I was 18 when I went off to university and 2 days in hooked up with my first proper boyfriend. By proper I mean we were at it like rabbits and we were together for 4 years.
He wasn’t my first, he wasn’t my second either but he was the first one I got to experiment with. The first one I slept with repeatedly and really got to understand.
And yes he was the first one to make me come.
That’s weird isn’t it? I’d been making boys come since I was 14 but it took until I was 18 before someone took the time to do it to me.
We lived in halls of residence and we were rarely dressed. This was heaven to me, finally an outlet for it. And unfettered access to someone with no parental supervision. It’s amazing I turned up to any classes at all.
And while this was bliss we were so small, he was only 19 – barely more experienced than me. So anything we tried (and we tried a lot) we were pretty much novices at, neither of us knew much about it.
Which means that anything that we did try and that didn’t go well… well I have written it off mostly.
Some things you can get good at with just good practise; giving and getting head, positions, 69, hand jobs. And other things, while some proficiency may be gained over time, in my opinion you need a natural propensity for; kissing and talking dirty fall into this category for me. I can always tell a faker.
But there’s another area where I just think you need an old hand, or just good old fashioned experience to be able to get it right. To enjoy it. Or to be shown how good it could be. To have it sold to you. To have someone make it seem hot. Pleading and begging do not fit into this category.
So we got good at most things, got comfortable with each other. I don’t know how the subject was broached, I don’t know how it came up I don’t know how it started. Anal. But he loved it, he loved anything to do with me near his ass. He loved my finger in it, my tongue in it and he especially liked it if I put something bigger in it. Which was all fine with me, I was out to try everything. But he also wanted to put his cock in my ass. Of course I wanted to try it; of course I was up for it. But oh my god did I hate it. And I was surprised. I was surprised with myself.
With hindsight I suppose I shouldn’t have been. As I said, we were young and we didn’t really know what we were doing. Yeah, he used lube, but he was huge, one of the biggest of my life, I’m not sure he did enough to relax me, not sure that he knew enough to be able to? It probably didn’t help that he wasn’t prepared to lick my ass – a bit of a double standard! And he didn’t work up to it by getting me used to fingers first.
I don’t blame him for this, I didn’t know either.
So I gave it a go a couple of times, I’d be sound like that, but then I said I’d had enough. That I’d tried it and it wasn’t for me. It hurt and I didn’t like the sensation. I was happy to keep rimming him and put things in his ass but he was categorically to leave mine alone.
But that wasn’t strictly the truth, yes it did hurt and yes I wasn’t crazy about how it felt but it was more than that. I hated that he didn’t seem to care if I was enjoying it; it wasn’t a shared experience for both of us. He was only focused on getting it in and getting himself off. And whether my tiny asshole was hurting him. Charming. It was like he loved it so much he was oblivious to how it was hurting me or even that I wasn’t enjoying it, it was something he was getting all by himself.
And that is what I didn’t like.
When he first got it all in he made this noise, like it was the best sensation in the world, a new noise – and essentially my enjoyment was surplus to requirements. I hadn’t really been involved in making that noise happen; I didn’t feel at all part of it. It only compounded things when he declared ‘Babe this feels amazing!’ No enquiry into how I was doing. It was out of character for him but for the first time I felt used. Like just a hole. And that is what I didn’t like.
So I said to stop, I wanted to stop. He gave a few more thrusts and reluctantly came out. Only then did it seem to dawn on him that I hadn’t enjoyed any of it.
He’s not a bad guy and he’s not an idiot, he knew well that a charm offensive was needed now or that was never going to happen again. So we talked about it, I said I would give it another go he said he was happy if he never got to do it again. He was lying, I wasn’t. And like I said he’s not a bad guy so we did do it again and when I said it was off the menu, he accepted it. With minimal petulance, if memory serves?
As I said above, begging and pleading aren’t the way to turn someone on to something. Especially when the other thing that struck me as I realised that I wasn’t part of his new found ecstasy, what if he preferred my ass to my pussy? What if he wanted this all the time? What if my pussy was no longer good enough for him?
He loves this thing that I hate and I can’t give it to him? I can’t satisfy him?
And that is what I didn’t like.
I suppose my experience of it made it seem derogatory in a way, that it was something guys wanted to do to me instead of with me.
Anyway, I needed reassurance and coaxing and an experienced hand. Not selfishness and statements like ‘But I waaaaaant it’ although there was only a few episodes of that. All these things combined to turn me off anyone going near my ass. Until I read GOTN’s post about it. And I swear something just snapped into place.
All of a sudden her description of being full up just seemed like the hottest thing in the world. Read it. Do yourself a favour. Do your partner a favour.
For so long I had written something off because of how I experienced it with just one person. I don’t do that with any other aspect of my life, I always revisit things but this one got set in stone somehow. That said nobody since then ever talked about it properly with me or made me feel like it was a shared enjoyment and if that’s been my experience maybe it has been other people’s too?
And now? Well shortly after I had seen the light and re-opened my mind on all things related to my hole, I got exactly what I needed an open mind with an experienced hand. And everything was different. He wanted to do whatever I wanted to do, he had no interest in doing something if it didn’t turn me on – ironically a stance that just made me want to do anything.
I think it all comes back to the Golden Rule of sex or at least the Golden Rule of good sex:
Don’t chase your own orgasm, you look after my pleasure and I’ll look after yours.
I genuinely get off on getting someone off and it’s a trait I prize in a partner.
And here it was. The most perfect manifestation of that.
This was going to get filthy.