As I was reorganizing the basement, making room for my oldest boy, Jake, to move downstairs, I was shocked when I found a small bag of sex toys and pantyhose.
I had my own collection, but it wasn’t a secret and each had been used at some point in the bedroom with my husband Chris. They were all typical toys like vibrators, including a new one I bought at a toy party Bethany had, and a we-vibe (he bought it for me as a present but I had never really loved it).
As I went through the bag, hidden behind a collection of old VHS tapes (which was odd since we no longer had a VHS machine), I was shocked.
First, I found a long plastic thing I quickly learned was a hand pussy when I undid the top. Although briefly offended, I realized that it wasn’t any different than the toys I had to get myself off when he wasn’t around.
But… the other toys were different.
They were all anal toys, the one thing I had never even remotely been interested in. That said, at the sex party the saleswoman spent a good half an hour discussing the pleasures of anal sex and showing a wide range of toys made for the butt. It had made me slightly curious, especially when I learned I was in the minority of women at the party who’d neither experimented with anal sex nor actively participated in it.
That said, I had always thought of the ass as an out hole only, even as my younger sister called me a prude and I learned my older sister also enjoyed anal sex.
The thought that my older sister Marina got fucked in the ass by her chubby husband Blake was disturbing and shocking… I always saw Marina as the most conservative of the three of us. That said, if Marina enjoyed anal sex, well, maybe it wasn’t the ultimate sin.
Bethany, on the other hand, fifteen years younger than me (an ‘oops’ my parents said), was the wild child who declared herself bisexual in high school and who had been in relationships with men and woman ever since. Currently, she was single and on the prowl.
As I rummaged in the bag and investigated the toys, I found: three butt plugs in various sizes, a dildo that suctioned to the wall, and a black vibrating curved dildo that was hooked to a remote control that had a variety of vibration speeds and patterns. There were also two different types of lube, one of which was anal lube. Lastly, there was a pair of beige pantyhose.
I stared at the toys for an eternity, so many questions spinning in her head.
I looked at the pantyhose not in a package, which implied they had been worn before. Chris had a nylon fetish and I had been wearing pantyhose, thigh highs and stockings with a garter-belt ever since I met him. Usually, all I had to do was show a little leg, wiggle my toes in nylons and he would be hard and ready to go.
I was confused.
Was he having an affair?
He traveled a lot, being a motivational speaker. Chris was an ex-NHL’er who played for the St. Louis Blues and the New York Rangers before a serious injury ended his career. His speech on overcoming obstacles was very popular at high schools and charity fundraisers.
We actually met at a bar where I went after him because back then I was a ‘puck’. A girl who fucked hockey players. In truth, I had never been with anyone who wasn’t good with a stick on the ice and in the bed. I was kind of a slut in high school and college, but had calmed down once I met Chris and even more so once we had kids.
The more I thought about it, the more I was confident he wasn’t cheating, He wasn’t a cheater.
Plus, I had made it clear if he ever did cheat on me I would cut his nuts off and feed them to the dog.
Was he attempting to surprise me? He knew I had no interest in anal activity (I hadn’t mentioned the slight interest that had begun after the toy party).
Was he using these toys on himself? He was 230 pound, 6’2″ and all man. In other words, he was a man’s man. The thought of him using these on himself seemed incredibly unlikely.
I didn’t particularly like any of the options floating in my head, but I ended up hoping the toys were a secret attempt to get me interested in anal….
I’d be devastated if he cheated on me.
I wasn’t sure how I’d feel if they were actually for him.
I put the bag back, unsure how I wanted to deal with this situation.
For two days, I watched him, looking for clues.
I considered bringing it up a couple of times, yet couldn’t figure out a good way. I didn’t want to humiliate him if they were not for him; I didn’t want to accuse him of cheating with such flimsy evidence. Yet, it was driving me nuts.
I decided to see if he took the bag with him on Monday as he was heading out for a few days of speaking in Florida.
As soon he kissed me goodbye Monday morning and left the house and I got the kids off to school, I went directly downstairs to the hiding spot.
My heart sank when the bag wasn’t there.
The toys were not for me.
That meant either he was having an affair or he was using it on himself.
Both options were not appealing.
I didn’t know what to do.
So, tears streaming down my face, feeling completely betrayed and confused, I called my older sister Marina.
I could barely get a sentence out through the tears as I babbled, “H-h-he’s c-c-cheating on me.”
“No way,” my sister replied.
“I-I-I,” I stammered, but was unable to finish a sentence.
“I’m on my way,” Marina said.
“K-k-Kay,” I replied, thankful my sister knew I needed her.
Twenty minutes later, the tears done, being replaced with anger, I searched the home computer for clues.
I searched his emails, searched the files, searched the web browser, including all browser history and came away empty, except for a website called Literotica.
I was just beginning to look into the erotica website when Marina arrived.
“Okay, what’s the crisis?” Marina asked, as she walked in the house, “I had to cancel three sessions.”
“My husband is having an affair,” I declared, instantly beginning to cry again.
“There is no way that Chris is cheating on you,” she confidently replied.
I explained everything I found and how it was now gone, my emotions changing from crying to anger.
“Interesting,” she said, as she seemed to be pondering all I had told her.
“What is interesting?” I snapped, taking my frustration out on her, though her casual attitude toward the apparent end of my marriage only confounded my anger.
“So you’re sure they were anal toys?” my psychiatrist sister asked, not answering the question, something she always did… unable to not play therapist.
“Yes, they were similar to the toys at that sex party,” I nodded, before adding, “except the fake pussy.”
“Well, that’s good news,” she nodded, still in pondering move,
“How is this good news?” I asked, getting more frustrated.
“It means it’s very unlikely he is cheating on you,” she declared.
“How the fuck can you figure that?” I asked.
“It’s elementary, my dear,” she answered, always playing psychologist instead of sister.
“Just explain,” I demanded, frustrated.
“What would you say if he told you he wanted you to help with a prostate orgasm?”
“A what?” I asked, even though I, of course, knew what and where the prostrate was.
“Many men can reach orgasm and almost all men have more intense orgasms when the prostrate is stimulated,” my sister explained, shifting to sexual expert.
“Really?” I asked, my anger finally beginning to simmer, and instead a feeling of inadequacy beginning to grow.
“It’s always been true. The difference now is the growing acceptance of homosexuality, and anal sex for men has begun to become more popular among straight and married man,” Marina continued.
Her explanation was interesting, but I still couldn’t fathom my husband, an ex-NHL player, taking something in the ass.
“No way Chris wants something in his ass,” I firmly replied, even though I wasn’t sure about it.
She shrugged, “Actually, if I was profiling, I would argue Chris is the prototype for being anal curious.”
“This I’ve got to hear,” I sarcastically said, Marina going into full psychological analysis mode.
“Don’t be giving me attitude when I’m just trying to help,” she threatened.
“Sorry,” I apologized, “I’m really stressed.”
“I understand,” she nodded. “Do you want to hear my theory?”
“I do,” I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure I was going to like what she said.
“He has grown up in a man’s man world. He played NHL hockey which is a man’s sport. He is always supposed to be in charge,” she explained.
“Okay,” I nodded, not sure where this was going.
“Well, for women, the higher the job stress the more likely they want to be submissive in the bedroom. It’s not surprising it works the same for men,” she continued, before adding, “there isn’t a lot of research to prove this.”
“I’m still not understanding,” I replied, my head spinning.
“It may be that after always being in charge and manning up all those years, that when alone he wants to let go of society’s expectations,” she finished.
“And take it in the ass?” I asked, her theory ludicrous.
“Exactly,” she nodded. “It’s like many of my female clients who are lawyers, CEO’s and even teachers, they get home and no longer want to be in charge, they’d rather be submissive.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Being submissive in the bedroom is a natural expectation of some women, but guys taking it up the butt….”
“It’s called pegging,” she interrupted, before adding, when you do it to him.”
“But how do I know he even wants me to do it to him?” I questioned, still not buying into her theory.
“If he is experimenting, he likely wants you to,” she predicted.
“But he hides the toys and never once has brought it up,” I pointed out.
“I’m guessing this is still relatively new to him and his masculine male side is still overriding his vulnerable side,” she said, “plus how would you react if he told you he wanted you to fuck him?”
“I don’t know,” I said, just as the front door opened.
“What’s the deal-o,” Bethany, my much younger sister called out.
“You called Bethany?” I asked, instantly annoyed.
“You sounded stressed,” she shrugged, before adding, “So I thought I needed reinforcements.”
Bethany walked in and asked, “So what is the crisis?”
“It’s fixed,” I lied, not wanting to talk about this with my fifteen year younger sister.
“That’s obviously not true,” she countered, turning to Marina.
“It’s complicated,” Marina said.
“Complicated is naked twister,” my sexually liberated, bisexual younger sister quipped.
“Okay,” Marina laughed, “it’s not complicated, but confusing.”
“Tell me,” Bethany demanded.
“Fine! Whatever!” I said exasperated, “tell her. I have to pee.”
I walked out, my head spinning. Marina was confident that Chris wasn’t cheating and deep down I didn’t think he was either. He wasn’t a cheater. Yet, that meant he was likely using toys in his butt and that was something I really wasn’t sure about. Was he going gay?
When I returned, Bethany, being Bethany, was unable to hide her excitement and said, “This is super exciting.”
“What is?” I asked.
“The thought of you pegging Chris,” she said.
“I’m happy that excites you,” I sarcastically responded.
“No, seriously,” Bethany continued, bubbling with enthusiasm, “once you have a strap-on on everything changes.”
I scoffed, even though it didn’t surprise me based on her promiscuous lifestyle, “You’ve pegged a guy?”
“Only a couple of times actually,” she said, “although I’ve used it quite often with women.”
“Of course you have,” I sarcastically said.
“Just because you’re a prude, don’t judge me,” Bethany shot back.
“I’m not a prude,” I protested, hating that word. If you didn’t slut it up enough, you were labelled a prude. I had my wild past, but eventually you have to grow up and be a wife and mother. Chris and I had a good sex life: usually once a week and I gave him head once a month, give or take… although more take than give the past while.
“Well, if you’re not a prude then you will seriously consider your husband’s sexual needs and not play the woe is me card,” Bethany responded, sounding like the older sister and not the younger one.
Marina, who had been relatively quiet since Bethany arrived, chimed in, “She’s right, Dani. Chris will need support so he doesn’t feel inadequate or less manly, when in truth I would argue his vulnerability and willingness to explore his prostrate makes him manlier.”
“What would you say if Blake asked you to fuck his butt?” I vulgarly asked, trying to make a point.
There was a silence where Marina’s face changed slightly, before she answered, “You can’t let him know you know.”
Bethany jumped up and down like Tom Cruise on Oprah, “You peg Blake! Fucking classic.”
“Yes,” Marina nodded, her facial expression showing she felt bad sharing this with us.
“See,” I said, “you’re ashamed to tell us.”
“No,” Marina shook her head, “I’m not ashamed of him. Actually I love him even more for being willing to share his desires and insecurities with me. I just don’t feel it’s right for me to share that part of our sex life with anyone, including my sisters.”
“So fucking hot,” Bethany said, again sounding the fifteen years younger she is.
“Oh,” was all I could say as I suddenly did feel like a prude.
Marina, seeing my own insecurities coming through, said, “Dani, don’t feel bad. Although I accepted it without reservation, it was only because of my education. Most women would react like you did, with anger, questions and insecurities. But, that is why we are here, to help you through. This can either cause major strife in your marriage or it can make it stronger.”
“Plus, as I mentioned before, once you put a strap-on around your waist a new perspective comes,” Bethany added.
Marina nodded, “She is right. You get to see the world from the eyes of a man and it is a very fascinating perspective.”
“And super empowering,” Bethany added.
“Well I’m not sure about the super verb, but it is empowering and also therapeutic,” Marina agreed.
“How is it therapeutic?” I asked, feeling like I was on Candid Camera.
“That I can’t explain. But understanding sex from the point of view of the giver instead of the receiver is mind blowing,” Marina explained.
“Plus. It’s super fun to wear a dick,” Bethany said, before adding, “whether you’re fucking a man or a woman.”
“I think I’ll focus on men,” I quickly clarified, and then realized what I said.
Marina said, “You will need to find a way to bring it up to him in a safe way, because he is unlikely to bring it up himself. Instead, he will live in guilt that he likes something society perceives as gay.”
“But what if I perceive it as gay?” I countered, still unsure how I felt about this whole conversation.
“It’s 2015,” Bethany pointed out. “Christ, Caitlyn Jenner has made it cool to go from a man to a woman.”
“Who?” I asked.
Bethany roared with laughter. “I think it’s time my big sister joined the 21st century.”
Marina explained who Caitlyn Jenner was and I was shocked. I recalled vaguely seeing something in a People magazine but not reading it.
Marina suggested going online to read more about it and stressed, “You can’t question his manhood, Dani. It is critical that when you bring this up, you don’t make him feel embarrassed or like you respect him less.”
“When is he going to be home?” Bethany asked.
“Friday,” I answered.
“So you have a few days to research, get your head around the concept and go shopping,” Bethany said.
“Shopping?” I asked.
“For a couple strap-ons,” Bethany said, “I’ll definitely come with you for that.”
“I bet you would,” I said dryly.
“I’m just trying to help and I have a fair bit of experience with them,” she countered, all happy.
“Fine,” I sighed, deciding to be crude instead of prude, “you can take me cock shopping.”
“Yay!” she said, all giddy.
We chatted for another hour, where Bethany went into way too much detail about pegging her first guy and Marina stressed again a cautious approach.
I finally asked, since we were being so honest with each other, “How did you find out Blake wanted to be, um.”
“Pegged?” Marina asked.
“Yes, pegged,” I nodded, “which I must say is kind of a weird word.”
“I suppose,” Marina nodded. “Actually, he mentioned it to me one night after he had fucked my….”
“Ass,” I finished her sentence this time.
“Yes,” she nodded, “this is weird to talk about with siblings.”
“No it’s not,” Bethany said, “it actually makes you two finally seem cool.”
“Because we take it up the butt?” Marina asked, sarcastically.
“Speak for yourself,” I countered.
“Yes,” Bethany nodded, before turning to me and saying, “don’t knock it until you try it.”
Marina agreed, “You’d be surprised at the pleasure it can bring.”
“Isn’t it painful?” I asked, assuming it was, but slightly curious.
“If you survived giving birth, you can handle anal,” Bethany quipped.
“Says the one who hasn’t given birth,” I responded.
Marina laughed, “But she is right. I compare it to losing my virginity. It didn’t feel good at first, actually it was downright painful, but eventually it felt good and now I really enjoy it. It’s a different kind of pleasure.”
Bethany agreed, “It’s a whole different kind of experience.”
“That I believe,” I nodded, my curiosity at anal sex going from no way in hell to unlikely, but not impossible.
Marina agreed, “Just as if you ever peg him he needs to be utterly vulnerable, if you ever decide to try anal it is the ultimate trust experience.”
“How?” I asked.
“Because you are willing to take a risk and give him something you have never given anyone else, plus you are giving total control to him.”
“As he will to you once you pound his tight ass,” Bethany added.
I sighed, “I just don’t know.”
“Just have an open mind,” Marina said.
“And an open ass,” Bethany quipped, before bursting out laughing.
“And regardless of who is taking it in their ass you must use lube,” Marina warned.
“Lots and lots of lube,” Bethany agreed.
Realizing Marina still hadn’t really told me about Blake’s pegging, I asked again, “So how did you end up pegging Blake?”
“As I said, after he had fucked my ass, and we both came,” she began.
“Did he come in your ass?” I asked, repulsed by the idea.
“No,” Marina nodded, before a wicked smile crossed her face as she revealed, “he shot his load all over my face.”
“Gross,” I said, another thing I had never allowed a man to do to me. I had swallowed many loads, but never allowed the humiliation of getting a facial. It was so demeaning and disrespectful as it made the man dominant and the woman submissive.
“Prude,” Bethany quipped.