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“I’ve wanted to touch your bum since the day I met you,” he whispered.
Not the most romantic start to a relationship, but it turned me on anyway.
I liked to dress it up for him—tight jeans for the pub, shiny spandex hot pants for the nightclubs. He couldn’t keep his hands off it, following wherever it led. He particularly liked it when I wore a tiny latex miniskirt I’d bought in the goth shop in town, though I tended to save that one for the bedroom. I’d bend over, stretch that rubber tight as tight, listening behind me for the moans of agonized awe that preceded his pounce.
As time went on, I let him spank me, growing to enjoy the sound of his hand on my heating skin and the way it lit up my sex and made my juices flow. I’d never imagined I’d enjoy that kind of thing, but over his knee became one of my favorite places to be.
Another one was on my hands and knees on the bed or the floor or wherever, my spine bent, the better to thrust out my bottom, while he pounded into me, his hands scooping those generous curves.
I guess I knew the day was coming, but I avoided thinking about it. Surely it was enough that he got to see and feel and touch and spank my bottom to his heart’s content. Surely this would satisfy him and he wouldn’t want to…my sphincter would clench before I got as far as explicating the thought.
So it was left to him to moot the subject.
Once again I was on my knees, face in the duvet, arse in the air, naked except for stockings and suspenders, pushing back on his cock, eager to get it all inside me.
“Mm, do you want it, Lis?”
“Yeah, please.”
He ground his pelvis, tried to push his cock farther in, but it simply wasn’t possible. He placed his thumbs on my inner buttcheeks and pulled them apart, something he’d done many times during sex, so I wasn’t unduly alarmed.
But then he placed one of those thumbs on my anus and I jolted my hips so wildly we nearly toppled over sideways.
“Shhh, calm.” He patted my hip but kept his thumb in situ. “What’s the matter?”
“You’re touching…it feels weird.”
“Bad weird?”
“No, but…”
“Have you never wanted to try anal sex?”
“Not tonight.”
“No, not tonight. I don’t mean tonight. I mean, ever.”
“I don’t know. It’d hurt. You’d never fit. And it’s just…a bit gross.”
“It’s not gross. It’s dirty, but that’s good. You can make sure you’re clean beforehand, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I don’t know what I’m worried about. I’m just worried.”
“It doesn’t turn you on?”
I knew he was trying hard to keep his tone neutral, not disappointed, not coercive. I loved him for that. I loved him anyway.
So I considered his question seriously.
“Look, can we discuss this face-to-face? After you’ve fucked me with that cock that’s distracting me so very much right now?”
He laughed.
We fucked. Throughout the fuck, I imagined his cock was farther behind, in that secret, hidden, transgressive place. I imagined how it would look, that fat, thick thing gliding in and out of the tiny opening. I imagined how hot and nasty and helpless and dominated it would make me feel. When I came, I came harder than usual.
As we lay together afterward, I asked him why he liked the idea.
“I’ve always liked it,” he said. “It’s my number one fantasy. I suppose because it’s so perverted and forbidden. Arse—the final frontier.”
