My highest commendations go to the person who got this personalized license plate through the Texas DMV approval process. I saw this license plate on the highway this morning, did a double take, and died laughing. Mercifully I ended up behind the car at a light after getting off the highway, so I was able to capture this beauty for you to laugh at as well.
What makes it even better is that license plate is the “Texas Horned Toad” conservation plate, also known as the Texas Horny Toad.
Backstory: OkCupid has a question that I’ve written about before: “While in the middle of the best lovemaking of your life, if your lover asked you to squeal like a dolphin, would you?”
So once while getting into bed for the first time with a man whom I met on OkCupid, we were making out and generally engaging in the type of activities that happen when two consenting adults decide they want to have sex with each other. He paused the activities, looked me in the eye, and said, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to squeal like a dolphin.” I cracked up. I was so grateful to him for bringing that little bit of humor into the bedroom to relieve the nervous tension that was there between us both. It lightened the mood and definitely increased the passion of the foreplay.
Once when I was having sex with a man on our first date, we reached the juncture where lube was needed. I grabbed my bag of lubes for our use. He took one look at it and said, “Wow. You have more types of lube than most people have kinds of booze in their liquor cabinets. I like you!”
(I only had five bottles of four different kinds… in that particular bag anyway! 🙂 )
To me there is a difference between loving someone and being in love with them. Loving someone is fairly easy for me to do. I love deeply and easily. I definitely love many of my friends and, of course, my children. Being in love with someone is a different sensation. It’s eros rather than philia, agape or storge.
I have loved many men and I have been in love with many men in my life. The love for those men never leaves. It fades into the background and no longer is so dominant in my heart, but I will always love the men who have a place in my heart even after they have hurt me deeply and/or we have parted ways.
However, being in love with another person eventually fades. It’s not just lust. It’s a deeper emotion than that. It’s the passion and excitement that we share when we are in a sexual and/or emotional romantic relationship with another human. When the relationship ends, it’s this part that usually hurts so much: letting go of the “in love” with that man before I was ready to end things between us.
For me, the way I know that I am no longer in love with a past partner is when I can be happy for them in their new relationships. I no longer wish I was with them, though I may still love the vivid memories I have of the moments we shared. However, I eventually reach a point where I am easily able to say that I am glad they have moved on, and more importantly, I am glad they have found another.
There’s no time scale for when falling out of love happens for me. Sometimes it takes weeks. Sometimes it takes years. I don’t know if the depth of my love for that man factors in. Sometimes it seems completely random as to why it’s easier to fall out of love with a man than with others. However, when I reach that point of being happy that the person is loving another, then I know I have healed from losing them in my life. I love the way Lee Ann Womack says it:
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed…
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens
Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I have reached that point with all of my past loves except the most recent. My heart still hurts over him. I know we can’t be together again for so many reasons, but if I were to see him with another woman now, I would hurt. I’m so ready for my heart to reach that place of peace where I can honestly say to him, “I am so happy you found her and that she is making you happy again.” Each day I get closer to reaching that point. I hope that it happens soon because I truly do want him to be happy, and I want to be happy about him being in love with someone else when he finds her.
I had met him online last week on a dating site where his stunning smile had attracted me immediately to his picture. We had messaged for several days before deciding that there was definitely more than enough common ground between the two of us to merit a date. He suggested dinner the next Saturday; I agreed but asked if he’d like to go to a friend’s party after dinner. I let him know that the party invitation specifically stated, “Slutty Halloween costumes more than welcome.” He decided that sounded like his type of party, especially if I was going to wear a slutty outfit for him to enjoy. I told him that I very much planned to.
Saturday night arrived, and I prepared myself for a dinner at a fancy restaurant with my date. I was certainly not wearing my slutty attire to a place of this class and caliber, so I selected an elegant blue dress for the first part of the evening. Underneath, I was wearing a lacy black bra, black fishnet thigh high stockings, a black garter belt, and a pair of lacy black bikini panties. My hair was upswept in a loose bun because I knew that was what I wanted for my costume later; I also knew that it drove men crazy in anticipation of me letting my hair loose later in the evening if the date went well. I slipped on black heels on my way out the door to complete the outfit. I had called a cab to take me to the restaurant figuring that I’d either crash at my friend’s house after the party, or if I was lucky, I’d be letting my date bring me back to my house for post-party “entertainment.”
Dinner went amazingly well. We hit it off like old friends rather than like we were on a first date. The conversation flowed smoothly, and I began flirting with my date fairly early into the evening. I liked this guy a lot. He was good-looking, suave, intelligent, and a perfect gentleman. I also knew underneath all of that public presentation he was a kinky fucker, and that made him extremely attractive to me. At one point during the meal, I let my foot casually rub its way up his leg under the table across from me. The resulting smile on his face told me he was enjoying my teasing. That was a very good sign of things to come.
After he graciously paid the check, we headed out for the party together. As we walked out the door of the restaurant, he put his hand on my lower back, a move that sent pleasurable shivers up my spine. I turned to look at him. He smiled at me in a way that melted me inside and started getting my panties wet. Every move this guy made was making things better than they already were.
The drive to my friend’s house was only a few short minutes. I had brought my costume in my oversized purse with me, and I planned to change upon arrival. However, I knew I was going to need some help getting the corset laces cinched up correctly. After having made perfunctory introduction of my date to the hostess, I told him that I wanted to change in the upstairs bathroom and asked if he would mind helping me get my costume on. The smile on his face made me quiver inside. He slipped his hand into mine and waited for me to lead the way up the stairs.
Once we got to the bathroom, I made the pretense of leaving him outside of the door. “Just give me a minute to get to the point where I need your help,” I told him. While I could see he was disappointed he wasn’t going to get to help with removing my dress, I wanted to save that for later in the night when hopefully things would really heat up between us.
I closed the door and quickly removed my dress and bra, careful not to mess up my hair in the process. I also removed the necklace I had been wearing and placed it in my wallet for safekeeping. I slipped on the very short orange satin skirt with black lace overlay that was part of my costume. Then I put on the matching corset to the best of my ability, though there was no way for me to lace this one by myself. Using one arm to hold the corset against my chest, I opened the door with my other arm.
“Would you like to come in and help with the lacing up now?” I asked my date who was waiting in the hall.
“Holy fuck,” was his reply whispered softly as he took a look at me in my new outfit. The tops of my fishnet thigh highs were showing beneath the very short skirt. His eyes couldn’t help but stare and his hands reached down to touch the lace tops attached to the garter belt straps. He looked up into my eyes, and there was no stopping what happened next. He leaned in to kiss me, slowly and passionately. As the kiss finished, I opened my eyes again, looked at him and smiled. Yes, this was definitely going to be a great relationship.
“How about you come all the way in the bathroom now so we can close the door and finish getting me dressed?” I asked. He gently pushed me back as he closed the door behind us and not so subtly locked it, too. I knew that maneuver meant he had plans to do more than just lace my corset up. After the passionate kiss he had just given me, I was quite willing to engage in almost any other activity he had in mind. This man was hot, and I was even hotter for him. All kinds of ideas were racing through my dirty mind about what I wanted to do with him in this bathroom.
However, my date made the pretense of being a total gentleman. He turned me around gently, and began tightening the black laces on the corset. Occasionally one of his fingers would touch my skin as he pulled the laces tighter resulting in a shiver of pleasure from me. Having tied a bow at the top of the corset, his fingers began gently tracing upwards along my shoulders and onto my neck. I looked up in the mirror and saw him glancing back at me.
“Will you put on my choker for me, too?” I asked, handing it back to him. He pulled the black lace choker around my neck and fastened it in the back, but he quickly returned to his previous task of running his fingers over my shoulders and neck. Then he made the move that always seals the deal for me: he bent down and let his lips kiss my neck, gently, slowly, intentionally. I turned my head away from his, opening up my neck to give him more space to kiss. I could feel my body turning to jelly. The connection between my neck and my pussy was always so powerful.
Finally, I could resist him kissing my neck no longer. I turned around and put my hands on his shoulders, looking into his green eyes. I leaned in to kiss his lips, wanting to feel his tongue in my mouth while his hands roamed on my chest. He moved his hands down to my waist and then to my butt, pulling my entire body closer to him yet never breaking our kiss. I could feel his erection pressing against my abdomen through his black dress slacks.
The temptation was eventually too much. I dropped to my knees and looked up at him. He had a huge smile on his face, so I took that as a sign of consent. I reached up and unzipped his pants, reaching in to find a pair of boxers underneath. Threading my hand through the opening, I pulled out his very erect and very lovely cock. Gazing up at his eyes again, I moved my head towards his cock, and then closed my lips over its soft, delicate head. He gasped and rolled his head back with pleasure.
I began doing what I love to do so much with a hard cock: teasing it slowly and gently with my lips, running my tongue down its shaft, sucking on it, and generally letting it know how much I appreciate it. My date began groaning as I descended on his cock each time, and I could tell he was getting far too close to orgasm. I pulled off of his cock and rapidly pushed it back in his boxers and pants, zipping them and then staring up at him with an evil smirk on my face.
“You tease!” he exclaimed, pulling me to my feet.
“Whatever do you mean?” I mockingly asked him. He kissed me passionately again, and then turned me around so my back was facing him. He pushed my abdomen down over the countertop, which resulted in my ass thrusting out in the air.
“I mean,” he said, “that you are an incredibly naughty girl who deserves to have her bottom spanked for acting like that towards a desperate man.” And with that proclamation, he flipped up my short skirt and landed a very hard smack on my panty-covered ass.
“Ow!” I exclaimed, turning my head back to look at him. “Surely I wasn’t that naughty!”
“Oh, you were that naughty and even more,” he replied, giving the other butt cheek an equally hard slap to match the first one he had given me. I squealed at the sting. He had a very firm hand, and he was just getting started!
I tried to get up from the bent over position he had me in, but his free hand went to the center of my back and pinned me down.
“I don’t think so, young lady,” my date stated in a stern tone. “You have been teasing and taunting me all evening and now you’re going to have to pay the piper.” He could see my smile in the mirror as my eyes stared up at him, and he knew I was totally on board with his game.
“Yes, sir,” I replied. “Just not too loud, please! I don’t want the other guests to hear.”
“Well, if they do hear,” he said, “They’ll just know what a naughty girl you are. That outfit doesn’t leave much to the imagination anyway, so they’ll probably already have their suspicions.” With that pronouncement, he centered himself behind me and pulled down my panties to my knees in one rapid move. I hadn’t expected that boldness from him, but I also wasn’t objecting. I liked an assertive man.
“What a lovely ass,” he commented carefully caressing my naked globes. “It’s marked with two red handprints for some reason, though.”
“I can’t imagine why!” I retorted in a sarcastic tone. His response was to give me two more hard smacks, one on each bare cheek with his hand.
“Ouch!” I cried out again. I grabbed the decorative Halloween hand towel that was sitting next to me and shoved it in my mouth to try and keep from making too much noise. The music from the party was playing loudly, but I didn’t want to give the guests any more hints at what was going on upstairs aside from the smacks they might already be hearing on my poor bottom.
“A sub who willingly gags herself… I like this!” my date expressed. After gently rubbing my bottom again for a few seconds, he returned to giving me a few more hard smacks on each cheek. Wow. This guy was a hard spanker! I pulled the towel out of my mouth to let him know that.
“You have got a really stern hand, sir,” I said, “You don’t mess around when you spank a girl!”
“No, I don’t,” he said, “And from what I can tell, that is exactly the kind of man you need in your life. One who is going to take you in hand and make sure you behave.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied. This was truly what a wanted—a man who wasn’t going to let me get away with tormenting him. A man who was going to flirt with me. A man who was going to spank me. A man who was going to fuck me. It was almost as if my date was reading my mind, because as those thoughts went through my head, his fingers began to delicately run along the outside of my very sensitive and aroused pussy.
“You know,” my date said thoughtfully, “Bathrooms often have great spanking implements in them like bath brushes and hairbrushes. What does your friend keep in hers?”
Shit. I knew for a fact that my friend had a wooden paddle hairbrush in the top drawer of the vanity. She’d shown it to me once after I’d seen some obvious marks on her thighs when we were trying on clothing on a shopping expedition. It was how I learned she was kinky, too. Now that knowledge was about to come back to haunt me on Halloween.
“There’s a hairbrush in the top drawer that is used for spanking,” I reluctantly answered my date.
“Oh, really?” he said. “And do you think your friend would object to it being used on your naughty bottom instead of hers?”
“No, I’m quite sure she wouldn’t,” I replied. “She’s threatened to use it on my ass more than once!”
“Well, then,” my date said, “Please bring me the hairbrush.” With that, he went and sat on the edge of the tub, waiting expectantly for me to fetch his chosen spanking implement. I sighed, stood up, opened the drawer, and pulled out the weapon of doom that was about to redden my bottom even more than it already was. I turned and faced him, hobbling with my panties around my knees for the few short steps over to the edge of the tub where I handed him the brush. I held the hand towel slash gag in my other hand. He then indicated to me that I should lay myself over his lap with my body draped into the tub for stability. I decided to comply.
After having carefully positioned myself on my date’s lap, I shoved the towel back in my mouth. If he was going to use a hairbrush on me, I was going to need it to muffle my screams. I was never one to take a hairbrush to my bottom quietly. My siblings, cousins, parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and past boyfriends could all attest to that! Decades of having my bottom paddled hadn’t made a bit of difference. I still squirmed, squealed, and complained loudly whenever I was being spanked with a hairbrush.
My date laughed at my mock gag. “You seem to think you’re going to get a hard spanking that merits a muzzle,” he joked. “Well, you’re certainly right about that.” And with one fell swoop, the hairbrush landed hard on my bare bottom right over my crack down low near my sit spots.
“OW!” I screamed into my towel, not that it sounded like anything coherent. My sadistic date chuckled at my response and then began a more traditional spanking in earnest. He was an orderly spanker with a hairbrush. He started at the bottom of one thigh, working his way steadily up my butt cheek, over to the other butt check, and down the second thigh. It took him about ten spanks to make the first round with this large paddle brush, much to my dismay. He stopped to inspect his work after these first swats, gently rubbing with the back of the hairbrush on my stinging skin.
“That was definitely a good first pass,” he said. “You scream quite nicely in response to the hairbrush, and that seems quite appropriate for Halloween. I want to make sure I get your thighs nice and red, though, before I stop. I want guests to see your red thighs just below that sexy skirt of yours so that they can know what happens to naughty girls like you when they are taken in hand.” And with that, he began another round of spanking my thighs and bottom while I began another round of screaming into the towel.
The second round of smacks was much harder than the first, and they gave the results that my date wanted to see. He let me know, “I’m just going to give your thighs a few more hard smacks to make them extra red. I don’t want to spank you too much now as I plan to spank you again after the party when I take you home.” Something inside me quivered at the promise of more spanking later. This was the kind of date I lived for.
However, before that promised spanking, I had to make it through this one. My date gave each thigh another five hard swats with the brush before he set it down next to him on the tub. He rubbed my backside with one hand and removed the towel from my mouth with his other hand.
“I’m done spanking you for now,” he informed me.
“Yes, sir,” I responded, remaining on his lap. I had been trained by previous Doms not to get up until I had permission, something my date was appreciating now. His one hand now touched my shoulders while the other hand crawled up my inner thighs to my pussy. He stuck two fingers inside of me; they slid in quite easily as the foreplay had gotten me quite wet.
“Wow. You really like being spanked, don’t you, Young Lady?” he asked almost rhetorically.
“Yes, sir. I’m a slutty girl who likes to be punished and fucked,” I replied.
“You don’t say?” he responded. “Well then, stand up now so I can work on the fucking you part now that I’ve spanked you.” A smile came to my face. That had been easier to manipulate than I expected. I stood up and looked at my date in the eyes. He also stood up and began kissing me again.
“Put the hairbrush away and then bend over the counter again,” he ordered me. I did as I was instructed, but I also pulled out a condom from the drawer while I was in there. I checked the expiration date and then handed it to my man. I was sure my friend wouldn’t mind me using that either!
As I bent over the counter again, I watched my date in the mirror. He smiled back at me as he unfastened his belt, dropped his pants and boxers, and then slipped the condom over his rock-hard cock. He moved forward towards me, lifting up my skirt once more, and rapidly plunging deep inside my pussy which was so wet that lube was in no way necessary.
Quite quickly, my partner began thrusting inside of me. I loved seeing his facial expressions in the mirror as his hands held onto my hips, pushing against them with each thrust. Soon, though, all I could focus on was the intense pleasure manifesting in my pussy. Orgasm was not going to take long at all after a spanking like that.
Once again, I grabbed a hand towel to use as a gag, this time to muffle my screams of pleasure instead of my yelps of pain. My groans were still coming through the fabric, though, and my date could tell I was getting close. He kept accelerating his thrusts, his balls loudly slapping against my pussy loudly as the intensity increased. His moans became vocal, too. I let out a scream that the towel couldn’t muffle as he pushed me over the edge into a full-throttle orgasm. Knowing I had reached climax, he let loose, and with a few more thrusts, he had reached orgasm, too.
I looked up in the mirror to see his face smiling with post-orgasmic pleasure. He could see the same look on my face. He stepped back carefully, grabbing some toilet paper to catch the condom which was beginning to work its way off of his softening cock. I began to stand up but he commanded me, “Don’t move!”
I couldn’t help but wonder what he had in mind now. After disposing of the condom and redressing himself, my date walked over to me and slapped my still red bottom a few more times.
“Ow!” I cried out. “Do you normally reward orgasms with spankings?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “But I just wanted to remind you that there is going to be more spanking later after the party. And more fucking, too.” With that, he gave each of my reddened thighs a few more hard slaps to perk up their color and then began pulling up my panties over my garter. He flipped down my skirt, stood me up, and turned me to face him. As we gazed into each other’s eyes, he moved forward and kissed me passionately once more. This guy was going to be a lot of fun.
As we pulled apart from the kiss, I slipped on the black satin gloves I had brought to complete my outfit. I also shoved an orange and black fake flower into my hair. With my dress and bra shoved in my purse, we headed downstairs to join the festivities. I wonder if anyone would notice how long it had taken me to change. My friend’s laughing smile and knowing glance told me she had. She came over and whispered in my ear, “I want to hear that story later!” I laughed and nodded my head in assent. I looked forward to telling her what had happened in her bathroom… plus whatever else was going to happen later after the party when my date and I got back to my place for completely uninhibited fun.
Like many kinky people, I was trapped in a vanilla marriage for a very long time. Unlike many kinky people, I actually did manage to “convert” my (now ex-) husband after more than a decade of attempts. I don’t recommend taking that path. It was a lot of work, and it caused a lot of pain for me along the way.
So how did I do it? How do you convert a vanilla? My experience is that it is an arduous process. Think about a snail running a marathon or even a 100m race for that matter. There’s no way to make it faster. The conversion just took time and persistence. That’s not to say that I was bugging my ex every single day for kinky sex. Sometimes we would go years before I would bring kink up again because he had shot me down so thoroughly the last time I tried.
However, my general approach was to figure out which kink he was most likely to be attracted to. My primary kink is usually spanking (except with this hormonal crap of late…). However, spanking was a total turn off for him. He had no interest. He didn’t want to hurt me. He didn’t see the appeal. He wasn’t going to do something that “weird.”
On the other hand, this same guy loved tying knots. He had learned from his dad when sailing, so any time he got his hand on a piece of twine or rope, he’d fiddle with it, tying knots. To me, it didn’t seem like a huge jump from tying knots in rope for fun to tying up a woman using rope and knots. However, his brain couldn’t make that connection. So slowly I worked him up to it. I bought the rope and showed it to him, but it stayed in the closet because he didn’t want to use it. When I was under the influence of various legal substances and more relaxed than usual, I would get brave enough talk to him about my fantasies involving rope in bed. Then, one day, suddenly it clicked. He figured out that he liked tying knots in rope, and bondage was just tying knots in rope with a naked woman involved. I brought out the rope, and finally, after so many years of prepping, he was ready to begin exploring this kink with me on rare occasions.
Honestly, it took a sex therapist getting involved before I could get him to do anything else kinky with me. He was resistant to so many sexual acts outside of missionary position penis-in-vagina sex. Our therapist began putting pressure on him to actually try some kink as a way of improving our relationship—such a radical concept which I had been trying to get through to him for years! However, my ex was able to hear it from the male sex therapist in a way that he couldn’t hear me. I think having another man telling him that it was ok to do these things gave him psychological permission to try things he felt were taboo. In the last year of our marriage, the sex became the best it had ever been for me because there was finally kink involved. It wasn’t enough to salvage the very damaged relationship, but it was enough to make my life a little happier.
As we were divorcing, we had a few brutal final fights. One of my ex’s parting comments to me was that it was all my fault that he wasn’t going to be able to just date “normal” women now. He wasn’t going to be happy unless he was in a kinky relationship because he had learned to love bondage that much by the end. Of course, I had absolutely no sympathy for his “problem” of needing to find bondage bunnies in the future. I didn’t actually convert him. All I really did was help him become aware of what was already inside of him. What I did was help break down the barriers he had put up to kinky sex, and now he was being forced to deal with his own true sexual desires.
I love anal sex. Plain and simple. When I write anal sex into my erotic fiction, it’s not a porn thing or a fantasy thing. It’s reality. For me, anal sex is one of the most incredible sexual experiences I can have. Some of the most powerful orgasms I’ve ever had were from anal sex without any clitoral stimulation. When I told one man I was messaging with that I love anal sex, he responded, “Marry me!” This was from a guy who didn’t ever want to get married… he was that amazed to find a woman who loved anal sex and was willing to volunteer for it. Hell, I’ll even beg a partner for anal sex if it turns him on because I truly do want it.
So why is anal sex so powerful for me? Beats the shit out of me! (Sorry… I couldn’t resist.) I truly don’t know, though. It’s a physical pleasure. From the time I began trying to convince my first lover to have anal sex with me (and he refused to do something so “deviant”), I’ve been very attracted to the idea of having anal sex. For me, there was no “attraction to the taboo” allure that many articles site as the potential reason anal sex is so enjoyable for many men and women. I’m not someone who wants to do something just because it’s taboo. I’m actually less likely to do something that is taboo. Bestiality? That’s taboo, but no thanks. Having sex in public? No thanks. But anal sex? As long as there is plenty of lube and a condom involved, sign me up.
I’ve always known my butt is very sensitive to touch. I adore it when my lovers put their hands on my butt, especially on my sit spots. I love a pat on the butt or a gentle caress. I also love a good smack as we all know from this blog. I think it was just an intuitive knowledge that if my butt was that sensitive, my asshole probably was, too.
Anal sex has never been painful for me. Again, I’m not sure why. When I first saw articles about taking it slow and training an asshole to accept a very small butt plug so that it will eventually accept a cock, I was puzzled. When my first willing partner and I had anal sex, we lubed and condomed up, and then he just plunged in. There were no problems aside from the expected temporary resistance at the sphincter. We both experienced a great deal of pleasure from our first try at anal sex, but it’s not that way for everyone.
Much later in life when I finally experienced a lover who wanted me to do anal play on him, I was amazed at how much less he could accept in his ass than I could. I suddenly started seeing why articles help people to slowly work up to bigger and deeper penetration. I had one partner who could not accept any penetration at all. His butt clenched up tightly, and I wasn’t able to get anything in more than a centimeter without him going into pain. For him, it is probably going to take years of training work before he’ll be able to get his prostate massaged. Why? Again, I’m not sure.
I’ve also found it very interesting how many men have approached me wanting to be pegged. It’s a secret fantasy for many, many heterosexual men. They just are scared to voice it to most women because they are afraid of being judged for being “gay.” Every single one of those who have asked me to peg them have preceded the request with, “I’m not gay, but I’ve always really wanted to try anal penetration.” I then have to teach all of them that anal sex is not a “gay thing.” It’s a sexual thing. Anal sex feels good or even amazing for lots of people of all orientations, genders, and sexes. The fact that anal is still shamed for heterosexual men as a “gay thing” is ridiculous and is evidence of the horrible amount of homophobia still prevalent in our culture. It’s time to get rid of that crap (ahem) and accept that anyone can love anal play without it making them any less of a man, woman or person. All anal play says about the participating individuals is that they are sensual people who love something that is considered kinky or taboo by part of society.
Because I love anal sex so much, I also hate that anal has so many derogatory ways of referring to it. Riding the chocolate highway, fudgepacking, the “wrong” hole, buggering… so many of these euphemisms have negative connotations in our culture. It’s time for that to stop, too. Those negative phrases contribute to the too pervasive idea that “good girls” or straight men shouldn’t want anal sex. Those who want anal sex should be seen as sexually healthy people who are able to expand their minds beyond the idea that “real” sex is just penis-in-vagina sex. There are so many amazing ways to have pleasure with our bodies, and we shouldn’t be shamed for those desires or actions.
Likewise, if you don’t want to have anal sex or you don’t enjoy it, that’s ok, too. According to surveys, most women don’t. I wonder how much of that dislike of anal sex is due to psychological brainwashing that women shouldn’t like anal sex because good girls don’t do that sort of thing or because women are “supposed” to find anal sex painful. If people truly don’t enjoy anal sex, that’s perfectly ok. But if you’re someone who is curious about or enjoying anal sex, know that’s ok, too. You are normal. Human sexuality is vast and diverse, and you are a lucky person to get to experience that pleasure that some others don’t get to enjoy.