Dirty Hairy

There are two things that mark the end of the “pre” part of pre-menstrual syndrome and the imminent beginning of the “menstrual” part.

The first is that I get a killer headache – which I was blessed with last night. Two excedrin and an early bedtime took care of that.

The second is a sudden, undeniable urge to fuck. To fuck now, fuck hard, and fuck dirty. That occured earlier this morning when I trotted past Master, naked and wet from a shower, bent over to show Him my shiny- albiet hairy- junk, and then begged Him to fuck me up the ass.

Being the red-blooded American male that He is, He obliged. What a trooper, eh?

It hurt, I ain’t gonna lie. It always does. His cock is big and while my ass may also be big, my asshole is not. Least I don’t think it is, though admittedly I’ve not measured.

I was hot for it though, pressing back against Him and grunting through the familiar burning pain. He took me slow at first, gently tapping His way in, only having to tell me once to move back as my instinctive reaction is to scootch forward in tiny millimeters. Once fully in, gentle no longer factored in and the phrase “bouncing me off His dick” comes to mind.

Funny thing about ass fucking when it’s good and right and feels amazing is that I lose my extensive vocabulary and can only manage such eloquent phrases like “fuuucccccck!” and “shit!” and “fuckfuckfuckfuck!” Occasionally I toss in an “Oh God!” when I can manage to close my mouth and stop drooling all over the floor.

But I don’t have any pictures to share of the actual ass fucking or of the gaping asshole left behind. Unfortunately, things got messy. Very messy. Even I, classless and vulgar though I can be, have limits.

Judging from the way Master catapulted into the shower when He was done, so does He.

~cunt

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“If sex is a pain in the butt, you’re doing it wrong.”

So, I’ve literally been sitting here for a freaking hour trying to convince myself not to use the “r” word. It’s such a touchy word.

I’ve never used it before. I know some people toss it around like it’s meaningless, as casually as saying they had meatloaf for dinner last night, they’ll announce that they were raped before bed.

That’s weird to me. I had made it a point previously to not use the word ’rape’ in my details of my sex life. Not only because I have given Master blanket consent to do whatever whenever He wants and so therefore, it cannot be rape, but also because I feel it trivializes the trauma of rape when it’s used so callously to describe what is actually just “rough sex”.

However. In this case, ’rough sex’ isn’t descriptive enough. I felt raped. The End.

And those people who would object to my use of the word rape based on consent are the same people who will tell me that I cannot possibly give one time consent for all things, that I am in fact consenting on a daily basis, task by task and chore by chore, and so, if that’s how it goes, then I most certainly did not consent and He raped my ass. So there.

This was, quite honestly, the single most painful sexual experience of my life. There was no preparation, no gentleness, no coaxing the ass into cooperation. He wanted what He wanted and He wanted it right then and there was nothing I could do or say to change it. He was brutal, He was mean, He made it hurt and not one second of my tearful pleas swayed His determination to force His large cock into my ass.

He smacked me when I moved, He told me to “take it”, and He told me He was glad it hurt. I cried, I begged, I screamed. And then I got fucked in the ass. It’s been two days and I’m still wiping blood.

I know I signed up for this but that truth doesn’t make things any easier to go through. It doesn’t negate my experiences as painful or traumatic or difficult or worthy of complaining. It ain’t all sunshine and lollipops, least not on my end.

So yeah, I signed up for it, but it still shocks the shit out of me when He uses me for exactly what He wants, no matter how I feel about it. It surprises me when He reminds me that I don’t matter.

Odd that.

~cunt

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