here are some stories & articles from issues 1-7. In no particular order.
Is it possible that all these years I just hadn’t found the perfect ass to ream? Oh, hello there. You’ve interrupted my thought process. Never mind, it wasn’t important. I’m kidding. It’s very, very important & I suggest that you continue reading because it may or may not change your life & your eating habits.
Many moons ago, in a quiet nook in the far East, where a poached egg & a glass of warm milk was a passable breakfast & women wore plastic bags over their heels when it rained (don’t laugh, it’s fucking true) I had my very first boyfriend. Yes, puppy love, oh how the days were sweet, filled with cigarettes, ecstasy & Jack Daniels. He was the most important man in my life & I’d do anything for him. As soon as I finished work I’d call him & he’d swing by in a taxi & take me home. We’d sit around smoking in his apartment watching movies, fucking, eating, laughing. We had a great time. It was here that I really got into eating ass. Never in a million years would you believe it if god himself sashayed down from the heavens in all his rexic glory & told you that when you grow up you’ll lick ass like pudding from a spoon.
“Oh that Jesus, he’s so wacky!”
And here you are, you’re boyfriend lying flat on his stomach, legs spread apart & you, tongue deep in love.
Fast-forward five or so years, I’m in Australia, single & my thirst for ass was all but gone. I no longer wanted the same things sexually that I did. The thought of eating out repulsed me, all I could think of was that smell. Not shit. Just that very distinct, mystifying scent I like to call ripe. What was once potpourri was now Harpic Airwick. Most folk that have never eaten ass are usually turned off by the subject itself & their entire face shrivels up like a pillow stuck to a vacuum cleaner followed by an all-agreeing “ewwwww”. I had become most folk & my thirst, my hunger, my lust for ass had evaporated into the air & was replaced with arid disapproval.
For the sake of this article I thought I’d get my nose dirty & dredge Google for some tips on eating ass. Lo & behold I found a simple, but helpful site. Toss-my-salad.com covers an array of topics from health issues to tips. Here are two of my personal favourites from their Top Five Tips:
3. Work your tongue
The anal region is full of sensitive nerve endings just begging for your tongue's caress. Keep your mouth moist and supple as you work their hole over. Keep your tongue loose and paint wide circle around their pucker. Make it tight, long and pointed to probe and penetrate. Work it in and out, around and around, till your partner begs for more.
5. Pig out
Once you've got your face in your partner's butt, don't hold back. Worship your partner's ass. Get lost in it, make love to it. Eating out someone's ass is one of the most intimate of all sexual acts. If both partners approach it with openness and enthusiasm, they will be rewarded with unparalleled enjoyment, whether eating ass is a main course, a spicy side dish, or appetizer for anal sex.
So it’s ironic that I find myself back where I started. Again, fast-forward. A year this time & I’m seeing someone. I’m also making up lost ground with the fervour of a marathon runner. Yes, I’m eating ass again. No longer do I turn my nose up at such a sexual delicacy. I’m like a pig hunting truffles & I love it. A wise man once said an anus is like a 9V battery, you know you shouldn’t put your tongue on it but you do.
DIARY OF A POWER BOTTOM
My reason for writing this article is that I had a revelation of sorts recently when I got drunk with my friends, went out & scored. I was a top. Does scoring count when you go to a sauna? Probably not. After too many vodkas chased with a bottle of Killawarra Klassic (I know, I know, they actually spell it with a K) my friends & I deliberated over where to go out or if we should bother at all. By this stage we’d googled our old high school friends doing the “I knew he was a fag!” & “how the fuck did that fat bitch get a husband!?” rants. I was starting to get abusive & was splayed out on my bed as if modelling Sheridan sheets for hookers. I wanted to go to the Opium Den because I have an Asian fetish. The others disagreed. The Peel was too grotty, Commercial Road too far away. The couple of the group decided to go home which left me & my close friend to decide on The Peel because a) It’s within drunk walking distance from my home & b) We’re grotty.
After a drink or two at Peel my friend had some leftover food in his bag from lunch. A Lebanese cucumber actually. We left it on one of the tables because there was a lonesome fag nursing a beer opposite who looked in desperate need. I figured if I don’t get lucky I can always come back for it & fight it out. We went into the sex room of the Peel & had a laugh. It’s so funny. Usually there’s these clusters of men standing around a half naked guy who’s virtually getting raped. If you drop your pants in there, it’s open season. Guys start circling around you pulling their dicks out of their pants, waiting for their turn. I’m always reminded of a National Geographic film where there’s an antelope carcass being ripped to shreds by a pack of ravenous hyenas. It really was time to leave. But where to go now? Hmm, there’s a darling little café just down the road that do a fantastic chai latte & ooh what about that bible studies class on the corner of Smith & Oh Jesus I can’t be fucked what about that sex club across the road?
At the sauna I paid my entry fee, showered & wandered the halls with a towel around my waist & key around my neck for the locker. After doing a few laps someone grabbed my hand & started feeling me up. I uncharacteristically took charge & led him into a cubicle. After a few minutes of foreplay the guy turned around & pressed his body against the wall of the cubicle. I was confused. Was he embarrassed? Was he crying? Dyslexic? Oh he wants me to fuck him. I was shocked. That’s how much of a power bottom I am. I bottom so much that I forget I have a dick. I was slightly nervous because I hadn’t topped in years. Years! I scratched my head looking around for a condom & an instructional DVD on topping. It would be called something like Topping Made Easy! or Top Busters: A Simple Guide to Ass Fucking. I found the condom but no DVD. Whacked it on, lubed up & through a drunken haze went to fucking town on his ass! It really was like riding a bike, it’s something you never forget. After a few minutes I remembered one of the reasons why I never top, it’s a fucking workout. I was considering cancelling my gym membership before I had to stop & nearly passed out. Thankfully the other guy took the reins, put on a condom & fucked me instead. I felt like I was back on home ground.
I still love being a bottom but it was refreshing to top & has made me less narrow-minded about sexual roles & to perhaps even question them.
How much emphasis do the gay & lesbian community put on roles in sex & relationships? After my freak topping incident it’s fairly obvious that I place a lot on it.
There’s so much more to being a top. The initial fear of losing your erection. Will I be able to get it in without too much fussing? Will he enjoy it? Should I be soft, should I be rough?
I’m so lazy & indecisive which is why I’m a self-confessed power bottom. You just have to lay there. That’s it. Fill er’ up.
If roles & identity are followed too rigidly then surely it’s going to internally compartmentalize the gay community right? For instance if a guy is stocky & bearded, one might presume he’ll want to smell your socks & piss in your face after the first date. Maybe a skinny-jeaned teen with too much guyliner gives the impression he cuts himself whilst wanking to Fallout Boy. If we can learn to be more open-minded & willing to try new things then it opens up for a myriad of opportunities to enrich our lives. Ha! I couldn’t help myself. I had to take the Oprah-like holier than thou road for the sake of a conclusion.