Okay, let’s get straight into this thing people whisper about but don’t really talk loud. I kept hearing rumors that straight dudes were getting into rimming—like, really into it. Not gonna lie, I was skeptical AF. So, I decided to dig deeper myself. No judgment, just cold, hard experience.
Starting Point: The Curiosity Itch
It kicked off at a boring-ass BBQ last summer. My buddy Mike got drunk and mumbled something like, “Bro, it’s like unlocking a cheat code, swear to god.” He clammed up right after, but that stuck in my head. Why would guys like Mike—straight as a ruler—even consider butt stuff? So I dove into forums, Reddit threads, whispered convos… and holy shit, the stories were wild. Truck drivers, gym bros, married dads—all admitting they’d tried it or wanted to. My brain short-circuited.
The Test Drive: Solo Run First
Before roping anyone else into this mess, I tested the waters alone. Grabbed some lube, hit the shower, and… well, let’s just say it wasn’t earth-shattering. Felt weird, kinda tense. But then I chilled out, slowed down, and focused on the sensation. Not gonna front—it wasn’t mind-blowing, but it wasn’t awful either. Just… neutral? Like discovering a new body part you forgot existed. Did it three times over a month. Verdict: Meh, but not terrible.
Bringing in Backup: The Partner Phase
Next level: Trying it with my girl. We’ve been together five years, trust is solid, but asking felt like defusing a bomb. One night after wine, I just blurted it out: “You ever think about… y’know, rimming?” Silence. Then she laughed. “Took you long enough to ask.” Turns out she’d done it before and liked it. Plot twist.
We set rules: Shower right before, lights dim, zero pressure. First attempt was awkward as hell—my brain screamed “ABORT MISSION” while she went down. Felt like forever, but really? Two minutes tops. She pulled back like, “You good?” My face was probably pure panic. But slowly, weirdly… the tension melted. It wasn’t about fireworks; it was about control, trust, and that dirty thrill of breaking a taboo. We did it four more times over two months.
Surprising Takeaways
- It’s not about the butt, it’s about the power flip. Guys I talked to craved being the receiver—not the giver. Letting go of control was the rush.
- Hygiene = obsession-level. Every single dude mentioned scrubbing like they were prepping for surgery. Paranoia runs deep.
- Zero gay panic. Shockingly, nobody tied it to sexuality. One guy nailed it: “It’s like enjoying a massage. Doesn’t mean you wanna marry the masseuse.”
Real Talk: Why It Fizzled
Here’s the raw deal: it’s work. The prep, the positioning, the mental gymnastics—it’s exhausting. My girl and I haven’t done it since winter. Why? Honestly? Laziness. It’s a special-occasion thing, like fondue. Fun sometimes, but not worth the setup every week. And that’s the real tea nobody spills: most guys try it, shrug, and move on. The thrill’s in the rebellion, not the act.
Why I Even Bothered
Full transparency? This whole rabbit hole started after my divorce. Ex-wife called me “vanilla” on her way out—stung like hell. So I went full mad scientist on bedroom stuff, testing every taboo just to prove… shit, I dunno. That I wasn’t boring? That’s why I take notes like some sex nerd. Writing this stuff down keeps me honest. And yeah, maybe helps other dudes feel less weird about their own curiosities. Life’s too short for unanswered questions.
