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Anal sex
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Anal sex In 1977, Cat Stevens retired from music and underwent a dramatic conversion to become a religious Muslim named Yusuf Islam. I can totally relate to this now, because before I used to say I'd never have butt sex and then this weekend I had it. A few years ago, I was so adamant about never having it that I had the following conversation with my then-roommate, Ben. Reality Bites, which I despise, was on TV. "I really hate this movie more than anything in the world," I said. "Even more than butt sex?" (We had discussed my terror of anal before.) "Like if you had to choose whether you were gonna watch Reality Bites or have anal sex—" "I would rather have anal sex. The ranking is like, everything, and then anal sex, and then watching Reality Bites is dead last." But that was when I was slightly younger, closed-minded, and very single — which allowed me to make sweeping generalizations about things I'd Never Do without being challenged on them. The risk/return ratio of anal sex seemed very lopsided (Return: The guy you're dating thinks you're cool, or whatever? Risk: Pooping on a penis.) But now that I'm someone's girlfriend, it turns out that when you really like someone, you're more willing to try things you never thought you'd try. Like watching Jason Statham movies and camping and losing the final and only virginity that you've retained since After-Prom. 1. Don't try it if you don't want to. There's a big difference between "I don't necessarily fantasize about getting a penis enema but I want to blow my partner's mind" and "I would rather die than do this but I guess I can suffer through it because he's been pressuring me." If you're in a mutually caring, healthy relationship (with a guy who goes down on you for half an hour, minimum), maybe you'll want to do it for your partner or you won't. Either way is 100 percent fine, and if he keeps pressuring you when you have made it clear that it is not on the table, tell him to suck it. 2. Even if you're monogamous, a condom is probably a good idea. It prevents bacteria from the bowels spreading anywhere. (I know, you really wanna fuck now.) Sexpert Dr. Emily Morse advises keeping baby wipes on the nightstand and to "never use the same condom going from vaginal to anal and back again." For obvious reasons/poopy vagina. 3. The right lube is twice as important as it is when having vaginal sex, which is already super-important. You might have heard that too much lube takes away the friction that makes it feel good for the dude. That's bullshit. There is no such thing as too much lube, because it makes it feel slightly less like you are using your butthole as a handbag for a flashlight. 4. Between thin water-based lubes (like Astroglide) and thicker ones (KY), go with the thicker ones, because they don't dry out as quickly. In sex educator Tristan Taormino's crazy-helpful Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women, she mentions that Crisco has been a favorite of the LGBT community for a long time, but it's bad to use with condoms because it can eventually poke tiny holes in the latex. The oil-based ones are also pretty annoying to get off afterwards. We used Vaseline, but my boyfriend later realized that it deadens sensation on the skin, which was obviously helpful for my asshole but bad for his orgasm. So maybe don't do that, or start with a bit of that but then switch, because it'll take really long for your partner to come, if they even can. 5. Getting the tip in hurts the most, because the head of the penis is the widest part. Once you're past that and up to the shaft, it'll feel a little better. Remember how much regular sex hurt at first, for some of us? (Unless I guess the guy's shaft is the same width as his head, in which case are you guys gonna break up when he has to go back to Xavier's Academy for Gifted Youngsters?) |
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