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Part Eight: Games and Frequently Asked Questions
There’s a fun side to anal sex that involves lovers playing games with each other. As a matter of fact, it would be great to have a website dedicated to sexual games so that we all could compare notes. Celeste and I have enjoyed several over the years and thought we would share two with you, one from when we were first married and one that we play today.
When we were newlyweds, Celeste and I both had starter positions in our professions. We weren’t poor, but we were careful about how we spent money and on a fairly strict budget. Our one indulgence were two Saturday nights a month when we did something just for fun that wasn’t budgeted. How much we spent was determined by the game that we played on the Monday before Saturday, being sure that I hadn’t cum on Sunday. Sometimes, usually when we had an expensive concert that we wanted to attend, we played on Tuesday night when I was carrying a three-day load.
Back then, with the arrogance of youth, I was very proud of how hard and far I could cum. Celeste knew this and also that playing with my nipples drove me crazy. She had a large ostrich feather that she had picked up at a costume store for a play in which she had once acted. So the game started with me lying on our bed with my hands under my butt cheeks (I wasn’t allowed ever to touch myself; that was cheating) and Celeste licking or gently biting my nipples. When this had gotten me rock hard, out came that feather with which she stroked my entire body, but concentrated on my nipples. That drove me to distraction, setting my nerves completely on edge. After a couple of minutes, tears would form in the corners of my eyes and roll down the sides of my face, not because I was sad but because it felt as though my body was about to explode. When she saw this, Celeste would announce, “It’s time for Mount Vesuvius.” Then she doubled a pillow up and placed it under my butt for easy access to my hole. My hands were under the pillow and on the bed. Another rule was that my heels always had to be touching the bed. Then she spit on her pointer finger (or lubed it) and stuck it right up my ass until it nestled against my prostate. With her finger there, she took my dick in her other hand and, aiming it right at my face, stroked the frenulum. I fucked myself on her finger and it only took three or four thrusts for me to experience a “gusher.” “My own little water fountain,” Celeste used to call it. When it was over, she added up the score as she either wiped up the cum or licked it off my body. (She didn’t do this very often as the taste of my cum isn’t a favorite illegal bahis of hers.) This determined how much money we had to spend on Saturday night. A spot of cum (Celeste was always the judge of whether it was a spot or a stream that counted as several spots) below my belly button was a dribble and only counted for one dollar. One that landed between my belly button and chin was worth two dollars, anything on my face five, anything that landed directly in my mouth ten, and anything that hit the headboard over my head (this happened twice during all the time we played) counted for twenty dollars. The most money we ever had to spend was $58, which was quite a bit of money back then.
The French Chef
This is a more sophisticated game that we’ve played for the last several years. As a matter of fact, it was while looking for material to use in it that I found the Literotica website, where there is, incidentally, quite a bit of very good writing. Celeste and I play it on Friday mornings, after breakfast but before she goes to work. The rules are very simple. We sit opposite of each other at the dining room table with only our fingertips touching, starring into each other’s eyes. I describe in intimate detail what I’m going to do and how she’s going to feel the next time we have sex. The game revolves around the detail. The more I can create a word picture that truly excites her, the better my chances of winning. When I’ve finished, Celeste goes off to work. (I’m consulting and at home now). She has about a twenty-minute drive to her office and the rule is that she can’t touch herself in any way while I’m telling the story or until after she is sitting at her desk. The question is whether of not she’ll masturbate during the day. I call at 4 p.m. to see who won. If she has masturbated, Celeste stops on the way home and buys the ingredients for a dinner that she then cooks. If she hasn’t, I go out, buy them and cook for her. I’m a good cook, but it’s a good thing that we have a warming oven because I know that Friday night dinner is not going to be Celeste’s highest priority when she gets home.
Celeste: I love this game and always play to win. It’s also true that I can be sitting at my desk at work, close my eyes with my hands folded on the desk, and almost have an orgasm thinking of how good it felt the last time Jimmy reamed me. Put the two together and you’ll understand why it was so sweet when I won after the morning story was “The Travels and Adventures of the Magical Tongue.” I might have won, but it’s also true that when I got home all I wanted to do was to rip off the cook’s apron he was wearing along with the rest of his clothes and throw illegal bahis siteleri him into bed, which is what I almost did. He claims that he almost suffocated when my thighs put his head in a “death grip” as he acted out the story. Generally, it’s a good thing that I like to cook as much as Jimmy. BTW, the implication what he’s better in the kitchen simply isn’t true. He’s been known to mess up a hollandaise because he didn’t temper his eggs properly. He also cheats! One of the ground rules to The French Chef is that he can’t work the Grand Canyon into his story because experience shows that I’ll lose every time if he does. Well, he breaks this rule all the time. For example, many trees do you know that grow at the North Pole that I could grab a hold of?
(Authors are invited to incorporate either of these games into stories they might write without attribution. The same holds true for anything in this guide. It would be fun to see how their retelling at the hands of a better writer enhances our life experiences. If you do use the guide as the basis for a story, please drop us an email so we can enjoy your work.)
Frequently Asked Questions
Over the course of writing this guide we have received many questions and some interesting observations. Here are some of the most useful.
1. What about the use of lube and condoms?
We occasionally use lube and don’t use condoms. We have a glycerin based (never petroleum) one on hand for specific s.o.d. requests that come up suddenly, for when Celeste wants to be deeply penetrated and for when I am being finger fucked. Remember, however, that most of our anal contact involves shallow, gentle penetration that produces its own wetness and outercourse doesn’t involve any penetration at all. Lube is a great confidence builder and those starting out should probably use it all the time.
ALL CAPS TO EMPHASIZE THE IMPORTANCE OF THE USE OF CONDOMS IN TODAY’S WORLD OF ANAL SEX. I read in the newspaper earlier this year that the biggest change in Americans’ sexual behavior over the past twenty years has been the growing popularity of anal sex. The Center for Disease Control reports that about one-third of all men and women say they have had anal sex by age twenty-four. The National College Health Assessment for 2008 reported that 24% of enrolled men and 19% if women said they had had anal sex, and a high percentage of these more than once a month. That may be great news on the pleasure scale, but it’s a huge red flag on the health one because of the concept of “friends with privileges” and the likelihood of multiple experiences with different partners.
Celeste and I grew canlı bahis siteleri up in a different world. Very few couples had anal sex, or at least very few talked about it. We’re bubble babies since we have been in a totally monogamous relationship for thirty-five years. Back then, children weren’t dying from peanut allergies either. Unless you can be absolutely certain that your partner has never had another partner or isn’t going to have one, which is doubtful, DON’T BAREBACK. THE RISKS ARE FAR TO HIGH. USE A CONDOM.
2. Is it really true that your sexual contact is anal?
Almost. When we received the question, we tried to calculate the numbers. Since we’ve been married, Celeste has probably experienced between five and six thousand orgasms (frotting doesn’t count) and all but several hundred of them have involved anal stimulation or penetration. However, we don’t want to be misunderstood. Vaginal intercourse is a very pleasant experience. For us, however, anal intercourse takes pleasure and the expression of love to an entirely different and far more profound level. The two just don’t compare.
3. A truism is that when you try to teach something you always end up learning something. One reader’s observation proves this. S/he (hard to tell) wrote that the parallels between a woman and a man’s body are striking. Both have nipples and sphincter furrows. Both have centers for intense pleasure accessed through the anus and at almost exactly the same spot in the body: the g-spot and the prostate. Both have external sites of great sensitivity, the clitoris and the frenulum. Finally, there is a spot between a man’s ball sac and anus (try putting an ice cube there during sex and see what happens) that corresponds to the arms of the clitoris on a woman. I don’t think we had ever thought of the parallels in exactly these terms, but the reader is absolutely correct.
4. What is the role of pornography in your lives?
Not much. We don’t really have time for it nor feel we need it. Once in a while, when we’re feeling rather smug, we will watch some anal porn for its amusement value. The disconnect between what porn merchants sell as what they think makes anal sex so appealing and its real attraction is astounding, and so degrading, particularly to women but to men as well.
5. Have you talked with your children about anal sex?
We thought this was a really interesting question. The answer is no. I suppose we might talk about it if we were asked a direct question, but that hasn’t happened. It seems to us that nothing is more embarrassing to children than having parents discuss their sex lives with them. That’s “too much information” by any standard. They’re all smart and will figure it out on their own if they want to. They do have as a model very happy parents and have to know that sex has something to do with that happiness.
Next the Conclusion: Go Pick Apples
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