are so hung up on old-fashioned. I think its a bore Anyway, Don shoved it to her and screwed her. He was still full of it even after he finished with Jane and wanted to screw me the same way. But I said that I at least, wanted it dog-fashion. He agreed, and I got down on my hands and knees and he pushed his prick up into my vagina. He fucked me. But, it's funny, I didn't like it much. It really didn't feel like anything.
“'Stick it up my rear,' I begged him. “He did, and the moment it slid up my rectum, I came.
“'Ohhhhhh, that's good,' I moaned. 'It's goood!'
“The fact that Jane was staring at my bare cheeks and watching me get it back there really added to it, too. I like to have someone watch me have something pushed up my rear. I don't know why, but it just adds something to the whole thing. I just love it.
“After he shot off up my rear, and after we'd rested for a while, Don cornholed Jane. It was my idea. I enjoyed watching her get it, too, and kept staring at her buttocks, at how round and white they were, at how the prick just slid right up in. It really turned me on. Jane enjoyed it, too. Both of us like rear-end sex much better than any other way. It's funny, that part. My vagina really disgusts me. I hate my periods, and I hate the goo and all that. I really think that it's a very ugly part of your body. But there is no part of your body that's as pretty and clean as your buttocks, and to be penetrated back there is really nice. I really like it.
“Don and I did it quite a bit from then on, and Jane, too. We'd sneak into Don's room when Mom was out. All three of us would strip naked and then Don would cornhole us. We tried it in all different kinds of positions-bending over, lying down on our stomachs, dog-fashion, lying down on our backs with our legs up, every way that we could. What Don couldn't figure out was why both of us liked it so much in the rear and didn't like it at in the regular way. I think it used to bother him a little, and I think it bothered Jane, too. But it never did me. I don't see anything at all wrong with doing it that way. They call it Greek, and I read once that the Greeks were the most cultured people in the whole world, so how could anything that they did be bad? I don't think it is.
“But, better than anything, better than doing it Greek, even, I like enemas. I'd rather be given an enema than anything, and either by Jane or by Mom. I keep trying to think back to remember how I got this way. It must have been the first time that did it for me, and I think that it was when I was ten and had the Asian flu.
“'Frances, come in here this minute. I'm not going to speak to you again,' Mom snapped that time. I remember how mad I was and how I threw back the covers and then threw my legs over the side of the bed. I didn't want a darned enema, even though I'd never had one before. I remember how the bag bulged and how red it was, and how absolutely awful that long tube looked. I didn't want to have to expose my buttocks either, especially since I felt that Mom hated me.
“'I'm waiting for you,' Mom said in this sort of angry voice. What I hated most was having to take my pajama pants down in front of Mom and bend over with my bottom stark naked, and have her Stick something in me back there, her of all people. But I couldn't do anything about it, so even though I was pretty red in the face, I took down my pants and bent down. She stuck the nozzle up my bottom and then the water started squirting in.
“'Is it going in?' she demanded.
“'Yes, Mother,' I whispered.
“That's when I found that it feels good to get an enema, even though its humiliating, too. I was also sort of excited having my bottom bare, and I began to wonder what a boy's wienie would feel like back there.
“'Can you take any more?'
“'It's all right, Mom,' I said.
“I was pretty quiet about the whole thing, just took it and didn't cry or complain or anything. Afterwards Mom made me go back to bed. I just lay in my bed, thinking about the enema, and after a while I began to wish that she'd do it to me again.
“Mom came upstairs to see how I was. 'Did the enema work?' she asked me.
“Then without having planned to say anything, I heard myself telling Mom that it hadn't particularly, and that maybe I needed another one.
“Mom raised her eyebrows a little, especially because I'd said I wanted another one.
“'Well, I guess I'd better give you another,' she said. She went into the bathroom, and I climbed out of bed and followed her in. I just stood there in the doorway, with my stomach turning flip-flops, and my hand kept slipping back over my buttocks while I watched her take the nozzle off the tube and start greasing the tube. 'I'm going to run it way up in this time,' she told me. 'Get undressed.'
“I closed the bathroom door behind me, took my pajama pants down again, and bent down.
“'You'll have to bend way down,' she said.
“'All right… Am I bending down enough?'
“'No, a little more.'
“I felt her insert the tube in me. She slid it between my buttocks and through my bottom hole. Then it started sliding way up in. Ooooh, it felt good.
“'It doesn't hurt, does it?' she asked.
“'No,' I said. 'It feels funny.'
“'Bend way down. Take a deep breath and bend way down,' she said.
“I did, and felt the tube sliding way up in me. It was just delicious.
“'Get down on your knees and elbows,' she told me.
“I did and just crouched there with my bottom up. I could feel the tube way up in.
“'Does it feel good?' Mom asked in this odd voice.
“'Yes, Mom,' I confessed.
“'I'm going to run the tube up higher,' she whispered, 'and you can just enjoy it, and if you want to holler or anything, it's okay.'
“So she started pushing the tube further up into me, very swiftly and smoothly. As it slithered in I also felt the water. I was still embarrassed, and my face was blushing, but I really enjoyed it. I found that if I pressed my thighs real tight together, pressed, and pushed back, the sensation was just wonderful. The tube kept going in and in. It was already more than a foot in. I pressed very hard, tightened against the water, but it squirted in. The pressure became painful, and I found myself wriggling around. My heart was pounding. I moaned.
“'Hurt?'
“'No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o, it feels good!'
“'Feels good?'
“'Ooooooooo!'
“'Lie down on your tummy and spread your legs apart.'
“I did and the tube pushed up higher and I was just in ecstasy. 'Ooooooo, this enema feels good! Oooooh, it feels good!' I just hollered and my buttocks were bounding up and down.
“That's the time that I'm sure got me started on this stuff. Mom was kind of funny afterwards, and I felt that I'd done something wrong even though she was the one that had done it to me. But now I know what it was, and that that's the reason I like Greek and all that stuff.”
Frances's is the most purely anal erotic of all the cases mentioned and is almost a classic example of analism as discussed in Chidakel's Female Sex Perversion. Analism begins, he pointed out, with enemas given to young children by their mothers. Other, later forms of anal eroticism, including anal intercourse, are essentially derived from these initial experiences. The fact that the mother also derives sexual gratification from giving her child an enema is typical. There is, therefore, an incestuous component to analism as well as a homosexual aspect. Analism cannot be regarded as a simple phenomenon but is a highly complex syndrome.
CONCLUSION
Anal eroticism is a complex, a syndrome rather than anything so simple as pure enjoyment of physical sensation. Regression is the predominant aspect. The anal erotic wants to remain a child. He wants sex for its own sake also, sex sharply partitioned from morality, idealism, duty, family, and love. The anal erotic woman derives little or no satisfaction from the service she renders society or the duties she assumes on behalf of others. She will probably be highly intelligent, morally idealistic, and sensitive.
