New year, new cheer, new look and all that


I was messing about with WordPress templates and this was the least worst of the freebies (don’t get used to it as I’ll no doubt change my mind). The current trend of clashing typefaces and over-sized headings upsets my sense of balance. I’m no graphic artist but it’s almost worth blowing my anonymity to buy a customisable template.

Happy new year and I wish you good health and many opportunities for misadventure. I’ll do my best to revert from amateur-level analysis of typography and return to professional-league smut. I think the Country Boy is working one day next week when his workplace will be quiet; perhaps this will be an opportunity to pay a visit.


Lately it feels like everyone except my partner and lover have had access to my private parts but the contexts could not have been less sexual.

My sports physician is a tall, dark and handsome sort with an athlete’s body and the drool-worthy addition of speaking with one of my favourite accents; it would be easy to envy this doctor-with-the-lot if he weren’t so humble and likeable to boot. I have to strip to the bare essentials to do the mobility and flexibility drills and I am embarrassed about the stored fat on my body while semi-naked and contorting in front of him. It’s an odd contradiction that I’ve never felt less sexual when holding hands with one of the most attractive men I’ve seen and I even make sure I’m wearing plain underwear on appointment days as some kind of suit of armour against I don’t know what, my own lack of logic, probably.

When I’m not being stretched and manipulated, I have been undergoing laser hair removal and can confidently claim that hearing, “If you can’t remove all the hair from your inner labia in the morning, I’ll have to dry shave you,” kills every last shred of association between genitals with sexuality. During my first consultation I was awkward and didn’t know how to broach the subject of the available levels of bikini line lasering. My self-proclaimed ‘flap zapper’ listed the options from a tidy along the sides to the whole lot from navel to anus like she was reading from a pizza menu.

I relaxed and whispered, “So, you do near the bum, too?”

She said, “Yes, it’s a popular area because it’s hard to shave or wax yourself.”

It was a moment when I realised I’ve never been close enough to a woman’s untended butt crack to have an idea of what’s normal. I thought of my own soap, guess and shave blindly routine and ended up saying to the therapist, “If you’re willing to do it, I’m willing to have it done.”

They were famous last words. After spreading, gelling and marking my arse area with a white pencil, she had the machine set to a moderate level for the first treatment and I felt like I deserved a lollipop after being told I had good pain tolerance. Go me, yet another skill I can’t put on the resume. The reality check was last week when she ramped up the setting — the probe felt something like the pointy end of a mobile phone charger that’s been sitting in a hot oven for an hour before being poked with great force at my bum.

When talking afterwards about the process, The Drummer and the Country Boy stated their views that they hoped I wasn’t having all my pubic hair removed permanently. I told them (separately) I was keeping the front triangle because I preferred to have some options and the main reason for treatment was to reduce ingrown hairs along the bikini line. They seemed glad. Again, these were conversations without an inkling of sexual context and were more about me complaining my hair wasn’t dark enough to achieve a 100 per cent success rate. It appears I’m a dirty blonde almost everywhere.

I truly hope the next time I’m semi-naked with someone the context is sexual and I’m not paying more than a hundred dollars for 20 minutes – both the sports doctor and the flap zapper charge more than prostitutes.

A break

I have my period, a medical issue that needs intervention, and then my period will be due again so things might be quiet for a while. See you soon.

Edited to add: There was one brief but frenetic liaison before I had to cease normal life for a while, so I’ll write it up in the next few days. Then I shall endure the enforced rest.


Jekyll set some homework to help me get in touch with my inner anal goddess (or his inner perve, depending on perspective).

“I want a photo of the inflatable butt plug in your anus.”

It’s a weekend evening and I’m home alone, so what’s a girl to do apart from stick things in orifices and take happy snaps with the mobile phone camera?

Lights on
Phone charged
Vibrator selected
Inflatable butt plug within reach
Front door locked

Lube level checked
Order of events determined

I lavished dollops of lube over my shaved pubic region and contemplated photo opportunities as my labia swelled with blood. The German-engineered Fun Factory vibe worked its shivering magic over my clit and slid into my vagina effortlessly, my muscles craving the slab of moulded silicon to wrap around.

I shut my legs to concentrate the vibrations while I lubed the intimidating black butt plug. By then I was aroused enough to insert it into my anus to its hilt in three gentle pushes, feeling my sphincter close around the nub of the plug in a pleasingly short time. I spread my legs and took a few photos of my shiny cunt, vibe and butt plug all the way in as requested. Happy with the images, I put the phone down to concentrate on the newly-prioritised task of reaching orgasm.

The fucking electricity went off.

I whipped out the vibe, grabbed my underwear and groped for my jeans so I could head outside and re-set the circuit board. No use trying to put pants on because my arse had clamped shut and the butt plug out would not come out for neither love nor money. Relax, relax, relax. Oh shit, what if The Drummer comes home in the next 30 seconds, or my mother drops by for a visit, or whatever other embarrassing scenario could be conjured in my head? Relax, relax, relax. Finally I replicated the muscular contraction of taking a shit and the plug popped out with the assistance of my yanking hand. Bottom wiped, jeans buttoned and libido killed.

At least one of the photos turned out.

Anal sex, anal sex, anal sex

Now, have we got over the taboo aspect yet?

Why is so much wrong with perceptions of anal sex in a supposedly modern society?

Somehow, opinions of sexual activities involving the anus fall into two main camps: Camp Stigma believes it’s still taboo and can only be discussed in whispered tones or as a joke attached to prostate gland health checks. The other is Camp Porn where the onslaught of modern-day XXX clips portrays aggressive double penetration of women screaming “fuck me harder ah ah ah” as the norm.

Anal sex is neither of those.

The rectum is a part of the anatomy where women *and* men can experience enjoyment and it’s important to move past the stereotype that anal sex is about a man fucking a woman up the bum. It’s a sexual experience for each partner involved and is a lot more enjoyable when everyone is open minded and considerate in regard to an encounter.

Women need stop to treating their anuses like sacred vessels when the topic of anal sex is raised. Everybody has a bum hole and some women like anal pleasure. Some don’t. Judgement and the ‘only bad girls and sluts do it’ attitude don’t do the sisterhood and feminism any favours.

It’s also a step backwards to belittle a male partner who might want to try fingers, tongues, toys or a strap-on in his own anus. He’s not automatically gay, bisexual, sissified, perverted, dirty or whatever other demeaning label can be slapped on him. He trusts enough to share part of his desires and that trust needs to be treated with respect. (A man wanting to dress like a woman while being fucked anally with a strap-on in a humiliation scenario is a different story altogether. Bitchy Jones expands on backwards feminisation better than I ever can.)

I will be correct in guessing most of the women who read this will nod familiarly when reminded of men “accidentally” trying to slide into the anus during vaginal sex. We all know which hole is which and ignorance should not be used as an underhanded entrance tactic, ever. Discussion is a better way of communicating desires and how they might be shared and enacted.

Some real-life practicalities

S-l-o-w is the order of the day. There’s nothing wrong with building up stimulation over a period of weeks until trying penile penetration. Taking time with preparation might make the success rate higher for regular anal activity to be included in a sexual repertoire if each partner enjoys the session. The perception that the giver is the enthusiastic partner and the receiver is the anxious partner needs to be given the boot with lots of slow, careful build-up so it’s pleasurable for everyone.

Just like sex as a term should not always imply a penis in a vagina, anal sex should not automatically mean a penis in an anus. Think more broadly into the range of activities that can take place between male/female, male/male and female/female. Try a gently buzzing vibrator or hand stimulation to the external areas during oral sex and build up to a lubricated finger, a tongue, a butt plug, then a penis over different sessions if each partner wants to keep experimenting and building on the foundation. Not everyone is going to move at the same speed or like the same things.

Use toys designed for anal use. They are shaped they way they are and have flared bases for a reason. This is not the time to play with the contents of the vegetable crisper, beer bottles or other household goods. The hospital emergency ward stories are true.

Safety and comfort are the orders of the day and condoms and lube are a must. Lubed condoms can be good as they maintain their ‘lubiness’ but use in addition to condom-safe lube.

There should be more talking than grunting. Keep checking into each other’s welfare and sensations so it’s a shared experienced and not one-sided in the favour of the giver. The recipient is in control of what’s happening at all times.

Anal penetration does feel different to vaginal penetration for women and it can take time to adapt and relax into the new sensations.

Ignore that porny stunt of a man penetrating a woman’s anus, returning to the vagina, back to the anus and repeating. That is a rapid-fire way to a urinary tract infection. Porn producers cut the non-sexy scenes like disinfecting genitals to avoid cross-contamination but here we are dealing with real life.

Do not use one unsuccessful episode as an excuse to shut the door completely to anal sex. No one was accomplished at kissing, oral sex or vaginal sex the first few times and anal play is no different. Women in particular use the, “I’ve tried it once and hated it” line, which may not be fair to future partners with more skill and experience.

My rules of play

I like fingers and smaller toys, especially during oral sex but I’m still not converted to the sensations when a penis is moving around in there. I see it as part of a total experience with a partner – I have quirks that aren’t shared by everyone so it’s part of the give and take of sexual desires and is an ongoing project.

A side-effect for me is farting uncontrollably for several hours after receiving something of decent size up there so timing is a consideration. For practicality’s sake, I’m not going to take it up the arse the afternoon of a family dinner.

I’m not keen on one-night-stands anyway but I won’t receive anal sex with a partner I don’t know well. It’s on my mental list of things to do only with trusted partners.

Any man who goes near my anus with his penis before “warm-up” play will either be told to fuck off or re-educated. I don’t have time for people who think they can pretend their way into experience if they don’t already have it. Honesty goes a long way.

Any man who wants to play in my dark hole without reciprocation of some kind needs to have a good reason and not a closed mind, or he will also be told to fuck off or re-educated. It’s a game both genders can enjoy and my role is not as a one-way receptacle.

I won’t do anything with a higher risk of pain or discomfort for me under the influence of alcohol or anything mind bending. Consciousness and awareness always.

I’ve never had an anal douche, enema or colonic irrigation and don’t plan starting now. Anal play can smell and brown bits sometimes lurk in the rectum. I’m not a fan of those aspects but I’m less keen on pretending that my arse is fresher than a daisy. I know when the path is at its clearest and will communicate that.

Any man in my orbit who wants to try being the recipient is hot. Bring that bottle of lube over here and let’s play.

The book of secrets is open

Why clog the blogiverse with more tales of unusual sexual habits?

It’s pure selfishness. The brain’s machinations need airing without the real-world fallout from revelation of non-traditional relationships and physical interactions. Thoughts sometimes crave somewhere quiet to be expressed, reflected upon and interpreted.

Forcing the mind’s niggles into firm thoughts on the screen can clarify feelings and illuminate the why that results from the what of stumbling across this lustful universe.

Recollections and reflections might strike a chord with readers of the future, but there’s no pretending this purging is for altruistic reasons. Everyone is free to read, validate, repudiate or add their own twists to this kind of diary but ultimately it is one person’s version of life.

Perhaps thinking and chronicling is purely an act of discipline. I like discipline.

I don’t like writing. It feels like lugging vowels and consonants from the heart, wrangling them and obsessing until they resemble what I want to communicate. But I can’t stop. Like discipline.