I know what my husband wants from me. It’s not a secret that he craves my ass. I feel it every time I sit on his face, as his tongue buries deep inside of me. I feel it in the way he traces his finger along the rim of my asshole. But I sigh, I inhale sharply every time, and discourage him. There’s always some reason to not do anal, some excuse that I give him–but the true reason is that I’m afraid. My husband’s cock is not enormous, but I know that it will hurt. I’m scared. So I slide him into my pussy or take him into my mouth instead, keeping him satisfied and ignoring my anxieties.
This fear of anal doesn’t make any more sense to me than it does to my husband. It’s not like we’re anal virgins. We have found anal success before, including one memorable afternoon where he bent me over and pounded my ass until I came six or seven times. It was some of the best sex I’d ever had, until my fear and anxiety started to make me wonder *why* I had loved it so much, *why* I didn’t want to do it again. Since then I’ve never been able to enjoy anal. But I know my husband wanted more, wanted that tight, soft hole again. I bought some lube, and a few butt plugs in different sizes, and started to practice on my own.