I was joking with a friend about how, if I wanted to write something truly vulnerable and terrifying, I would write about my feels and fears around anal sex. And then I thought about it more, and figured, eh, what the hell. It’s probably good to get them all out into one place anyway.
K, so. (Ugh, this is harder than I was expecting). I conceptually love the idea of anal sex (and get really confused by the term “butt stuff.”). I’ve been watching double penetration porn since I found porn, and the easiest, most consistent fantasies to access are gangbang/DP things. There’s this level of conceptual eroticism coupled with some humiliation aspects and also (let’s be real), an attraction to the concept of pain and discomfort.
But it’s predominantly conceptual. The few times I’ve actually had receptive anal sex, there is a lot going on in my brain. Like, “fuck, what if I can’t physically handle this thing I really want to do?” Or, “ahhhhhhh I should go shower RIGHT NOW just in case but there isn’t a good way to hit pause on this so I’m just gonna brain-panic about the possibility of shit happening (even though I care not at all when roles are swapped around) and try not to freak out.” Also, I have never in my life done an enema, and I should probably change that, but I only ever think of it in moments where that’s not super-helpful. I’ve also discovered I process through mostly stationary things a lot better than motion (eg plugs are easier than, say, getting fucked to physically process). That being said, I really, REALLY like the idea of getting fucked in the ass, although my body hasn’t figured out how to fully process the sensation.
Ok, so let’s be real for a sec. Impromptu anal sex means shit happens- literally. Short of preparing specifically for that, there’s not really any way around that happening at least a little. So I guess if that’s something that’s going to bother someone, they’re probably not going to spring anal in the middle of sexytimes with no preparation. Ok, fine. This is also why I always (always always) have black nitrile gloves with me (my hands constantly have open wounds and/or hangnails, so they’re kinda necessary if my hands are going inside anyone. Plus, gloves make lube so much more effective.)
So then there’s the whole, “fuck, what if I can’t handle this thing that I really want to do?” Ugh, I dislike not knowing how I’m going to react to something when there is someone else watching my reactions. So nerve-wracking. The obvious answer here is to do more anal stuff alone. Which means I should probably own more than one plug. Again, things I don’t think about until they’re not helpful (although one of these days, I’m going to be up late at night and impulse-buy butt plugs).
I mean, these are all things but I don’t think any of this is at the heart of the feels and fears. Really, it’s just an excruciatingly vulnerable experience, one that brings up things around humiliation and masochism and desire and all the general hot-button things that make me get real feelsy and nervous and unsure (which, in fairness, is me and sex in general, but this is a bit…more.) There are easy solutions to the easily-nameable things that make me nervous, but solving those doesn’t do much for the overwhelming sense of, “fuck, I want more of this in my life and that feels big and scary.”
I’m way too good at running away from the things I want.
Also…I mean, fuck. I’m also attracted to the idea of it being uncomfortable and/or hurting a little. And I loudly, vehemently do not like things that hurt (except that I do, obviously, but not everything and not every kind of pain and not with everyone, but sometimes, with some things, with some people…sometimes, I want it to hurt, though I’d rather chew my arm off than acknowledge that.) But I haven’t figured out how to process all the kinds of pain I want to process. I haven’t… I dunno. I want things that I know are going to hurt, and I haven’t figured out my threshold for what is beyond my capacity to process, and not-knowing scares me.
I don’t know if it will feel less scary. I don’t know if my body will ever be able to process the sensation of movement. All precautions taken, I’m still not sure my brain won’t panic and scream at me to to STOP EVERYTHING and GO SHOWER (This is part of why anal sex is so much easier when I’m already in the shower). I don’t know if I’m ever going to actually train my body to the point that I feel reasonably confident that my mouth isn’t writing checks my body can’t cash. I don’t know if I’m ever going to feel comfortable enough with the things anal sex brings up in me to ask for that. I don’t know much of anything, except that anal sex in a variety of forms is something I want more of in my life, and also, it’s like a big scary thing that I just kind of stare at and poke periodically (and then try to run away and hide because that’s my reflexive reaction to getting what I want).
Feels and fears. Gotta figure them out somehow; I suppose naming them is as good a place to start as any.
Monomaniacism 