by Alison Tyler
“Good?” I asked.
“So good. So fucking good. You?”
“Amazing. So different but…wow. Hard to describe.”
“Yeah.”
He fell on top of my chest with a grunt and rested his head on my shoulder. This caused my legs to squash right down, the upper thigh muscles straining, while I felt his cock soften inside me.
“Um.” I coughed.
“Sorry.” He propped himself back up. “Ready? This might feel strange. Keep relaxed.”
My muscles didn’t want to let him go. My body relayed the urgent message that he should stay there, rammed to the hilt in my bottom. It took a lot of deep breathing to stop the clenching and let him withdraw.
When he did, I felt an immediate sense of emptiness. My walls tightened, seeking their recent occupier and finding nothing. It was as if they felt abandoned. Poor little rectal walls. They would want him back. Sooner rather than later.
And they’ve had their wish. Since that night, we have embraced all things anal. We’ve done it in different positions, used different lubricants, introduced toys and experimented with double penetration.
“What are you going to do now, with no final frontier?” I asked him a few days after that first trip into the beyond. “Where can you go?”
“Well, it’s quite a big frontier,” he said, causing me to widen my eyes in indignation. “No, I don’t mean your arse is big. I just mean it takes a long time to cross. A really long time. Lots and lots of attempts. In fact, I’m not sure I’ll ever truly finish crossing it.”
He spoke the truth.
CHAPTER TEN
BEND OVER, BF —
PEGGING
I asked my wife to try anal sex. She said, “Sure. You first.”
—ROBERT SCHIMMEL
There are certain desires that don’t tend to come out on a first date. When you’re in the hazy, rose-hued world of getting-to-know-you, confessing to a partner that you want to slide on a strap-on and take his ass—or be on the receiving end (as it were) of that experience—is something that comes later. But if this is a fantasy of yours, be sure that it does finally come. Because pegging can open up entire worlds of pleasure.
I’ve buckled on the harness on multiple occasions in my work. In “Pegged,” my heroine knows exactly how to please her lover:
She licked a finger, and then slowly began to circle his asshole. He stiffened, as always, before gradually starting to relax. Her lips tightened as she sucked his cock while continuing to play with his hole. Carey sighed. When she tongued the head in rhythm with the way her finger cautiously twirled, Carey groaned. Later, he would act as if none of this had ever happened. She knew that. He would stare at her blankly with his bottle-green eyes, almost as if he’d just woken from a dream.
The narrator in my story “Plucked” is kind as she makes her lover’s fantasies come true.
I kiss the welts, and Sandy groans, then I part his rear cheeks and I start to rim his asshole. I know she fucked him here. I know that. But I’m not a cold steel domme like she was. I do things my way. I make Sandy’s cock all hard and ready by using the point of my tongue in his hole. I reach under him and manhandle his rod while I lick and suck. He’s trembling all over, and I think again of a snake that’s mesmerized the prey.
Poor Sandy, let me make it all better.
“Roger’s Fault,” by Eric Williams, features a ménage with pegging:
What a sight we made. Two guys in expensive work suits, perusing the aisles of marabou-trimmed nighties, edible panties, inflatable dolls, vibrators, paddles, lubricant. Roger acted casual about the whole thing, as if he shopped in stores like that every day. And then there was me, late as hell already, not knowing what the fuck we were doing there.
“Trust me,” Roger said again, this time hefting a huge, ribbed purple dildo and poking around in a basket for a suitable leather harness, one that would fit your slim hips without looking foolish. He wanted to find a quality-made harness with a delicate buckle. Not too large.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said.
“Elena will love it. You’ll see.”
“You’re not buying my girlfriend a dildo.”
“You’re right,” he agreed, and I thought I saw sanity again in my buddy’s green eyes. “I’m not buying it. You are.”
“There’s no way.”
“Chet,” he said, “you can’t go home empty-handed. She’s going to be upset as a wildcat that you’re this late as it is.”
“So, what?” I asked him, incredulous. “So I’m going to tell her to strap this thing on and fuck her aggression out on me?”
“Something like that.”
And then suddenly, I understood. I’d been set up.
“Nobody’s Business,” by Dante Davidson, stars a character who likes to receive anal as much as he likes to give it:
Of course, I’ve been fucked this way, myself. I’m not one to dish out what I can’t take. My introduction to the world of anal delights is clear in my memory. Not only do I possess a mental movie of that night, I remember the soundtrack, the words spoken, as well. My college girlfriend liked to talk while we fucked. Whenever we messed around, Veronica kept up a running monologue, telling me what she was going to do a split second ahead of time. She liked me because I’m the strong, silent type. I let her ramble, got into the melody, grooved on the sound of her voice.
On the night of my first ass-fucking, she asked for permission first. “Really?” I said. “You’d like that?” Yeah, I knew she was edgier than most of the coeds, but this managed to surprise even me.
She was alive with nervous energy, moving too quickly around the room, gathering her toys, her implements, promising me that I’d love every minute. Curiosity piqued, I let her bend me over the green comforter on her bed, and I waited as she got her strap-on cock wet with lube. Then she pressed her lips to my ear and hissed, “Kelly, I’m gonna take your back door.”
The “taking it” is totally sexy. Elisa Sharone writes in “I Want Your Ass”:
I’d asked him months before, “What are you going to do the day I show up with a strap-on?” He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure. He knew I wanted to give it to him, but he wasn’t certain he was ready to take it. We practiced a bit, exploring more “sexy ass-play” as he liked to call it.
He’d been suspicious of my recent furtive box opening and not-so-secret stashing, so it wouldn’t be long before curiosity bested him and he took a peek under the bed. Still, it surprised him when I appeared wearing a buttery-soft, dark-red leather harness and nothing else. That harness is fucking hot, with ultra low-slung slender straps that ride my hipbones and sexy metal rivet details. It’s like a super-chic biker jacket for your cunt.
His erection rose as the harness registered, even though I was cockless. “You like what you see, baby?” I asked, as I climbed on the bed and knelt in front of him. “Where’s the dildo?” he asked. Turned out, he was ready to take it.
Giselle Renarde makes a game of the event in “Lillian’s New Toy”:
I went to bed first, already wearing my naughty strap-on underneath my nightie. The lubricant was tucked secretly under my pillow. Not a secret for long, though. I was giddy, trying desperately not to smile too widely and give it all away as Frank shuffled under the covers. When the sheets began to rustle, I slipped out the lube.
Rubbing the vibrator slick with the stuff, I switched on my bad boy.
“What’s that…?” Frank asked, stopping short when I slid my wet fingers along his crack. Then it was, Ohhh.
Never in my life would I have imagined tickling my husband’s asshole as he jerked on his cock, but there it was! I was doing it and he was sighing at the sensation.
I held the strap-on against my husband’s asshole. I didn’t push right away, just let it vibrate until I got the sense he was ready to take it in. Frank didn’t say a word, didn’t turn around, nothing, but I knew instinctively when he could handle the purple penis.
Spooning h
is warm body, I eased the little vibe into his ass. He didn’t have to tell me what he wanted. I knew. Grasping his love handles, I thrust into my husband’s ass slowly and gently. By the speed his fist was going at his cock, I could tell he wanted it faster. I moved my hips in time with his labored breath.
Was that his heart beating a mile a minute, or was it mine?
Taking charge when you normally don’t—or receiving when you’re often the pitcher—can turn your bedroom upside down.
TANTALIZING TIPS
•Schedule a viewing of Bend Over Boyfriend, starring Carol Queen, which remains Good Vibrations’ bestselling video to date.
•Peruse Violet Blue’s intensely instructive how-to on the topic, The Adventurous Couple’s Guide to Strap-On Sex.
•Play with butt plugs or dildos before going for strap-on sex.
FICTION: PEGGING
A ROUND PEG IN A ROUND HOLE
SHANNA GERMAIN
What about this one?” I hold up one of the strap-on dildos. Realistic and not too big, but with enough length and heft that I can already imagine what it will feel like in the leather harness I bought weeks ago.
“Sarah…Jesus.” Joseph’s voice is hushed. If his skin wasn’t so beautifully dark olive, I would be able to see him blush right now. I’m not trying to embarrass him, but we’ve been standing in the toy section of Slick for twenty minutes and he has done his best not to even look at the options. I know he wants this. He’s told me, repeatedly, that he wants this. And, well, we won’t even go into how much I want this. But I also know he’s nervous about it all. Sometimes Joseph needs a gentle nudge to get what he wants.
A nudge that I’m happy to give him in the form of a pale rubber cock and a slightly raised voice. I bounce it in the air a bit, pretending I haven’t seen his obvious discomfort.
“This looks like a good fit,” I say. I look at him a long time. My look says: We’re going home with a strap-on, one way or another. So if you want something other than the one in my hand, now would be a good time to say so.
Joseph moves away slightly, his voice far quieter than mine. “Maybe something less”—he touches the edge of his earlobe, then flicks a thumb over his goatee—“realistic?”
Now we’re getting somewhere with his wants. I put the cock back on the shelf with the other samples and pick up a slightly smaller silicone toy. It’s royal purple, with just a hint of a curve, and looks nothing like a real cock. I actually picked it out as the perfect toy the moment we walked in, but he doesn’t have to know that. I’ve done this before, bent over the boys in my life, but it’s all new to Joseph. So I want him to feel like he’s the one in control, he’s the one making all the decisions about what happens next.
Joseph looks at the toy, biting the side of his lip a bit. He doesn’t say anything, but his breath comes a little quicker. I imagine that if I reached down, I would already feel his cock hard and pulsing beneath the fabric of his jeans. The very thought makes my own breath catch. Suddenly I want nothing more than to leave this store and have Joseph naked and bent over in front of me.
“Yes?” I ask, trying not to let my impatience show.
He drops his gaze slightly and a small smile turns the edges of his lips. “Yes, please,” he says, in that soft and submissive voice that only shows up when he really, really wants something.
Oh, sweet man. Oh, beautiful man. “I love you,” I say as I take his hand with my free one and squeeze. What I don’t say is what he already knows, that I can’t wait to bend him over and fuck him until he is moaning my name, begging me to let him come.
* * *
I wouldn’t say that I fell in love with Joseph for his ass, but damn, it certainly didn’t hurt. At the start, it was mostly the way he wore his jeans. And then we got together and I discovered he didn’t just have a beautiful ass, he also had a deliciously sensitive one. A finger between his cheeks made him moan in delight. A little lube around his sweet spot, and he’d practically come right there.
Most guys don’t have great asses. They don’t even have good asses. They’re kind of flat and white and, well, you know. Just there.
Not Joseph. Joseph has one of those asses. He’s got Italian blood in him, so he’s olive-skinned everywhere, even his ass, even in the winter. And he has these two beautiful globes, muscled and firm. Not so hard that they’re not fun to squeeze. They’ve got just the right amount of meat to them.
He’s one of those guys who are naturally gifted. Good genes and all that. But he also does these squat-something-or-others at the gym. I don’t know what they are or how they work. He tells me, and I try to listen, mostly so that I can imagine him there, bending down under all that weight, the muscles of his thighs contracting, his ass wrapped in those lovely black shorts he favors. Sometimes he wears them home from the gym, not having showered, smelling like fresh salt, and I make him bend down for me right by the front door, take that beautiful ass in both hands and just knead it. All those tender, taut muscles, just begging for release. Of course I don’t give it. I find the sorest spots, the ones that make him squirm, and massage until he’s nearly screaming for mercy.
I say almost, of course. Because he knows how to make me merciful. And it’s not by screaming. I like to hear him scream a little. More importantly, he likes to scream a little. It’s part of what makes us such a good pair.
I’ll admit—I’ve always liked to look at men’s asses, but it wasn’t until Joseph that I understood just how much of a thing I have for them. It’s kind of an addiction, to be honest. But I figure since he doesn’t seem to mind, I shouldn’t either.
We’ve played a lot. Lots of kissing and fingering and lube and beginner butt plugs. Every little touch makes him happy and makes him want more. Which in turn makes me want more. Most of the time, it’s amazing we get anything done besides each other.
But only recently did he admit to me that there was something he’d always wanted to try. As soon as he got out the words “bend over” and “strap-on,” I was ready to jump the man’s bones in a whole new way. If not for the lack of proper equipment, I probably would have.
Which is why we have just bought a beautiful purple toy that looks more like a slightly melted grape popsicle than a cock. And a lovely black leather harness that fits my curves perfectly.
It’s also why this drive home feels like the longest trip ever. It’s why we keep glancing at each other out of the corner of our eyes like we’ve got a secret. A very hot, very delicious secret. It’s why we run to the house like teenagers, giggling and shoving, not knowing what else to do with our excited energy.
I make him wait. Do not ask me how I do this, because I do not know. I never have this kind of willpower. Normally, I’m a now girl, a gimme girl, but the fact that waiting is making him all antsy and nervous is somehow a reward on its own. He paces around the kitchen, putting things away, picking dishes up and setting them down, watering the plants. He doesn’t look at me and yet he radiates lust like a finely honed scent. He’s beautiful in his need, dressed in a white button-down and a pair of black pants. His olive skin makes a beautiful contrast with the white, his green eyes rimmed with thick black lashes. His cock makes a dramatic profile, bulging against his jeans. And his ass, well, I’ve already talked about that.
I watch him awhile longer, puttering. I’d say that I decided to be nice, to put him out of his misery, but really it’s me who can’t wait any longer.
“Come with me,” I say. I’m wearing one of his favorite outfits, a crimson wraparound dress with knee-high leather boots, and I walk slow and deliberate toward our bedroom, letting him watch my ass for a change.
In the bedroom, he stands silent before me, his cock straining against the front of his pants. He’s got a beautiful cock too, lightly curved with a soft, tongueable head. But I’m not particularly interested in his cock right now. I want his ass. Want is too soft a word. I need his ass.
“Get undressed,” I say.
Joseph knows how to do this already. N
o touching me. No touching his cock or his nipples. No begging or pleading or asking questions. He takes off his shirt, pulling it over his head, giving me an almost-long-enough glimpse of his stomach and chest muscles working. He folds his shirt; that’s his rule, not mine. His jeans are next, the lovely sweep of a leather belt through the loops and then the button-fly. Soon, he’s standing before me in black boxer briefs, hands behind his back. His cock, semi-freed, strains to be released fully. A spot of precum darkens the fabric further.
I’m still fully clothed. He has the audacity to note my dress with a quizzical gaze but doesn’t actually ask his question aloud. I wait until I have his full attention and then reveal myself to him slowly, letting him anticipate as I untie the wraparound and let it fall. I’m not wearing anything under it, and he releases a rough exhale of desire that makes me smile.
I practiced putting the harness on a few days ago, and as I pull it from the drawer now, I’m delighted to realize that its black leather is going to look beautiful against the purple toy. I take my time, sliding our new toy into the harness, settling the leather over my pelvis.
“Would you like to buckle the straps?” I ask.
He nods.
“The top ones first,” I say. “So it stays in place while I fuck you.”
I stroke his cock on those last words, and his fingers fumble a little at the buckles on my waist, his breath coming in quick pants. But he gets it perfect, and then does the same for the second set of buckles.
“Stroke me,” I say.
He curls his fingers around my cock, his movement hesitant. I push into his fist and in a second, he gets the rhythm of it. Every push of his hand sends the base of the toy hard against my clit, a pulsing beat of pleasure.
“Now you too,” I say.
He puts his other hand on his own cock, strokes his fist over the length of it at the same time, uttering a broken groan. God, he’s hot like this. But this is just the beginning.