Special Guest Star, or, The Art of the Threesome

I made it a point to do exactly as I pleased when I got divorced.  It was as a result of this deep commitment to doing what felt right in the moment that led me to my first threesome.  When presented with it (practically served up on a silver platter), my first instinct was, "Can I really do this?" To which I promptly responded to myself, "YES THE FUCK YOU CAN." I figured that a threesome falling organically into my lap was just about as sexually serendipitous as you can get, and who was I to deny it? 

My organic threesome developed as such:  I was downtown one night, entertaining friends from out of town.  I went to a sort of touristy bar because I thought it would be fun for said out-of-town friends.  Oddly, I ran into my then-neighbor (a mother of a couple of kids) and she was with a man who was decidedly NOT her husband, because, well, I knew her husband.  And she was all over this guy, despite him being not her husband.  When we ran into each other, she and her man were just as shitfaced as was I, and they pulled up chairs at the table with my friends.  The first thing that she said to her man was "Pauly, this is Rita. You know, RITA." Well, that kind of intro begs for an explanation, so she went on to divulge that when I came home with a guy in the wee hours of the night/morning, she could, 9 times out of 10, hear me getting it on with him in my house, which was right alongside hers.  Not just when I was in the bedroom, which backed up to hers, but when I was in the living room, the porch, the patio (well, duh), the dining room table, etc.  She would wake her husband up (or call her lover, who I came to learn was sharing the table with me that night) and listen to me get it on with the flavor of the evening.  Well, shit!  I had no idea, but I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty proud of the fact that I can draw an audience.  Anywho, that was my intro to her boyfriend.  So Pauly, who had spent more than one evening on the phone with my neighbor (let's call her Boobies) while I was creating home-grown entertainment next door, made the connection about who I was and was intrigued.  Pauly and she met at a conference out of state, and he comes in to see her when her own husband is out of town on business. (Future post - Conference Sex.  Watch for it.)

Let me pause in the lurid details here to mention that I actually really like this woman.  I have sat at her kitchen table and on her porch and drank wine by the boxload.  We've discussed our lives, relationships, fuck ups, and successes.  Our kids play together.  Your lesson here - there are so many layers to people, it's hard to fathom sometimes.  Always remember that everyone that you come into contact with has a deep well of needs and secrets hidden inside them that very few people get to see. 

We chatted for a while and had some more drinks.  My friends were blissfully unaware that my neighbor was with her boy toy and listened to her rapturously describe his prowess in the sack.  He sort of sat back and let the adoration flow over him and tried to make conversation with me.  Boobies went on to say that she wishes other women could sleep with Pauly to know the bliss that she does.  Seriously?  If you have to give a public monologue about this dude, I'm guessing you haven't been laid properly in SOME TIME.  Soon my friends had to head back to their hotel, due to early flights the following morning.  I get up to throw them in a cab and Boobies grabs me and lets me know that she will cab home with me later if I stay with her and Pauly Penis for another drink.  So I return to join them again, marveling at this situation. My neighbor and her lover.  They are looking at me and finally she blurts out that she really wants me to have sex with them.  It is not lost on me that she doesn't say Him, but THEM.  He looks at me, waiting to hear the answer.  And I pause for a moment, thinking, "should I…." and then I just fucking agree.  Because being the guest star in this fantasy seems like the best case scenario for my first threesome. 

I drive them to a hotel (seemed like a good idea at the time to have an escape vehicle) where Pauly is staying downtown.  I remember walking drunkenly through the lobby, but distinctively remember the hotel staff checking us out, going up to a room together.  I'm sure they see this all the time.  They probably write blogs, too.  So we get to their room and we all go in.

I had a brief moment where I wondered what exactly I was going to do with a girl AND a guy, since up to this point my experience was guys only, and not usually in front of an audience (at least not one that I was aware of). But things just sort of started happening.  They sandwiched me, and started kissing me.  I kissed him, I kissed her, she kissed him…clothes were being taken off.  As you may have gathered from her nickname, Boobies has an amazing set.  Very large and completely natural.  I was fascinated.  They were so warm and soft, I understand why men are so obsessed.  And women kiss differently - still with some aggression, but they're much softer.  I guess we're just soft all over ladies.  Herein lies our appeal, apparently.

I know you're wondering at this point, and the answer is no, I did not go down on my neighbor and she did not on me. Pauly went down on both of us, alternating.  Then he fucked her while I watched and kissed and licked them both, let him touch me.  I got on top of him and rode him while she straddled his face. Then I got on top of her and straddled her waist, and he took turns fucking us.  Me while I was on top, doggie style, she while on her back, sucking on my breasts.  It was hot and seemed to go on forever.  What Pauly lacked in the personality department he definitely made up for in stamina.  Finally, he started to fuck me harder and harder, and pulled out, took off his condom, and came all over my ass. 

Boobies was distinctively not pleased about this turn of events.  Apparently she felt that was her prize to earn, and got up and scrambled into the bathroom in a huff.  He followed her, and I could hear conversation pieces like "just sex" and "thought you wanted this" and "how was I supposed to know" coming from Pauly.  I finished dressing and knocked on the door and informed them that I was leaving.  "Ok!" she shouted.  Apparently being walked out is not part of the deal in a threesome, but I was totally fine with that as this point.  I scrambled out of there, and before I got to the elevator started laughing.  Because I knew, with certainty, that I would have felt exactly the same way. I am nothing if not a jealous bitch.  I decided then and there that never would I bring another person into a relationship that I was in.  But being the guest star - that was a great role to play.  Who knew that I would learn such a valuable life lesson from my first threesome? 

This was honestly a really enjoyable experience for me.  And I not only learned that I would never bring someone into my own relationship, but also this: there was a lot going on with the couple I was with, but I was blissfully able to completely enjoy the situation, totally removed from any emotion.  I know a ton of you just asked, "But is that a good thing?"  Not for everyone, I'm sure, but for me - yes.  I actually enjoy sex when it doesn't have to MEAN anything.  It's like eating chicken nuggets - you know you should be eating grilled organic tofu because it's great for you and all, but sometime processed chicken nuggets taste fucking great and you don't want to have to apologize for wanting them.  Sex doesn't have to always be like prom, where you're in your best formal gown, you get your hair done, put on a shit ton of makeup, adorn yourself beautifully and it's the greatest night of your life.  Sex can just be a physical release (guys, you're with me on this, I know) and you feel great and you can just close the door on that shit - no emotion messing with how fucking good an orgasm feels. So if you're one of those girls who wishes you could NOT be in love with the person you're having sex with, I highly recommend a Special Guest Star Threesome.  It will help you learn to get in, get off, and get out. 

Trust Rita. 

-       Rita

Blow Jobs for ALL!!!

Rita and I recently attended a girl's night at a friend of hers' home.  There, I met a myriad of truly lovely women, ranging in age from 23 to 50ish.  Wine was flowing and chatter ensued.  During the normal course of conversation, the talk turns to blow jobs - as so frequently happens in large groups of classy women such as ourselves.  (The conversation goes to either sex or food, take your pick - Rita.)  One ravishing 30-something exclaimed, "Oh GAWD! I hate giving head. I've only done that for my husband like, ONCE."  Rita and I locked widened eyes with each from across the room and our mouths both gaped open in horror.  We silently shook our heads at each other and bit our tongues.  As soon as we walked out the door, we chatted incessantly about how a woman could possibly not enjoy giving head.  We were absolutely baffled. 

 As we drove home we quickly rattled off all of the reasons we LOVE giving a blow job:

1) Authority. Doesn't matter what physical position you are in for said oral escapade, you are in the position of authority.  Let me break it down for you: His. Dick. Is. In. Your. Mouth. That is all.

2) The noises and sounds they make (hopefully) like "OH" "Dear Sweet Baby Jeebus!" "Fuck" "UH!" "Yes!" "Holy FUCK!" "When did you...OH! GOD" "Seriously?" "UH" "No...SERIOUSLY" "SHIT!" and then there's the part where his head (the one on his shoulders) flops back uncontrollably with a sigh and a "Oooohhhhhhhhh."  

3) The compliments. What woman (or man) doesn't want to be complimented? Especially after any kind of sex act. "Seriously! That was the MOST amazing head ever!"  "That thi...thing you did with your tongue and then your, um, hands, you know...JESUS! Are you real? You can't be real?" "Do you want to meet my parents now? Cause I think I want to marry you. Tomorrow." (I would like to add one of my personal favorites "Fuck, you're gifted.")

4) The smell.  I have to qualify this as it's probably the same reason that men like to eat pussy.  For the most part, the musky (sorry, no better way to put it) smell of a man is intoxicating.  I don't mean fresh out of the shower, and I don't mean having sat at a football game in the sun all day.  Maybe...walking in the door from work? Mmmmmm. 

5) The naughtiness factor.  Every bad girl worth her salt (I'm talking to YOU, Reader) has a "move" that seems to get her the kudos that everyone wants to hear.  Let me tell you, ladies - blow jobs always get you the kudos.  They are the naughty move that pretty much every man wants, and thinks is hot.  I'm a big fan of not reinventing the wheel and using best practices.   

And here's what makes a woman good at head, according to most guys - being into it.  You don't have to be an expert, or even extremely good.  No one woman has the perfect technique that works for everyone, there's not a class we've taken or a manual we've read to get good at it.  Just get down to it, do some experimenting, and make an effort. Maybe even ask if something feels good. But for God's sake, don't half-ass it, like you're doing him some huge favor just so he will eventually get you off and you can go eat dark chocolate and watch Mad Men.  Guys know when you're not into it.  They want you to LOVE sucking their dick.  This makes them feel sexy and desired and like you NEED IT.  And frankly, that's hot.  I don't care who you are. 

We would also like to give you less confident ladies some tips on how to improve your technique if you're one of those girls who just doesn't feel confident enough when she's giving head: 

1) Watch porn. - If you aren't doing this already, quit being dumb. It's exciting, and it's instructional.

2) Get a mirror. Stoney has a full wall size mirror in her bedroom (she swears it came with the house). Kneel down with your back to the mirror and suck on some cock. Guys are visual creatures.  Seeing this show from all angles is a crazy huge turn-on. 

3) Use your hands.  Do the old hand-job motion on the shaft while using your mouth on the tip keeps your gag reflex in check.  Rita is lucky enough to not have a hair-trigger gag reflex, but hey, everyone's mouth gets tired at some point. 

5) Swallow. I can't believe I even had to put that on this list.  Don't back up and make a face while he's coming.  Would you want your man to do that after he makes you come?  At the very least, let him come ON you somewhere and watch.  Sexy!  

6) Don't try and kiss him after swallowing.  That's just a dick move (pun intended) -- men are pussies and are completely grossed out by it.  They do, however, like to kiss you after they've eaten  you.  Double standards abound...

7) Two words: Morning Head! Give your man a wake-up call of your mouth on his cock.! Two more words: Mind Blown!

And finally - Give and You Shall Receive! Golden Rule of head, ladies.

You're welcome,

Rita & Stoney

The Dirty Guy, or, It's Always the Religious Ones

I consider myself on the dirty end of the spectrum when it comes to sex.  I'm not a hearts and flowers girl in the bedroom, but I think that you know if you've been reading this blog.  You don't need a powerpoint presentation of my preferences at this point, but I'm adventurous and naughty and dirty, and I don't really get turned on by sweetness in the bedroom - I want to be desired and taken and manhandled.  In my adventures, I haven't really been pushed too much by guys in this respect, they're either not really dirty or maybe equally as dirty, but no one has really pushed the envelope.  Until Dirty Luke.  Dirty Luke has the distinct honor of being the dirtiest one-night stand of my life, which actually became a 2 year connection that neither of us can really seem to shake.  I met Dirty Luke 2 years ago the night before Thanksgiving.  And he has been Dirty Luke since the moment I met him.

The night before Thanksgiving is a pretty good night to go have a few drinks in the city where Stoney and I live.  Everyone is blowing off some steam before the holiday and getting crazy in anticipation of having to spend the next 2-3 days with family.  You know the drill.  A couple of friends and I were out this particular night and ended up at a bar where we proceed to just get torn down.  Across the bar from me was this tall, meaty, dark, broody guy, who I immediately locked eyes with and stared down for way too long.  He looked away first, but was smiling when he looked away.  A few more glances from me like that (yes, I'm about a subtle as a kick in the teeth) and suddenly he materialized at my elbow.  He looked down at me (tall!) and asked why I was "eye fucking him from across the bar." That made me laugh.  He talked to me for a while, and then leaned down and whispered in my ear, "We're going to get in a cab and go to your place now, right?"  I didn't even think about it - I said yes immediately.  And we seriously set our drinks down, said goodbye to our friends and walked out and got into a cab. 

The minute that we got into the cab I jumped on top of him, kissed him, and literally tore open his shirt.  Buttons flying and all.  We basically attacked each other viciously during the 5 minute cab ride.  When we got into my house, I took off my jacket and he tore off the wife beater I was wearing under it in one swift movement.  He put me on my dining room table, yanked my pants off and slid inside me.  We moved to the bedroom eventually, and while I was on top of him riding him, he grabbed my arms and growled, "Slap me across the face."  Which I did, without 1 second of hesitation.  He told me to get on my knees and came on my face.  I seriously couldn't say no to anything that he asked.  During the second round, he growled at me to say his name - which I couldn't because I'm pretty sure he hadn't told me at this point.  I looked at him blankly, and he said "It's Luke.  SAY IT." I mean Jesus!  It was so intense and crazy, I couldn't stop.  We fell asleep and he got up the next day and said, "Give me your number." Everything is an order with him.  So I did and he left. 

The next day, Thanksgiving Day, at my parent's house, I pull my sister aside and begin telling her the story.  She is in tears laughing about not being able to say this guy's name because I didn't know it.  As I’m relaying the story, my phone starts to ring.  IT'S DIRTY LUKE.  In what fucked up, crazy, parallel universe does the world's dirtiest one-nighter not only contact you less than 10 hours after leaving your house, but CALLS???? I just about flipped.  He left me a message that he wanted to see me again over the weekend.  Another order. 

Dirty Luke came over a day later.  I was in a complete and total sexual frenzy by the time he arrived, after anticipating it all day.  Sex with him was intoxicating to me because I had never been with someone who was so unafraid to ask for or do what he wanted with no coyness or apologies.  It was outstanding.  After a marathon night of practically hurting each other, we started talking.  And here's the kicker (because there is always a kicker) he works for a religious organization.  Missionary work through sports.  HE IS A BIBLE BEATER. And there I lay, playing over in my head my bellowing from only moments earlier: "jesus oh god fuck yes god jesus".  The fact that taking the Lord's name in vain with a really religious person was my issue even after I had just let the man come on my face, gives you a little insight to exactly how completely and totally fucked my moral compass is.

So Dirty Luke and I go to breakfast and continue our conversation.  I am really fascinated by this guy, he's interesting, smart, well-traveled, and very dryly funny (he tried to convince me with a completely straight face that redheads have no rights in China).  Then he tells me the story of his last girlfriend that he was with (over a year) and how they had agreed to not have sex unless/until they got married.  How he wanted to be sure that she possessed the qualities that he wanted in a partner (other than a vagina) and that she wasn't really into sex and was, in fact, scared by it.  I looked at him, totally dumbfounded.  Did he really think that his sexual appetites weren't going to scare the shit out of this poor girl on his honeymoon?  Did he really think that he could separate his sexual self from his wife and never want the things that he did with me ever again?  I started asking him all of these questions.  It was clear that he doesn't get questioned a lot.  He was uncomfortable but answered everything very honestly.  He had the WORST Madonna/Whore complex that I've ever seen and he seemed constantly surprised that I was intelligent and funny and easy to talk to.  

Dirty Luke lived in another state at the time, and started texting and calling regularly.  We would get together when he was in my city on business.  After another a dirty night together, he would disappear for a few weeks - likely wearing a hairshirt and flogging himself with a razor-blade covered whip as penance for enjoying himself with me.  This went on for over a year - talking, fucking, then silence.  Surprisingly, he could be soulful and sweet, which was really disarming coming from the big, intense guy. He told me more than once that he continually struggled with seeing me, that he wanted to be in my bed so badly but he tried to stay away. (WWJD?) What really bothered him about me, though, was that he wanted to be with me - lying on my couch talking, going to dinner at the place around the corner with the patio, and having me listen to him.  I really think he wanted to just be able to see me as a giant walking vagina, but Reader, I make that difficult sometimes with my fabulousness.  And I really think the fact that he actually liked me and enjoyed me as a person drove his religious self nuts.  I was a Whore, for God's sake! I mean, he enjoyed himself and our dirtiness, but if I did, then in his book I MUST be a dirty, useless Whore.  Because Good, Smart girls saved themselves for the person they were going to marry.  They were not dirty. 

After one silent period, Dirty Luke reached out to let me know that he was going to move to China for his job for 2 years.  Stay tuned to find out if being in China cools his ardor.  HINT:  Ever dirty skyped??? 

-       Rita 

We've Got Ourselves a Gusher! or, Rita and Stoney Unsurprisingly Have Dirty Friends

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Shitting Where You Eat

Despite the many ways in which I give little attention to rules, mores, morals, and other structure or guidelines, there are two personal rules that I have always followed - no sleeping with married men, and no sleeping with someone that you work with.  Do I have to even describe the enormous downfalls associated with these two bad decisions?   I do.

I have had many opportunities to break these rules in my life - I'm sure you have as well. But up until now, I have not taken any of those opportunities. I have had no desire to sleep with a married man before, for a few reasons.  First, you're automatically being cheated on from the get-go with the wife.  No matter what they say about how little attraction they have to them or how sexless their marriage is, there is still sex - trust me.  Because men will tell you anything to get them to sleep with you, and you're kidding yourself or naïve to the ways of men if you believe otherwise.  Plus, you're probably not the only person he is cheating on his wife with. Again, you'd like to believe that you're the only one when he tells you that you are (oh, except his wife, of course) but it's not likely.  Plus, historically I have gone into every relationship thinking that this is could be the The One.  Never would a relationship with a married man be that for me, so I stayed away.  Also, I require too much attention.  And finally, I don't take competition lightly.  

As I think about it, the co-worker thing is probably even worse.  Because when it ends (as it will), then you're stuck having to be thrown together, despite possibly despising each other, and you know my stance on exes, Reader.  They have to cease to exist.  I don't want them showing up in the coffee area every morning or have them on a conference call with me every other day. 

I blew these two rules out of the water on one person recently, double barreled the crap out of those rules in one fell swoop.  There are qualifiers though, and I will share with you my justifications.  You can decide if you would have done the same thing in my shoes - in my shiny black patent leather stiletto Mary Janes.

Dallas

I attended training in Dallas a couple of months ago for my company.  At a table next to me is a super sexy guy.  I check him out in my not-so-subtle way throughout the morning and we end up talking.  He turns out to be the sales guy that I am going to work with on some accounts that I'm covering for someone on maternity leave.  We agree to talk that night at dinner so he can let me know what's going on with the accounts and what he needs me to help out with.

At dinner, after talking for about 5.6 seconds, he tells me that he thinks he's really going to enjoy working with me and that he thinks that we will have a lot of fun.  SPARKS ARE FLYING.  EVERYWHERE.  He is not wearing a ring, and I go into the bathroom and FB stalk him on my handy iPhone.  Profile pic is him and two kids.  Divorced most likely!  Whew!!  We chat and drink at dinner and exchange numbers.  He leaves to join friends elsewhere and proceeds to text me most of the night.  We flirt just a bit, feeling each other out.  He informs me before we depart Dallas that he is coming to a pro football game with a client in my city and wants me to go with them.  I tell him to make it happen and I will be there with bells on.

Qualifier:  At this point, I think he's single and have found out he lives in Boston but spend most of his time with clients in a city in Ohio. He is also age appropriate - go Rita!

So we start working together, doing some account planning, conference calls etc.  There are emails and texts flying, we work together very well and enjoy eachother.  He is a supreme smart ass and seems to relish that I am as well.  Then it's the weekend of the football game.  He shall henceforth be known as the Rule Breaker.

My City

I join Rule Breaker and the client at a bar downtown on the day of the football game.  He gives me the biggest smile and hug when I see him.  We drink there for a while, then go and have a fabulous dinner.  I make fun of him flirting with the waitresses.  He is smart and sexy and funny and cocky.  He is human Kryptonite, and he brings out my A game in the flirting and banter area.  My boss was also in attendence at this dinner, so in a feat of Herculean restraint on my part, the sexual undertones were kept to a minimum. 

We go to the game, and he starts to text me, very flirty.  He and I are separated by my boss and the client.  He is relentless. After the game, we head across the street to a bar where more drinks and more flirting ensues.  Then BAM - the client mentions Rule Breaker's wife.  FUCK FUCK FUCKER.

We end up alone moments later when my boss leaves and the client goes to the rest room.  RB confirms that he is married and all the usual lines ensue…not happy, staying for the kids, live separate lives.  I tell him that's ok, I don't sleep with married men, but I also don't sleep with people I work with, either --  so he was screwed from the get-go, and we will just have to be great friends and have fun together.  He tells me that he is glad because he loves hanging out with me and working with me - he thinks I should stay on his accounts permanently. 

Qualifier:  I'm super drunk at this point, so yes, I did blurt out that I don't sleep with married guys and guys I work with.  And I really don't! But I am SO DEFLATED.  I wanted this guy.  DAMMIT.

A couple of weeks go by, we exchange emails, talk on the phone, and exchange texts - work and personal stuff as well, just getting to know each other and being friendly.  Every once in a while I get a flirty zinger, which I love and hate. He calls me one afternoon from the hotel pool in Miami just to make me jealous.  He's someone I will enjoy being friends with, I'm glad we've made our peace. 

Ohio

Rule Breaker emails me one evening that we have 48 hours' notice to present to a client.  I have to go to Ohio  to help the team prepare for the presentation.  He texts to find out when I'm coming, and then the next day demands to know when I will be arriving in town and lets me know that we have plans for dinner.  I'm assuming that it's the team we're working with.  I am wrong.  He joins me at the bar after a golf game and hugs me hello.  Then he says, "Here's what we're doing tonight.  We're having drinks with a client who is a great friend of mine - with his mistress.  Then you and I are going to dinner."

Qualifier: It's amazing what people do in the business world. I would like to believe that it is not easy for me to be shocked at this point, but I continually am. I also see the irony in the situation mentioned above.

We change and jump into a cab and meet his client.  I wish I could say it was odd, but it wasn't, really.  This is what we salespeople do - you build relationships quickly with people that you don't know every well, even if they are people that you've never met - with their mistresses.  He watches me during our cocktail hour- I catch him staring at me a few times.  When we leave to go to dinner, he tells me, "You're so much like me it's weird."

At dinner together, there is great disclosure of family issues and lots of personal discussion.  He has a special needs son that he won't leave. He was going to leave a few years ago for another woman, but couldn't go through with it. Couldn't leave his kids.  Painful. He asks what my situation was, why my marriage ended.  I tell him the full story, no sugarcoating.  Great discussion of relationships ensues, but then our food comes and we talk about other, less complicated things.  I would like to mention that I had the world's most decadent meatball at this restaurant, but can't remember the name of the place.  Amazing food! Men who love good food are sexy. (Write that down.)

After dinner, the client that we took to the football game shows up at our restaurant and invites us to go have a drink with him and his friends.  We join them at a loud club and they drift away to join other friends.  Rule Breaker is sitting on a stool and I am standing in front of him, talking.  He puts his hand on the small of my back and pushes me into him and kisses me.  It is outstanding.  He pulls away, his eyes wide and says, "Are you fucking kidding me? Seriously? Oh my god, that was amazing." I tell him, "I'm sorry! I'm a great kisser, I can't help it!"  He pulls me in to kiss him again.  Pulls away again.  "We're going back to the hotel now, right?" he asks.  YES.

Qualifier:  He made the first move.  I was powerless to resist.  If you had kissed him, you'd know why.  YOU WOULD  HAVE GONE TO THE HOTEL, TOO.

We throw down in my hotel room for over 2 hours.  He is amazing. I find myself wondering, Reader, if this likely because he is my age.  But regardless, this guys has some moves…and we totally click.   When we finally are just lying there, practically unable to move (I wanted to use the word "spent" but it's just too Romance Novel-y)  the first thing he says, "I am in SO much trouble.  I love hanging out with you, I love working with you, and you fuck like that?  This is a huge problem.  Huge."  We crack up.

So at this point, I probably don't have to tell you that there are plans in place for me to be in Ohio and for Rule Breaker to be in my city.  There are sexy text messages, and there are emails with thinly veiled references, and subtle teasing when we are on conference calls together.  Honestly, I get wet when I hear his voice on conference calls sometimes.  I am in unfamiliar territory here, but I am charging headlong into this because here's the thing of it - I don't want to marry this guy.  I don't want to do his laundry, or see him 24/7.  I want to have fun and great sex with him; he doesn't live in town so there is no sneaking around and no chance of running into each other.  Total freedom to do what I want, and it's all about him when I see him.  A great set-up for me.  So I'm feeling hopeful that this will play out in a good way, until it doesn't make sense to do it anymore.  Famous last words, right?  We will probably stop working together when my counterpart comes back from maternity leave in January.  So that would be a natural ending.  But he did mention being here for the week of the Super Bowl in February…

-       Rita

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