Thoughts I Had While Wearing a Butt Plug for the First Time

For anyone who’s curious about what a butt plug feels like for the first time.

Thoughts I Had While Wearing a Butt Plug for the First Time

Thoughts I Had While Wearing a Butt Plug for the First Time

Published on
September 12, 2019
Updated on
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Medically Reviewed by
6 minute read

Butt plugs may not sound glamorous to some.

My ass is on my brain because my lover has requested I arrive to his place with the butt plug he purchased for me already inside me. I don’t mind the request, it’s kind of our thing. He’s the dom, I’m the sub. But this is much different than the “garter belt and heels” requests of the past. Not only that, I have to be there at six, which means I have exactly 10 minutes to get to his place if I want to stay on schedule.

I have no idea how to actually put a butt plug on (in?). I’m running out of time and who knows how long it takes to watch a freakin’ butt plug tutorial. Come to think of it, who knows where to even find a butt plug tutorial?! I know I could Google it but, ugh, do I really want to see the results of ‘Quickest way to put on a butt plug’? 

Oh wait! This thing comes with instructions! Beautiful, beautiful, search history-less instructions in seven languages (Did you know “butt plug” in Dutch is “butt plug”?)! Okay, something about a 45 degree angle (Geometry?!) and using lube. “I have lube!” I shout to no one. 

Warm up with a finger.

I stick my finger ever so slightly in my asshole and immediately start having flashbacks. Not “finger in butt” flashbacks, but flashbacks of my, yes, more than one trip to the gynecologist with tampons stuck inside me. I know this is a different hole, a different time. But still, I worry. 

Wow. It’s in! That was easier than expected. I’m still breathing, and hey! I can walk! And kick! I’m like a kinky Sally O’Malley

Uh-oh. I forgot to walk the dog. Shit. No. Don’t say that word! Darn. If I walk the dog, I will officially be running (waddling?) late. He’s giving me the eyes, poor thing. I have to.

Thank God, all he had to do was pee real quick. My sweet angel pup gets me and my tardy ass. I reward him with treats. 

When I signed the lease to my apartment, I felt blessed with a .2 mile walk to the subway. But suddenly these four minutes walking to the train feel like a hike. It’s not that I physically feel the butt plug inside me but mentally it is screaming. I remember to relax my face.

Okay. I’m officially on the train. Whew! Although, do I sit? Stand? I’ll sit. Slowly. 

I’m holding a magazine although I haven’t read a word for three stops. I wish I paid more attention in the dozen yoga classes I’ve been to. Knowing how to properly breathe would be good right about now. Is it through the nose out the mouth or the other way around? 

I feel like I’ve been sitting too long. I sit up straighter. Even though my lover can’t see me, I pretend he’s watching. I think I’m smiling too much. Reign it in, Carolyn. Nothing to see here, people. Just your average Sunday evening commuter...who is starting to feel warm. No, hot. How can you tell the difference between summer heat or butt plug heat? Shit. No! Darn! What if it’s like some sort of butt-Toxic-Shock-Syndrome-thing? The weather app says it’s 86 degrees out. Summer heat. 

We’re off the train. We’re off the train. Butt plug and I are apparently a unit now. We’re connected, we’re attached, we’re...about to fart. Is that allowed? Of all the days to drink a pot of coffee and eat broccoli. Always self-sabotaging, Carolyn! No, stop! I can’t be negative. Negative is... clenchy. Positive thoughts only. Note to future self: Next time, I’m asking for a full, 12-hour notice before butt plug requests.

The walk from the train to his apartment is usually my favorite part of the night. It’s just long enough to listen to a sexy song so I arrive wet and aroused. But I’m deciding against my usual routine tonight because it  just hit me that I’m wearing a dress with no underwear. If I’m too wet, will it slip out? I should probably have a game plan if it does. What if it falls out as I’m crossing the street? I guess I’d pick it up, right? No, no, better idea. Kick it. Yes! That’s what I’d do. Leave the butt plug, save yourself. 

Green light. Time to walk. One two. One two. If the butt plug falls, kick with your shoe. Hey! It rhymes!

I’m finally at his building. The desk attendant is looking at me funny. I look down expecting to see the butt plug at my ankles but it’s still snug. 

My first elevator ride wearing a butt plug! I almost take a selfie. Come on. Live in the moment! 

Before heading to his door, I check the mirror in the lobby. Ah. Just the perfect amount of perspiration on my face. I do a spin. Mainly because I’m finally able to relax, but also to air out the stress of my walk. I let out a sigh even a yogi would be proud of. I knock, let out a laugh and wait.

The door opens. “You’re in trouble.” he says. I’m late. I feign my regrets as he feigns his anger. We’re both good at our roles. He turns me around and lifts my dress ready to “punish” me when…aha! He sees it.

I may be late, but I obeyed his request by wearing the butt plug. He is pleased and I once again feel like a good girl. Time to play.


My first butt plug commute may not have had me thermometer breaking, mercury blasting, bombs exploding turned on, but it certainly had its payoffs. Once I was able to relax, the sensation of being “filled” felt good. It was like wearing an outfit that made me feel good, made me feel sexy. No mirror or external validation necessary. I may have been wearing the butt plug to serve someone else’s kink, but it became my kink as well. It’s important to understand the kinks that work for you. And if you plan on experimenting with butt plugs, find the size that works for you too. I’m glad I started with a beginner BP. Frankly, I’m glad I started with one at all. My ass was something I avoided simply because of location. Sexy on the outside but exploring the inside felt like a step I wasn’t ready for until I was. I’m glad I did what felt right, when it felt right.

Reviewed for Medical Accuracy

Carolyn Busa is a writer/comedian living in Brooklyn, NY. Her goal is to make you laugh and make you blush. Read her blog or follow her on Twitter and Instagram @misstoiletslave.

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