Hey, Faggot:

I am writing to ask your advice on a rather embarrassing subject. A year ago I had my first experience with anal sex. Right when my boyfriend stuck his member up my ass, my butt let out the most embarrassing suction/farting sound. We stopped for a few minutes and I asked him if that usually happened. My boyfriend said he had never heard of that happening before, which added to my humiliation.

I had been feeling kinda gassy before we started, but was too embarrassed to “cut one” right in front of him, and maybe that’s what caused it. Or maybe it was caused by reasons similar to “queefing” and not because of gassiness. Anyway, I haven’t had anal sex since then, even though I enjoyed it and would like to, because that first experience really traumatized me, and I’m afraid of it happening again. Have you ever heard of this happening, or am I a freak? Is there any way to prevent such an embarrassing situation?


Hey, STF:

What can you do to prevent farts? You could mix Beano in with your lube or get a cosmetic colostomy, but not even these extreme measures will fart-proof your ass. It is an ass, after all, and despite our best efforts to eroticize the rear end away from its other natural uses, the butthole remains attached to the digestive tract’s terminus, eliminating poop, gas, undigested kernels of corn, and condoms filled with heroin, as need be. When it comes to anal sex, sometimes gas (or worse) happens.

Your only misstep, if I may venture a criticism, is that, having sensed you were gassy, you didn’t excuse yourself from the bedroom for a moment alone in the toilet. It is common practice to excuse and prep, whether your prep is a bowel-clearing dump, an extra-credit enema, or a few moments on the bathroom floor in the pregnancy antigas position. (Kneel on the floor, bend forward, and place your chest on the floor, with your head resting on your hands. Gas rises.)

Once upon a time, a new love was screwing my freshman-in-college rear end and I committed the exact faux pas you did. I went soft, wanted to die, asked him if he wanted to stop, or break up with me, or puke or hit me or something. But my older, wiser, and way-cuter boyfriend said, “Hey, don’t worry. It comes with the territory.” He was right.

Hey, Faggot:

Don’t laugh at this letter, because I’m completely fucking serious. I’m a 17-year-old lesbian. My sister is an 18-year-old breeder. Her 23-year-old boyfriend wants to have a baby. My sister is not ready for a child. I’m ready to have a baby, as long as he and I don’t actually have to fuck, and we don’t get emotionally attached. These conditions are fine with me, because it’s what I want too. Her boyfriend agreed to it, as long as he has no legal ties to me and the baby, it’s all kept secret, and he can still see the baby. These conditions are acceptable to me.

So, we decided to have him jack off into a turkey baster. Then I could just impregnate myself with his sperm and be done with it. My question is, do you think the turkey baster will work right? Or is there something else we should do? Any other tips you could give us?


Hey, LGBM:

Don’t laugh at this response, because I am completely fucking serious. First of all, you’re too young to have a kid; second, anyone willing to have a baby under the circumstances you’ve described is not ready to be a parent; third, have you been following “welfare reform”? If my reading of the New York Times is at all accurate, the government is no longer going to provide for single mothers and their dependent children, and no 17-year-old lesbian with her head stuck up her ass will be able to provide for a child. Kids are expensive, time-consuming little monsters. They are not pets. So, I’d like to know, who’s going to take care of you while you take care of this kid? Not the “father,” as he wants “no legal ties,” and presumably no financial obligations. Are you an independently wealthy 17-year-old lesbian? Here’s hoping so, as the “turkey baster method” is pretty effective. If there’s a god in heaven you and your sister’s idiot boyfriend are sterile.

Hey, Faggot:

Please publish this letter in your column!

Please find me a girl out there who can take my virginity. I’m 15 years old, five foot eight, and I have a nice dick. I also can stimulate a woman orally. I really need to fuck.

So if you get any letters about this, will you give them my address? Tell them to send me a picture and a really hot letter. I am urgent to fuck, Dan! Help! Please help!!!

–Needa Fuck Now

Hey, NFN:

When I was your age, still a virgin and feeling “urgent,” I didn’t write pleading letters to sex advice columnists. No, when I was troubled by impure thoughts or desires I didn’t fully understand, I went to a trusted member of the clergy, or my gym teacher, and had sex with them. But that’s not really an option for you, as you’re a breeder boy and most trusted members of the clergy are gay men (a la the Catholic church), while most female gym teachers are lesbians (a la Betty Buckley in Carrie).

But you know what? When I was your age, I did manage to have sex with a girl, and I bagged her myself. Now, if a budding musical theater queen could scrounge up a little pussy without even trying, a remarkable specimen of a man such as yourself–five foot eight and a nice dick!–should be able to score some too, without my assistance.

Before you send a similar letter off to Ann Landers or Isadora Alman–who, come to think of it, is a heterosexual woman, and therefore might be interested in taking care of you herself (you can write to Isadora care of the Bay Guardian, 520 Hampshire, San Francisco, CA 94110)–you should know that no professional advice columnist is going to use his or her column to fix you up with girls. Setting up 15-year-old boys with blind sex dates is prosecutable in most states: it violates “contributing to the delinquency of a minor” laws, or in this case, “communicating with a minor for sexual purposes.” So you’re on your own, kiddo. Nice try, though.

Confidential to Todd, Amy, and Eileen:

All you need to do to break the curse is for each of you to mail 10 boxes of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese (30 total), each box in a separate envelope, to Isadora Alman at the address above. Then you will be free.

Send questions to Savage Love, Chicago Reader, 11 E. Illinois, Chicago 60611.