He had his finger up my ass. Actually, I wasn’t quite sure where it was. I hadn’t been expecting it. Wait, yes, that was indeed his finger. And that was definitely my ass.
Let me backtrack a bit. There was more to it than the rectal massage. I couldn’t believe it, but someone was seriously using the shocker on me. You know, “two in the pink and one in the stink”? Yeah, that one.
I wasn’t happy about it. I should have registered some sort of complaint, but what’s a polite bed-partner to do? It didn’t really call for a protest on Sproul Plaza. Perhaps a letter?
“Dear sir, I regret to inform you that your application into my anus has been rejected. Kindly remove your little-most finger from that area at the earliest possible moment. Best wishes, Christine.”
Now I don’t want to assume too much here, but I sincerely doubt that would have worked. He had us both in an awkward situation: He was digging around in a poop-chute and I was wishing he’d get to the screwing already. But not in the butt.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not anti-butt, but I am anti-shocker. It’s so juvenile and so four years ago. I can’t believe guys outside of high school still think it’s cool. Please, get a clue. The shocker’s not funny; it’s stupid. It will not make you a ladies’ man; it will make you an unlaid man.
It’s not offensive per se, but the fact that someone would use it to try to pleasure a woman—in all seriousness, too—offends me and offends the almighty gods of Getting It On. (They’re almost as vengeful as Berkeley parking enforcement.)
The shocker, in the context of getting it on, gets you nowhere. It’s a novelty a best, but by now it’s getting just a tad bit old.
The problem with the maneuver is that it oversimplifies everything and tries to do too much at the one time, as if it’s some magical cure-all for the mysterious sexual needs of the female “species.” Trust me on this one: You will not find your answers in an ass.
Sure, the anus may be an erogenous zone, but it’s also a very private area and still controversial. Both partners have to decide whether to butt or not to butt—that is the question at hand, my overeager friend.
Answer wrongly, and you’ll be digging your own sexcapade grave. It is that serious of an issue. I certainly didn’t see that guy again.
First of all, the fit is all wrong. Not every girl needs two digits in her pink, and certainly not if another one is getting busy elsewhere. You lose your coordination if you’re trying to make her come hither while pumping in and out and wiggling your pinky in the stinky. It’s too much. Plus, you’re committing a huge crime: You’re forgetting the clit. And to top it off, your fingers can’t even bend to hit the G-spot —what’s the point then?
There are so many things wrong with the shocker. It wasn’t that the wandering finger bothered me. No, I’ll admit that a little experimentation and adventure is right up my alley. I will not, however, make my back-alley the butt of some guy’s locker room joke.
You’ve got to know that assuming the hand position for your special woman is one thing, but duplicating that same gesture in all your drunken Facebook pictures is just lame. There’s a man who has no idea what he’s doing. Stop it. You’re embarrassing yourself.
Whatever happened to communication? You know, that other thing you do with your mouth? Let’s talk about you and me, specifically what you’re doing wrong (like, hypothetically speaking, sending an alien invader to hitch up Hershey Highway). Pussy play is assumed if you’re going into my pants, but the ass is something extra. Anal surprises are never fun, and any form of foreplay is no exception. Talk to me. Ask me if it’s okay to feel out the booty. I’ll oblige, but only if you promise not to shock me, mmkay?
Throw the shocker out, and then we can both forgive and forget: I’ll forgive that bedroom horror if you promise you’ll forget all about that fingered villain. I’d much rather get head anyway.
