventually you are going to want a woman to touch you and she's going to find out you are not 'athletic' and in fact have 'a few extra pounds.'  And that blind woman...her sense of touch is way better than those of us who can see, so she'll know that it's well over a 'few' extra. Just sayin').

9.  I want to say something about douchecapes (i.e. anything that looks like or says Afflicition on it) here, but I won't since I know many women are ok with them and even (GOD FORBID) find them attractive.

I'm sure there are far more, but this should be enough tips to get you started on a quality profile.  We will definitely add more as they are presented through market research.

While there are certainly a handful of normal people on the site, it is dominated by the strange, the chubby, the hairless, the nerdy, the creepy….   We'd like to provide a sample for you, complete with Stoney's color commentary for the pictures.  Enjoy!

Hugs for everyone...wait? What?

No, seriously...you are white!  I know cause I can see:

Happiest guy in panties. ever.

Look in my eyes. Now my dog's eyes. Now back into my eyes...

Listen gimme a holla if you also want a handful of my Jersey Shore Crotch!

Filming of Spiderman VII or leaving a gay porn shoot. You decide:

  

This is the guy who screams "You dirty WHORE!" while he gets off.

 Fuck me running! A Ghostbusters FAN!!! Get into my Ghost Trap (aka Bagina!)

Check me and my Grand Prix out. In front of this playground. What some candy?

If these two come with all of these mushrooms, count me in!! Twice!

I have no words...for this picture you took. Of both of yourselves. In a mirror.  

Oh look! A button front Douchecape!

Psst. Hey! Your religion just puked on POF.  Jesus loves football.

This guy seems all dorky and with terrible hair and then you're all like BOOM!!! Patrick Swayze Dirty Dancing T-shirt!

Surprise!

One of my favorite things is to be surprised.  Let me qualify that by saying surprised in a good way - I hate being surprised by people when they seem really awesome, but then it turns out they torture puppies in their spare time or drink their own urine.  I recently had a weekend of pleasant, hilarious, and somewhat disheartening surprises. 

The Saturday night of Labor Day weekend, I was off to a bar around the corner to meet up with a friend for a low-key drink to dissect her recent breakup.  I arrived about 10PM and it was fairly quiet.  We were talking and drinking wine, when a group of guys came into the bar.  One of them and I locked eyes and I noticed that he was wearing a shirt from the local roller derby team, which I happen to be a recently retired member of.  He came and stood next to me to order a drink, so I collared him and asked if he was a derby fan or if he knew someone on the team.  We talked and flirted and fell into heat with each other.  He is a pharmacist at a local hospital (hence his nickname coined by my best gay: The Apothecary) and lives around the corner.  And he is also a roller derby fan.  After a couple of hours, I was headed out, so he took my number and commenced to texting me repeatedly to come meet him at another bar.  I met up with him at another place in the neighborhood later.  And of course I took him home.  I think you know me well enough at this point, Reader. I didn’t meet up with him again to play Parcheesi.

Earlier that day, a small storm had blown through and knocked out the power in my neighborhood.  When the Apothecary and I got to my house, the power was still out so we fumbled around in the dark for a minute before I decided that I was just going to take him out to the back deck. It was that last hot night of summer and my deck is pretty private during the day, and perfect for getting naughty at night. 

Apothecary and I are naked on my wicker couch on the deck, and I am straddling him and going to town.  All of a sudden, a pack of what at first appears to be Storm Troopers comes walking through my back yard and my neighbor's back yard, in full jumpsuited regalia, with lights on their helmets.  Because guess where the blown transformer apparently is?  ON A POLE IN MY BACKYARD.  Apothecary and I freeze for a second and I let a gasp escape - causing all lighted heads to turn our way.  Holy God.  We jump up, grab our clothes and run into the house, under the spotlight of the guys from the power company.  We crack up for about 2 minutes once we get inside, doubled over in the kitchen, hysterical.  It was on the tip of my tongue to say, "I've done that a million times and never been busted!" but that really seemed like the wrong thing to say at that moment.

We head to the bedroom and have crazy sex for another hour or so - until all the lights in my house come on, causing us to crack up again.  And another lovely surprise? Despite being just my height, the Apothecary is packing.  And is smart and funny and snuggly.  So he stays over, leaves in the morning after yet another round of great sex, and actually says wants to get together again.  Anyone who reads this blog should know what a surprise THAT is. 

That very next night (Stumble Home Sunday), my girlfriends and I are heading into a bar around midnight, trashed from going to dinner at 6 and ending up getting stuck into the cocktails for the duration.  As we walk into the next place, I get yet another lovely surprise, the Apothecary strolls in just ahead of me.  I tap him and smile, and he looks like he won the lottery when he sees me.  God, that was adorable.  We start talking and his friends sort of sidle up and try to ask in a drunk but discreet way, "Is this the girl from the deck?"  It's ok, I reassure him, that was a story too good not to share, and I told all my friends too.  He sticks around me for the night and I take him home again, practically raping him in the cab on the way to my house.  One memorable thing about him besides his amazing dick is the noises he makes - the best moans and growls ever.  I do enjoy a growler. 

I summon him a week later.  He works the night shift at the hospital, so I have him come over on Saturday morning when he gets off work.  I hide my key for him, and he lets himself in.  I wake up to him walking into my room in his scrubs (never really realized how sexy they can be, but please take note) and he strips down and attacks me.  (Another note - men like girls in wife beaters with no bra.  You're welcome.) We have sex and then start talking.  He's where the final surprise happens - this guy is just lovely.  He has a garden in his back yard, and has picked raspberries for the beer he and his brother are making.  He grew his own pumpkins last year, roasted them and made his own ice cream with them.  He needs to pick his herbs so that he can dry some for the winter.  He does a bike ride across Iowa (where he's from) with friends every July.  He wrestled in college, and changed from engineering to pharmacy because the engineers were too nerdy. 

I finally have to tell him that he needs to stop talking.  I pretend that it's so that I can kiss him and get him going again, but that's not true.  I can feel myself approaching the edge of the abyss and I need to step back.  He is totally someone I could be interested in.  He has the things that I am looking for (yes, I have a list - that's a later post, I'm pretty sure).  Plus there is not one arrogant thing about this guy, he's charming without being smarmy and is almost a bit shy.  So what's the problem?  Now I'm just the girl he met in a bar and fucked.  Unfortunately, this seems to be how most guys work.  I, personally, am an equal opportunity slut - just because we had sex before we knew each other's last names does not negate your chances of being seen with me in public or daylight.  I can see past your dick to see if you've got something else going for you, and I'm down with finding out if we click outside of the bedroom.  But this does not seem to be the way of the male world.  If you're a girl who fucks strangers in a bar, you're not someone they're going to ask out to dinner. Just a theory, rooted in a lot of personal research. I hate it when I pick up and sleep with someone who turns out to be awesome (see also: Reddi Whip guy).  So now I have to decide if I can just continue to beckon him without letting anything get in the way of it just being for fun, or I have to cut him off completely, because I'm already digging him and there's just no going back for me - the only thing lies ahead is sleeping with him until he gets bored and then I'm bummed because he wasn't into me the way I was into him.  Neither one seems like a very good scenario for me.  Probably should quit while I'm ahead, n'est ce pas?  That's what I think, too.  But maybe just one more time…

-        Rita