Taste
No one believes me, but your ass tastes good. It was always a pleasure to eat it, without exception. People who try and tell you otherwise are no better than people who tell you that you’re fat.
I would eat your ass right now. I’d eat it right after you took a shit. I’d eat it and go to work without brushing my teeth. I’d eat it and give you a kiss. I’d eat it and spit in your mouth and have you spit back at me. You know all of this is true.
People ask me pretty regularly what ass tastes like. If it’s a man, I tell them to eat a bunch of peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon, then jerk off, then smell their fingers. That smell is close to the taste. Sweet like sugar, a bit nutty, quite a bit like sweaty flesh, and very carnal. Your ass tastes “carnal.” Like sexuality itself, like seduction or an affair.
If a woman asks me the same question, my mind always flickers back to the same recollection. We were making out on the bed and I was slapping your tits. You were moaning and started to touch yourself when I began sucking on your tits. Your spare hand was buried deep in my hair, pushing my head down like you wanted me to swallow your tits whole. I scooched down and yanked off your panties. They were good ones: light grey with little pink flowers all over them and cute pink trimming around the top. I looked over the insides like always and saw that you really had been enjoying yourself and my dick got even harder. The crotch was wet with streaks of cum and they smelled like you’d just given birth to them. I gave them a big lick before I wadded them up and slipped them inside your pussy.
“You wanna taste?”
“Yes.”
“You wanna taste all the nice pussy juice your panties are soaking up right now?”
“Yes!”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, please!”
I pulled them out and they had gone from moist to wet. When I looked up, your eyes were locked on mine and your mouth was agape and waiting as your hand kept on your clit like it was magnetized. Those panties went straight in your mouth and you looked just about perfect. They were the final mantelpiece needed for your resplendent body. I started fingering you and sucking on your tits again. After a few minutes, it seemed like you were getting close to cumming, so I fished those panties out of your mouth and started laying them across my fingers.
“Please keep fingering me, please don’t stop now!” you yelled out as you increased the pace of your right hand.
“How about I finger your asshole, huh?”
“Anything! Please, just finger me!”
With your panties draped over my middle finger, I started to open up your ass. You liked it, as always.
“You like having your cute little-girl panties up your ass?”
“Yes!”
“You know what I’m gonna do when I’m done fingering your asshole with them?”
“Feed them to me. You’re going to feed them to me, aren’t you?”
“That’s right, these nice panties are going right back into your mouth when I’m done with ‘em.”
“Please do it. Please feed me my shit, Daddy!”
“Yeah.”
“Yes, Daddy, I want to taste my own shit. I want to suck my own shit off my panties, Daddy. Please, Daddy!”
“Okay, since you asked nicely, like a good girl, open up for Daddy.”
I pulled out of your ass, panties still tight around my finger from the lingering pressure. It was dark in our room, but the stain on them was clear. To distract you, I shoved two fingers from my other hand right up your ass as I stuffed that pretty mouth with those disgusting panties. I kept my right hand over your mouth to keep them there and went to town on your ass with my other hand.
You came. The sight of it made me worry my cock was going to explode, because it couldn’t get any harder but wanted to so desperately. It seemed the only way would be for it to burst into a billion bits of flesh, blood, and semen confetti. Fuck. I’m swimming in my own pre-cum as I write this.
Once your body settled and that post-coital glaze hit your eyes, I grabbed a corner of the panties and tugged them out of your mouth. I laid down next to you clutching them in one hand and my cock in the other and I asked, “So, how’s your shit taste?”
“Ha. Nutty.”
I asked you to kiss me and you did. Your lips tasted so good and your saliva better. It was one of those rare times when the best part of a fuck isn’t the moment you cum. It was one for the record hall of fame.
So when women ask me what ass tastes like, I tell them to jerk off with their panties on and then finger their asshole as deep as they can through their panties, then pull them off and have a taste.
Ass tastes like it ought to, like porn suggests it would. Nasty but scrumptious. Disgusting but vivacious. Like shit, but not like shit; like something else entirely, something new.
Just in looking over today, I am amazed at how ass dominates everything.
As I read Adam Kotsko’s book on awkwardness, I thought about eating your ass.
When I checked Jacobin to see if they’d posted any new articles and they hadn’t, I wished I could eat your ass while I waited.
Shooting my BB gun out back, I concluded that one good turn deserves another, and tried to come up with a way I could eat your ass.
I hope that the next time we meet, you subtly finger your asshole and then demand that I suck on the guilty finger without telling me why.
Dream
You were in my dreams last night. It was because of the last letter I wrote you. All I can really remember is holding the same pair of panties from that last recollection and squeegeeing the pussy juice out of them into your mouth, except the panties were soaked beyond any point of biological possibility. I chose the verb “squeegeeing” very purposefully. Waterfalls of pussy juice gushed out of them when I squeezed them tight, and you lapped it all up dutifully. It was so much liquid, you wouldn’t believe it.
I do dream about you semi-regularly. Maybe once or twice a week. About half the time it’s something hot, and the other half it’s something sad. It’s never a wet dream, though. I’ve still never had one. The running theory as to why is just that I jerk off too much, and always have.
***
“Taste” and “Dream” are excerpts from Richard Power’s new memoir, Letters from a Heartbroken Pervert. You can purchase the book from Terror House Press here.
Richard Power is the author of Letters from a Heartbroken Pervert, available from Terror House Press.
