Page 37 of Never Say Never

He said it in a cheesy movie-trailer voice, and I giggled.

“If I have you there,” he continued, “then I’ve really had you. For me, it’s the ultimate act, it goes further than ordinary sex. It’s more intimate, you need more trust between partners.”

“But does it feel good?” I voiced the only real doubt that was left in my mind.

“For me it does. And the girls I’ve done it with—well, they said it did too.”

“Right. You’ve done it before.”

“Only with serious girlfriends.”

“So with three people?”

“Yep.”

I was almost sure I wanted to do it, but this thing about the three former girlfriends sparked a moment of insecurity that made me want to refuse, just to see if he would still stay with me.

“What if I said never in a month of Sundays? Would you go and find somebody who would?”

“God, Lis, no! I wouldn’t force you into anything, and I wouldn’t leave you just because you didn’t want anal sex! It’s not the be-all and end-all of my life. I just think you’d like it…and you should try things out before deciding how you feel about them.”

“Shall I drink poison to see if I like it or not?”

But I was only teasing. He’d reassured me.

We set a date for a week Friday. There would be fine dining, a little inhibition-dissolving wine, then I would be buggered.

I surfed sex ed websites to find out how to make absolutely and positively and definitively sure I would be prepared for the occasion. I didn’t fancy the idea of an enema but the anecdotal evidence from the web hive mind suggested that a good shower beforehand would very likely suffice. As long as I didn’t go on a hot chili bender in the previous twenty-four hours, my pathway would be clear.

“What flavor lube?” Luke asked me, looking up from an online adult store.

“Excuse me?”

“You can have water-based, oil and silicone-based or desensitizing.”

“Desensitizing? To stop you feeling it? What’s the point of that?”

He looked back at the screen.

“Oh, scrub that. It’s to lessen any pain, but I’m not going to hurt you anyway. If it hurts too much, we’ll stop.”

“Right. What’s the diff between the other types then?”

“Okay, it says the silicone ones are thinner and more slippery, better suited to experienced couples.”

“What about half-experienced, half-not?”

“I guess we should play it safe the first time. Water-based it is.”

The preparation wasn’t all academic either. During the course of the week, he began to introduce his finger to my quivering little pucker, just to get me used to the feeling of being breached there. It felt huge at first, even after extensive lubrication, but after a few attempts I began to get the hang of relaxing my muscles and pushing out instead of clamping up, until he was able to fit two fingers inside and scissor them wide, assessing my level of stretch and flexibility. When he did it during a doggie-style fuck the night before The Date, I had the most intense orgasm of my life, deflating onto the mattress like a punctured sex doll.

The day came. I was relieved, in a way, that we had chosen a week-night and therefore I didn’t have to obsess over things for fruitless hours. Instead, I focused on work, with occasional pleasant-frisson breaks during lulls in my schedule.

I got home before Luke, and headed straight for the shower, where I spent a long time neutralizing my anxieties and making sure I was clean. Really clean. Actually and totally scrubbed spotless.

Then there was body lotion, a sheer silky camisole, stockings, suspenders, no knickers and a very clingy dress. Heels, gold earrings, lip gloss, hairspray. All of that.

Did I have to prepare the room in any way? I looked around, plumping up cushions nervously, contemplating putting a towel on the sheet, but thinking that might be uncomfortable to kneel on. If I was going to be kneeling. Was I?

---