Thursday, August 30, 2007

The Annals of Anal: Cutting the Crap

There’s a popular saying among guys that women try anal sex twice: once to see how it is and twice to see if it was really that bad. That’s not quite true, at least not from my experience. The first time my boyfriend tried to bust some moves on my booty, I was caught completely off-guard, yelped in pain and shock and the next day felt like someone had shoved a giant flag pole up my ass and forgotten to take it out. Before that experience the only anal sex encounter I had was from reading a How-To feature in a Cosmopolitan magazine when I was fourteen. I was so disgusted I vowed to always keep my rear end celibate. Yet, after several more (gentle) attempts by my boyfriend to coax me into butt play, claiming it was one of his fantasies, I finally succumbed. I had told him once that I loved him so much I would do anything for him. So I was just keeping my word and being a good girlfriend.
However, later in our relationship when he started finger-fucking my rectum and ended up handling my shit hands on, the anal romance was over, at least for me. He claimed he didn’t care what was up my ass. Well I did, and I started to wonder – what is this obsession with anal sex?
“It’s so tight in there, it’s like fucking a virgin,” said my boyfriend, “and it’s so warm!” Ya, well last time I checked my pussy hole was pretty cozy too.
“It’s just another hole,” said one of my guy friends.
We’re so spoiled these days, since when is one not enough?
I decided to do a little investigative research into this booty play mystery and found that there is a lot of sex literature and advice out there defending fanny fornication and encouraging readers to try out this new “fad”. Apparently the trend is catching on for girls as well – at least one in four women have tried it. Babeland even makes a huge profit with their expansive “Butt Toys” collection from butt plugs to butt beads.
Anal sex started out tempting because it was something almost “forbidden,” and “naughty,” and gives people an overwhelming sense of domination. These incentives aren’t quite surprising – power, curiousity and breaking the rules are core themes of our sexual culture.
However, I found that a lot of the literature on anal sex was trying to glamorize it as if it’s the next best thing since the Rabbit. I say cut the crap - try it first and then tell it how it really is. I mean I’ve never met any girl who voluntarily has spread her butt cheeks and begged, "fuck my asshole!"So that’s what I’m here to tell you – the shitty truth of booty play. No pun intended, of course.

No more “myths”: Some truth in the taboos:

Myth #1:The anus is dirty.
Why this is a “myth” I have no idea. Of course it’s dirty. The only time an ass will ever look appealing is in tight jeans or a lacy thong. Let’s be honest here, there’s nothing sexy about what’s beyond it’s exterior.
Myth #2: Anal sex is painful.
It’s like waxing your legs. The first time it hurts like hell, then after you’ve done it for a year, it’s bearable, but uncomfortable. Or, I could just be unfortunate and other girls may have naturally loose and flexible rectums.
Myth #3: It’s messy.
Of course it’s messy - no matter how clean you can scrub your ass, there’s always some trace of leftovers.

What “experts” are saying makes anal sex comfortable and enjoyable, followed by my own commentary from experience:

1. “Relaxation, lubrication, communication".
This does work, but only if your guy is a saint. Let’s face it, men can’t communicate during sex, they think with their dicks. No matter how many times I repeated “take it slow,” his dick heard “fuck harder.”
2. Clean up. Experts and educators say that if you’re worried about it getting messy, go to the bathroom to clear out your bowels or wear a latex glove with lube on it during anal play.
This advice is so not sexy. Who in their right mind would say in the middle of a hot and heavy session, right when their erect partner is impatiently throbbing to enter, “hold on honey, I need to drop a log and give my ass an extra wipe… “
3. Get to know your butt. Start by feeling around the outside of the hole…
I love my butt, I really do. It’s firm, perky and I have a freckle on my right cheek. But I don’t love it that much.

So there you have it, the naked truth of fanny fucking. However, maybe I'm being a little harsh on anal sex. My eventual succumbing to doing it came from the lust to pleasure my man - but not just any man - someone I truly loved. When it comes to sex and love, pleasure is taken to a whole new level. Sometimes going beyond your comfort level is unbelievably gratifying and orgasmic when you know that you are pleasing someone you genuinely care for.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Foreign Affairs: Sexed up and Overseas

Like many college juniors I studied abroad my second semester. I couldn’t wait to leave the Goucher College bubble and it’s lack of thrill for the beaches and volatile political scene of Israel. The timing was perfect to escape a relationship starting to sour and a life that was beginning to feel too routine for comfort.
I had expectations: I anticipated filling my time with traveling, touring, taking interesting and stimulating classes, exploring the culture scene and hopefully finding a handsome Israeli soldier to wed. I definitely met most of these goals, except tying down a hubby. The attention I got for being an outsider, especially an American, made me scrap any idea of monogamy. In light of my sexual escapades with Middle Eastern testosterone, my experience in the “Holy Land” was far from holy.
I was fortunate enough to have like-minded, sexually honest and horny roommates. Our “foreign affairs” were always the main topic, nothing was ever held back – we talked about everything from penis size of the men we were hooking up with, to position specifics, recreating our fornications using cutlery to demonstrate details (we were a quirky creative bunch).
Although I had been to Israel several times before, I never was there long enough to scope out the Sabra sex scene in depth. The only sexual encounter with an Israeli I had before this semester experience was a one-night stand in Eilat, a city at the southern most tip of the country. It was 6 am and a hundred degrees – the AC was broken, he was humping hard and showering me with sweat and I was too sun burnt to enjoy what I had always expected to be an “exotic” experience.
Yet I was pleasantly surprised with the sexual feats I had this time around – maybe because I was screwing city guys rather than desert hillbillies. Whatever it was, being the exotic flower amidst a land of foreign dicks spoiled me. Attracting men abroad was so easy, and with so many choices and ease my motto became, “first come, first serve.”
I wasn’t even two months into my semester and I already had several random hook ups in clubs/bars/alleyways, was eaten out in a car parking lot and had my first threesome with two hot soldiers. By the third month I had upgraded to an orgy in a yacht party on the Mediterranean, and by the fourth month I was fucking in a five-star club bathroom. By the last month I voluntarily committed to temporary celibacy – being a player in demand was exhausting.
However, towards the end of my intense sexed-up semester, being the foreign chick didn’t feel so glamorous anymore. In fact I started to feel more like a piece of meat rather than honey to bees. The catcalls and feeling like a magnet attracting unwanted attention because of my obvious “outsider” appearance turned me bitter and resentful. I would lash out with a bitchy attitude to any guy who would innocently approach me and say in an accent I used to find sexy, “Vere are you vrom?”
“Not from here and I don’t speak English,” I would harshly respond, in English of course.
Don’t get me wrong – getting a taste of men and sex beyond borders is fun, at first and especially if you find someone you really click with – like several of my friends were lucky to find.
Going abroad changed me and opened my eyes in several ways. One thing I learned is how to appreciate and make the most out of love, lust and relationships on domestic grounds; sex and romance can be just as exotic and romantic at home, sweet home.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Because you don't think about Picasso seven times an hour...

There is nothing like a great morning sack session to put you in the mood to go and see the Museum of Sex. What else is there to do with your post-orgasm high on a hot summer’s day in the city? Hidden behind construction and POST NO BILL boards on Park Avenue in New York City, the Museum of Sex is a genius three-story building entirely devoted to sex, with all its crudeness, glory and dark secrets - and I lived to tell the story.
The moment I walked in and was greeted by a life size cardboard dominatrix woman grasping a black strapped-on penis and holding up a sign that read, “please do not stroke, lick or mount the exhibits,” I knew I was in for a sexy treat.
And indeed I was. I decided to go solo, although I realized that was a big mistake. Here’s a tip for future sex museum-goers: its better foreplay than wine, candle light and Barry White (just kidding, who does that anymore?). Yet seriously, it will no doubt put anyone in the mood. I hadn’t expected the experience to be so orgasmic, which is probably why I was the only non-coupled up person there (even the Chinese tourists were coupled off!)
As I perused from exhibit to exhibit – first learning about the most outrageous and disturbing kinks and fetishes (like coming from helium balloons), to watching an hour or so of porn from the ‘20s to present and learning some raunchy Tantric sex positions (like the Pressed Flower Petal), I was so unbelievably horny by the time I got out, I could have screwed anyone.
On a more serious note, the museum experience did a lot more than sexually stimulate me; seeing sex presented in a museum environment illuminated its depth and beauty of its nature. The experience made me think of sex beyond its pleasurable side. My mind was racing with unfathomable questions - why is it that sex is something we naturally crave, want, desire and yet still sometimes feel it is something to feel embarrassed about, something to hide? Why is sex, in all its forms, all its fetishes, kinks, and associations considered perverted, crude and shunned in some cultures?
Sex is everywhere, and even after spending a good couple of hours intrigued and fascinated by the displayed exhibitions at the museum, I am even more convinced that sex is more than ‘everywhere’. It is undeniably at the core of our daily lives, at the heart of our characters; our sexual desires and fantasies explain our personalities, our behaviors and actions; it is exciting, fun, sensual, yet revealing in so many ways.