Archives for category: Red Silk

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Two years ago, I wrote the piece 7+1 Ways to fuck a woman’s mind.  It was a passion piece that I sprayed out in one sitting.  It was written from my cock and balls.  The response was as overwhelming as it was polarised.

On the one hand, I received waves of passionate gratitude, an outpouring of expression; a mixture of hunger and relief flowing from fast-typing fingers.  Humble thank you’s to you all.

On the other hand, I also received a fair share of criticism: a wall of anger, resentment and vitriol.  I had the full support of the editor who helped me published it, and a full-blown rebuttal from another.

 

This was not an accident.

 

This was what I was going for.  My piece was designed to be polarising.   It had to be.

 

I wrote the article knowing full well the potential consequences.  I was going to stab into raw emotion, split the audience in half, and draw sharp criticism.  I knew I was going to touch a nerve, and I knew which nerve it was.  The contrasting responses were inevitable.  Clearly this was something for us to explore.

 

So, that is what I am doing.

I will break it down for you.

 

What I do, and how I do it.

Why two years on, I am still fucking my woman’s mind.

 

 

1.  My woman orgasms 100 times a day.

This point alone makes almost all rebuttals and criticisms moot.

In fact, 100 is a conservative figure.

We achieve this via a unique combination of energies.  For one, she has an intense acceptance and appreciation for her body.  It emerges as a powerful body openness.  Energy flows from one end to another.  That is the power of self-love.

On her own, she manages 40-50 orgasms.  Together, we push that number to almost 200.  We achieve this because I fuck her mind.  I reach into her and she cums.

This is the reason why I began the article with “a woman’s sex is mental”.  Yes, I will eventually reach a place that is emotional, soulful, even spiritual.  But it must begin with the mind.  That is how I touch her; that is how I penetrate her.  To fuck her I must begin with her mind.

Yes, I could have called it ‘mindful presence’.  Maybe even ‘erotic conscious relating’.  That is a safe, sweet phrase to use.

It is more accurate to say that I fuck her mind.

 

2.  She masters surrender

Fucking my woman’s mind means she chooses surrender.  When I move to her, she makes the choice to surrender to me.

Before surrender, she has taken the time to invent a mask.  She will wear it every day.  She will hold onto it and swear by it.  She will appear beautiful, perfect and joyful throughout her long, menial day.  She will eat, sweat and taste the succulent gifts that daily life has to offer.  Her mask is her way of hiding.

My woman has mastered her mask.  She hides her true face in public as she goes around her business.  But quietly, oh softly, she yearns for that mask to be ripped off.

When I fuck her mind, I tell her to take off her mask.  “Show me your true face.  Hide nothing.  Let me see.  Give me the soul in your eyes.”

And she accepts.  She lets me.  She cums.  When she surrenders, she is strong, powerful, open and loving.  But only after she surrenders, only after I fuck her mind.

Why?  Because only then will I feel the depth of her, when all of her passions flow out.  Her surrender is not voluntary.  It erupts out of her engorged body.  She accepts it, but she does not trigger. It.  She will be overcoming with fear, even terror, but like all things, even these emotions become lost in her surrender.

 

3.  I master penetration

To fuck her mind, I penetrate her.  To fuck her spirit, I penetrate her.  Penetration means to reach in and touch her.  It means to reach past her masks, her pretending, and to love her.

Her mind is her forefront, and thus I must fuck her mind.  Her mind is in her eyes, and so I must touch that.

How does one do so?

With words.  That is why words are a woman’s weakness.

Touch her, grasp her, use words to send her mind into pulses of tension and contraction.  Poetry was invented for this reason, as was music.  To penetrate does not mean to shove in deeply with a sharp blade.  No, that will happen eventually.  Rather, the most elegant forms of penetration are subtle, even gentle.

There are many ways to penetrate.

One is through presence.

Another is with compassion.

And of course there is physical coitus.

But touch her first with words and penetrate her mind.

 

4.  We master pain.

Penetration is, by definition a violent, traumatic event.  I am there, I reach in and I touch her.  I must reach into her and change her.  I move to rip her open.  She accepts, surrenders, and opens.

It is painful.

It need not be a physical pain (though it can be).

It need not be an emotional pain (though sometimes it regrettably is).

It is a deeper, grinding pain.  A throbbing pain, a maddening pain.

It is important not to run away.  Pain is neither good nor bad.  It is simply essential.

Penetration is a wounding, and wounding is essential for growth.  For my woman to surrender she must accept the penetration, and with it the vulnerable, the pain, and the wounding.

Likewise, I must take the pain of witnessing her, of watching her open, agonising, and cumming in my arms.  I must feel her crumble and unleash what is inside.  She expresses it and is relentless.  Yes, this is also painful for me, in my heart.

She, in turn, penetrates me.

Our society is one that is afraid of pain.  We are afraid of wounding our loved ones.  We have shit fathers, and we have shit mothers.  We are shit lovers and partners because we are too afraid to open them and to wound them.  To confront this, to be mutually ripped open like this, there are few things more terrifying, and thus, we run away.  You will want to run away from these very words.

 

5.  We master compassion

Here, compassion will follow the pain.  Because I fuck her, penetrate her, and open her, I must be prepared for her pain.

To do this, I must master my own pain.  I must be present with it.  I must watch myself, penetrate myself, find the depths of my suffering, and come to terms with it.  I must admit to myself my mistakes, my failures, my neuroses, and the pains I carry from childhood.

I must take this and look at it in the eye, and suffer the terror of revealing this.  It is not pleasant, but I do so to train myself for the rigours that I must face in life.  This is important.

When my father told me to man up, he was tasking me to confront my pain.

When my woman asks me to be a man, she is asking me to witness hers.

And I can only do this with compassion.  I can only do this with penetration and presence.  It is a feminine pain that she holds.  She calls it her “female insanity”.  All women have this.  Many will hide it.  They say they hide it to protect themselves of the consequences.   They will hide it because they feel that their man cannot withstand it.

For my own part, I have found that I can withstand my woman’s insanity.  It took many years of finding the pain in myself.  Many nights by myself, thanking my wounded father, and taking the step to be a father for myself.

My woman senses this in me, and she trusts me.  I am allowed to open her, to penetrate her.  This is why she allows me to fuck her mind.

 

6+7.  We master flesh and energy

For us, this is intertwined.  Though we can travel into deeper realms of existance (and have a lot of fun describing them), we acknowledge the depth of the each other’s flesh.  We touch each other, taste each other and fuck each other.

For my own part, I must watch my body and myself.  It is my trap to become enthralled with my thoughts, and my woman’s body helps me become present in mine.

For my own part, I must always consider my body’s death.  There will be a time when my body will cease, when my flesh and my bones will become ash in the ground.  Confronting this is a pain in itself.

But I must observe the flow inside my own body, particularly when I communicate with my woman.  I observe the emotions, flux and flow.  I feel the weakness in my body when I am without integrity.  I feel the strength when I tell the truth (or Truth, whatever rocks your boat).

I am here as I can look at my hands, feel them, and then say, “here is life, here is love, and death awaits me”.

And with her body, and her pain, and her insanity.  And then her hunger, the hunger to be fucked, taken, and loved.  What else can I do in the face of it?  I can only penetrate her how she hungers for it.  I sense the desire in her flesh, it radiates of her as heat.

 

The +1 – Emptiness

Usually I stop myself from describing this part, because it’s too difficult to put into words.  But this time I will try. Musashi included it as his final Ring.  Sun Tzu wrote about it after his chapter on energy.  All I will say that for me, I let my flesh, energy and sex collapse into it, and I call it emptiness.

For me, I can’t do much better.

But for her, I can.

When she lies naked under the sheets.

When she is curled up like a babe.

When she has her hair in tumbles.

And all she can wear is her stupid little smile.

No words.

She is quiet.

This was what I am trying to communicate.  Being with a woman.  Ripping away her mind and her flesh, until I am given this.  I suspect most of the criticism pointed my way missed this point.  Oh well.

To me, this is the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed.  I pledged never to stop until I saw this for every moment of my life.  And that is why I decided to pursue this, that is why I fuck her mind.

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RED SILK SMALL LOGO

So, it has been quite a while since I have posted in this blog.  I think this reflects on the many shifts and realignments we have been making with the Red Silk name.  Diana and I are very… flux-like people and it took us quite a lot of time to settle on a theme that we both felt was right.  Above is a beautiful logo we settled on.  I think it does the job nicely.

I wanted to start with why I am doing what I am doing, and why I drove my work in this direction.

Firstly, it is in my nature to take in what I observe and ponder about it.  And I mean really ponder.  I mean I take what I see, work with it, play with it, tinker with it, and eventually grind it down to its minute constituents.  From it’s fragments I hope to grasp a whiff of its essence, to inhale it in its purest form.  I do this with everything I touch.  I taught myself sub-atomic chemistry when I was 10 and particle physics when I was 16.  I simply wanted to understand.  Somewhere in there, I turned my attention on women.

It took me a long time, and involved a lot of blood and sweat to grow my emotional intelligence.  This was not something that came naturally to me, but eventually I found a sweet spot between intuition and raw objectivity.  Unfolding the layers, reading a woman’s movements, and putting words to the shadows I saw in her eyes.  Silently I watched, and I learnt.

At the risk of diving my readers into the deep end, I discovered two essential truths:

The first was that the feminine was flooded in a constant, throbbing pain.  Well, that is not completely fair.  Men have their own, but it was an eye-opener to touch a woman’s flavour.  The proverbial “whole in man’s heart” existed in her as well.  And it was different.  Richer, deeper, heavier in the heart and wider in the body.  Lingering, slumbering, aching inside her, with every word, with every breath.  What was more, the aching was repressed, silenced, prone to invisible surrender;  only in heights of carnal sexual desire did it want to surface.  A brutal, destructive force in the centre of a woman’s essence.

The second realisation was that the pain was vulnerable to penetration.  Penetration.  The centre of the masculine essence.  In its most innocent form it becomes presence.  But presence is meant to be penetrative, because it is penetrative.  Penetration is the key, penetration is the weapon.  In its purity, it strikes, it is destructive, but with integrity, it is freedom, and it is liberating.  The greatest way to penetrate, is to penetrate a woman’s mind.  Through this  you strike her heart and her body.  The greatest form to penetrate:  words, touch, sex.  A lethal combination to unleash orgasmic catharsis.  Integrity is the key.

Red Silk’s purpose, then, is to unleash a wave of feminine catharsis.

First, is to unearth and unshame the well of the hidden.  The silent pain, the silent hunger, the silent groaning inside the cunt of every woman.  Giving voice to this energy, we give voice to the taboo.  It is through the taboo that our true natures are discovered.  We acknowledge the parts of us that we repress and deny, and in doing so we become a fuller part of ourselves.

The second is to awaken the earth-shattering potential of a world of orgasmic women.  There is nothing more beautiful than a pre-, mid- and post-orgasmic woman.  And to penetrate it.  And to watch her cum.  And to tell her to cum.  And to hold her burning and shaking body.  And to watch that pain melt away.  That is the power of penetration.

Joice Esotica

It’s been 30 day since I left the beautiful Joice Joker, back to the other side of the world.  I miss her dreadfully.

I gave myself a few weeks to grieve her loss, and to feel the reality of her absence.  It still hurts, but it is nigh time to push forward towards that horizon.  Firstly, a bit of clarity.  We decided that my departure was best, considering the options on the table.  It was to either stay, or unite our names in matrimony.  It was on the table for a very long time.  In the end, we realised that autonomy and independence are our most precious values.  It was not an option for us.  A crushingly painful decision to have to make, but the correct one.

I will not lie, it has been dreadfully difficult for the pair of us.  Churning emotions, leaden melancholy, and many fearful thoughts have popped up.  It has been a challenge confronting this with utmost honesty, but I believe we are doing this with a certain beauty and integrity.

First time for everything, right?

Indeed, as I sit here writing this, I can only reflect on the many lessons of the past few weeks.  Indeed, the past year has been a period of stupendous growth.  What makes this piece different is it focuses on the end, the breakdown of a relationship.  It is a difficult topic indeed, because we tend to run away from the pain of loss.

Don’t.

Our greatest lessons emerge from times like these.

Here are 7:

  1. Everything has an end.  A relationship ends because someone is driven away by one of two basic impulses.  The first is fear, the second is dread.  Break through the former, but yield to the latter.  Fear is your response to challenge, that there is something beyond that you do not understand.  Do not run from fear, or you are a coward.Dread, on the other hand, is a sense that you are pressing onto a path that is not your life’s purpose.  Alarm bells will begin whispering into your soul, telling you that this is not what you are meant to be doing.  Listen to this.  Suppressing this warming will only lead to torture.
  2. Presence is everything.  We all have a fear of abandonment, that someone will leave us because we are not good enough.  I have discovered that it is particularly acute in women.  When a relationship ends, do everything in your power to remain present.  Never run, even when it becomes difficult. 
  3. Listen, and take care of your partner’s heart.  When someone’s path in life tells them that a breakup is needed, sometimes our crazy heart does a few flips.  That’s okay, it’s part of living.  Learn to seep into your partner’s body here.  This is essential.  Even at the end, show that the relationship was based on trust and understanding.
  4. Pain is another form of love.  If the love was immense, so will be the grief.*sigh…*
  5. Be prepared to confront your dark side.  It always happens when we have emotions writhing away in our bodies.  It tends to push the messed up parts to the surface.  Take this from a man who has spent a few weeks suddenly struck by waves of self-loathing.Most breakups end badly because we are not taught how to deal with this.  We become overcome, and we blame ourselves or our ex-partners.  A breakup is the ultimate test to your emotions, and you will need to be at your best to confront it.
  6. If the love is real, then the connection  will never die.
    A moment for me to sneak in a little message to my girl.My dearest Diana, what a devastating force you were.  Your eyes, your lips, and your flesh.
    My body is heavy, yearning to sink into your skin once more.
    It will happen again.  It is inevitable.
    Always, us, poised; for you to fall and for me to crumble.
    My love, I will see you again.
  7. You are always, always, deserving of love
    Always.
    Forever always.
    As you read this, remember this.
    Your heart expands.
    Your sex enraptures.
    Breath and life will always be cherished.

Silent beauty

With a vigour of love and grace, you move me with your stillness.

Illustrious and effortless, radiating from you

I look into your eyes, and I see the ocean of feeling

Press my soft power into your heart

Behold this, sit in it, and melt

Melt and open, in my caress

Nothing to be done, that need be done, all in you

Soft, still, open, the most beautiful caress.

 

At times when we are feeling lost, alone, disconnected, it is easy for us to search for answers outside of us.  As though the answer is so simple.  A clever phrase to be spoken, a little joke, a piece of cleverness to win us some attention.  When a man moves into that place, moves his power to such a sprawling locus, he loves the semblance of power.  His actions lack merit, his movements lack vigour, his  intent loses sharpness.

Shame with a woman, when she cannot find her own beauty.

A difficult thing to behold, it is sure.  When a delicate pixie, a beautiful creature, cannot find the love inside.  Her laugh shows ecstasy, but there is no ease.  Her movements have fluidity, but there is no grace.  Her sex is searing, but there it is not soothing, not sensual.

There is a moment with a woman, when the magic unfolds.  It happens in silence.  When she loses her masks.  When she wears a true face.  The lines of joy and anguish drawn into her face.  For just that moment, with her, powerfully, completely.  When she opens with her heart in her eyes.

That is her true beauty.

Some thoughts bared on sex and culture.

It was a few years ago when my niece came for a visit.  It was a regular, sunlit afternoon in Australia.  I was doing some work on my laptop, and at the time, I had a lovely wallpaper from my favourite erotic site, AbbyWinters.com:  a lovely image of girls in kiss and caress.

3-year-old Christy came in, saw the pink skin on my screen, and pointed at it.

“That’s yucky.”

Harmless at the time, I simply chuckled.  “Not it’s not”

“Yes it iiissszzz.  That’s yucky!”

I turned my gaze towards her, then back the smut on my screen, and back to her again.

“Your mummy told you that, didn’t she?”

Christy became still and silent for a moment, pausing to contemplate my question.  She’s a thinker this one.  Without answering, she turned and shuffled away, shuffling away to find something to play with.  Nonchalant.

It was a moment that has stayed with me for a while.  That a little girl, innocent, sweet and bright-eyed, could be instructed to react to sex with feelings of disgust and shame.  I know that feeling well.  Not only did it take me time to burst out of that repression, it took even longer for my sex to grown and mature.

I wonder if there will be a day when sexuality can remain free and open.  I believe that it is our duty to cultivate sexuality, the same way we cultivate self-esteem or self-identity.  It is too primal an energy.  When that day comes, issues like homosexuality, age disparity and marketing won’t become hot issues like they are today.

But I will say one thing.  To live a life with my sex as a burden, is a terrible, excruciating, silent pain to live with.

A pause

And a touch of fire.

The moment when I look over and see you.  Sitting there.  Nothing.  Nothing else on my mind.

And I see it unfold.

Grabbing you, clawing you away from your table.  Throwing you onto the bed, your body throwing fits of defiance.  All in vain.  Watching you gasp with struggle and delight.

Pressing your wrists down with my hands.

Locking your his into place.

Pressing my lips onto yours.  A deep, sensual, passionate kiss.

A mix of heart, soul and saliva.

Your limbs wrapping around my torso.

Yes.

A whisper in my ear,

A voice defeated and conquered,

“I love you”

Scream

Can you sense it

It hangs in the air

In the silence

Like a vapour of frost in the humid air

Rapturous, in the silence

A scream in the silence

A roar to be unleashed

Held in the flesh

Creaking against the bones of your ribs

So get ready

Scream

Scream

I want to hear you scream

But not yet

Not for a moment

We will let it torture you for now

Scream

Scream silently

And I will hold your body all the while

Love and Man

swept up by a blizzard of love and lust

thrust into the depths by the force of hunger and desire

but this

only the most gentle could whisper this open

subtle forces of heat and touch and taste

melt in my arms and surrender

yes

your softness has slayed me

inside I crumble at your gentlest caress

deep, carnal force

collapses to your yielding

stunned by the strength of your ethereal grace

and watch as I capture your in my greatest freedom

conquer you as my own slave

breath ignited by the expanding burning inside

breadth expanding against the crushing fear

insides churning and poised to erupt

sinews stretched and chest expanding

ready, yielding, still and powerful

strength from my bones, my flesh and my breath

poised, upright and erect, sharp and piercing

and eyes, focused, penetrating, unwavering.

All of this, from your gentlest touch

your gentlest grace

your most magnificent surrender

watch me catch you, my knees bend, my body yield

and the heat of your heart

makes me burn, burn, burn

yes, now

a touch of love and watch me awaken

power and strength, my sword and my shield

my new rose, my love, red lips and red blood

hold her, protect her, from the howling wind

A piece of a different nature.

As I write this, I am once again caught by the bug of chess.  The game of kings, as Andy Dufresne put it.  A hobby that I picked up as a young boy, it is something that I go back to every few months, sometimes obsessively.

Perhaps a perfect example of the how chess captures my imagination can be seen below.  A remarkable game played by the then-World Champion José Raúl Capablanca.  Even more incredible was that the Cuban played his opponent blindfolded.

Whilst us poor amateurs (like me) awkwardly struggle with the mechanics of the pieces, the greatest players maneuver in accordance to intuition.  Mastery in action.

Chess is known to attract the most unorthodox minds.  In addition to one David Esotica, Gary Kasparov, one of the greatest players of all time, wrote the book How Chess Imitates Life.  An intriguing idea aimed at a niche audience, the game is was not immune to the reach of philosophy.

But of course, you’re reading this for something a bit more fun, aren’t you?

How Chess Imitates Seduction

This beautiful scene from the 1968 film The Thomas Crown Affair is an elegant metaphor for the game of seduction.  I love its subtext.  Layers upon layers of meaning.  Ultimately, neither the game nor the seduction is at focus.  It is the tension, insinuation and anticipation.

It reminds me of a piece of advice when it came to seduction:  Never play chess games with women.  A man cannot match her social intelligence.   “Sex is woman’s secret”, as the Chinese sages used to say.

I believe this to be true.  I found it best to be completely, sometimes brutally, honest about my intentions, allowing the situations to unfold for themselves.  Throw out the games, the tactics and the techniques.

However, there have been times when my work has been accused of being just that: an unethical deluge of sexual manipulation.  I will admit that this has bothered me at times, not because it questions the validity of my writing, but rather my own integrity as a person and as a man.

I spent a few moments reflecting on what was actually taking place.  Evidently, such spartan and caustic accusations had more to do with the accusers themselves.  But what was it specifically that was erupting?

Roger Moore’s seminal work King Warrior Magician Lover gave me some of the insights I was looking for:

The Magician energy is the archetype of awareness and insight, primarily, but also of knowledge of anything that is not immediately apparent or nonsensical (p106).

Certainly, this energy, combined with the Lover archetype, was extremely useful in my life when it came to relationships and women.  After all, what is more nonsensical to my logic than female intuition?

Further reading revealed more:

Whenever we are detached, unrelated… whenever we use our knowledge as a weapon to belittle and controls others or to bolster our status or wealth at others’ expense, we are identified with the Shadow Magician as Manipulator.  We are doing black magic, damaging ourselves as well as [others] (p114-5).

Reading these words, I could see pieces of my own journey.  Certainly, when Diana came into my life, I was tempted with the riches of using her for own means.  Looking back, I judge that I’d conducted myself with integrity, and I am satisfied that this has continued with the fruition of Red Silk.  I suspect some of these biting criticisms have come from men and women  living under the shadow of wounded fathers.  I recognise the place where they speak from.

If I took the chance to reiterate my personal mission, with my writing and my work:

  • To create a space of safety and healing for women, through raw and wild relationships, orgasms and sex
  • To create a space of empowerment for men, through shadow, initiation and a focus on young intellectuals

My vision for Red Silk is to reinvent to connotations of seduction.  With the archetypes in mind, it is brutal and powerful, deeply compassionate, water-tight safe and charmingly intuitive.  Like a fabulous combination on the mental chess board, the maneuvers attack a woman’s weaknesses with overwhelming force; weaknesses that she has hidden deep inside, secretly craving for them to be torn apart.

But sometimes I still get it wrong:

So, I stumbled on this article.

A Beginner’s Guide to Anal Play

Fabulous piece.  Very instructive and covers all of the major practical points.  I wanted to expand on it, and go into the psychology of it.  When it comes to fucking a woman’s mind, there’s sex, then there’s anal sex.

So,  why anal sex?  It’s not designed for it, after all.

Quite simply, there are few things more powerful than fucking a woman up her ass.

Do it well.  Do it safely.  Fine the right mix of hardness and softness.

What you will find is that every that is already good in a relationship will be amplified.

Intimacy and Love

Intimacy and love with anal sex?  Yes, absolutely.  When it comes to her rear end, many woman are virgins.  So, it is absolutely important to take care of her.  Trust.  Gentleness.  Desire.  If it’s already there, great.  You’ll find a lot more of it now.

Pain and Pleasure

Try something for a moment.  Grab one of your thumbs with the other hand, and squeeze.  Hard.  Notice how it feels.  This is a good pain.  This is the kind pain we want, as opposed to, say, a papercut.  When it feels like this, your pain and pleasure comes together.  That is why those deep-tissue massages feel so fantastic.  You want her ass to feel the same:  sore and happy.

So, let’s just treat anal sex just like a really great massage.  Prepare her so that she gets used to touch.  Use lubricant so that everything flows freely.  If she feels pain, her muscles have stretched too quickly, or it is too rough.  Slow down, take your time and find your rhythm.

Soon enough, she’ll begin to feel a different pain.  A good pain.

Dominance and Surrender

Generally there are three kinds of sex:  deep and emotional; pure and immersive; hard and powerful.  Anal sex amplifies the third.  If a woman loves fuck-my-brains out sex, she is ready to be fucked up the ass.  It is a brutal way to penetrate a woman, and is only possible if she is willing to surrender.  Make her beg for it.  Make her say please.

Taboo and Risk

Let’s face it.  Anal sex is taboo.  Anal sex is risky.

Perfect.

Taking a sexual taboo – and breaking it – is for the bedroom.  When a woman is turned-on, she is a completely different person.  Fuck taboos.  If she is horny enough, she won’t care.

Sexual risk is also welcome, as long as it is managed.  With some precautions, safety will never be compromised.

Emotion and Fantasy

Anal sex can be deeply emotional.  Penetrating her in a way unlike any other.  It is something she has fantasised about.  She has watched porn-stars do it.  For a woman to want to get fucked up the ass, she must feel an immense level of intimacy, trust and safety.  It’s easy for her to relax in that space.

So, final thoughts.  Obviously, there is much more to anal sex than just this.  You’ll find out.  Get good lube, condoms, a buttplug and take a lot of time.  Anal sex is awesome.  If you remember that her sex is mental, it gets even better.