Kelly Kreth used to work in PR doing stuff for real estate or something. Now she writes about her rear end in myriad and upsetting ways for the New York Press. In her latest column in the Press, Kreth has written what seems like a Swiftian satire of currently internet-famous New York Casanova Paul Janka's rampant and blatant misogynism. But really maybe it's just a chance for her to talk about her butt in very graphic terms.
Thinking back—way back—I think it has always been about the ass for me. I remember being 5 years old and having a doctor's kit that had a plastic needle. At 5 I had been to the pediatrician many times and knew the needle was typically inserted into the ass cheek. However, at home when I was playing doctor with myself, I'd put the needle in my actual anus. I derived an odd sexual pleasure from it.
ACK! Her actual anus!
There was this:
My tight pink asshole is relaxed and ready for you, Paul. In fact, I can feel it blowing kisses your way as I type. [My editor will eat this up, and there is nothing better than having your editor eating up your pink asshole.]
AND THEN THIS!
I write about my tight starfish because I know, even while disgusted, people will be compelled to read. It doesn't matter if it is out of titillation or horror, want or need, we just want their eyes on the page and on us.
You are a genius with bedroom hair and a face made for riding. I can only imagine what the stubble must feel like against my smooth skin and hope to find out soon.