I love the taboo. Tell me something isn’t commonly accepted or appreciated and I will try it. (Well, let me clarify, as long as it doesn’t involve the passing of bodily fluids or me vomiting. Just to be clear.)

One such Taboo that I have mentioned before is Anal Pleasure. Now, in recent years, the subject of Anal Play has lost a little of its terrifying fervor as men and women have become more accustomed to its existence and its potential for satisfying titillation. I have experienced Anal Sex before, but that occurred with KC, a man who should have been chemically castrated before he ever laid a hand on a fifteen year old version of Yours Truly.

The negative stigma that Anal Play carried with it since my experiences as a young girl made it very difficult for me to consider it with following partners. At the same time, no one asked for it either. Even during porn, if the scene turned to Anal, no matter how turned on I was previous to that shift, I would lose all interest, instantly when the ass on screen was penetrated.

Then I met “My Future Husband” and we had a long, sexy, terrifying conversation about Anal Sex, and my whole world ground to a halt for a few days. He was unaware of my absolute terror, but he sensed my apprehension and assured me we never needed to have it if it wasn’t something I was comfortable with. Yet, after hearing him describe his utter love of bum sex, followed by the comment, “we never have to do that,” made me cringe. If he likes it so much, how could I deprive him or myself of an experience that could result in pleasure for us both. Though he never felt deprived and never attempted to coerce or cajole, I myself set my eyes on reclaiming the sexuality of my ass.

My first step was to buy lube. Just the act of that purchase opened my mind to experimentation.

Next I started exploring that region when I ‘abused myself’. First it was just a finger at the precipice of the ass, but after a few sessions of that sensation and feeling the unbelievable twinge of pleasure it caused me, I went further with it.

One finger.

Then two…

Then I had the most unbelievably intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced by myself and I realized, there might be something to this whole ‘ass’ thing. As a result, this formerly anti-Anal porn vixen is now literally addicted to the Anal category of Redtube.com.

Anyone who stands resolute against Anal Play should consider a few things;

1) the exterior and early interior regions of the anus have a huge grouping of nerve endings, much like the first two internal inches of the vaginal orifice.

2) Much like a finger just a couple inches inside the vagina can stimulate the G-spot, the same can be done through the back door.

3) The act of submitting to your partner in such a complete and trusting way is one of the most moving concepts I can think of.

The sensations I get from stimulation there is not why I so desperately want “My Future Husband” to tap my ass on a constant basis, it is because the patience, gentleness, and love that it takes for a man to romance his lady’s bum is one of the most true and complete expressions of love I can think of and could ever experience.

Roses on my birthday are great, but taking an hour to passionately, patiently, and selflessly prepare me for the entrance of an above average johnson into my back door is something entirely different.

Luckily, I have a very adventurous partner.

The first fantasy I will share with you all is one I have taken a long time to come to terms with. I love…LOVE the idea of calling my perfect partner “Daddy” when he is having his way with me. Now, there are ways in which this word loses some of its inclinations. When I’m getting pounded from behind and can feel my eggs being practically scrambled, moaning the words, “Get it, Daddy” doesn’t have such a taboo contingent to it.

Yet, I like the taboo.

It makes me feel naughty, so let’s make it naughty.

I found the other day that since cutting my hair short, I have a tendency of looking like a high school girl, especially when I put a barrette across my bangs. So here is my plan:

Send “My Future Husband” to bed with a book.

Wait a few minutes while he gets comfortable in bed.

Barrette my hair, put on my cutest sleep wear (a tank top nighty, or short cotton shorts and a t-shirt) and head upstairs with my cell phone in hand.

Knock on ‘my Step-Dad’s’ door, enter texting away like an obnoxious teenager, approach the bed and say,

“Megan’s mom has to go out tomorrow night so I need to borrow the car to pick her up?” (Or something along the same lines)

In response, my ‘stepfather’ will certainly say, “No.”

Being a bitchy ‘teenager’, I will not take no for an answer.

“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” As I kneel on the bed.

“Maybe.”

“If I suck your cock, can I have the car?” Straddle him and rub his chest as I speak.

“Maybe.”

“If I let you fuck me, can I have the car?” Then the piece de resistance, “Please, Daddy?”

“We’ll see.”

Then I get my ass handed to me like the naughty school girl I am, all the while dropping the “D” word and getting spanked while he calls me a ‘bad little girl’.

No one can tell me that isn’t sexy as hell. No one. God, I’m going to annihilate “My Future Husband” when I see him. God damn my mind is devious.

*To clarify, I am late twenties, “My Future Husband” is early thirties. We are both consenting adults with fertile imaginations and a desire to shag each other’s brains out without the dregs of routine. Don’t rain on my parade.

One grand plan of mine that I will administer the VERY next morning I wake beside his handsomeness is:

The Blow Job Wake Up Call. Or as I like to call it; The Alarm Job.

Truth is, though, I’ve always wanted to do this and never have because, to be honest, I’m terrified.

Not of giving him oral attention, for I absolutely LOVE doing it, but of the response. Many guys claim they would love to be woken up like that, but how many of them actually HAVE been woken up like that.

I am fine with putting his soft flesh into my mouth as he dozes, in hopes of drawing a rise in him, but what if it doesn’t? What if that morning he just isn’t in the mood? What if he feels violated or is startled by the sensation enough to lash out and perhaps smack me across the visage? (Don’t scoff that, I know someone who has had that occur and I can’t fathom how humiliated I would feel if it happened to me.)

And then we have my love of surprises. What if he wakes up before I have him firmly in my lips’ clutches? Pulling his boxers out of the way may rouse him enough to be aware of my actions, would that not ruin the surprise; fall short of the fantasy?

Anyway, I am not going to worry this much when I do it, I’m just going to do it and ask questions later, given that “My Future Husband” does love assaulting me before work in the morning (lord be praised for Morning Wood!). Send him to work with that sexy grin of his on his face, but here I vent my concerns for the masses of men (and women) out there who might have experience with it, advice, tips, tricks, an opinion whether or not this would do it for you? Any and all thoughts are welcome.

Wish me luck!

Well, I am going to try anyway.

(Disclaimer: The average penis length is between 5 – 7 inches. Anything I mention as little will be below those averages.)

I’ve had two experiences with ‘dicks’ of the smaller variety and lived to tell of them. The first was a man who would tell every ear in hearing distance how little his johnson was, almost as though negative attention was still attention and if people were thinking sad thoughts about his willy, at least they were still thinking about it. All of our friends and his family knew of his “shame,” as he called it, and they would laugh and make jokes about it with abandon. Yet, while they were yucking it up poolside, I was the one who went home with him at night. I wonder if they pitied me for that.

When that relationship ended, I finally admitted that he was, indeed, not enormous by any means. He was an average length, but he was skinny like a sharpie marker. He never hurt me, that’s for certain.

Yet, my second interaction with a little ”dick” (I say this due to the man it was attached to) was a far different experience. When I reached down this man’s pants during our first heavy petting session, I literally felt my heart sink. I was never a ‘size matters’ kind of girl, even after having “My Future Husband” (despite being above average, I never fully claim his size is why he feels the way he does. I still blame love above anything else for the fireworks I’ve experienced in the sack.), I’m not a willy snob. Yet, this man felt wrong, even in my hand.

The strange thing about this man; he physically hurt. It started to burn my insides within the first few minutes, like there was too much friction…like I was chafing! I remember feeling doomed at the premise of getting involved with a man who couldn’t satisfy me in that way, but luckily (if one would view it as such), it turned out he was a player and was happily through with me after one shag session. I was ready to bring him home to “Mom”, he was ready to start in on my friend. (I wonder if that is a small willy trait…)

After that second encounter with an itty bitty, I literally climbed a mountaintop to scream the praises of my ex’s supposed “shame.” This was the moment all became clear for me.

Size only matters in the wrong hands. The man who was armed with the “Shame” could wear down a motherfucking glacier. He got the job done every single time, no matter how long it took, no matter what position I needed to be in or how hard I had to hold onto the headboard, I had an orgasm every time. That speaks volumes for little willies when the well endowed KC never once gave me an orgasm in six months of dating.

So what size do I prefer, you may wonder? I’m not telling…in this blog at least.

There, I said it. The cryptic and mythical creature known as the “Chick who likes Porn” does in fact exist. It is I.

Now, I’m not running around downloading, compiling, and collecting every DVDA scene known to man, I just peruse pornhub.com or redtube.com when I am feeling randy and porn friendly (which yes, is quite often). I believe watching ‘dirty movies’ with your partner is a delightful way to spice things up when you aren’t quite ready for a ball gag and an even more delightful way to self satisfy that visual arousal trigger that so many of us have.

Sadly, many other women are opposed to such an endeavor, but are content to be on the receiving end of a penis in the hands of a man who more than likely enjoys his fair share of pornography. Watching porn with your partner allows you to see and share the sort of things that turn you both on and, if you’re timid, give hints to the things that you might secretly want to try, but are afraid to say (I will admit, I’ve had a few of those over the years).

I’ve noticed that porn is a very personal and varied thing. My partner might like gang bang hentai scenes, but I get very little from watching a woman be as orgasmic as a vegan at a Meat Buffet. I need to hear, see, and in essence feel that the woman is enjoying herself for it to affect me physiologically. No amount of cunnilingus in a porn will do it for me if it is obvious that the girl is filing her nails when her face is out of shot. (I believe this is why I became fixated on lesbian porn for a few years. I would remember those scenes when I abused myself, or even during sex with my ex-boyfriend, because the women were always so into it and that turned me on enough to get me off. I began to wonder if I was hiding some lesbian tendency. Then I had some mind blowing sex with “My Future Husband” and realized male/female sex could be erotic, I just had to search for it.) Much like porn, 90% of the time, the first one you click on isn’t going to quite hit the right nerve.

The moral of this torrid tale is; I think I want to make a dirty movie.

Sure it will hide in some file folder on a computer for the rest of that electronic’s life, but making it will be fun and watching it…well, will most likely be sobering in some senses, but in essence will be hot as hell. Seeing the money shot with a soundtrack of “My Future Husband’s” voice and my own earth shattering orgasms might be the best porn I will ever see.

So, ladies who fear the porn…make your own. Just make it with a good guy and not one who will be posting it to Xtube.com if you were to break up.

This may indeed be in response to The Sag Chick’s piece on A Good BJ, but who doesn’t want to wax poetic on the subject of boners, I mean really.

My methods of penile pleasing were inspired by instinct alone. The first man I was ever with (KC) received me in my full primal, experimental glory. I did what felt good to me and succeeded with gusto every time. He never gave me tips, never showed me any ‘methods’, he just lay back like a lazy schmuck and raved about how I was too skilled at it to be a virgin.

I was a virgin. I was just the kind of virgin who is hell bent on pleasing her partner and praying she does the right thing at the right time. After KC and I ended, no one received my true blow job methods until I met “My Future Husband”. He was the first man I’d been with where I felt comfortable being myself again. Though, I will be honest, I was still a little nervous of how graceful he would perceive me once I was spitting in my hand.

The process of a blow job with me is simple; start by doing what feels good TO YOU. Knowing that only 15% of women enjoy performing fellatio, I suppose that advice will fall flat on many women. So if you aren’t blessed with the divine goddess urges of cock pleasing, I’ll share my mannerisms when dealing with the ‘Nuts and Berries’.

First, if I touch him and he is hard, stroking will cause too much friction, so I lubricate.

Discreetly spitting in my hand to start and later onto the head of his erection. (Never openly spit, ladies. Unless your man likes that sort of thing, remain discreet about it.) This will slip up the works so I can stroke with abandon.

Second, I kiss every region of his goodies EXCEPT the shaft. Hands only… for a few minutes.

When I am ready to dive in, I open my mouth, let my open lips touch the shaft and slide up to the head. The Sargent will usually jump at this.

Then, when I do go for it, depending on my mood, I either tease a little into my mouth at a time OR….OR I impale my face as far down his cock as I can, with NO hand involvement.

Rules I like to stick with:

Never do the same thing for more than a minute or two. You can come back to it, but variety keeps him guessing. Suck for a minute, then stroke quickly over the head a few seconds before going back with your mouth.

Use your hands as an extension of your mouth (hence the spit), but sometimes completely remove hands from the equation. Put them behind your back, your head, grab your tits, whatever the case may be, and let the only sensation he feels be you sucking forcefully (yet gently girls, don’t hurt him…unless he wants you to?)

Tend to the berries, girls. Suck em, lip em, lick em, massage em. Take care of them. You should know your mans Balls better than he does, god damn it!

And GUYS! Tend to your berries as well. Keep them clean and thoroughly manscaped. (And Check Your Own Nuts weekly!)

Now, I may be the only girl out there who enjoys this idea, but I secretly want to tickle his bum during a good blow job as well. A wet finger on the outer rim while I am sucking him. Haven’t sprung that on “My Future Husband”, but the more comfortable I get, the more in danger he is of insanely passionate, all encompassing, mind blowing sex. Well, moreso than we have had thus far.

Now, given all these thoughts, be careful. If you are capable with an erection in your hands, you need to be responsible. I’ve had it go off before I intended because I was too zealous for my craft. Always keep a handle on your man’s level of arousal or you could end up with an eyeful and no weenie to ride afterward.

Take your time. Good sex isn’t a race.

The male backside.

My man’s backside.

Sure, we’ve all heard girls talking about gawking at some hunk’s bum in our time, but I never understood it. What was the allure of the shape, size, movement, muscle tone, of what I knew to be a hairy disgusting part of the human body. I was once the sad victim of having to see a naked ex-boyfriend bend over while nude only to realize the guy had bum crumbs. Bum crumbs! Are you fucking serious?

Anyway, so needless to say, I was never a huge fan of the backside.

Then I met “My Future Husband.” Or more aptly, I met “My Future Husband’s” bum. (There is a picture of it on my computer somewhere. I’m going to go gawk at it in a moment, but for now, I will imagine….)

He has the most perfect, toned, juicy, gorgeous butt in the history of mankind. The curve of the cheeks, the divets in his lower back, the round perfect bottom that just makes me ache to squeeze it. At first, I didn’t take too much notice, I was too enamored with his perfect manhood to notice how perfect his bum was while I was grabbing onto it screaming “Don’t Stop.”

Then he dropped his towel one morning after a shower and stood at his bureau and I took my first good look. I’ve been planning its assault ever since.

Now, I have threatened a tickling finger during blow jobs before (not during my performance, but I threatened in conversation to see how he’d react. He used the word ‘erotic’ so I assume we’re a go) and I have given him long languid massages that involved my lips and tongue just inches away. His response was always positive. Still, I don’t think he realizes just how bad I want to give it to that tush.

I want to smack those cheeks, bite them, squeeze them, raspberry between them, and…get this…I think I want to toss that man’s salad.

Are you fucking kidding me, you ask?

I know, right?

The thought always disgusted the crap out of me (oh my pun addiction rears its ugly head), whenever Chris Rock mentioned it in his stand-up or it was mentioned on Oz, for that matter, I cringed and shivered. All I could think of was images of those bum crumbs from when I was a teenager going out with a man who couldn’t apparently wipe his own ass. Yet, “My Future Husband” inspires me so completely. I want to please every inch of him.

It’s the most unnerving urge I’ve ever had, sexually.

Hopefully it won’t be too unnerving when I’m performing the “Dirty Trombone” on my mancakes.

Perhaps it isn’t for everyone; having a strong, warm hand slamming into the soft flesh of your bare buttocks, perhaps paired with some naughty commentary or silent understanding, the spanking is a truly magical deed to share with your partner.

It may be intimidating to some; men may be afraid of hurting their lady and women may be afraid of getting hurt, but if done correctly and with mutual consent, a spanking is like the sugar to a Strawberry Daquiri.

I love lying alongside “My Future Husband” and feeling his hands carressing my body, my side, my backside, then after a moment of soft, gentle touches, a loud smack, and I’m riding him like Falkor (sorry for the hardcore geek reference, but if you get it, you get it).

There are moments when a well placed smack is appropriate and often required for my release:

1) During doggy-style or any position where my backside is exposed to my partner.

2) While cooking in the kitchen, standing in a department store, waiting at the dry cleaners; a soft, firm hand against a cheek is an immediate invitation for sexual congress by the end of the day.

In fact, bringing the bedroom into the real world is an exciting way to keep the fire alight. Giving your woman a surreptitious tap on the ass in public is a naughty and flirtatious way to remind her that you lust for her and find her sexual. Still, if she isn’t a spanking aficionado, a hand on the bum, a whisper in the ear, a longer than normal kiss can be an acceptable alternative.

Some women have a hair across their ass about being ‘degraded’ and want you to read their manifesto, but in the end, sex is for everyone and we all express it differently. I like for my partner to smack my bum and please it at the same time.

Rules about when not to spank:

1) If you aren’t a strong male, don’t spank your strong female.

(I had a miserable spanking experience with a guy who wanted me to literally treat him as though I was his mother in life. Him spanking me…nauseating.)

2) If she or you are not comfortable with it.

You wouldn’t ask her to juggle knives if it wasn’t her skill set, don’t ask her to take a wallop from you if she’s not into it. Don’t be that guy. That guy gets his balls squished by girls like me.

Let me count the ways.

Unlike those ancient turbine engines once carted around by randy 1950′s housewives, you take two AAA batteries (and then last only a week or two depending on how many visits, but that’s neither here nor there) and then surge into the night, silent. Like a ninja.

My ninja vibrator is blue and silicone, which means I can flip flop it around as much as I like when I am bored and need something to flip flop.

I love your butterfly wings and those mildly unnerving antennae that turn practically invisible when you’re on the third setting. I even love that bulbous…well…bulb on the end of you intended for G-Spot stimulation if inserted.

I don’t insert you. I much prefer the bulb tickle my rear (like Humpty Hump’s nose. You feel me ladies? Aaaall right).

And of all the glorious gifts to bestow upon your humble masturbator, you’re waterproof. Were I to count the silent orgasms I’ve had in the shower…we’ll, we’d be here a while.

Sure, you’re not “My Future Husband’s” manhood which I would much prefer, but I’ll take you both in tandem any day.

Thank you vibrator. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.

I’m one of the women in this forsaken world who will admit to privately having a taste to assure myself that when my man goes spelunking to the nether regions, that I know what he is getting himself into (and on days where I am unsure, or I am cave diving for weeks at a time, then yeah, I might say, “Skip it honey. Just hump me.”)

I love receiving. Love, love, love, love receiving from a man who has the skills (such as “My Future Husband”), but still can have that momentary lapse of confidence. It is allowing yourself to be vulnerable, opening up the region of your body with the most nerve endings and one of the few female bodily fluids to be acceptable in another person’s mouth. (The other being spit you sick German porn loving fucks!)

As far as disliking my taste, I do not. I’ll suck “My Future Husband’s” cock clean in the middle of a shagging session, but in that process, I am controlling where “I” end up. I’m not going to be accidentally stabbing his cock covered in my own juices into my own eye anytime soon (unless we’re circus fucking, which in that case…what the hell is circus fucking? Should I patent that? I just made it up.) so the danger is under control. But in the case of those former failures, ending up with me up my own nose? No thank you.

And you’re right, a man refusing a kiss after I suck him off would lose the privilege of my magnificent blow jobs, but then again, I’m not spitting it all over his face and perhaps up his nose or in his eye when I come up. I swallow, thank you.