my rejected tail piece: the good, the bad and the anal

I wrote a piece for a magazine that was rejected. It's about anal, and if you want to read it, it's below the fold. I suspect my own ambivalence about writing the piece imbued it a bit too heavily for publication. Hey, it happens. My remunerative loss, your chewy gain.

The Good, the Bad and the Anal

The essential question remains: why would you want to put anything up there? It’s a good question, one that sits docile if provoking in the recesses of my mind each and every time I have anal sex, and I have had it often. Though quite probably not often enough and certainly not recently. Two years have passed since I was last fucked in the ass, and for good reason. Or for reasons good enough. Or merely for reasons. There are reasons enough why I've forgone the glorious gutter pleasure that is anal, and all of them are boring and complicated and as lacking in wet pink erotic tinge as a sere Mother Superior.

Anal, you see, requires me to give it up in ways that defy understanding or articulacy. Anal requires trust deep as viscera. It brings me to a place velvet-dark as night. It lingers like a burn. Butt-fucking is, for me, not a venture to be embarked upon lightly. Therefore when I do do it, when I do decide, when I do commit, when I find myself face down and ass up, my tender lavender brown asshole the starry plum in my soon-to-be-plundered booty, I give in, give up, and let go, because what else can a girl (or guy) do? Everyone has an asshole, and everyone should let theirs be gently fucked at least once in their long lives.

I do enjoy being fucked in the ass, though it pains me. I may even enjoy being fucked in the ass because it pains me. The pain is part of it, like the flour tortilla that wraps the burrito. You don’t eat the burrito because of the tortilla, but you can’t really admit that it doesn’t add to the burrito-eating experience. The pain of anal is not unlike that. The pain is the gateway to the pleasure. The pain—and it comes sharp and hot and molten; it makes my breath catch and turn ragged; it is something that I will to subside, to melt, and to resolve itself into a slow, hot and red-flushed glory—is necessary. It serves to remind that what you’re doing isn’t entirely natural, entirely acceptable, entirely normative. It makes you slow down, consider, and commit. It makes you see the entire operation, the cock sliding into your recalcitrant rectum, your sphincter opening surely if surly, and your grudging acceptance of this magnificently hard foreign object into your most private of privates. The pain sharpens the focus, and you glory in it, or you do if you are me.

It pains me to admit I do enjoy being fucked in the ass. That pain is also pleasurable. Butt-fucking has such a lowly reputation. No sex act gets kicked in the can as much as sodomy. Anal is the low man on the totem pole, a metaphor so loaded it can hardly bear its own weight. But it is the bottom-feeding nature of ass-fuckery that sweetens the experience. Anal is like lobster—its lowly shit-eating status adds to its delight. If it weren’t so faintly tainted with disgust, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. (Plus, I might add, both lobster and anal require copious amounts of butter.) The word that I’d use to describe this pleasure would be “transgressive” were I going to get all intellectual about it, but anal makes it hard to think.

Which is one of the reasons why I treasure it so. I am afflicted. I think too much. My head is a constant whirring hamster wheel of thought. Few things quiet this thinky susurration like having my ass stuffed with a nice, hard cock. It’s like a ball gag for my mind. When I’m being butt-fucked, whether I’m above, below, beside or before, my mind goes blank as a slate. I achieve a rare purity of consciousness and it takes the form of some primal raging keening need whose shape and red-ragged form sit ecstatically outside my ken. When I’m being buttfucked, all I see and feel and sense and am is that hard cock, my slowly relenting ass, and a conflagration of orgasm. When I’m being buttfucked, I am unhinged and wild and raw and glory and fuck me and faster and shallow and yes and yes and now and please and god.

The word most often employed to describe ass play, ass toys, or ass sex is “full.” Manufacturers of adult novelty items will in their marketing material claim that their product “gives that feeling of fullness.” Sometimes they’ll add an adjective too, as in “that wonderful feeling of fullness,” or “that feeling of wonderful fullness.” “Full” is part of the anal experience, but it is word that ultimately fails to describe what it feels like to jam something hard and foreign—toy or cock—in your ass. It’s not the fault of “full”; “full” is a perfectly fine word. The problem is that no words can really do anal justice. Former ballerina Toni Bentley wrote an entire book on her experience of finding god through butt-fucking; writer, sex educator and pornographer Tristan Taormino has dedicated no small section of her life to awakening others to the joys of anal. Both of these writers have failed, and it’s not their faults. They are wonderful writers. The fault is that of anal: it’s simply too big, too deep, and too complex to express.

Anal sits outside utterance, something for which I am eternally grateful. The cock in the ass (and I return to the cock again and again, for as much as I enjoy the toy, enjoy it alone in solipsistic hand-on-clit meanderings, enjoy it with others, enjoy it with a cock in my pussy, enjoy the toy while walking around its secret buried deep within me, enjoy the toy early and often, but enjoy the toy most when it serves as a prelude to actual ass-fuckery) reduces me to a wobbling puddle. Anal is the ultimate release, shredding boundaries, busting barriers, and bringing me to my knees, literally and figuratively. I’d endeavor to describe the seismic orgasms of anal, their banshee wails, their cunt-shuddering power. I’d try to detail how they leave me wet and wrung out, walking like a stroke victim, talking like an aphasiac. I’d try to tell you, but I’d fail.

Which is the tortuous road to the reason why I’ve not had my ass fucked in two years. For two years, I’ve sat on my delectable ass, my roseate hole puckered up and silent, dusty even. Because it’s not something that is entered into lightly. Because it’s not something to be done on a whim. Because to give it up is to give in, and it’s dark and dangerous road to travel with a stranger. And yet the question lingers: why would I want to put anything up there?

Because it feels good, so good that words, like a blessing, fail me.

Comments

[Karl Elvis]

I shouldn't be reading this when I'm as horny as I am this week. Now my head is filled with images of fucking and being fucked.

I better not get up from my desk for a little while.

[Elegant Slut]

Yeah... that pretty much sums up buttfuckery.

I liked it. (The piece, my views on anal sex are for me to write in *my* space :-)) It's a shame they didn't pay you, but i'm quite grateful for my "chewy gain". Thanks for sharing.

[tsh1]

Ii think u nailed it (n only the sweetest of ways)

[alphagirl]

As a fellow person who doth think too much herself, I particularly liked the paragraph about how anal is the only thing that quiets the mind gives release to the body. Nicely done piece.

[Jack Blank]

I wish you'd post more often :(

[Jack Blank]

Also, your tip jar isn't working.

[chad]

I have been away for awhile and am happy I returned to this wonderful piece.

[Loop]

I miss being with my ex now so much! We did anal and I enjoyed it despite (or also because of) the pain, like you said. But I dont think I get to reach an orgasm that way. We were in the middle of experimenting and getting there, and have better and better sex. One of the things I miss him for :(

Question: you said its been two years since you had anal, (because of the trust and stuff I assume you havent been in another relationship) and I was wondering if it is hard to find someone to trust and have amazing sex with? Is that trust, that being confortable with something during sex, something I should appreaciate and value more? cause if it is, then probly I would think twice about leaving or being with someone in a relationship.

[wendy]

I have only recently begun my adventure with anal sex. There is something about it that I've never been able to explain. The way you can't think of anything else, and how every movement seems monumental. How primal it is ... and how close I feel to my husband after.
Thanks for putting the experience into words for me. Planning on getting my ass fucked tonight. ;)

[CJ]

Mmmmm...exactly, utterly what I longed for.
All these delicious feeling wraped up in the tortilla!
To my deepest dismay...he abused the trust.
How I wish it could have been different,
trust gone forever...
Thou I did enjoy your writing...CJ

[ava]

Dear Chealsea,
I was looking forward to reading this article at Peet's Coffee when I was faced with a rather rude interruption. Peet's firewall blocked your blog - stating that this is a sex site, sorry fucker, we won't allow you to read about fucking.

This is rather alarming to me. I was on a private laptop, and as far as I remember, was not asking the decent looking guy sitting next to me to pull his cock out for the children to see. This kind of unnecessary censorship in the name of the children pisses me off.

So, I wrote an email to their corporate headquarters, and now I will have to stop visiting Peet's.

And by the way, your lucidity in your writing is what I enjoy most. I have been combing your archives and have been inspired to write openly about my own anal antics, and... stuff.

Best,
Ava
eva2ava.wordpress.com

[oatmeal girl]

How could they possibly reject a piece that manages to so subtly insert a sliver of Shakespeare into such a delicious evocation of anal sex?

The richness of the writing beautifully reflects the intensity of the act itself. Thank you for giving us this deep, dark delight.

[Glass Dildo]

This was a really good article, I dont see why it was rejected. Although I am grateful we got to read it here. Thanks

[Rebecca]

Wow, I have only just found you and now fear too much of my time will be spent sifting through your archives. Thank you for writing so candidly about these topics. Women who speak, write, or think in such a manner are often disregarded or belittled by the mainstream and it tickles me to find a kindred spirit such as yourself.