Along with wanking and group sex, I am quite fond of a butt plug. They feel very naughty and I like knowing I am wearing one while everyone else is blissfully unaware. I used to walk down the street (when I still walked) with a secret smile on my face, smug in the knowledge that I had a smooth, pear oval of stainless steel in my ass.
Apart from the obvious naughtiness of it, the old butt plug served a purpose. It held your ass open so that you could put the appendage of choice in it later when it had grown accustomed to its new size. Gay and bi men have been using them for centuries and women too I suppose as there was never anything to the contrary said in ancient writings. Ye Olde Butte Plugge seems to have been made from wood and though sandpaper is great, I would still worry that I might get a splinter. Your asshole is one place you do not want to get a splinter.
The one that was my favourite was a gorgeous stainless steel (so silver looking but without the patina and tendency to shape change under pressure) with a heart shaped flare. In said flare was a purple faux crystal. It was pretty and ‘girly’ and on the day I wanted it, nowhere to be seen. It usually lived in a cute black velvet bag in the top drawer of my chest of drawers. I pulled everything out and it was not there. I remembered that the cats had managed to open the draw to steal and demolish an entire bag of Dreamies that had also resided there so during my hunt, I even searched their beds in case the furry thieves had stolen that away too. But no. The feline felons were not responsible for the kidnapping of the butt plug.
I searched high and bloody low for the thing. After an unfortunate incident, my ass had decided that it would no longer just open up for SH. It had before, especially during role play. Sexy priests just do it for me you know? I had been a very bad girl and I had got very dirty. Afterwards, we were in the shower and what with all the soap and all, he just slid it in. Then, and I am shaking my head at this, because normally I have a logical brain right, and I know about medical procedures and stuff, it is just when I am having sex, EVERYTHING SEEMS LIKE A GOOD IDEA, so because we also like water sports, SH started to pee.
(BTW, anyone who thinks you cannot pee while you have a hardon is full of shit, and incidentally, so was I.)
What we had just inadvertently done was give me a urine enema. Which was fine while he was in me, put when his cock came out, so did the contents of my bowels. It is difficult to clench when you have just had a big penis inside you and there is a river of sewage exiting your lower portions. You certainly don’t want to open your legs to climb out of the bath, but somehow (thank goodness this was pre mobility issues) I managed to get to the toilet. And whereas the bottom did not fall out of my world, the world did fall out of my bottom.
Laughing are you? I expect you are, I did as I was writing this. However, the fact that this is only the second funniest poo story I have should tell you something.
So that was the incident that made my sphincter a bit shy, hence, I was searching for my butt plug. And I was getting more and more annoyed about it. I was trying to stay chill, there is a reason they call perpetually irritated people anally retentive, but nope. It was nowhere. I would have to buy a new one.
I rang SH while he was on a train on the way home from working away.
“Hi babe, sorry, but I cannot find my butt plug anywhere. Butt stuff is off the menu.”
“Have the cats had it? You know when they nicked the…”
“Dreamies, yeah, I thought that, but no. Cannot find it anywhere.”
“No worries. You’ll just have to get another one.”
“Oky doky. See you in a bit. I’ll be the one in the corset.”
“Ooh! Love you too.”
Of course, ADHD being what it is, I promptly forgot about it. Until a couple of weeks later when I was on Wish.com looking at eye shadow. I don’t know how the bloody algorithms work but on the next page, the first item was butt plugs.
AHA! (I thought) I will get them now, then I won’t forget! Oh, my sweet summer child. Did not the time you accidentally bought a tiny pirate hat instead of a full sized one not teach you to read the description properly? Obviously not. I thought I was buying a set of three black butt plugs of various sizes, so I could discard the ones I didn’t need. I would be like an Anal Goldilocks. “This one is toooooo big…this one is tooooo small… this one is juuuuuuust right.” And aw! They also had a heart shaped flare, this time with a royal blue faux crystal. Then I got distracted and again, promptly forgot all about it.
Until a fortnight later when a package arrived and I realised I had not been paying attention. Not only were there not three butt plugs, the one that had arrived could only be described using the words Fucking and Enormous. However, I am often described using the words Fucking and Determined so I was not about to let my mistake ruin a good night. I was going to have a hot bath before SH got home anyway so I took it with me to see if I could get it to fit.
Here follows a list of really stupid decisions. In my defence, I was horny.
I was nice and relaxed so I thought that would be the best time.
I gave it a go, breathing out to further relax the muscles down there.
I gave it another go using the blow into a balloon method of breathing they use with patients who have had heat surgery and are scared to push (told you I know medical stuff).
This was somewhat successful, but it wasn’t slippery enough.
I covered the butt plug in hair conditioner as that was slippery.
POP! In it went. I was soooo smug. I texted SH to tell him butt stuff was back on the menu.
When he got home, predictably, SH was very excited. We hadn’t had anal for ages and I was really looking forward to it. We got down to business and because he knows an orgasm or two for me will help loosen things further, he didn’t go straight for the plug. Half an hour later we were getting closer to the moment of truth. I was on all fours on the bed and he was giving it some welly from behind. He was enjoying the heart. Thought that was a nice touch.
Then he stopped.
I heard a sharp intake of breath.
Then the words no one in that position wants to hear.
“Babe, I don’t want you to panic.”
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. What was happening? Apart from me panicking that is. Because saying don’t panic is like saying don’t look behind you. It is going to provoke the very behaviour you were trying to avoid. I was trying very hard not to panic and I was failing very hard at it. And I was right to be failing because one thing I had not thought of with a massive butt plug was the flare width.
Yes, the heart that had been thought so cute not mere moments ago was disappearing up my arse.
“Just pull it out. Dig in if you have to. I am not going to be a story that an A&E nurse shares at Christmas.” How I stayed so calm, I don’t know because it was at that moment I realised two things.
Conditioner may have got the thing in, but it wasn’t actually lube so it was unlikely to get it out.
In my haste to give it a go, I hadn’t douched.
I decided to do the only thing that I could think of. I asked him to count to three then pull. And on three, I pushed. Like I did when I was having the kids. I gave birth to a big, black, pear shaped child. With poo on it. A lot of poo. A big old triangle shape of poo. SH was going to just wrap it in a towel and carry on, but by this point I was flat on my front on the bed, shaking, sweating and breathing like I had actually given birth so he took it downstairs and gave it a good wash. He is a bloody trooper that man and nothing phasing him is one of the reasons I love him so much. It was cuddles, pizza and films after that. And a fear of farting that lasted at least three days.
And after all that? I went into SH’s sock drawer to steal his thermal ones and guess what was in there? Yep. The original bloody butt plug, all warm and cosy in its little bag, heart poking out the top like it was wondering if it was safe to come out yet. I was too stunned to speak.
So now I have some words of advice for anyone looking to try anal who wants to have a go with a butt plug first.
Make sure you are with someone who is an absolute trooper who won’t mind if a bit of poo gets loose.
Douche. Trust me. Douche.
Lube, not conditioner. And as much lube as you think you need, get more, use more, just more. You can never have enough lube.
Never, and I cannot be more clear about this, never buy a butt plug from Wish.com.
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