My boyfriend is very open-minded about trying new things in bed. However, one fantasy I have always had is to be the one with the dick. I would like to wear a dildo and fuck my boyfriend up the butt. I suspect many women are curious about what it feels like to fuck someone instead of being fucked. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable. But my boyfriend won’t even consider the idea. What do you think? –Fantasy
Did you incorporate any other butt-play into your sex life before stomping in and announcing your intention to ream his straight-boy butt with a big ol’ strap-on dildo? Well then, it’s no wonder he balked. Unenlightened breeder boys have a hard enough time with women fingering their buttholes, let alone fucking them. In their pointy heads to derive pleasure from anal stimulation is to be, or to become, a fag. In your boyfriend’s case, imagine how this cliched hang-up is tweaked by the thought of having his butthole “played with” by the business end of a big greasy ol’ rubber cock. The mind fairly boggles.
You need to bring him around gradually. Start small–fingers and tongues–working your way up to un petit butt plug. A butt plug is a wonderful “transition toy” for straight boys, as it neither looks like a cock nor functions like one: they look like lava lamps, and once they’re in, they stay put–no in/out fucking dynamics to remind him of what exactly is going on. If you can get him to go there–if you can get him to enjoy his ass–there’s hope for your fantasy.
After he’s come to see his butt as a source of sexual pleasure, explain why you want to fuck him: Is it to avenge yourself for all the times he got to do you in the butt? Of course not. Reassure him that your interest is in the mutually pleasurable aspects of anal sex. His newfound enjoyment of his butthole is one selling point, the base of the dildo pressing on your clit as you grind away is another. If he still can’t see his way clear, tell him I said that when boys and girls have sex with each other–even if she’s fucking him–it is a heterosexual act. He fucks her, she fucks him, he and she fuck each other–it’s all breeder sex. Lastly, you might need to explain to him that his prostate gland is a gland just like your boobs and the knob on the end of his dick, and it responds to stimulation in a similar fashion.
And here’s one last tip. Instead of “fucking” the first few times you play with your strap-on, try “frottage” instead. Place the dildo between his legs, right under his dick, have him clamp down his thighs, and “fuck” him, frottage-style–lots of thrusting, no penetration. You’ll still derive the pleasure of grinding your clit against the base of the dildo, and “get to do the fucking.” He’ll have his perineum massaged, his butthole teased, his mind opened, his ego insulated, and his sexual identity left intact.
Three of the seven women whose breasts I have had a chance to closely examine displayed a noticeable asymmetry. One of them said that her unbalanced pair was caused by her having paid more attention to “lefty” while her right hand was occupied below during youthful self-gratification. Are all mismatched sets the result of poor masturbation techniques? Do girls have some control over their future shapes? –Fixated
Look at your balls. I’ll bet one hangs a little lower than the other, and one might even be larger than the other. Bodies, male or female, are not symmetrical affairs. Our eyes are slightly different shapes, one arm might be a bit longer than the other, one boob bigger than its accomplice. Only Barbie dolls are perfectly symmetrical.
This has nothing to do with your problem, F, but I have a question for you, and everybody else: am I the only one who felt kinda bummed when they caught the (alleged) Unabomber? I mean, the guy never blew me to bits, and if he had, I guess I’d be pleased they finally nailed him. But I can’t help feeling like the world is a less interesting place now that the Unabomber is behind bars. Sad about Ron Brown though. Jeez. And hey: Bob Dole in a Speedo–now that’s a pretty picture. He looked like my grandfather right before he died of prostate cancer. Oh well, back to the sex advice.
I am a 25-year-old dyke. Three or so months ago, I started dating a very attractive, smart, wonderful, beautiful, etc, etc dyke. Everything was great, especially the sex–in fact, it was some of the best I’ve ever had–and then some things started going wrong. My lover got really jealous at what I thought were stupid things to be jealous about, mostly ex-lovers, which caused us to fight a lot and made me defensive and not want to be around her.
To top it all off, she insists we spend every night together at either her house or mine. I’d much rather spend several nights alone at my house doing the things I need to get done. This infuriates her, and although I tell her/show her constantly that I love her, she doubts me and has somehow convinced herself that my desire for personal space indicates that I do not love her. I want to make this relationship work because I love her dearly, but I am frustrated. What should I do? –Frustrated in East Vancouver
Break up with her. Tell her you need to have a private life; tell her you need to be with someone who can respect your boundaries; tell her you need to be with someone who can let you have time alone; tell her you need to be with someone who isn’t prone to fits of jealousy. Then tell her to take her toothbrush, her cat, and her T-shirts and get the fuck out of your apartment.
As things stand now, she pitches a fit, she gets her way, so why should she change? And why don’t you pitch fits right back? Cuz you don’t want to lose her. Cuz you love her. Aw. But don’t you see? That’s what she’s counting on, that’s what she’s got over you–she knows you feel strongly about her and she’s using that to manipulate you into letting her have everything her way. Call her bluff. Dump her.
Now here’s the top-secret part. This is not a for-real breakup–but don’t let her know that. Rather, this is a breakup wake-up call. After you “dump” her, she’ll start calling and calling, begging you to take her back–we all know the type. When you hear those magic words–“I’ll do anything, sweetheart, anything!”–which will hopefully come before any major-league stalking commences–tell her, “OK, we can get back together, but I need my time, my space, and a few ‘nights off’ every week.” And take her back. Hopefully she’ll now know you won’t endlessly indulge her clingy bullshit, or stop everything and “process” groundless jealous fits, and she’ll think twice before launching into the bad behaviors that got her precarious ass dumped once already.
Send questions to Savage Love, Chicago Reader, 11 E. Illinois, Chicago 60611.