There are two things one should always remember before anal sex -- three, actually. They are as follows: 1) Make sure that sh*t is clean; 2) break out the lube; 3) take off your jewelry.
The last item on that list might seem out of place — "Take off my earrings?" — but when you read this loving hubby's horrifying account of losing his wedding ring, you'll appreciate the advice.
The story starts with said husband, who recently lost a bunch of weight (making his wedding ring precariously loose on his finger), preparing to have sex with his wife. His wife, in probably the best wife-move ever, suggests anal.
And then, all goes downhill.
As the man explains:
I got the lube and used copious amounts. Now, you've got to take it slowly; first, gently with one finger... Then two... And finally, my index, middle and ring finger were all lubed up and in there. Good times. After my lady was sufficiently warmed up, we were happily banging away. But as I slapped her fine ass, I noticed something. Something missing. "Hey, my ring came off," I said. "Probably on the mattress," she replied. Not on the mattress. "On the ground?" she asked, now with a hint of nervosity. Not on the ground. Then it dawned upon both of us.
Oh good God.
Instead of running away crying and/or going to the hospital (both of which, I'm not afraid to admit, I would have done), the brave man went back in there and did his best to fish it out.
So my fingers went back in there. Yet my monster dong (...) had already pushed it far beyond reach. I spent a good 10 minutes with my hand up my wife's butthole. I even tried to lighten the mood by doing my best Gollum impression and hissing: "My preciousss! Give it back to us!" But she was not amused. We finally had to give up the search. She drank 4 cups of coffee over the course of the next hour and made her retreat to the bathroom with a box of rubber gloves. From the living room I heard an explosive splattering sound, followed by a faint "Oh my God..." After half an hour of scrubbing she handed me my ring back without making eye contact. So now, whenever I look at my ring, I'm reminded of the vow I took to always be at the side of my lovely wife, on the day of our beautiful wedding ceremony. And how this particular piece of jewelry was violently blasted out of her asshole amongst a torrent of diarrhea.
Talk about killing the mood.
Future husband, I promise you this: If you ever get your ring stuck up my assh*le, you'll be the one fishing it out of the toilet.