THE UNEXPECTED BOTTOMING

So, first off, I am a straight woman and I’ve been an active subscriber of Kito Diaries for a very long time. I’ve got such love for the queer community, that my close gay friends have bestowed on me the title of an honorary lesbian. Lol.

As much as the general (heterosexual) public would like to other the narratives and experiences of LGBTQ people, I’ve come to appreciate, from reading the stories on Kito Diaries, how very interwoven and similar our experiences are in spite of our diversities. We are individuals with a lot of the same joys and hurts and struggles.

Recently, I saw a WhatsApp status a (gay) friend of mine made. He is out, and so he’s usually very outspoken about his experiences, both sexual and nonsexual. And this status was him lecturing men who play the role of top over their Top Privilege when it comes to sex. The post had something to do with the audacity a guy he intended to hook up with had to want to eat at his place before they fuck, especially considering that he himself had starved himself to be prepared for the sex.

I fancy myself a student in the halls of LGBT learning, so I buzzed him with a question: “So, why can’t you eat before you fuck?”

He (let’s call him Elton) replied, “To be clear, this isn’t a problem for every bottom. That said, it’s a metabolism thing. Sometimes, when you eat, that meal sets in motion the ending of the metabolism of whatever meal you previously had, which you’ve not shat yet. And when sex is happening, the dick going up the ass can force those wastes to rush down the alimentary canal, resulting in, well, you know what.”

That was very illuminating.

He wasn’t done. “And for people who are lactose intolerant, it’s especially the worst, especially when they take lactose meals before the scheduled fuck. Because the combination of your body reacting to the lactose inside it and the dick up the ass can result in all manner of disaster.”

“My mind didn’t even go there,” I replied. Every day, we learn, am I right?

From this point, we were soon chatting about gay men and anal sex, and the conversation nudged to wakefulness the echoes of a memory from long ago.

“I know there are women who are into anal play,” I was saying, “but me, I still can’t get past squirming whenever a finger mistakenly gets close to my ass.”

The storm of laugh emojis Elton replied with indicated how very amused he was with what I said. And then he replied, “Your honorary gay membership no reach that level, eh?”

Those echoes were starting to resonate more and more, firmly reawakening the memory of the pain which I could never seem to get over,  however many years has passed since when it happened.

I was in the university then, dating my boyfriend of a couple of years. His name is Jim. We had something of a volatile relationship; we loved hard, fought hard and fucked hard. Whenever he was in town, we would go lodge into a hotel and get it on. During his visit that period, some of his friends came into town with him. And they too lodged into hotel rooms next to Jim’s. They had their girls to get reacquainted with, just as Jim and I did.

And so, that night, we were going at it, with the furious passion of lovers who had been away from each other for awhile. At some point during our lovemaking, he was holding me close to him while pistoning inside me from behind.

You have to understand how fast and furiously we were going at it, so that when his cock emerged from my pussy and began thrusting back inward – and missed my vagina, instead plunging into my asshole, the pain that exploded all over my system was such that I’d never ever imagined. The explosion disconnected something inside my brain, and the scream that erupted from my mouth was loud and endless. I felt like I was going mad, and I was shrieking as I shoved away from him, the searing red-hot pain pulsating from my ass bringing tears to my eyes.

I was SCREAMING! The pain was driving me insane and had me inconsolable as I alternated between pounding my fists at my boyfriend and pushing him away from me every time he tried to pull me into a comforting embrace. The pain didn’t feel like it would ever stop and an irrational thought that I would never be able to sit down again rushed through my mind.

At some point, there was pounding on the door, and through the pain-filled haze that possessed me, I was faintly aware of Jim going to answer the door. His friends and their girlfriends had heard my screams and rushed out to find out what was wrong. He couldn’t let them in because I was still naked and stark raving mad, so he conducted a tense exchange at the door, where he tried to assure everyone that everything was fine, that we were just having a misunderstanding. It took a while, but they were eventually mollified and returned to their rooms; it helped that they knew Jim and I had a spirited relationship. They must have figured we were having one of those rows that would eventually end in sex.

Eventually, the pain I feared would stay with me for the rest of my life began to recede, and my madness started calming, as Jim continued to console me. He held me and kissed me and made promises to me, until I felt healed enough to kiss him back as our desire began to stir again. We were a lot more controlled this time and were able to reach climax without any further mishaps.

But that experience scarred me. So much in fact that whenever I think of anal sex – or really anything that has to do with my ass getting invaded – I break out in cold sweats.

“Of course it scarred you,” Elton said as I rounded up my story. “Even when a bottom knows a dick is coming up his ass, the experience can be a real bitch. Let alone when you don’t see it coming.”

“I’ve tried to get adventurous with anal a few times since then,” I said. “But the memory lingers and doesn’t let me go through with it. I’ll just stick to watching it online.”

“I don’t blame you,” he typed back with a laugh emoji. “That’s genuine trauma. Besides, women are not programmed for anal pleasure. So, you don’t have any compulsion to get over your trauma.”

I started laughing as I remembered something else, something that happened recently.

I typed to Elton: “So basically, this situation kinda played out again recently with my husband. This time, as I was screaming the house down, I remembered what happened with Jim and stopped. Really didn’t want my neighbours to come knocking like our friends came knocking the last time.”

“All this scream you’re always screaming…” Elton responded with a laugh.

Experiences like this steadily give me an appreciation of the things people like my friend, Elton, have to go through to get to their pleasures. And even though it’s sexual, it also serves as a lesson on the resilience of the gay community, to find joy in hurts where most of the rest of us can’t be bothered with.

Written by Ms. Thing