Musings

5 Sexual Fantasies I Have About Sex Work

Kate Sloan

1. As a special gift – perhaps for a birthday or an anniversary – my partner hires an escort who is trained in the fine art of cunnilingus. While I lay there blindfolded, my partner gives explicit verbal instructions to our guest for the evening, first on how to tease and arouse me, and later on how to lick and suck my clit until I’m an incoherent wet mess.

Later that night, after our new friend has left, we lie in bed together eating ice cream and debriefing. I feel safe, supported, and loved.

 

2. I’m at an upscale lingerie store, staring longingly at a deep red lacy bra and its matching panties and garter belt. The price tags, when I glance at them, set off a spike of adrenaline in my body due to their sheer lunacy: $440 for the bra, $250 for the panties. I don’t even want to look at the price of the garter belt.

“Excuse me, miss,” says a random man I hadn’t noticed skulking in the stockings section. He’s tall and handsome in a nondescript way, like a detective in a film noir. “If you don’t mind me saying so, those would look wonderful on you, and it would be my honor to pay for them.” He holds out a credit card, golden and heavy, nodding toward the cash register, where the bored-looking sales clerk seems to already know this man’s M.O.

I smile coolly, take the card and the garments to the front, and tell the clerk, “These are on him.” My smirk makes him visibly tremble as he signs the sales receipt.

 

3. I submit an application to join a house of elite London escorts and subsequently find myself invited in for an interview. As it turns out, the “interview” is really a rigorous test of sexual technique, aimed at ascertaining my skill level so as to figure out how to price my services, or indeed, whether to hire me at all.

The house has invited some beloved regulars to be our test subjects for the day. Surrounded by other brothel hopefuls, I suck cock after cock, showing off my blowjob skills, possibly my greatest asset in this hiring process. After a particularly satisfying orgasm, one of the men says to the madam of the house, “You should hire this one – her tongue is magic,” and I glow with pleasure at the vaguely dehumanizing praise.

 

4. A client flies me out to his city for a long weekend date. As I climb out of the Uber he sent to the airport and begin dragging my suitcase up the steps to the fancy hotel where we’ll be staying, I get a text from him. Sorry, darling – something came up at work. Can we raincheck until next month? Make yourself comfortable and get whatever you’d like from room service, on me.

I smile serenely in the elevator, let myself into the clean white room with a shiny keycard, and collapse happily on the enormous bed. Later, I take a sex toy or two into the massive bathtub that overlooks the city, and get myself off decadently like no client ever could.

 

5. I catch the attention of an influential congressperson so as to pitch them on the importance of rights and protections for sex workers, they subsequently make an impassioned speech on the house floor, and every politician in attendance wipes tears from their eyes as they vote to repeal SESTA/FOSTA and decriminalize sex work permanently at the federal level.

Okay, that one isn’t so much a sexual fantasy… but it’s definitely something I ponder ardently from time to time.

Write to your local politicians and make it clear to them that you care about sex workers’ rights. Sign petitions, donate to SWOP Behind Bars and Red Light Legal, and advocate for people to respect and decriminalize sex work. People in that industry may be hot as hell, but they’re also human, and they’ve suffered more than their fare share of discrimination and stigmatization. It has to stop.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

You Don’t Have to Do What Your Sex-Positive Friends Do

Kate Sloan

I’ve had a nearly lifelong love affair with the sex-positive movement. It has made life better and brighter for me, given me a solid community to connect with, and helped me recontextualize my sexual desires outside of a patriarchal, slut-shaming lens. I’m very thankful it exists.

That said, the movement has attracted its fair share of criticisms. In my view, most of its critics focus on ways that individual practitioners fail to uphold the actual values of sex-positivity. The movement itself is based on the idea that sex is inherently natural and that any sexual activity performed in a risk-aware and fully consensual way is A-OK; of course, the implication is that the inverse is also true, that sex acts achieved through force or coercion are not acceptable. However, some people within the movement use sex-positivity as a guise under which to propagate harmful and coercive values, such as “more sex = better” (nope!), “everyone wants sex” (definitely nope!), and “having as much sex as possible is what makes you cool” (nope, nope, nope!).

 

Here are 5 activities I used to think were, in some sense, an important part of being sex-positive, which I’ve since realized are no such thing:

1. Having tons of group sex all the time. Lots of my sex-pos pals are way into threesomes, foursomes, and moresomes, and I’m happy for them! I’ve just learned over time that I’m too introverted, anxious, and hypersensitive to really enjoy group sex most of the time. I’m open to the possibility of small group encounters with trusted and beloved folks, but I no longer attend orgies hoping irrationally that I’ll somehow like this one even though I haven’t liked any others. Good for me!

2. Anal sex feels pleasurable and freeing for many people, but I’ve tried it a couple times and it has mostly just made me feel ill! I still like some forms of anal play – wearing a butt plug while I do other sex stuff, being rimmed, fucking other people with a strap-on – but actually getting fucked in the ass is probably just not for me. Remember: even when using what people think is the best anal vibrator in the world, or when hooking up with someone who claims to be an anal-sex pro, it’s entirely possible that you just won’t like anal – and that’s fine!

3. All my life I’ve heard that it’s important to avoid “starfishing” during sex – i.e. to be active and participatory at all times rather than “just lying there.” However, in exploring kink, I’ve learned again and again that some people like a partner who “just lies there”! I will clarify here that I don’t think it’s generally fun to have sex with someone who has no reactions to what’s going on, unless that’s your specific kink – but as a submissive, bottomy person who lives with daily chronic pain, sometimes I just want to lie back and receive during sex, and often my partners are delighted by that, because I tend to date/hook up with people on the toppier and dommier side of the spectrum. You do you!

4. A lot of porn shows people getting into acrobatic sex positions because doing so makes for a better visual. I’ve also seen many people doing this at sex events, orgies, etc., presumably because either those positions feel good for them, or they enjoy the exhibitionism of showing off that way, or both. That’s great for them, but I can only physically sustain a few different positions, and generally I’d rather feel good than look good.

5. There are also many sex-positive-identified people who will counsel you that not wanting an orgasm every time is doing a disservice to yourself, or is in some way less “empowered” or less “feminist” a choice than the alternative. While this is certainly true for many individual people (particularly straight women who have been conditioned over time to accept a status quo of zero orgasms, while their male partners are getting off left and right), I think it’s pretty useless as a society-wide mandate. Sometimes I just don’t feel like coming, or being touched sexually at all, but am perfectly happy to get my partner off – and that is my choice and my right!

What sex acts have you felt pressured to do because those acts were described as “cool” or “empowered” or “sex-positive”?

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

The Most Important (and Most Overlooked) Quality of Any Vibrator

Kate Sloan

I get emails literally every day from sex toy companies who want me to try their latest vibrator. They’ll wax poetic about its shape, its aesthetic, its strange and innovative features; they’ll claim it’s revolutionary, a revelation; they’ll plead wide-eyed with me to name it one of my all-time favorites.

But 9 times out of 10, it won’t stand a chance – because 9 times out of 10, its motor is terrible.

It’s really wild that we’re still having this conversation in 2021, nearly 150 years after the first electric vibrator was invented, but: a vibrator’s motor is its most important feature. If your toys have a buzzy, weak motor, you can spend hundreds, thousands, or even millions of dollars on research and development for the toy’s other aspects and it won’t matter. Hell, some of my favorite vibrators ever are ugly as sin, but I don’t care because their motor is capable of giving me orgasms, unlike many, many, many others out there.

 

A brief primer on the notable traits of a vibrator motor, for those unacquainted:

Broadly speaking, vibrations can be ranked on a spectrum between buzzy and rumbly. Some vibrators are both simultaneously, and some feel rumbly on their lower settings and buzzier as you turn the toy up (or, less often, the other way around), but for the most part, any vibrating toy will land noticeably somewhere on that spectrum.

Buzzy vibration feels surface-level; its stimulation goes only skin-deep. It tends to both feel and sound higher-pitched than rumbly vibration. A buzzy vibrator is likelier to create the temporary desensitization/numbness many people dislike about vibrators, such that (for me at least) orgasms from buzzy vibes sometimes feel barely pleasurable, if they’re achievable at all, because the area has been so thoroughly numbed by that point. Buzziness shows up most often in cheap toys, but even some high-end vibrators are surprisingly buzzy, because – as I’ve mentioned – many companies are more concerned with aesthetics and “innovation” than with getting this most basic aspect of their toy right.

Rumbly vibration, on the other hand, feels more like fast, rhythmic thumping than buzzing, almost as if someone was tapping your skin very very very quickly. This type of vibration goes deeper into the body, stimulating buried tissues like those of the internal clit, G-spot, or prostate. It tends to cause less numbness than buzzy vibration and to preserve genital sensation for longer, often leading to deeper, stronger orgasms. It also tends to be quieter than buzzy vibration and tends to be found in more expensive toys, although there are companies (such as We-Vibe and Dame) that make rumbly toys at a more reasonable price point.

In the land of sex toy reviews, sometimes you’ll see folks proclaiming that rumbly vibes are good and buzzy vibes are bad, period, end of story. I agree that most people seem to feel this way, but I’d like to note that there are people who prefer buzzy vibrations, for various reasons (I’m not one of them so I couldn’t tell you what those reasons are). I also think that there’s sometimes a place for buzziness; I don’t usually mind if a vibe gets a bit buzzy on its highest settings, for example, because when I’m close to orgasm, sometimes it’s a little burst of buzziness that pushes me over the edge, stimulating me in a different way than rumbly vibrations can.

But in general, yes, I would say that rumbly vibrations are the superior type. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that if you’ve only tried one or two vibrators in the past and haven’t liked them, there’s a very good chance that they were too buzzy and that you’d appreciate something rumblier. (But also, some people just don’t enjoy vibration and that’s fine too.)

 

It shocks and disappoints me every time I turn on a new vibrator that looks luxurious and well-thought-out, and discover that it’s as buzzy as a $20 watch-battery bullet. It angers me that companies feel it’s appropriate to charge high prices for products missing the most basic component of a halfway decent vibrator: a good motor. It annoys me that companies get aggravated when I call their toys buzzy in my reviews, as if they couldn’t have put the effort in to develop a better motor in the first place. It saddens me that so many people around the world probably dismiss the category of vibrators altogether because of some bad experiences they’ve had with buzzy ones, thereby cutting themselves off from untold pleasures.

“Rumbly” has become a buzzword in the industry now, too, such that many companies brag ostentatiously about the “rumbliness” of toys that are no such thing. In my view, there are only two ways to know if a vibrator is actually buzzy or rumbly before you buy it: read multiple reviews of it by sex toy bloggers/journalists/experts who are demonstrably committed to honesty in their assessments, or go to a sex shop and feel the toy’s vibrations for yourself. Don’t trust companies’ own marketing copy, because even otherwise-good companies sometimes lie. (I can’t even begin to tell you the number of times that a vibrator billed as “whisper-quiet” has actually been loud enough to startle my roommate’s cats such that they leap off my bed and sprint into another room.)

Here is my plea to any sex toy company employees or consultants who may be reading this. Prioritize good motors above everything else in a toy’s design (other than body-safe non-porous materials and overall safety, but that’s a given). If finances dictate that you have to make a toy less flashy and impressive in order to make it actually feel good, then that’s worth doing. I don’t give a single shit how many patterns, settings, and functions your toy has if I can’t even feel my genitals while I’m using it. Start with the motor and go from there; the motor should never be an afterthought or anything other than your #1 priority.

There. Now I can step off my soapbox and go jerk off with a vibrator I can actually feel.

5 Reasons No One Should Spank Their Kids

Kate Sloan

Content note: This piece touches on nonconsensual spanking, other forms of physical abuse, sexual assault, trauma, suicidality, addiction, and human rights violations.

 

1. It doesn’t work. According to one expert, Elizabeth Gershoff, who reviewed 61 long-term studies and 8 international investigations, “Zero studies found that physical punishment predicted better child behavior over time.” Some studies found physical punishment increases children’s aggression and other behavioral problems. (I mean, yeah, when the person you’re supposed to be able to love and trust implicitly starts beating you on a sexual body part, you’re gonna have some feelings about that, and those feelings might manifest as aggression.) Gershoff’s final word on the matter: “Physical punishment is harmful to children’s development and well-being. There is no evidence that it has any positive outcomes whatsoever.” Hear hear.

2. It’s traumatic. Studies have found that, in terms of inciting behavioral problems in children the likes of which are usually due to trauma, spanking has “statistically indistinguishable effects” from other forms of childhood trauma, like emotional abuse, neglect, and the death of one’s parent. People who were spanked as children are likelier to die at a younger age from cancer, heart disease, and respiratory problems. They are also likelier to develop aggressive and antisocial behaviors, anxiety, depression, and autoimmune disorders – all problems known to arise from trauma more generally. Spanking is also linked with an increase in heavy drinking, street drug usage, and suicidality.

3. It’s sexual. As spanking fetishist and journalist Jillian Keenan argues in her brilliant Slate piece on the matter, the butt is an inherently sexual zone. The area shares an artery with the genital region, so when you spank someone, bloodflow to their genitals increases. This is part of why spanking arouses so many kinksters – and why it’s a vastly inappropriate thing to do to one’s child. A scientist who’s studied spanking’s neurological effects on children says it produces “the same reactions in the brain” as sexual abuse. Just because a body part doesn’t seem sexual to you doesn’t mean it’s not sexual, culturally and biologically.

4. It teaches a terrible lesson. I don’t know about you, but if I ever have kids, I hope to impart good lessons to them about conflict resolution and emotional self-regulation. It’s horrendous to teach your children – even just indirectly, through behavior you’re modelling for them – that hitting someone is an acceptable way to deal with feeling angry or overwhelmed. You’re actively making the world worse if you do this.

5. It’s a human rights violation. Children should have just as much of a right to bodily autonomy and protection from harm as anyone else in society, but as things stand, they don’t. It’s still perfectly legal to spank your kid in many places, even though – as described above – there are mountains of evidence showing that spanking is ineffective and harmful. This one form of physical abuse has been privileged as an “acceptable” form, and it’s not. It’s abuse. It’s a violation. It’s not okay. Stop doing it. If you find yourself wanting to hit your child for any reason, seek professional help immediately and stay away from your child(ren) until you’re able to calm down.

In Defense of Fantasizing During Sex

Kate Sloan

I remember the first time anyone said those magic words to me during sex. “Think about whatever you want.”

He was a vanilla boy with a nonetheless toppy sensibility. His craving to evoke moans and expletives out of me was a recurrent theme in our fucks. He was happy to get into any position that made me yell into a pillow, happy to spank me if I explained how and why, happy to use my favorite dildos and vibrators and butt plugs with me whenever I asked. So it makes perfect sense that he wanted to use another crucial “sex toy” of mine that we had at our disposal: my mind.

See, fantasies are powerful when you’re trying to feel good and get off. If you’ve ever fantasized while masturbating, it’s likely you know that they can spike arousal, alter headspace, and make already-pleasurable sensations feel somehow even more pleasurable. Why wouldn’t that be true during sex with a partner as well?

The common argument against fantasizing during sex goes as follows: You should focus on the person in front of you (or, uh, behind you) while you’re having sex. You should be mentally present, and anything less is unfair to your partner. You especially shouldn’t fantasize about sex with someone other than the person you’re currently having sex with. How rude!

There’s a lot about this argument that I actually agree with. I agree that being mentally present during sex can create deeper intimacy and connection, and that not being mentally present during sex can be a sign that something is going awry with the sex or the relationship. I also agree that for some of us, it can be hurtful to hear that your partner was fantasizing about someone else while you were fucking them.

However, I don’t think any of that is sufficient grounds to completely dismiss the idea of fantasizing during sex as a categorically bad and rude thing to do.

In the years since that toppy friend-with-benefits first encouraged me to let my mind wander while he fingerbanged me, I’ve fantasized during sex countless times. I’ve fantasized about the partner I’m currently fucking: the face and sounds they make when I go down on them, how good it feels when they do a sex act other than the one we’re currently doing, different situations I’d like to fuck them in. I’ve pictured alternate-universe versions of the person banging me – like a dommier version of my vanilla fuckbuddy, or my spouse if they were a withholding English professor. I’ve placed myself in wild situations with faceless strangers – like in a brightly-lit film studio with a porn cam trained on me, or being gangbanged by the cast of a musical after the final curtain call. And yes, sometimes I have thought about actual, real people other than the one in my bed at the time.

This is a very complex subject, morally speaking. (That time I almost got a philosophy minor is definitely gonna inform what I’m about to write.) Some people would say you should always tell your partner if you think about someone else during sex, and that doing anything else would be dishonesty tantamount to cheating. I disagree; I think Orwellian “thought police”-type notions are terrifying, and I don’t think any thought can be inherently immoral if it’s never acted on in the real world. I feel strongly that you’re allowed to sexually fantasize about whatever the hell you want – these thoughts only become problematic when and if they start to influence your IRL behavior. Which, to be clear, can happen. I would imagine, for example, that watching a ton of racist porn would tend to deepen any existing racist biases a person had. There’s also lots of debate over whether watching child pornography makes pedophiles less or more likely to assault a child, but I would guess the answer is sometimes “more.” (These are extreme examples with too much complexity to really get into here, unfortunately, but you get the idea.)

My position is that you don’t have to tell your partner if/when you fantasize about other people, but you might want to, for a few reasons. First of all, a secret becomes less of a threat when it’s not a secret anymore. My partner knows I have a thing for butch women in leather jackets, and pretty much always have, so if I fantasize about one, it doesn’t mean I’m gonna leave them for one – but if I had that fantasy and kept it a secret, that would seem immediately more suspect and hurtful. Secondly, communicating your fantasies about third parties can actually, ironically enough, promote the very intimacy and connection that their critics say they threaten. If my partner is fucking me and knows I’m thinking about the barista around the block, then they know where I am mentally and can join me there if they want, by talking dirty about the fantasy and even including themselves in it. Thirdly, the more you let your partner into your inner erotic world, the better they can understand it. If I was in a hyper-vanilla relationship but kept fantasizing about dominant folks, telling my partner could prompt a conversation about kinky stuff we could explore together. How can they know about your fantasy if you don’t tell them?

All of this presupposes that you have a partner who is not so far gone into Toxic Monogamy Land as to think that fantasizing can be cheating. If your partner does think that way, well… that’s a tough spot. When two people want to be monogamous to each other but their definitions of monogamy differ, either they have to compromise or they have to break up. It’s a difficult choice, and I wish you strength in making it. My view is that pretty much everyone fantasizes about people other than their partner from time to time, and sometimes that means they’d rather be with that person than their partner, but most of the time it doesn’t. It’s just a normal human thing that happens. Personally, I would rather use those fantasies as a catalyst for greater pleasure and intimacy than see them as an obstacle to those goals.

My spouse is a dirty-talk master, brilliant at weaving filthy narratives that keep me present and focused. But they also know when to use my own brain the way they’d use a vibrator. “Let your mind go wherever it wants to,” they’ll say as they work their way down my body for a luxuriant oral sex session – and I lie back and breathe a sigh of sweet relief, knowing the thoughts in my head can be all pleasure, no guilt.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.