I’m not talking about the sparks that fly when you meet the eye of a hot person across a crowded room: this is about real electricity. Sparks and stimulation of the purely physical kind.

There’s a type of sex toy that used to utterly terrify me: electric sex toys. The idea of these is to use electrical current to produce sensations – either for pain, pleasure, or a shuddery mixture of both.

I’m a wuss

Some people are adventurous types: the kind who’ll suggest drunken skinny-dipping at midnight or taking drugs then listening to albums backwards. Because I don’t want you to get the mistaken impression than I’m exciting, I should tell you that I am not one of these people – I’m the sort of twat who ruins adventures by asking about health and safety.

So when I was first introduced to electric sex toys, at an erotic convention many years ago, I was initially reluctant to even hold them in my hands, much less to let someone hold them against my cunt. They put an electric current through you! Like… plugs! I’ve always been told not to put my fingers in a plug socket, so I assumed that shoving a livewire inside me might be a bit of a bad idea.

I didn’t realise what I was missing out on until someone decided to push my fear a bit further than I’d thought they would.

Brace yourself

It was a bright sunny afternoon – not the kind of atmosphere I’d normally look for in a terrifying BDSM scene, but you get what you’re given when it’s real life. I was roasting hot, as was he, as were all the other people in the room we played in. I won’t tell you what the full scene was – that might be for another day – but in the microcosm that existed over in one corner, this guy had me strung up by my wrists, frilly dress lifted to my waist, naked from hips to toes.

He circled me in a deliciously menacing way, and tightened the rope that was keeping my arms in the air. It stretched and creaked, and I ended up standing on tiptoes to try and balance. Doing a series of less-than-graceful semi-hops to stay in control, I was pretty nervous about what he’d do next.

Then he blindfolded me.

I love blindfolds. I love the anticipation of what might happen next – what might be happening already, that I just can’t see. When all I can do is hear, everything sounds like fun. That swishing sound – was he getting out a whip? Was he removing his belt? The footsteps – is he coming round behind me? Then suddenly – the rough feel of his hands all over me, pulling down the top of my dress and pinching my nipples. Touching me all over. Slapping my face.

“Do you trust me?”

Yes. Obviously.

“Do you want me to hurt you?”

Oh God yes. I wanted him to wield a whip – lashing my legs and arse as I staggered to keep my balance. I wanted riding crops, straps, belts, whishing-slapping sounds and stinging pain.

But, being an experienced dominant – as opposed to someone I could easily wrap around my stroppy little finger – he didn’t give me exactly what I wanted. He introduced me to something new.

“This might feel… unusual.”

Then I heard a sound that was somewhere between a click and a crack. No ‘whish’ to announce the arrival of the pain, just a snapping sound and the immediate rush of a stabbing tingle high up on one of my thighs.

I leapt away from him, my tiptoes carrying me as far away from where I thought he was as possible: tripping, nearly losing my balance, trying to take the weight on my wrists and force myself back into control. He circled me for a bit longer, and I turned round to try and work out where he was, where the next shock was coming from.

“Did you like that?”

Yes. No. Wait, maybe. Do it again.

Crack. Tingle. Why was it hot? It was hot because it was so different. So… odd. And because I couldn’t hear where it was coming from. I was blindfolded, nervous, off-balance, and completely at his mercy.

Where he touched me my muscles clenched, and I felt even more off-balance. I don’t know if it was to do with the pain or the spasm, but he’d clearly chosen well. For this position, with me balancing precariously and trembling uncertainly, this toy was the perfect thing to knock me off-guard. The whack of a crop was expected. A belt last would be something I could anticipate and push back against. Given my determination not to fail him I could probably even have taken cane strokes. But electricity? Twitching? Forced tingles and that weird static crackling sound? That was too much. I wobbled, and tripped, and felt the rope biting into my wrists as my legs gave way.

I loved being beaten, being fucked and used, but I very rarely lost control. By using something completely new and different, this guy made me do  just that.

Fuck me with power

It’s not necessarily about the physical sensation: after we’d finished he let me play with it, pressing those weird static crackles into the palm of my hand. They sounded loud, and tingled a bit, but didn’t hurt as much as I thought they would. The toy itself clearly had way more bark than bite.  The sensations and the joy and the fear running hot through my trembling legs was clearly about the power. Using something completely unique gave him much more power over me.

The one time I got to turn the tables and use an electrastim dildo on a willing gentleman, I made sure that the physical sensations were way more than just an aside. With insertable electric sex toys, the focus is more on what the electricity does to the muscles. The way it twitches them, contorts them, and allows you to bend someone’s involuntary actions to your will.

As the guy lay on the bed, myself and an electrastim expert hovering over him, he looked up at me with very wide surprised eyes as his ass twitched hard and tight around the dildo we’d plugged him with.

“Oh… umm… fuck.”

“Good ‘fuck’ or bad ‘fuck’?”

He paused. Twitched. Turned his big eyes on me again. I reached to turn down the voltage.

“No no no. Good fuck.”

I turned it up.

By the end of the day we had him weeping with a cross between joy and misery, exhausted on the bed yet denied an orgasm, head spinning with all the things we’d inflicted on him. It was a different kind of control – being able to move his muscles at will. But as not all of it’s strictly electricity-related, I’ll leave that story for another time. For now I’ll leave you with the mental image of me, naked from the waist down, lashed to the ceiling by my wrists, sobbing “thank you for doing that weird, weird thing” as my kind dominant friend planted kisses on my neck.

Pain is hot. But so is power.

 

UPDATE: I have now tried full-on electro sex toys, from my site sponsors ElectraStim, and they are fucking exceptional. I have no idea what I was afraid of. Check out my post on having an electric vagina, using an electric dick-sheath and a brand new bit of kit that allows you to feel the thump of a particularly banging tune throbbing from a butt plug inside my arse. 

When your sex blog grows beyond a certain point, you’ll get people asking questions like “are you making money from sex blogging?” and “have you given up your day job yet?”

(more…)

Buttsex is probably the simplest go-to example when trying to explain how some types of sex make people drool with delight while making other people wince and run away. I love it, and all the men I have done it with love it (because if they didn’t they wouldn’t have bothered doing it with me). But I received an email from someone a while ago which prompted us to have a bit of a chat about the whole thing. He asked:

1. Why would I enjoy fucking you in the ass?

2. Why would you enjoy being fucked in the ass?

They were based, quite understandably, on the specific physical things that he felt, and imagined I felt, and could essentially be summed up with “neither of our bodies are designed for anal sex to provide the most intense type of physical pleasure, so why would you do that rather than anything else?”

I think that’s pretty interesting, because it reflects a view on sex that is very different to my own.

Sex isn’t just about the in-and-out

I love the feeling of cock inside me. I love feeling it in my mouth, in my cunt, and in my ass. The specific physical sensation – of being full, being stretched, being the willing and moaning receptacle for something rigid and twitching – is excellent. I have nerve endings in my cunt that thrill with the touch of your dick, and I have nerve endings elsewhere that thrill with that touch too – perhaps not quite as thoroughly, but they thrill nonetheless.

However, the joy of sex is not limited to this purely physical thing. If you read some of the dirtier stories I write, the things that make them filthy hot are not the descriptions of the tingles and shivers in my cunt: they’re the things that go a bit deeper – that fire thoughts in my head that make me want it with an aching desperation. Sex feels nice physically, but amazing mentally.

The power of a stunning fuck comes not from the specific movements of someone’s cock, but from the fact that his hands grip my hips, the power with which he pulls me back onto him. The words he whispers when he calls me a “good girl”, or when he puts his hand over my mouth and whispers a menacing “sssh.”

Sometimes he pulls his dick out of me and teases my clit with the slick, taut head of it, and I bite my lip and push up against him. Sometimes he orders me into a specific position: “Get on your side. Pull your leg up. That’s it. Get your arse high in the air so I can fucking see you.” Then he slaps a firm hand onto it before he enters me.

All of these things, physically, do less than his dick. But in reality they do so much more.

Fuck me in the ass because it’s filthy

So yeah, anal sex doesn’t do as much for me physically as the sex we have when he puts his cock in my cunt. But what it does do is give me the opportunity to grit my teeth, to shiver with nervous anticipation as he flips me onto my side and I hear him opening the bottle of lube. To brace myself with delicious anticipation as he tells me: “I’m going to fuck you in the ass now. Do you want that?”

The “oh I’m not sure oh please yes oh God it hurts and I love it” moment when the head of his dick pushes into me.

The nerve endings thrill – and there is an element of pure physical pleasure there. But that’s a bonus feature – the main event is the filth. The feeling that I’m being used, that I’m hurting to be used, that I love the pain so much and my need for it makes me a dirty, dirty bitch. It’s one thing being called a ‘good girl’ after we’ve fucked and I’ve come three times. Quite another to glow with the achievement of taking a solid fuck in a place where it hurts, being stretched and filled with his spunk, then glowing with my own achievement afterwards – when he calls me a ‘good girl’ after that, I feel like I’ve really earned it. 

It’s all play, of course: buttsex isn’t a particularly taboo or perverted thing to do, and nor is it something that only he enjoys. But when it hurts a bit I can keep up the pretense that that’s exactly the case, and it makes it hotter for both of us.

Anal sex from his point of view

So I think the above has satisfactorily answered the question “why do you like getting fucked in the ass?”, but what of the other – what’s in it for him? Here’s the full text of the guy’s question, which I found utterly fascinating – as someone who doesn’t have a penis myself, I am a big fan of hearing explicit descriptions, from a dick-owner’s perspective, on how fucking actually feels:

Think about it: pretend you have a cock. The whole thing is a bundle of nerves, although, sadly, far fewer nerves than your clit. The end of this cock of yours, the head, is particularly sensitive. Now, put it into that girl over there. First, her cunt: you can feel all of her on every part of your cock; the head deeply buried in firm girl-flesh, wet and fragrant. Next, fuck her in her mouth. Same thing, although now you have the added bonus of her throat milking the spunk out of you. (And, if you are very lucky, her eyes on yours as she sucks.) Very nice, no? Now, roll her over and fuck her in her ass. Gently at first, and then at ramming speed. What do you feel? Better question: what do you not feel that you did feel in the other two orifices? Right! You don’t feel anything except the ring of her ass holding you. That’s it. Nothing else.

Awesome stuff, obviously. Unfortunately, this kind of description can only take us so far. I now know that the exact feeling of my ass on someone’s dick is potentially not as nice as the feeling of my cunt. But what I also know – because I interrogate men I shag about their cock sensations with an enthusiasm that is probably quite tiring for most of them – is that all cunts feel different. Some are deep, some shallow, some tight, some looser, ridged in different ways, different levels of moistness, etc etc. And yet each and every one of them is fun to fuck.

Presumably, for every penis there exists an ‘optimum pleasure’ cunt. One which grips your exact cock shape in the best way, which milks the spunk out of you as it twitches to climax in just the right rhythm and with the perfect amount of pressure. Yet you don’t pledge your life to that particular cunt: you explore other ways of pleasuring yourself that don’t involve that same sensation every time.

So I can assure you that, no matter how much better my cunt might be as a snug, warm, wet dick-milking organ, my entire body can do so much more. He will fuck me in the ass because it makes me squeal in a way that he loves to hear. Because he enjoys being the grunting, angry dominant one who tells me to ‘sssh’ and empties himself into me like I’m just a toy for him to play with. He loves the tightness, but he also loves the way I squirm as he orders me to push myself back onto him. He likes to hear me gasp, and he likes to feel me tense up as he fucks me harder. He loves the sound of me begging him: “please, please, please come inside me.”

He loves to hold me afterwards and kiss my neck, and tell me I’m a fucking good girl.

So, while I cannot possibly answer why you might want to fuck me in the ass (you might not want to, and that’s cool – we can still be mates), I can tell you why other guys do. My answer to both of your questions is – and always will be – I like hot anal sex because it’s really fucking fun. Physical reductionism takes us some way towards understanding why certain acts are hot, but if we rely on it as the sole measure of whether sex is pleasurable, we might as well just have a wank.