It started off innocently enough. We were still toying with the idea of hooking up when he texted me with: ‘Is there anywhere you don’t like being kissed’.

I mulled this over for a bit. It was such a good, leading question. In answer to this one, I’d usually just wriggle my way out of position, literally and figuratively. But, what the hey, I thought.

‘My arsehole. I’m not a fan.’

And I wasn’t. Apart from the review on some sex toys I’d done a while back and that time with the Don after a drunken evening’s misguided missile launch and wildly failing gestures of ‘oh go’an then’ – no lube, no prep – I’ve not had much experience. In fact, this one experience began and ended with a shocked yelp. It was the last time I let my behind welcome sexual advances. Luckily, I guess, the men I’ve been with since (it was quite a while back), haven’t been all that keen on the bottom.

Until now.

Mr Muscle (as I shall call him since he is very well built), instead of steering a wide berth around the topic as I had expected him to, took up the dedicated position of setting a course for territory unexplored by myself.

I pride myself on being sexually brave and as Mr Muscle was proving himself to be an adept lover, I decided it was time to go where no Dot this side of Dotland had gone before: rimming and Really Real Proper Anal For Proper This Time.

Over the course of a few days Mr Muscle explained to me how he would first lead me through the pleasures of rimming (using your tongue around the anal rim to stimulate your partner) and then, when I was comfortable enough, onwards to the unknown town of bum lovin’.

It was a kind of aural lubing that got me familiar with the process and made me very thankful for the fact that he was really, really, REALLY keen to get a piece of arse. I asked him what about it excited him so: ‘It’s seriously hot when a woman is comfortable and turned on enough to let you take all of her.’

Thems fighting words.

But a small part of me bucked against this.

Maybe rimming would be cool, but I couldn’t understand where the pleasure from anal penetration would come in for a woman. We don’t have a prostate gland. Yes I know many women get off on it, but surely a vagina was good enough for all manner of orgasm? What pleasure, if any, could my bottom provide me? Exit, not an entry etc etc. Also, I didn’t want an arsehole like a D Grade pornstar.

And I still figured anal as some sort of ‘man’ thing in a one-sided act of near-misogyny. Yes the butt plugs were nice, but this was an actual penis and not a small one, I might add. And what about smells and, uh, debris? What about all the fuss to clean and prep and lube up… what a freaking schlep. He’s the one with a p-spot, shouldn’t I be pegging him?


I had signed up and no amount of protestation from my panicked Mother Grundy side was going to subdue my curiosity. Besides, Mr Muscle had procured a healthy quantity of watermelon lube and with me freshly waxed and washed (don’t eat before, just a little tip from me to you), the room appropriately candle-lit and incensed, we were set for an evening of exploration.

To be honest, the rimming was a lot less of a thing than I expected it to be. Lying on my back, it felt more familiar and comfortable, like an extended eating out of the pussy. It seemed such an obvious place to go. I found sensitive areas on my inner thighs that I didn’t know existed and boy did he know how to work the bum grab. Most delicious. Primal. In fact I’m not sure normal cunnilingus will feel totally complete again. So, tick tick, rimming done and dusted.

Then it was onto the main show.

The sphincter is a crazy tight muscle so a LOT of prep work needs to go into relaxing you completely. Mr Muscle was adamant that I be in control of the entire experience and it was far easier to do so sitting in cowgirl. Like first time vaginal sex – probably even more so – lube, lube and more lube is the magic key. Also going slow. And you know what? It was awesome. I know this isn’t everyone’s experience, hell, I was surprised it was mine. But the pressure and some clit-loving makes for a volatile mix of awesome.

But there you go. Mr Muscle the Marster had successfully initiated me into the ways of bum love and I am a happy convert. If only my introduction to vaginal sex had been as considered, slow and skillful. Bring on the watermelon lube.

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