So, anal sex. The ‘apotheosis’ of intercourse, according to Russell Brand. The thing that your boyfriend wants more than a First in Physics. But why? What is the enduring appeal for men to travel up the dirt track, if you’ll pardon the expression? Girls have a less favourable relationship towards it, I find. If you ask a group of girls at hall tonight whether they enjoy it in the annus horriblis I would bet you that, they’ll look at you with apparent unmitigated disgust, probably leaving their Black Forest Gateau untouched, and profess complete horror. This is understandable. When my friend succumbed to the tabooed temptation, her boyfriend filmed it and showed everyone in sixth form.
Now, I think we can all agree, no one wants their bum hole on film, no matter what’s going into it. Myself? I have something of an ambivalent relationship with the Nastiest of the Nasty, something akin to the Freudian ‘uncanny’, you could say, an attraction and a repulsion, a cognitive dissonance, in that I feel in my heart that essentially it is a bit gross – it is, after all is said and done, your ‘poo shoot’ as my ex boyfriend charmingly referred to it – yet it is this very taboo that makes me, at the end of a night out, quite want to do it. Oh dear. Perhaps this is a massive overshare, even for an ‘anonymous’ column (or it would be anonymous if the boyf didn’t keep telling everyone).
A friend came to visit recently, and she admitted that, for her, the bum holio is a one way street. Fair enough, you’d think. But no. I drunkenly insisted on encouraging her to try the wonders of the hallowed poo shoot, but to use ‘a lot of lube, because only a fool goes to brown town without it’. Cringe. Incidentally, though, I would also advise first-timers to be drunk, otherwise the physical reality may dawn on you mid-act, and the last thing you want is to be tense. You know what I mean.
I bet there’s far more tabooed activity going on in Oxbridge than any other university. When you’re working to the best of your ability, the pride and joy of your parents at home, while balancing multiple social and extracurricular activities (and probably a bit of volunteering) you want to do something a bit, well, nasty. And sometimes a calorie overload at Hassans just doesn’t cut it. Though I wouldn’t indulge in the Nastiest Nasty after a Hassan’s unless you wash your own sheets, I can otherwise only imagine the dystopian nightmare that your unwitting scout would confront as she pulled back your regulation orange duvet. Now that is nasty.
But anyway, give it a go. See if it shakes those essay blues (insert something ‘browns’ joke here). My friend texted me this morning, ‘Were going to do bum last night but got too drunk and fell asleep’. Rookie error.
