This One Time When I Shat On A Guy And Why It Doesn’t Matter

Shit happens.


I was seventeen. My parents were away for one night and my high school boo came over to try everything that we haven’t tried yet. No, he wasn’t my boyfriend. He was my first regular fuckboy and he will always have a special place in my heart because he taught me a lot. We both took a lot of shit from each other. Literally.

The best part of our relation was that we were extremely eager to do stuff. He watched a lot of porn and I was super keen. Choking? Yes. Bonding? No problem. Blowjob on my knees with the deepest throat? Every week. And I actually mean it. Since we lived with our parents, we used to fuck at school, in the loo. First or second floor. Every Tuesday and Thursday. He would skip Biology while I cut French, in exchange for all kinds of French kisses.

It was exciting but exhausting at the same time. I could suck him off with no problem but things were getting tricky when he was trying to fuck me. Imagine a tiny and pretty disgusting cubicle in a high school bathroom. Yes, it was as bad as it sounds. We tested out all positions and every single one of them was painfully frustrating. Oh, and the toilet seat would make the same kind of annoying noise each time.

But this one evening was different. I invited him over, as soon as I knew that my house would be empty. I begged my sister to leave for the party and I was so ready for him. I didn’t wanna drink, I didn’t wanna go out, all I wanted was to fuck with him.

And lord, we did. Everywhere. Under the shower. On the kitchen table. On the carpet in the living room. In the walk-in closet. On the balcony. Finally, without the fear of teachers catching us and without the frustration of toilet seat noise. He was mine and only mine and the pleasure was mine as well.

Eventually, after four or five times (which is impressive, even for seventeen-year-olds), we collapsed, exhausted in my bed. But not for long. ‘Do you wanna try something new,’ he asked and the look on his face told me that he was up to some bigger thrill. ‘Like, from behind.’

Of course, I did. That was the thing he liked about me. I never refused anything cause I genuinely wanted to try as much as possible. Plus, I had anal before with a different guy, so I wasn’t even particularly nervous.

So, we swung into action and it felt fine at first. I was enjoying the idea of us trying out a new thing but anal definitely wasn’t, and still isn’t, my favorite. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not shaming anal sex cause overall, I think it’s fabulous. But, like everything, it’s not for everyone and I definitely don’t belong to this elite group.

I had a similar impression then and since our communication was always very direct, clear and honest, I decided to acknowledge it. ‘Does it also feel a bit weird to you,’ I asked. ‘Yeaaaa, kind of,’ he replied hesitantly and I heard something in his voice that made me turn around.

Holy crap. Yes, I shat on his dick. No, I didn’t know that anal sex requires a thorough pre-douche. And apparently, he didn’t know it either (neither did the previous guy). No wonder cause, after all, watching multiple porn movies under a blanket cannot be classified as a proper sex education that kids our age were, and still are, deprived of.

I admit, I was quite shocked at that moment and I didn’t know what to do. I immediately stopped our shitty intercourse (yes, in case you haven’t noticed, all shit puns intended) and I ran to the bathroom. But he followed me, laughing and telling me not to stress. ‘Hey, it’s fine. It’s just me.’ This is another reason why I will always hold him dear, even though I don’t talk to him at all these days (and I don’t intend to). He was great about my shit on his dick and he completely normalized it.

As he should. It’s totally natural that sex can get ugly, weird, awkward, unpredictable or uncomfortable. Shit happens in bed literally but also, metaphorically. So, I’m not sharing this story as a douche preach (well, maybe that too, just in case). First of all, though, I wanna give you an authentic experience cause I’m sick and tired of an unrealistically beautiful image of sex that we get from the non-existent sex education, movies, pornography and pop culture. Dicks don’t get hard sometimes, orgasms don’t happen, some positions don’t work out, bodies make weird sounds. And smells as well.

Thanks to his reaction, I’ve never been embarrassed about this story and I guess it shaped me as a very chill person, still super keen and open. As long as it’s consensual, there’s nothing that can shock me or put me off in bed. It doesn’t mean that I like everything cause nobody does but I’m always ready for conversations and experiments.

Our relation didn’t stand the test of time. We tried to continue our adventures as adults but it didn’t work out. He became quite involved at some point (funnily enough, cause when in high school, I was definitely more into the idea of exclusivity) but I knew that there was no future for us. Without both the thrill and the fear, and also, thanks to experiences with other partners coming along, sex with him actually felt mediocre. But he gave me my shit story and I will always be eternally grateful for it.

A final reminder, some people actually are into scat and there is absolutely nothing wrong about it. Just because I and my high school boo didn’t enjoy it, doesn’t mean that you can’t. End of the day, sex is just one big shitshow.


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