Some of you out there may deem this collection of words a vicious railing against your lifestyle, your passion, your raison d'etre. I'm sure that of all the folks who manage to stumble across this page and actually read it (all two of you), at least one of you will take this as a dastardly attack against YOU, personally. So sit down, you, and prepare to misconstrue.
What the hell is it with hetero anal sex?
I just don't get it. I know that humans exist in myriad variety. Customs and preferences are not merely limited to the 5 billion or so on the planet. Perception depends heavily on mood. Some days I don't mind ad-covered New Beetles. Some days I wish they would all drive off a cliff like lemmings and burst into flames, Hollywood-style. Some preferences run a little stronger. For instance, there are folks who like to eat bugs. Maybe their diets are low in protein. Maybe they just like the taste. Hell, most seafood delicacies, such as lobster, shrimp, and crab, are merely big sea-insects. But with all these things, there's something to which I can apply some reason. I just can't imagine anal sex being a capricious, mood-driven trifle: "Hey, honey, how was your day? That's great. By the way, I've got a hankering to plunge your cornhole." Neither can I fathom the preference for Greek-style love or even the desire to keep it among a repertoire of sex acts.
Now, male homosexual sex I can understand. I do have a reflexive revulsion at the thought of it akin to envisioning my fingernails pulled out with pliers, but it does make sense. You're a male turned on by another male. You want to get close in that special way. You have an urge to penetrate or be penetrated. (How clever of you, dear reader. By now you've deduced that I'm actually a latent homosexual. Gold star for you!)
All my feeble reasoning crumbles when I turn my attention to hetero anal sex. If you're a hetero male, nature has provided your mate with a convenient receptacle. (Esteemed reader, if you happen to be a touchy female, please note that I did NOT reduce you to a "receptacle". I mention only that you have genitalia that can facilitate consensual, mutually satisfying coitus... only if you want to, that is.) If you're a hetero female, you have some chips stacked against you. The penis is absurd. It's not exactly the magic wand so many men believe it to be. Furthermore, many folks find the vulva a wee bit mysterious and a tad less evident than a throbbing phallus despite the strident efforts of Larry Flint and Annie Sprinkle to acquaint us with female naughty bits. I've seen lots of depictions of our pal Priapus with a schlong so titanic it requires a stand. I have yet to see one hint of his female counterpart, her prodigious labia majora caught up in a sling. Furthermore, the stereotypical man isn't all that interested in your pleasure. So, to a certain degree, I understand your desire to find something more satisfying than a hot beef injection. Instead of resorting to butt love, I posit a more straightforward solution. Tell the typical Neanderthal creep to take a hike. Find a guy who knows how to turn your crank or, at the very least, find a guy who's willing to learn what turns your crank. As Nicolette says in Braveheart: "Englishmen don't know what a tongue is for."
Yes, valued reader, I anticipate the question on your lips: What about that other orifice, the mouth? I have met guys who would rather lick the bottom of a trash can seething with maggots than to go down on a woman. Likewise, some women would rather pop boils with their teeth than to blow a guy. In the end (no pun intended), these are preferences. I understand them just as I understand that some people regard sea cucumber a delicacy. The idea of eating a creature that vomits its guts under stress finds no appeal with me. Nevertheless, I consider that chowing down on sea cucumber, pussy, or dick, barring some really unfortunate circumstances, is basically safe.
I hear tell that the human tongue has more bacteria on it that the human asshole. This point is moot. This alarmist piece of non-information assumes that all bacteria are bad. Given this assumption, spooning a cup of yogurt is equivalent to a nice, deep rim-job. I would like to remind you, yes you, the pissed off one, that the butt end of the alimentary canal crawls with a host of none-too-healthy bacteria.
I must admit that my own personal experience with anal sex has been confined to reading Savage Love and putting off a girlfriend who was interested in massaging my prostate. I freely and thankfully admit that I am no expert on the matter. My lunch-hour reading has lead me to the conclusion that anal sex can be a lot of work. Many sphincter stretchers insist on a thorough enema before the fun begins to avoid the inevitable smells and interesting nuggets left over from last night's Thai food. Yes, straight sex can involve a bit of work (the date, the dinner, the petting, the foreplay, etc.) I suppose I don't really feel its work because it's all socially condoned and sometimes the journey is as much fun as the destination. However, it is impossible for my imagination to transform anything as pragmatic as colonic irrigation into a frisky frolic.
Brown-puddle makers assure all of us prudes that we're really missing out on something special. They say that the anus has more nerve endings than just about anywhere else on your body and that this leads to a greater potential for mind-bending pleasure. The reasoning here is: it feels good, therefore you should do it. You can apply the same logic to heroin with some pretty nasty results. Please, gentle reader, restrain your foaming for a moment. I know that anal sex is not as nocuous as China white. I know that butt reaming does not lead to blindness, liver inflammation, scrofula, and closet Republicanism. Even if it did all this and more, I wouldn't be against you doing it. I don't care what you do behind closed doors as long as it's consensual and I don't have to pay for it or have to read about it.
I just don't get it.
Pakeha