It was mortifying.

We were each other’s firsts, and spent many a missed lecture period exploring one another’s bodies as though they would run out. It was a daily activity and we seemed unstoppable. Everything was new, Everything was exciting. Except this. This, was, mortifying.

We were trying out several new positions that day and so there was much, well, in and out. I was bending over, about to roll beneath him when something unexpected and entirely new happened. Somehow, what went in was air and what went out was an inordinately loud fanny fart. I was mortified.

It was loud and I felt it shake inside of me. I immediately rolled over and to my horror he was in stitches, laughing as though his stomach would burst. Let me just tell you that there was no oxytocin in the room that evening. I was so embarrassed I began stammering, mumbling, saying anything that came into my head all the time thinking – how will I survive this???!!! I couldn’t take the laughing any more so kicked him out, flung myself on my bed and sobbed. It was mortifying!

Why didn’t any of the women’s magazines tell me about this? How was I to know to expect it? I was completely shocked and couldn’t believe that it had happened. I was afraid it would happen again and I wouldn’t know how to stop it.

When I calmed down and talked about it with him, we realised that all that inning and outing had pushed some air up. With all the bum lifting and squeezing I’d been sucking it all inside me ready to release it when the pressure was off like a balloon that has its end opened.

After many more years practice at the position exchanging, I’ve learned to recognise the feeling of air inside me and push it out voluntarily. At least now I’m less surprised! The fanny farts are still embarrassing, but I guess that’s the price you pay for having good sex.