The one about ass play that lacks a pithy title

Belle caught up on the blog yesterday which means she also caught up on my butt plug endurance project.

“Are you OK with it?”

“Sure. I don’t understand it, but I’m OK with it.”

I have always been excessively self-conscious about anal play and my enjoyment of it. It’s not something I generally talk about with Belle since she’s shown no interest in it at all (and has drawn a line around it from a participation standpoint). In a way, blogging about it is a kind of therapy in that I really get to own it. I find it to be generally empowering and freeing to write about it bluntly, share the occasional image, and just revel in the pleasure I find there.

But, I’m still vulnerable. Her innocent and totally unpointed remark about not understanding my enjoyment of anal play made me withdrawn emotionally like a snail whose eyestalk got tapped. I didn’t show those feelings to her since I didn’t want to guilt her out, but I did take a break from the WMCBP for a few hours as I regrouped internally.

How do you make someone understand why you like something they don’t (and really, how is it different from chastity which she’s exclusively interested in only from her side of the key)? Specifically, when it comes to anal play, it seems to me the first thing that turns people off is the fact that it deals with something most of us have been brought up to think is dirty and should be avoided. It’s unhealthy, even. I suppose some people are simply unable to get past their aversion reflex. I was brought up pretty much the same as everyone else, but for some reason I’m able to separate the mechanics of how one gets to the point that they can experience healthy anal play and the real pleasure every man is physiologically capable of experiencing once in the proper state. It’s really no more unpleasant than changing a baby’s diaper, most of the time, or more complicated.

Anyway, assuming you can get yourself past any squickiness and actually get to the pleasuring part, it’s really fucking great. I’d bet your anus and your lips are about on par with one another in their degree of sensitivity (they’re mirrors of one another, after all). And the prostate is nothing but pure molten awesome if you treat it right. Men are just wired to really like playing with their asses if they ever bother to try.

From a young age, I craved playing with my ass. I was originally introduced to the idea when I was quite young (six? seven?) by an older neighbor kid (ten or twelve, I’d guess). I suppose some people would look at the interaction and see something sinister, but I’ve never really felt that way. He was just a kid, too, though several years older. My friend from across the street and I would go to his house and he talked us into doing all kinds of things. To ourselves and one another. He never participated, as far as I can recall. Just directed. Perhaps he grew up to be a molester or maybe he was just curious and wanted to experiment with his particular brand of sexuality. I don’t know. But that little taste unlocked for me a curiosity to discover what anal play could be. And I suppose I’ve never looked back. Sideways once or twice, but not back.

Perhaps the furtiveness of those early explorations and the fear of getting caught (I remember the older boy warning us about ever telling anyone about what we did — not a good sign for him, I suppose) is what’s stuck with me to this day and causes me to be hesitant about being open with Belle. I know, I say that, but I write all the things I write here and it doesn’t seem to add up. It’s easier for me to write than to speak, especially about this kind of thing. I knew she would read the posts about the plug sooner or later as she always does. So I’m not exactly hiding. But I doubt I’d have ever volunteered the information on my own.

It just occurs to me in rereading this that back when masturbation always lead to orgasm and I’d make anal play a part of that, as soon as I came I’d become borderline disgusted by what I’d done. I’d try to get the toys away from me as quickly as possible and even once recall throwing them out afterward. Again, that’s doesn’t sound healthy. Now, since masturbation never leads to orgasm, I never get back to that place. I still find I have a general ebb and flow sort of tidal kind of interest in playing with my ass, but there’s no post-orgasmic guilt-ridden crash.

I had originally thought this post was going to be a little review of some new toys I got from Mr. S (and I’m sure I’ll get back to that at some point) following my use of them this morning. Instead of crashing after I came (because I didn’t because I’m locked in the Steelheart and aren’t allowed to in any event), I had to will myself away from one of the toys in particular. I’ve developed an intense infatuation with it and it was making me feel some really incredible things. Eventually, I had to tell myself to stop. So no, I never get to that bad stage now. I just hover in the clouds. Maybe that’s what make it possible for me to write about it.

In any event, like I said, this post didn’t go where I thought it would. That’s why it doesn’t have a nice little bow on it now as I wrap it up. All this is what it is. I really like getting fucked in the ass. I like wearing plugs (and yes, the WMCBP is still in place). I know I shouldn’t feel anything bad about that, though it certainly feels like I’ve got a headwind in moving towards a point of self-acceptance and comfort.