I just love how shit just pops into my head unbidden – sometimes; it can be a pain because I have no real idea why a thought will just appear out of nowhere and, often, compel me to write – so here I am, about to make an attempt to describe what it feels like to be on the other end of a man’s boner.
Of course, this is something that doesn’t have to be explained to women unless, of course, they’ve never known (in the biblical sense) a man and, no, inanimate objects don’t count in this; they might feel nice but are no substitute for the real thing.
So while I was reading another book by Orson Scott Card, thoughts formed in my head about what it’s like to be fucked and kinda beyond it feeling good or not. Without really thinking about it, I reached into myself, found what it feels like to me and embraced it, remembered it and now I’m trying to put it into words. I thought about the younger days and the thrill of being fucked because it was such a nasty and naughty thing to do, along with the extra thrill of worrying about getting caught by an adult and, at least for me, that righteous sense of fairness that we all adopted so that if you fucked a guy, you could do no less than to be fucked.
And it was good. I can remember lying under a kid who was working his prick in and out of me as if his life depended on it – that taking your time stuff wasn’t always practical – and thinking that despite some ‘mild’ discomfort, it felt good; I could lie there with my eyes closed and just lose myself in the feelings, hearing the other kid breathing hard, mumbling things, or even telling me how good it felt to him. There were times I got so lost and comfortable that I’d actually nod off, only to awaken to feel him spurting inside me.
He’d pull out and maybe it’s my turn to do him… or another kid would take his place, sliding easily into me – we weren’t all that concerned about sloppy seconds – and I’d once more relish in the sheer nastiness of having a boy’s dick inside me; there were times when I’d defer my chance to fuck so that all the guys present could get inside me and squirt their stuff into me. They’d make quite a mess, depending on how many times I got fucked and cleaning up afterward was always interesting but a lot of the places we’d choose to do this nasty thing still had running water – then I could take my turn making a nice mess in someone’s ass.
We figured out that the guy having it done to him could suck dick at the same time – man, we had an interesting time with this one, having to learn how to focus on two things happening at the same time and a trick I was determined to learn; all it did was make getting fucked that much better – why get creamed once when you could get creamed twice in the same sitting?
I would later miss those carefree days, when we fucked and sucked each other just for the thrill of it – that and we didn’t have anything better to do. It was only when I got older that I started paying attention to other thoughts, things that were always there but I wasn’t paying much attention to them – these are the hardest things to write.
It wasn’t until I was older and being fucked when I thought about things like submitting to someone else’s lust and the panic of realizing that at the moment of penetration, I was giving up control, feeling that odd sense of being helpless while the other guy was having so much fun reaming my ass out and, yeah, sometimes, in a way that didn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy, not like it once was. I got to understand how mindless a guy can be when he’s fucking you, the only thing in his mind is to bust that nut in you and without any real thought or even compassion of how it might be making you feel.
There were quite a few times that I’ve been under a guy, feeling him hard and thick inside me, and feeling sick and dirty because I was being fucked. I used to wonder if this was some kind of guilt sneaking up on me and maybe, at times, it was; what it really turned out to be was me learning the difference between being fucked by someone who ‘cared’ about what they were doing and those guys who didn’t. The ones who ‘cared’ and were appreciative always put me into that dreamy state, where the pain, if any, was more on the pleasure side of the line; the ones who didn’t, who just used me as a means to an end, would make me very much aware of things I didn’t want to think about and, well, it sucked and definitely not in anything that resembled a good way.
I’d want them to hurry up and cum – and because I did, it seems that the more I wanted them to hurry up and finish, the longer it would take; the moment he got fully inside me, I would be wishing that I hadn’t consented to this and I’d feel stupid and used. I could fight so I knew that if I really wanted him out of me, I could make him stop and, a few times, that’s just what I had to do… but most of the time, I’d just endure it, not really responding to him and just lying there and taking the pounding until he came – and that just made me feel even worse.
It taught me the lesson on how to choose who’s gonna be in your ass with a lot more care, trusting your judgement to pick the guy who’s not gonna make you feel cheap and sleazy because, somehow, you know that he’s gonna appreciate what you’ve agreed to give him. I can tell you in no uncertain terms that being fucked and it makes you feel like shit isn’t a good thing.
So while I would pretty much suck any dick that was willing to be sucked, I was a lot more protective and picky about who got to fuck me; it was something that completely eroded that sense of fairness observed in the old days when you had your dick in another guy’s ass and creamed him – and then took your place to do what he happily did. Now I could fill a guy’s butt with spunk… and I might not be willing to let him do that to me, teaching me something about listening to my instincts and, yeah, there were times when a fight would break out because I just knew letting him fuck me wouldn’t be fun.
The feeling of being helpless and out of control was, for me, bothersome. I still very much loved being fucked… but now I’m paying attention to things other than having a dick in my ass, which made the feelings of being at his mercy even worse so I had to learn to shove these feelings aside in order for me to enjoy being fucked.
It’s hard to explain (but girls know this); he’s on top of you with you lying on your stomach or your back or you’re on your knees, ass thrust upward as high as possible and having that moment of anxiety as you wait to feel his knob pressing against you and knowing that whatever lube was used – if any was used at all – was going to introduce another guy’s erection into your bottom pretty quick. Then he’s inside you and there’s that moment where you just gotta adjust to him being there and you can feel him, all hard and throbbing and for a moment, I’d get a weird thought: There’s another person inside of me. He starts to fuck me – maybe slowly, maybe not, and now it is what it is; as a guy, you know that he’s not going to stop until he shoots his load… and because there really isn’t any other reason to have your dick in another guy’s ass. He’s either going to be gentle or pound your ass so fast and hard that you might have some issues sitting down later.
To be on the other end of a man’s lust can be nice… and very scary because for as long as he’s inside you, he owns you; you’re his to do as he pleases and it gives you that ‘good but bad’ feeling that only being fucked can give you. You have the thrill of listening to him breathing or saying whatever as he thrusts into you because you know that he wouldn’t be like this if he didn’t feel good being inside you – yeah, you learn that it is one hell of a compliment when another guy tells you that it feels good being inside you or that you’ve got a nice ass – makes having to deal with his weight or being twisted like a pretzel a little more worth waiting for him to cum.
I do know that I learned to hate being called ‘baby’ when I had another guy in my ass – gods, it would make me feel like a little bitch and if a guy wanted to kill the fun of being fucked for me, that little four-letter word would do it quickly, taking me from willing and expectant participant to just being a receptacle for his sperm before he could finish saying the word. I know that it shouldn’t have bothered me because I know I’m not a little bitch or anything like that – but it did so I learned to let a guy know before the fact that calling me ‘baby’ isn’t going to be a good thing.
But it still felt good, that feeling helpless but a part of the pleasure thing. As dicks got bigger, well, it made things interesting; cocks I could swallow right down to the bone with ease took some doing to get used to as they barged their way inside of me – but you learn how to get them in you and without getting torn a new one – literally. I’d find myself in a different place than the one I used to go to when I was just a stupidly horny kid; I knew what I was feeling as he worked himself inside of me… but now I’m watching him, peering into him even deeper than he’s inside me, wanting to know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling and then having that special thrill of seeing the look on his face when he cracked his nuts wide open inside of me.
I came to understand what girls or other guys felt when I was the one inside of them – and I understood that you just cannot understand this if you’ve never been on the other end. I know guys who have never been fucked and I’ve heard them say, erroneously, that they know how I must be feeling to be fucked; and I’d tell them, “No, you really don’t…” That’s as silly as thinking you know how to suck dick just because you’ve had yours sucked – you really have no idea and you can’t until you’re the one with a cock sticking out of your face.
It feels good. It feels nasty, wrong, and kinda dirty. But these words – and any others I could think of – just really don’t come close to describing what it feels like to have a dick in your ass nor can they capture what it feels like to feel it swell inside of you just before his load of cream gets delivered.