When I was about ten, I got a cabin at Sixth Grade Camp with a counselor who told filthy stories about her sex life to the kids. (I think this moment is the first time I realized there was something wrong with that. I mean, she was telling sixth-graders what semen tastes like. But at the time I didn't feel violated, I was just glad to be learning.)
I remember her saying "You know, after you have good sex, you're really sore afterwards."
It took me twelve years to appreciate just how right that lady was.
Especially in the places where the clothespins were.