EXIT ONLY
Back door action has startling consequences for today’s contributor Editor’s Note: In case you forgot, it’s our favorite day of the week—hump day! I was afraid to have anal sex for a long time, but my boyfriend begged and begged, until I felt comfortable enough to give it a try. After about two weeks of experimenting, I was starting to get used to it. It wasn’t as painful as I expected it to be—just a little, uhh, uncomfortable. One weekend, he came to visit me at school and we started to have sex. Of course, this led to our new mode of choice. Feeling relaxed, I let him go for it, and actually found myself enjoying it for the first time. But the next day was a completely different story. I was in my dorm room studying for an exam, when I pooted, err, passed gas. And it smelled awful. Not like ‘did you just fart?’ awful. More like ‘who died in here?’ awful. Thankfully, I was in a single, so I didn’t kill anyone with the stench. I noticed there was also an unusual amount of moisture in my underwear. I thought to myself: Dude. Did I just ‘shart’ in my underwear? Who does that?! I ran to the bathroom, feeling like a kindergartener with weak bowls, and made a startling discovery. No. I didn’t shart. Unless a tiny pool of his little swimmers counts. I called my boyfriend immediately and told him what happened. He thought it was hilarious, but I got the last laugh—I never let him near my rear end again.
