Why I Love Analingus (Plus, Ass-Eating 4 Ways)

Stock black and white photo of a ring on top of a pale flower with many layers of petals, meant to euphemistically represent a butthole.

For the first three years of my sex life, I considered analingus a hard limit. In my Yes/No/Maybe list, I asserted that ass-eating was a ‘No’ unless there was a dental dam involved, regardless of whether I was giving or receiving – and, frankly, that boundary took the act off the table entirely, largely because neither me nor any of my partners could be arsed (winkwinknudgenudge) to acquire and use dental dams when we had already fluid-bonded in every other conceivable way. I knew that the chances of my partners selecting dam-covered analingus over another, less cumbersome and prep-heavy activity without a dam were slim to none, and I knew that some of them shared my anxieties about bacteria and, let’s face it, poop. So, for years, my diet was ass-free.

On the other hand, I loved (and love) butts and buttholes, and I had (and have) a passion for trying All The Things™ relating to sex and kink. When I started dating someone with as strong a love for butts and butt-related activites as my own, I naturally started doing more in the way of butthole fingering, talking dirty about buttfucking (giving and receiving) and, when I got toppy during sexting sessions, asking for photos of this person’s butt with its cheeks spread, which they happily delivered.

Eventually, this partner and I ended up in my shower together. It was near the end of a long weekend of fucking, and we were horny but also exhausted (and my pussy and jaw both ached in different ways, neither of which were the pleasant S&M-y way). I’d seen this person’s cute butthole a number of times over that weekend; we were in the shower, so my fears about bacteria and unintentional scat play were as allayed as they were ever going to be; we’d talked about rimming and established that it was something my partner was curious about, and, increasingly, that I was interested in too…

So I ordered my partner to face the wall and bend a little at the waist, and the rest is history.

I took to it like a duck to water. By this point in my sexual journey, I’d had a fair bit of practice when it came to eating pussy, but this was like cunnilingus on Hard Mode: buttcheeks clashed with my face cheeks, I had to push my tongue so far out of my mouth that my frenulum snagged on my teeth if I wasn’t careful, and buttholes don’t get erect, so there wasn’t as much “PUT TONGUE HERE”-type tactile feedback as there would be with a clitoris. And I loved the challenge of it. I loved the sensation of burying my whole face in an attractive butt and I loved the sense of working hard to pleasure my partner. I even came to love the specific texture of a butthole against my tongue and the taste and scent of a clean (or maybe slightly sweaty) buttcrack.

And, as I experimented further with it, I loved the ways that you could use analingus in play. Here are some tried and tested ways of marrying power play to ass-eating that you can experiment with and build on if you are, like I was, a complete rimming newbie:

  1. When you’re domming and you’re giving analingus, you can use it to humiliate. In between broad licks, you can say things like, “You’re so fucking slutty you’ll even let me put my tongue in your ass. Look how desperate you are for me to lick you, on all fours like a goddamn animal. Do you want my tongue back in your ass, bitch?” (providing those are all things that your sub consents to you saying). You’ve got them bent over in some fashion, so you can, if you’re feeling mean, slap or punch or even bite their buttcheeks, then coo pseudo-sympathetically and offer to “kiss it better” before returning your mouth to their anus.
  2. When you’re domming and you’re receiving analingus, the potential for humiliation is amazing: “You’re really willing to lick my asshole, you disgusting slut? You really would do anything to please me, wouldn’t you, you pathetic little thing?” Plus, you can push your butt further into your sub’s face, or even sit on it (carefully!) to add an element of breath play into the scene, and you’ve still got both hands free for touching your genitals or – if you’re a mean and indifferent dom(me) – checking Twitter.
  3. When you’re subbing and you’re giving analingus, you can get right in there and work hard at proving your devotion to your dom(me). You can use your hands to touch their genitals, or even your own – but I’d advise that you get permission first, otherwise you might find that they confiscate their asshole from until you can be more restrained.
  4. When you’re subbing and you’re receiving analingus, you’re letting your dom(me) put their tongue somewhere super intimate, and that can create a wonderful feeling of vulnerability and surrender. You could wiggle your buttcheeks adorably and desperately if they’re meanly keeping their tongue mostly still, and again, if you have permission or you’re feeling brave, you could use your hands on your own junk or on your dom(me).

Ultimately, analingus is like any sex act: versatile, enjoyable and only gross if you make it that way for kink purposes. Putting aside my (only partially-founded) anxieties to try it out led me on some incredible sexcapades like those described above, so as well as being titillating, I hope that this post inspires you to do something you’re excited to try, but slightly scared about – as long as you do your research, mitigate any risks and make an informed choice about it! <3

Smut Saturdays #3: Wet and Warm

Every fourth Saturday, I’ll be posting erotica I’ve written, based loosely on my own real life experiences or fantasies, for your wanking enjoyment.
Content note: This week’s Smut Saturdays post is about watersports, or, in layperson’s terms, piss. If that squicks you, feel free to give this one a miss, and come back next Saturday for a regular post or in a month for the next Smut Saturdays story!

PLUS, this week I’ve been lucky enough to be featured over at Girl On The Net, with a piece about my first time doing needle play: https://www.girlonthenet.com/2018/05/25/needle-play

If you’ve got any feedback or requests, put ’em in the comments or hit me up on Twitter @KinkyAutistic!


The bathroom is cold.

I know you could make it less cold. I know that you could turn the heating up with that app on your phone, or that you could shut the bastard window. This means that I also know that you’re enjoying my coldness. I’m completely naked – we’ve even left my collar on your mattress – and you’re in your pristine, drool-inducing suit. I’m on my knees on the cold, hard shower floor, and you’re standing in front of me, hand on your belt buckle.

The hairs on my forearms are standing up, and so are my nipples. I’m not sure whether it’s the cold, or whether it’s the anticipation.


It started innocently enough. I poured you a glass of water and thrust it at you, an act of service not outside the ordinary. Then I sat at your feet, facing away from you and towards the TV, pretending to pay attention to Scrubs while I listened to your sips. You stroked my hair absentmindedly.

Then you set your glass down on a coaster, and I sprang to my feet to refill it.

You caught on then. Usually, I don’t refill things without being asked: not out of laziness or brattiness, but out of an autistic lack of initiative and a my-mum-raised-me-right aversion to waste. My sudden interest in keeping you hydrated raised your eyebrow, and you watched my naked arse disappear into the kitchen again with mild intrigue.

By the time I’d arrived with your second brimming glass of water, you’d figured it out.

“Are you hoping I’ll piss on you?” you asked, smirking because you already knew the answer.

I pretended to be embarrassed. I looked at the carpet and shrugged. But we both knew you were right, and I handed over the glass without a word.


It fills me with glee that I only have to ask. And sometimes, not even that.

I don’t want to misbehave. Even playfully, I don’t want you to frown at me, raise your voice or scold me. I don’t want to feel, even for a moment, even in play, that I’ve let you down. I want to demonstrate, constantly and through action as well as words, that I am devoted to you and to my submission to you. Misbehaving suits a lot of subs, but it has never suited me.

I can be cheeky, I’ll own that. I stick my tongue out and talk back and I plead with you for permission for things even after you’ve said ‘no’. But I follow my rules, and I follow your orders. I try to make you feel spoiled. I don’t want my submission to feel like a struggle. I want it to feel like a warm bath, soothing and surrounding you.

So I truly love that, when I want to be hurt or humiliated, I just have to ask. Or hint. Or bring you a third glass of water.


You ordered me upstairs after that third glass. You had your keys in your fist, and you let me go first, so you could watch my arse up the stairs. I had been naked since before you got home, simply too tired to tolerate clothes, but now more than ever I felt your eyes on my skin.

We reached your bedroom, me still in the lead, and you had me sit down on your bed. You didn’t have to say anything, just pressed your broad right hand onto my left shoulder til I caught on and sat. Then you jangled your keys.

“We’re gonna take your collar off,” you said softly. It struck me how loving you could be, even as you prepared me to be hosed down with your piss. I tilted my head up so that you could slot the tiny key into the padlock glimmering at my throat. “Good puppy.”

I feel as naked as anybody else with no clothes on, but whenever I take my collar off, it’s like I’ve lost a finger.

You must have been aware of this, because you raised the collar to my lips and had me kiss it before you held the bathroom door open for me.


And now we’re here.

Shivers run through me. I’m gazing up at your hand on your belt, unable to tear my eyes away to see your face. It doesn’t matter all that much anyway; I know your sadistic grin well enough that I can fill in the gap where my peripheral vision ends. I’m so cold that I’m almost eager for the warmth of your urine on my skin.

Almost.

See, the thing I love about piss is that I hate it. You know this, which is why you have your sadist face on. You know as well as I do that the fun of pissing on me lies in the way I recoil from it, the disgust I can’t keep off my face once you start to aim the stream at my mouth. The reason we both find watersports irresistible is its significance: I’ll do anything for you, even this.

You ease your belt out of its buckle and slide down your zip. I watch your hands methodically shift the fabric of your boxers so that your cock can spring out. At the sight of me kneeling, fully naked, at your feet, it’s half-hard.

“You ready?” you whisper, like there might still be time to back out. But you have a full bladder, and the cold bathroom air has hit your dick. I know I could dart out of the way, let your piss run down the drain, but I want it. I want it all over me, making me grimace, making me squirm.

So I nod.

You let it go. I can tell you’re letting it go, rather than pushing it out, from the relief that passes over your face. That’s what I focus on as it pours over my tits, the warmth as comforting as I predicted, the smell just as strong. You look like you’re enjoying yourself, and I feel like a good pup.

I feel like that even more so when you say, “Dirty slut. Open your mouth.”

Instinct tells me not to. I know I hate the taste. But devotion overrides it, and I let my tongue hang out.

It’s bitter, and sort of like beer, and near impossible to describe. Its colour is pale from the water I had you drink, something I feel distantly smug about as it drips off my tits. I scrunch my eyes shut but I keep my mouth open, except when I force myself to swallow a teaspoon’s worth just to prove that I can.

It lasts about twenty seconds, but it feels so much longer than that.

At last, the sensation and the sound of liquid running over me both stop. I open my eyes, and you’re letting the last drops fall off your foreskin, holding your cock loosely, staring at me.

“Clean it up,” you command, so I do.

I suck gently at the head of your dick, my nose wrinkling involuntarily at the taste. I know later you’ll tell me it was cute. I do as thorough a job as I can bear, then pull away.

You look satisfied. “That’s a good little slut.” I glow. “Now, you get nice and clean in the shower. Daddy will be waiting for you in the bedroom.” I must be staring at you blankly, because you explain: “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”