There are certain questions people will happily type into Google at 1:17am but would rather eat their own phone than ask another human being out loud.
“Will anal sex hurt?”
“What if I hate it?”
“What if I accidentally poo on them?”
And the truly terrifying sequel:
“WHAT IF IT GETS ON THE BED?”
If that last thought has been enough to make you permanently declare your back door staff only, you are most definitely not alone.
Anal sex remains one of those curious sexual activities that manages to be simultaneously common, talked about everywhere, depicted in porn, joked about on television—and still capable of making otherwise confident adults suddenly whisper the word bottom like they're discussing classified government information.
Perth-based sexologist Jordan Walker's philosophy seems particularly appropriate here: “Better conversations lead to better outcomes.”
So, let's have the conversation.
And yes. We're going to talk about poo.
First things first: being nervous is completely reasonable
Trying anything sexually unfamiliar can make people apprehensive. Anal sex adds a few extra ingredients: fear of pain, uncertainty about what it will feel like, worries about hygiene, body embarrassment and an impressive collection of horror stories passed between friends like sexual folklore.
Australian sex therapist Laura Miano makes an important point for anyone contemplating it for the first time:
“Remember, you should be doing this for yourself, not because you think you should.”
That's arguably Rule Number One.
You don't need to try anal because a partner wants it, because you've watched it in porn, because your friends have done it or because you think sexually adventurous people are somehow supposed to have completed the entire Kama Sutra before breakfast.
Curiosity? Great.
Pressure? Not great.
And if you start and then change your mind? Also completely fine.
Australian sexologist Dr Nikki Goldstein has spoken about our tendency to worry about whether our sexual interests and experiences are “normal”, pointing out that “there really isn't such a thing as normal.”
Your sexual menu is yours.
Now, the question everybody actually wants answered: Am I going to poo?
Probably not.
Possibly.
Helpful? Excellent. Article finished.
But seriously, there is no way of guaranteeing that anal sex will be 100 per cent faeces-free because we are dealing with the part of the body from which faeces exits. That's anatomy, not poor housekeeping.
Healthdirect Australia describes the anus as the final few centimetres of the large bowel through which stool leaves the body.
So yes, occasionally there can be a small amount of faecal matter present. Penetration can come into contact with it.
That does not mean you've lost control of your bowels.
It does not mean you're dirty.
And it certainly doesn't mean your sex life has to be closed for renovations.
Psycho-sexologist Chantelle Otten tackled almost this exact question from an apprehensive Australian reader and offered possibly the best antidote to the anxiety:
“People love telling horror stories over pleasure stories.”
She adds that much of the time anal sex isn't messy at all, while advising people to avoid it when they have an upset stomach or feel bloated and to accept that the occasional accident can happen.
In other words: prepare sensibly, then remember you're having sex with another human body—not touring a display home.
Unfortunately, television hasn't exactly helped
Popular culture has spent decades turning bowel-related embarrassment into comic Armageddon.
Sex and the City famously devoted an early storyline to Charlotte panicking about becoming the “up-the-butt girl” after a boyfriend suggested anal sex. The episode captured something that persists decades later: not simply apprehension about the physical act but the baggage, judgement and anxiety people attach to it.
Then there's Broad City, which went considerably further by making a pegging storyline part of an ordinary sexual encounter. Abbi's initial shock and awkwardness became the joke rather than anal play itself—a surprisingly useful lesson for real life: sometimes unfamiliar sex is awkward because it's unfamiliar, not because something has gone catastrophically wrong.
And while it has absolutely nothing to do with anal sex, we'd be remiss not to mention the Mount Everest of cinematic poo anxiety: Bridesmaids.
The infamous bridal-shop food-poisoning sequence culminates in Maya Rudolph's character desperately fleeing outside in a wedding gown after her digestive system declares war. Director Paul Feig deliberately made the boutique pristine, white and expensive because it was, in his words, essentially the worst possible place to become violently ill.
Anyone who saw Bridesmaids and subsequently developed an irrational fear of their bowel choosing the single most embarrassing moment imaginable can probably be forgiven.
But here's the crucial difference.
Food poisoning is an angry digestive system hitting the emergency evacuation button.
Normal anal sex between two healthy, prepared adults is not.
Even Australian podcast Sealed Section devoted an entire “Anal Episode” to questions about lubrication, preparation and what its hosts affectionately termed the “poo problem”, along with women's anal horror stories.
The subject clearly worries plenty of people.
So what can you actually do about it?
How to dramatically reduce the chance of an unwanted brown cameo
- Listen to your stomach before listening to your libido
If you've got diarrhoea, an upset stomach, significant bloating or the unmistakable sensation that you need to use the bathroom, tonight may not be opening night.
Nobody has ever received a medal for persevering through gastro.
Chantelle Otten specifically recommends avoiding anal when your stomach is upset or you're feeling bloated.
Rescheduling is sexier than gastrointestinal roulette.
- Go to the toilet normally
If you naturally need a bowel movement beforehand, have one.
Don't sit there desperately trying to force one out purely because anal sex has been pencilled into the calendar. Straining isn't good for your anal health either.
Longer term, regular bowel habits help. Healthdirect recommends adequate fluids, fibre-rich foods such as fruit, vegetables and whole grains, physical activity and going to the toilet when you actually feel the urge.
Think healthy regular bowel, not emergency pre-sex excavation mission.
- Have a shower—and don't try to pressure-wash your intestines
Washing the external anal area before sex can help you feel fresher and more confident. NSW Health's Play Safe advice also recommends showering or washing beforehand.
What you don't necessarily need is an aggressive internal clean-out.
In fact, Healthdirect specifically advises avoiding anal douching or enemas for cleaning because they can damage the rectum.
That's worth repeating because online advice sometimes makes it sound as though preparing for anal sex requires the plumbing department from Bunnings.
It doesn't.
Gentle hygiene wins.
- Use a condom
Condoms aren't merely useful for reducing STI transmission.
In the context of The Great Poo Fear, they also provide a rather convenient removable barrier between penis and rectum.
If there's a little residue afterwards?
Condom off.
Into the bin.
Problem substantially simplified.
Australian sexual-health guidance recommends condoms for anal sex because unprotected anal intercourse can transmit STIs including HIV.
And if you move from anal sex to vaginal or oral sex, change the condom first. Sexual Health Victoria specifically recommends a fresh condom when switching from one type of sex to another.
Do not take the scenic route directly from anus to vagina with the same condom, penis, fingers or unwashed toy. Bacteria should not receive complimentary interstate travel.
- Lube. Then some more lube. And possibly the lube you forgot about.
Unlike the vagina, the anus doesn't produce its own lubrication.
That makes lubricant important both for comfort and for reducing friction, small tears and condom breakage.
NSW Health recommends water-based or silicone-based lubricants for anal play and says, rather beautifully, “don't be stingy with it.”
Water-based lube is an excellent all-rounder.
Silicone lubricant tends to last longer, although you should check compatibility if you're using silicone toys. And don't use oil-based lubricants with latex condoms because they can weaken latex and increase the risk of breakage.
One thing we'd skip altogether is numbing lubricant.
Pain is your body's warning system. You want to know if something hurts rather than anaesthetising the smoke alarm and continuing with the barbecue.
- Slow is sexy
First-time anal should not resemble somebody trying to close an overstuffed suitcase.
Relaxation, arousal, communication and patience matter.
Laura Miano notes that fear and hesitation can make people tense and hyper-vigilant, which itself can become a barrier to pleasure. Her advice is to introduce anal play gradually and in a controlled way.
Starting with external touch, then perhaps a well-lubricated finger or a small anal toy can allow the receiving partner to explore sensation gradually.
If using a toy anally, it should be specifically designed for anal use and have a flared base so it cannot disappear completely inside the rectum. NSW Health recommends starting small and using a condom on toys.
And if something hurts?
Stop.
More lube, more time or simply not tonight are all legitimate options.
- Deploy the World's Least Erotic Yet Most Reassuring Sex Toy: a towel
If the thought of getting something on your expensive sheets is occupying 87 per cent of your brain, put down a towel.
Preferably one that nobody is emotionally attached to.
Suddenly you've removed one anxiety completely.
You may never need it.
But knowing it's there can help you relax—which, conveniently, makes anal play easier.
The towel may receive absolutely no action whatsoever, yet still be the night's MVP.
Okay. It happened. There is poo on the penis. What now?
First:
Nobody scream.
You have not experienced a medical emergency. You have encountered the digestive system.
Stop what you're doing and calmly clean up.
If you're using a condom, remove it carefully and put it in the bin. Wash hands and any affected skin, then shower if desired. Healthdirect recommends gentle genital hygiene, while Sexual Health Victoria cautions against harsh fragranced products that can irritate sensitive genital skin.
If your partner has a foreskin and faecal matter has made contact underneath it, gently retract the foreskin, rinse the area and dry it afterwards rather than attacking it with disinfectant like a kitchen bench.
For toys, follow the manufacturer's cleaning instructions and use a fresh condom before reuse where appropriate.
For the bed: remove any solid material with disposable paper, put soiled linen straight into the wash, wash it with detergent according to the fabric's recommended washing instructions, wash your hands and move on with your lives.
No ceremonial burning of the mattress is required.
If you're going to continue having sex afterwards, wash thoroughly and use a fresh condom, particularly before any vaginal penetration.
And perhaps most importantly:
Don't humiliate your partner.
Don't make disgusted noises.
Don't announce that you're psychologically scarred until 2047.
A simple “Well, that's one for the memoir” followed by a shower is considerably kinder.
Bodies make noises. Bodies produce fluids. Bodies occasionally demonstrate appalling timing.
Being able to handle that together is considerably more intimate than pretending human beings are sanitised mannequins.
When it isn't something to laugh off
There is a difference between awkward and injured.
Anal tissue is delicate, and insufficient lubrication or forcing penetration can cause tears. Healthdirect advises seeking medical attention for anal pain, significant or ongoing bleeding, discharge and other concerning symptoms. Urgent assessment is appropriate for worsening severe pain, fever with anal pain, a large amount of bleeding or bleeding that will not stop.
A tiny awkward moment involving faecal residue?
Clean up.
Severe pain or substantial bleeding?
That's not a punchline. Stop and get medical advice.
The bottom line—sorry, we had to
Trying anal sex for the first time doesn't require bravery, an empty digestive tract and a hazmat team standing outside the bedroom.
It requires consent, communication, lubrication, patience and realistic expectations.
Yes, faeces can occasionally make an appearance.
Usually it doesn't.
And sensible preparation can reduce the possibility considerably.
But perhaps the most valuable preparation isn't physical at all. It's agreeing beforehand that if something awkward happens, neither partner is going to make the other feel ashamed.
Because good sex isn't sex in which two perfectly sanitised bodies execute a flawless performance.
Good sex is two people who feel safe enough to say:
“Slower.”
“More lube.”
“Stop.”
“That feels amazing.”
Or, occasionally:
“Okay… we're going to need the towel.”
And if Bridesmaids taught us anything, things could always be worse.
