We had some amazing entries for our Scary Sex Story Contest — sexy tales of chills, thrills, and frightening encounters. For our winner, we picked the one that will give us nightmares for the rest of our lives. Don’t say we didn’t warn you…
We were walking across Broad Street on our way to a meeting, when out of nowhere my partner grabbed my arm and whispered loudly in my ear, ”I want to try anal sex,” as if it was an urgent matter needing immediate attention. “Now?” I asked. “Don’t be silly, not now. But let’s not forget to do it.” There was really no chance of me forgetting. It’s not every day that she says things like that in the middle of a four-lane thoroughfare.
I guess it wasn’t entirely out of the blue. We’d been watching some terrific gender queer porn lately and surprised ourselves by sharing how we both made it past middle age with our anal virginities still intact. We’ve developed a great candor in our sexual relationship, and it’s been great laughing, talking, and being open with what is and isn’t working for us while we’re doing it. We talked it through, did a little research, and came up with a plan. The next Sunday, the kids would sleep at friends’ houses. We’d each do enemas on our own in the early afternoon – maybe not completely necessary, but we both felt more comfortable being cleaned out. She’d pick up some condoms and lube, and I’d charge our vibrators. Towels and toys and everything would be prepped as if for surgery. We’d have a little wine, but not too much, so we’d loosen up but still feel it all.
What I failed to consider was my activities for the day before. I volunteer at the local science museum, and on Saturday, I had a great job: encouraging kids to try some edible insects. I offered dry roasted crickets, chocolate-dipped mealworms, and fried cockroaches to children, who mostly just looked at me scornfully. “It’s not so bad, you see?” I’d throw a few down the hatch. They were sort-of pleasant, actually. My favorites were salty and crispy, with nutty undertones. And environmentally friendly, too — possibly the answer to global hunger according to the curator. I showed legions of grossed-out kids how you didn’t even need to chew. “Just pop ’em in and swallow! See?” But kids seldom took me up on it. My own daughter was super angry when she realized exactly what a mealworm was, after eating a couple handfuls of the chocolate nuggets. At the end of the day, I remarked to another parent, “I’m pretty sure I ate 95% of those bugs myself.”
Fast-forward to the afternoon of buttfucking day, when all of this was forgotten in the excitement of preparing for the evening. It was time for my enema. I’d done that before, and knew what to expect. Except when the bug parts started coming out.
It turns out exoskeletons are not that digestible, and come out pretty much looking as they did going in. There were heaps and heaps of glistening bug parts coming out of my ass. Legs, wings, tiny heads — all obviously there. A full enema later and they still hadn’t completely stopped coming out. I set aside the kit, came back an hour later and refilled it, and a whole new load came out with a vengeance. I had no real idea how much went in, let alone how much I had gotten out.
I wanted to tell my partner, but I knew she was out with the kids, so I figured I’d catch up to her later. I hadn’t mentioned the bugs from the day before because I didn’t want to revive my daughter’s anger about the mealworms, and I considered my own eating of bugs a non-event. Their expulsion, however, was truly noteworthy. I was out buying our wine when I got her call.
Here’s some information you may not know: When shitting out bug parts, consider that they float really well, and require more than three flushes to be fully out of your life. My poor lady came home to find dozens of bugs floating in the toilet, having risen back through the pipes. My enema bag was still lying nearby on a towel on the countertop. “Are you at the hospital?!” She was convinced that I was experiencing some kind of urban legend redux where bugs had colonized my gut and were possibly going to burst through my stomach at any minute.
We didn’t end up in each other’s butts that night, but we did work together to try and get all the bugs out with the enema. Unsuccessfully. I appreciated how much she wanted to help, but caught her gagging a couple of times before we gave up. I was untouchable for about two weeks, until the idea of me being full of bugs passed, and it was time to try again.
Alexis lives in Philadelphia, where she likes to keep bees, tend her garden, and teach her daughter how to use power tools. Photo Credit: Ewen Roberts via Creative Commons