mistressq

I am obsessed with anal sex. I cant help it, I just am. I think about it almost all the time (or at least A LOT of the time), regardless of where I am.

For example, Ill be pushing a grocery cart at Shop-Rite and the whole time I am imagining myself bent over a produce rack, some pimply stock boy pounding away at my back door as I am gripping a rutabaga or eggplant for leverage and screaming my head off as housewives with babies just stroll on by.

It gets worse at shopping malls, though. You know how malls with an upper and lower level are usually built in an open design so that when you are shopping on the top level, you can look down at all the shoppers milling about below? Well, I often imagine myself being bent over the railing on the top level, looking down at unsuspecting shoppers below with my skirt pushed up and my panties shoved down around my ankles. I am gripping the railing so tightly that my knuckles are turning white, as some burly husband who got tired of waiting for his wife to finish her purchases at Bloomingdales pounds my ass with his meaty 9-inch cock. Sometimes I get so distracted with my mall butt sex daydreams that I forget why I actually went to the mall in the first place.

Now, I know enough about my own ass to realize that these scenarios just couldnt happen well, not in a way that wouldnt be sufficiently painful. I mean, the ass isnt self-lubricating and regardless of how wet my cunt may be, no small amount of pussy juice or pre-cum is going to facilitate me taking a decent-sized cock or dildo past my rectum with pleasure (and even if you like it to hurt, it has to be somewhat pleasurable, or whats the point?).

In my heterosexual days (circa: 1996-2000), the sexual intellect I had so carefully cultivated in my Bay Area womens college days (where our campus Easter egg hunts meant that plastic eggs were filled with mini-tubes of lube, condoms and dental dams and scattered about the campus green) had deteriorated to the point where lubricant became suddenly unknown to me. This was also during the same time that my birth control pills were wreaking havoc with my hormones, resulting in my pussy being dry as a bone, regardless of stimulation. Of course, this meant that sex with my well-hung Italian boyfriend usually ended up with my cunt being rubbed raw from undue friction, resulting in a prolonged hiatus from further sexual contact.

It was during this same period of sexual unenlightenment that I began to crave anal sex (which isnt really a good thing if the concept of lube is somehow locked away in the far recesses of your memory). Granted, my formative sexual years had always been anally-oriented as a pre-teen Id stick whatever phallic shaped objects I could find in both orifices at the same time as part of my regular masturbation ritual. In junior high school, my mother bought one of those cylinders of six plain, white emergency candles and I quickly co-opted them into my double-penetration masturbatory routine: I was always amazed that my internal body temperature was hot enough to soften the candles just enough that when I removed them after orgasm, they had re-shaped themselves in a lovely G-spot curve. But my point is that my asshole certainly wasnt virgin territory by the time I actually started fucking men (which was in my 22nd year I was a late heterosexual bloomer, I guess).

The first guy I had anal with was named Dave and he was 16 years older than me and really just a loser in general. I met him at a bar in butt fuck (excuse the pun) New Jersey where I got excessively inebriated and ended up going home with him. To my chagrin, when we actually got down to doing the deed, his dick was no longer than my middle finger. I am not really a size queen, but when I wrapped my hand around his ERECT cock in hand job fashion, his dick totally disappeared. Anyhow, sex with him bored me to death. He asked if he could fuck me in the ass and I yawned, yeah, whatever and stuck my ass in the air in preparation. I waited for what seemed like an hour for him to stick it in and finally turned around to see what the holdup was. I craned my head around and there he was, pumping away at my ass I just couldnt feel it! He slowed and asked if he was hurting me. At this point, I just started to laugh uncontrollably.

Fast forward a few months to the aforementioned Italian boyfriend who was named Scott. I dont even remember the first time I let him fuck me up the ass, but I do remember this one time that I was on the rag and horny as fuck. We were in his bedroom fooling around and I just needed to feel him inside of me. I begged him to fuck me up the ass, please and positioned myself on all fours on his bed. With no lube, no ass-play, and no hesitation he shoved all nine inches inside me without so much as a flinch from me. It felt like fucking heaven and he rammed me so hard that by the time I finally came, I was up on my knees, my hands and head flat against the wall, his cum streaming down my thighs (there is no hotter sensation to me than having a guy shoot his load deep in my ass). It was delicious.

Now that Ive come to the end of my little anal tale (my that sentence was rife with puns), I realize that I really had no point in sharing all of this other than to illustrate my love for taking it up the ass, turning myself on, and giving the few readers that actually peruse my journal something to think about during jerk-off sessions.

Bottoms up!