This week The Executive Ass Man replies to Paul from Milwaukee: “Will I get poopy on my dick?”
Dear Paul from Milwaukee:
It sure seems that if we’re putting our dicks inside the proverbial “poop chute” that we’d inadvertently pull out a load of it when we pluck our rods back out. At minimum, it would seem that the head of our cocks would at some point encounter the business end of a turd and end up looking as if it we're wearing a little brown stocking cap. But the reality, when we get right up in there, is quite the opposite; and a fecal-free rectum is something we can now look upon with awe and wonder and could consider to be something magical.
I’ve been nailing women in the ass for years. Even as a youth, I found it preferable to vaginal intercourse, since many times the compactness of the opening allowed greater stimulation during thrusting. I also did not need to worry about playing the dangerous game of roulette concerning pregnancy. Although I’d occasionally succumb to the same garden variety of STDs we all encounter while bare-backing, that was a routine price to pay for the sensation of warm flesh on flesh. But one thing I’d never encountered in all my years was a post-coital dick smeared with feces.
Actually I never thought about why I wasn’t getting any shit on my cock. It just never happened, and that was that. But your question, Paul, made me think more deeply about the subject and investigate further.
Spending the early part of my Monday thinking deeply about the asses I’d ravaged cleanly got me stiffer than a broomstick come lunch. I’d spent most of my morning doing online searches for information, but queries such as “why don’t you get poopy on your dick during anal sex” just drew me into a huge web of pornographic sites and did not provide any matches.
Anyway, like I said, I was as randy as a ferret come lunch, and I knew my friend Jenny, who is a beautiful red head finishing up her PhD in medieval history and who works nearby in an antique book store, would soon be shutting up shop to get a bite to eat. I picked up some corned-beef and kim-chee sandwiches and a couple bags of Cool Ranch Sun Chips from a Jewish deli run by a blind elderly Korean man and his two stunning twin granddaughters, then I headed over to turn Jenny’s lunch break into a butt-fuck fiesta.
Unfortunately, one of Jenny’s professors was there, a bilious, pasty man of indeterminate age, and he was talking her ear off about some medieval something or other. They continued chatting long after it would have been safe to initiate anal activities (I had to be back at the office in 30 minutes for a meeting with the board of directors), and so I popped open a bag of those crispy snack chips flavored with ranch dressing powder and meandered.
I’d wandered up and down the rows a few times when suddenly a book caught my eye: Darwin’s “Origin of Species.” Blamo, it hit me! Of course women from the dawn of time were ass fucked. It was probably preferable in many ways to vaginal intercourse, as men certainly were superstitious about that mysterious menstrual blood scenario.
For obvious reasons, women who had a fecal-free rectum would have been preferred to women whose asses extruded shit during anal intercourse. Even if this was not entirely true, maybe wild animals like saber tooth tigers could more easily smell men with shit covered penises and would attack them more often.
Following Darwin’s logic, then, the fecal-free rectums would have been intruded upon with an increased frequency (by fecal free penises not devoured by tigers), thus increasing the chance of some semen drooling down into their vaginas and impregnating women with additional fecal-free progeny.
We had just enough time to down our sandwiches before I had to run, but I did manage to extrapolate my theory to Jenny before our meeting ended.
“I think you should
stick with stocks and bonds,” she said, smiling.
“I get it!” I said. “The men who love to fuck women in the ass are fulfilling a destiny, and as such, they don’t encounter karmic feces. But the conservatives, the prudes, if they ever stuck their dicks into the asses-"
“They would be covered
with pounds of shit!”
Although my lunch meeting with Jenny did not go as planned, there was still hope for some ass play on the fly. A few weeks ago I’d given the blind elderly Korean man who runs the Jewish deli a special gift--a brail English/Korean dictionary. As hoped, his two stunning twin granddaughters Kim Lee and Lee Kim appeared to take a liking to me, and they agreed to stop by my penthouse to watch a few episodes of “Sex in The City” over sake and sushi.
By the time the third episode had finished, I was up inside Kim Lee’s ass, working her hole slowly while I gave her the reach-around. Lee Kim was behind me, one arm wrapped around my torso, and she was rubbing my chest and pinching my nipples while she sucked on my neck and worked her own clit. As I thrust in and out of Kim Lee, I looked down at my cock and saw how clean and fresh it was, like I was thrusting into a hole lined with sweet rain water. It was the ass magic I dream of.
“Please, fuck me now,”
Lee Kim said. “I need your dick inside me.”
“No way! Not there! That disgusting!”
Suddenly I realized that sitting before me was the litmus test to the theory I’d worked on all day. Identical twins. One an ass freak. The other, an ass-phobe. What would happen to my dick would be based on karma. I had to try it.
“It’s going to be fun,” I said. But Lee Kim was squirming away from my finger and slapping my hand, so I slid myself into her vagina instead. I’m not a jerk or a rapist, but the overwhelming urge to test the theory got the better of me. I pulled out of Lee Kim and had myself in her ass before she could take a breath. But apparently she had already taken a breath, for she screamed like a fucking cat that just had all its legs ripped off.
“Oops, sorry!” I said, and quickly pulled out. I looked at my cock, expecting the worst, expecting big globs of shit-meat stuck to the shaft. But instead I saw something else: blood.
I’d torn her asshole open.
There’s nothing like tearing a woman’s asshole open to ruin the mood, and despite the foreplay instigated by the episodes of “Sex in the City,” Lee Kim and Kim Lee were getting dressed before I’d had a chance to orgasm. My apologies were deep and heartfelt, and I felt horrible that I’d gotten duped into trying out some hair-brained religio-anal theory on an unsuspecting and unwilling participant.
But the night was still young, and within a couple of hours I had Jenny bent over my divan and I was jiggling in her like a puppy.
“So, Jenny,” I said, “what if a guy with good ass karma enters a woman with bad ass karma?” I slowed my thrusts and leaned back so I could watch my shaft sliding into her beautiful asshole.
“Well, it’d be clean, too. The dick would be endowed with magical powers to push the poop away.”
“These powers, I’m not ready for them,” I said.
“Never mind,” I said, thinking about the pain I’d inflicted on Lee Kim needlessly because of the magical powers of my penis. “So I guess the only way to get shit on your dick would be for a man who would not have anal sex to have anal sex with a woman who would not have anal sex.”
“God, that would be a stinking mess.”
“But it would never happen.”
“Unless maybe they were forced at gunpoint."
“Sure, or ass-rape terrorists.”
“Or ass-rape terrorists.”
“Or a freak pack of dingoes with opposable thumbs that had access to small arms and that were anal masochists.”
I laughed. “Or yes, mutant dingoes.”
“You wonder about the strangest things,” Jenny said. “Maybe you should lighten up a bit, go with the flow and not worry so much about anal sex. Maybe you need a vacation from the asshole.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I said, but knowing deep down inside that I would not be able to take a break from my addiction, and also knowing that I was starting to risk revealing my secret life as a self-help writer, which was against SEC regulations, if I continued to query Jenny so frequently with my obscure anal-centered issues.
“Let me suck you off,” Jenny said.
But when I pulled out this time, I was astonished to see something stuck to the end of my dick.
“Oh my God, look at this!”
Jenny turned and stared with wild surmise. “I swallowed that,” she said. Then she gingerly pulled the small Hello Kitty figurine from the end of my urethra and held it up to the light. It looked brand new. Not a speck of poo on it.
“When I was five,” Jenny said.
“That’s ass magic,” I said.
“I think it’s a metaphor for your respite from the ass, and your return to the pussy--at least for a while.”
“Yes, my respite,” I said, turning quickly to hide the tears that started to well-up in my eyes.
It was amazing to have discovered first-hand the magic I’d always believed in--the ass magic, which, I now know, creates a barrier around a lucky man’s cock. But the Hello Kitty was also magic; I could plainly see that. Jenny’s asshole, maybe even her whole alimentary tract, had communicated with me. And if I love the ass, I doubly respect the ass; and if it starts to talk to me, I have no choice but to listen.
And I will listen, but I only hope it communicates with me again, and soon, and tells me to rush back to my roots and thrust, thrust, thrust ever so deeply. I hope, Paul, this answers your query. It sounds to me that you’re game for some ass play, and, as such, you, too, should be endowed with the magic poop-pushing penile powers!