Gentlemen, if you’ve got a modicum of self-confidence about your skillz with teh butt secks and you’re pretty sure you’re not hurtin’ the lady or anything, yet she still seems unduly and persistently reluctant, it may help to remember that women sometimes worry about odd things at odd times:

For all the apparent confidence I might seem to have about buttsex, there have been times that it has completely terrified me.

Not because of the pain aspect. It’s never felt painful. Instead, I worry about poo.

Rationally, I know my bottom is simply confused. It’s so conditioned to interpreting that particular sensation as needing to use the facilities that I get panicky when I’m first entered. I worry that poo will make an appearance, even though I know there’s none there. I worry even though I know that my partner would still like me even if we had a minor poo-tastrophe.

I know those things, and yet I do more than my share of panicking. However, the longer I have successful buttsex, the more my confidence grows.

Not directly related to the above point, but I’m going to quote from later in the same post just for fun:

I gushed, and then I came in earnest. It was one of those orgasms that froze me in place and clenched every muscle in my pelvis. Apparently it felt pretty good to my friend too, because he wrapped his hand around my throat, clamped his teeth on my earlobe and moaned hard.

I nearly lost an earlobe and an eardrum but I didn’t care.

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