As I knelt behind Sara, my face in her pussy and her juices basting my skin, I wasn’t in the mood for thinking. It’s not ideal, is it, trying to think when you have a gorgeous woman not just naked but revved up, at number ten on her rudeness dial, pushing her nether regions back at you as you lick her beautiful, brazen vagina and drink in that mysterious fluid that flows from her when she’s excited.
It’s only now, in retrospect, that I can rationalize what was going on that time. I had known Sara for something like ten years but had only recently got to know her on a more intimate level. We were both around thirty and I was still single, while she had just separated from her husband. I had once had a relationship with her best friend, so she probably knew plenty about my sexual preferences, if it’s true what they say about women telling their close friends the most explicit things about their sex partners.
Men do as well, of course, particularly young men, but we don’t really go into the gory detail. We’ll divulge information about whether she gives blow jobs, because after all, that can be helpful to our fellows if they should at some time in the future find themselves spending time and money attempting to get her in the sack.
But I felt that what Sara was doing would not have been on any man’s list of her attractions, because she had never done it before.
I had gone home with Sara the week before and we’d had a good kissing and feeling session before one of her kids woke up and started calling her. That’s what you get for dating young mothers, and it’s not a bad thing if the particular young mother is exactly what you need at the time. At that sort of age, most of the girls you meet fall into that category. Anyway, that first night I had got as far as licking the back of her neck while my hand delved into her sultry valley, and in my passion I had told her I wanted to lick her all over.
“Do you mean all over?” she had said, and I assured her I did mean that, but of course you can’t be completely literal about it. I had no intention of licking her ankles or the top of her head, so more detail was required if the contract was to be binding. Sara obviously had something in mind, and that second night I was finding out what it was.
As I lapped at her like a dog (although you don’t actually see dogs doing that, do you?), wiping her vaginal salivation with my tongue and chin and cheeks, she started to wriggle, almost imperceptibly, and move down until what was presented for me to lick was not her pussy but her arsehole. As my tongue plunged into it she felt she had to explain that the change was deliberate.
“Oh God,” she wailed. “I’ve always wanted someone to do that to me.” In other words: ‘don’t stop, you fucking wimp. Lick my arse and love it as much as I do.’ And the funny thing is, I did love it.
Since that day I have rimmed plenty of women, and another funny thing is that they all refer to it as “doing that to me.” They don’t ask you to do it in so many words, or the real words; they just engineer it – the ones that actively want it, that is. Since I discovered how much I like it, no woman has had to ask me. I have occasionally asked them, or told them what I wanted to do, but you have to be careful because the words can scare them off. It’s better just to get them into position and have your tongue stray into the cleft to see how they react.
Some will actually look around to put a visual verification to what they are feeling.
Afterwards, though, if they choose to discuss it, they will refer to it as “that.” And that’s what Sara did that first time. After she had come to her beautiful, exquisite climax, the result of my tongue loving her anus, she lay back with a contented smile and closed her eyes.
“Not long to wait, is it? Thirty years for someone to do that to me?”
It’s nice when they do talk about it. There’s something weird about having to ask a woman if she liked it. Even when you have sensed the outrageous feeling of abandonment she feels as you perform that endlessly exciting, incredibly intimate act, some don’t come and don’t mention it. In such cases all you can do is rely on your instinct and enjoy your own experience.
I have licked the arse of outwardly prim wives and bemused teenage girls who didn’t know such depravity really existed. I have particularly enjoyed doing it to black women, although I don’t know why. And probably the most memorable time was with a Nigerian woman who was staunchly religious, a bible-reading, devout Christian. After we had had sex a couple of times I asked her if there was anything we hadn’t done yet which she wanted to do, and she said no, how about you?
“I want to lick your bum,” I said. I shied away from the word “arse” for fear of upsetting her delicate sensibilities, and chose bum at the last second, with bottom just edged out of the frame. She had thought about it for a second.
“Not now?” she had said hesitantly.
“Okay. Next time,” I had said, and sure enough, when we got into the bedroom a couple of days later she had spent a long time in the bathroom before coming out with it when she returned.
“How do you want me?” she said.
“On all fours,” I replied and she immediately got into position. I licked her bum and she soaked up the sensation but didn’t betray her feelings. It was enough for me. She had allowed me to do the most shocking, no-holds-barred thing to her and it had lodged in her memory.
We drifted apart but when we got together again a couple of years later, for lunch at her apartment, she was wearing a comfortable black track suit and no underwear, as I discovered when, after an electric kiss, I had slid down her body and lifted her top to kiss her stomach. She turned around so I was kissing her back instead, and in a second I had pulled her track suit bottoms down and she leaned forward onto the arm of the settee to allow me to do what I think she had been replaying over and over in her head, just as I had done.
“I want to lick your bum.” Such charged words. Such a thrilling contract, such a bold agreement, such a sweet promise. Two people engaged in an act that most people don’t talk about but which sits between them like a unique bond.
Call it rimming if you like – it’s the only way some people can refer to it. But when you’re a devotee of this particular dark art and you find yourself with a recipient who is not just willing but really into it, the six most beautiful words in the English language are, “I want to lick your arse.”
