Musings

What’s It Like to Be Little?

Kate Sloan
“Babygirl” crop top from Delirium Toys

Content note for this post: ageplay and Daddy Dom/little girl roleplay between consenting adults; a brief mention of pedophilia.

The first time I encountered the term “little space” was, I believe, in the ageplay episode of the Why Are People Into That? podcast. Journalist and sex workers’ rights advocate Siouxsie Q opened up about (among other things) performing in a “Little Ms. Little” pageant, and how weird it was to sing and dance for strangers from a kinky headspace she normally reserves for private, intimate interactions.

Despite never having encountered the concepts of “Daddy dom/little girl” roleplay or “little space” before listening to this podcast, they resonated in my body and brain immediately. I knew what it felt like to be “little,” and had experienced momentary glimpses of it before. Playing a little girl in improv scenes. Descending into giggly juvenility after too many drinks or tokes. Being goofy around friends and partners I knew wouldn’t judge me. I wouldn’t have known to refer to these moods as a separate headspace, one with its own name and attributes, but when I examined them through this new lens, I realized I had always enjoyed feeling young and small. It was a welcome respite from the pressures and terrors of adulthood.

As a person with depression and anxiety, navigating a career that relies on my constant vigilance and self-directed action to stay afloat, it is an immense relief sometimes to give up control to someone else. This explains why I enjoy subspace, but as for specifically little space, I think it returns me to a time in my life when everything felt hopeful, comfortable, and safe. I was a precocious kid, always getting good grades and impressing adults, and it didn’t feel difficult; I amassed compliments without even having to try. Those moments got less and less frequent as I grew up, because intellect and ambition are less remarkable in a teenager or an adult than they are in a child, but I continued craving them nonetheless.

That feeling of “Yay, I did a good job and someone noticed!” began to get compounded in murkily sexual ways when the compliment came from attractive older masculine people – professors, mentors, friends of the family – and what was once a purely intellectual motivation became a somewhat carnal one too. I craved a relationship in which I could go fully into the headspace that mildly patronizing compliments put me into, without tempering the blushing and giggling that those kind words provoked in me. I wanted it to be a mutually consensual delight, a two-way street: I wanted someone who loved giving me that kind of focused attention and encouragement as much as I loved to receive it.

Subsequent DD/lg dalliances taught me even more about what little space felt like to me, what helped bring it on, and why I liked it. A particularly kink-positive friend-with-benefits once asked me if I’d like to leave a stuffed animal at his place to cuddle during aftercare, and while I appreciated the thoughtfulness of the offer, I realized that my inner little girl wasn’t really interested in those kinds of toys. Maybe I wanted my comfort to come, instead, from being “daddy’s girl” and having that deep, intimate connection with someone I admired who wanted to take care of me.

I learned from that FWB, too, that not just anyone could be my daddy. Not even all masculine dominant types could be a daddy to me. In tentatively exploring my newly-uncovered kink, he called me “little one” and “little girl” fairly regularly, but when he mentioned that I could try calling him “daddy” if I wanted to, I clammed up. As comfortable as I felt with him, I just didn’t quite have the attraction to and intimacy with him that I realized I needed for someone to feel like my daddy. Each time I slipped partway into little space around him, from a thorough paddling or caning while being called “babygirl” in oaky tones, I got self-conscious and sometimes even panicked. The silliness of my “little” self felt too vulnerable to share with this person I had only a casual relationship with. I worried he’d think it was weird or inappropriate if I wanted to nuzzle my face into his chest like a kitten or roll around giggling when we watched cartoons as aftercare. I just couldn’t fully relax into authentic little space with him because he wasn’t the right daddy for me.

Going into that space with new partners still feels vulnerable, even though I’ve done it in a few other relationships since then. Even if I know the person is into D/s, or DD/lg specifically, I still front-load these encounters with excessive explanations – “I get pretty goofy when I’m subspacey sometimes,” or “Sometimes I act weird and make no sense when I’m in scenes” – because I want to know my partners are not only okay with this but also hopefully into it. Just as it takes me a while to feel confident that a new partner actually finds me attractive and isn’t planning to break up with me at any moment (#AnxietyLyfe, am I right), it also takes me some time to trust that they’re just as attracted to Little Kate as they are to Adult Kate. I need to hear them say – repeatedly, continually – that they find it hot when I regress into a wee little whirlwind of whimsy. This can require my partners to confront deeply-held shame, in some cases, as with my ex-daddy who grew concerned that his interest in DD/lg somehow made him a pedophile, even though he only ever wanted to be romantic and sexual with adults.

Once we’ve relaxed into a functioning dynamic, however, little space can be a refuge and a gift for both of us. When in its thrall, I’m able to let go of my anxiety and sadness to a remarkable extent, and delight once again in small amusements, like bad puns and winding stories told in wacky voices. I become innocent and excitable, sloughing off my adult cynicism for the duration of a scene. I don’t deflect or deny compliments like my insecurities tell me I should, but instead, actually hear and absorb them, believing somehow that daddy knows best. I get more immersed in the moment; life’s petty dramas and complications temporarily melt away. I’m easier to tease and torment and tickle, easier to overpower and overjoy. My arousal ramps up more readily because my adult anxieties are no longer holding my boner hostage. Little space is like a cheat code that buys me some time to be effortlessly happy, relaxed, and turned on, even in the face of grown-up factors which make these moods difficult to access.

Little space has superficial effects, too: my eyes get wider, my voice gets higher, my vocabulary gets simpler. I’m easier to manipulate, both psychologically and physically. I’m more prone to dancing, singing, and giggling. Most amazingly, it’s not like I consciously choose to “put on” these affectations; they rush at me straight from my youth, full-force and fully-formed, like a day hasn’t passed since I was 12. I perceive myself as being smaller and younger – and while not all partners join me fully in this perception, that just makes it all the more satisfying to be with those that do. When my current daddy calls me his little one, and talks about how small I am and how much I need and deserve his protection, I know that’s not just lip service; it’s how he really sees me. And that feels just as good now as it did the very first time an authority figure called me a clever little girl.

 

Thank you to Delirium Toys for sponsoring this post! I’m so excited to tell you that they have a brand-new DD/lg section on their site, containing coloring books, stuffed animals, collars, and other treats to help you get into little space. They also sent me the “babygirl” crop tops I’m rocking in the photos for this post. Soooo cute! You can use the coupon code GIRLYJUICE30OFF to get 30% off anything from their DD/lg section!

Hysteria, Hands, and Victorian Vibrators

Kate Sloan

Which came first: the urban legend, or the kink?

It’s hard to say. I went to see the movie Hysteria in theatres with my then-boyfriend when it came out in 2011, and I don’t recall having any particular Kink Feelings about it. I mean, the movie contains (among other things) a flustered Hugh Dancy bringing several women to orgasm with oil-lubricated hands, and Maggie Gyllenhaal punching a police offer in the face while dressed in a devastating ballgown, so there’s a lot to love about it, kinks-wise. But I think, at the time, I was still so squarely vanilla that I mostly just giggled at the funny bits and enjoyed the celebrity eye candy.

The movie, if you don’t know, tells a fictionalized account of the vibrator’s oft-cited origin story. “Female hysteria” was an “illness” ascribed to uterus-havers for centuries, to account for everything from insomnia to irritability to (yes) sexual frustration. Though we now know that hysteria’s many symptoms were likelier the results of sociopolitical oppression, restrictive clothing, and various as-yet-undiscovered actual illnesses, back then it was blamed on a “wandering uterus” (hence the name, which stems from the Greek word for uterus, hystera). Various measures were employed to bring the uterus back to its rightful location – or, in some cases, to remove it fully (which, spoiler alert, didn’t work). One frequent prescription for hysteria was to have sexual intercourse more often – with one’s husband and only one’s husband, of course.

Award-winning technology scholar Rachel Maines theorized in her book The Technology of Orgasm that Victorian doctors may have stimulated women to orgasm with their hands to alleviate hysteria symptoms. She argues this practice may even have spurred the invention of the vibrator, because manual stimulation of the vulva is tiring and physicians would want a more efficient method of producing “hysterical paroxysm” (orgasm) in their patients. However, this tale is just a hypothesis and there is little, if any, proof it actually happened. A doctor named Joseph Mortimer Granville indeed invented the first electric vibrator in the 19th century, as the film Hysteria posits, but he didn’t have sexual uses in mind, and wasn’t even a particularly forward-thinking chap in terms of sex or gender.

That said, a story doesn’t have to be in line with your ethics or even be true for it to incite a hellfire in your kink-brain. I’ve always been turned on by the idea of “sex as a service” in kink roleplays, whether we’re talking about a daddy getting his little girl off to help her sleep, a masseuse administering a deft “happy ending,” or – yes – a Victorian doctor bringing off his patient with skilful hands. I enjoy these dynamics’ interplay between searing heat and cold detachment, the obvious and inescapable power differential, and the sense of mastery and of being mastered. Maybe I’m drawn to these fantasies partly because of how many casual hookups I’ve had: in a world where non-dudes’ orgasms are considered an optional add-on rather than a core feature of sex, it’s hot to imagine someone who will not only get me off, but who will do so with precision and efficiency because it’s their literal job.

Sometime after that first viewing of Hysteria in 2011, I began fantasizing about cool-eyed doctors in clinical lab coats. I thought about their gentle bedside manner, their soft baritone assurances that “the procedure is perfectly routine” and “this won’t hurt at all.” I thought about stethoscopes, speculums, and cold dollops of lubricant in an open palm. I thought about strong fingers stroking my outsides and penetrating my insides. I thought about my own inhibitions in this fictional scenario, the weakly suppressed blush creeping onto my cheeks and the quickening of my breath, always met by the doctor’s soft promise that it’s okay to feel what I’m feeling; it’s okay to make noise.

I thought, too, about how the doctor would feel in these situations. Actual Victorian physicians were unconvinced women could have orgasms without penetration or at all, since the model of sexuality back then was highly intercourse-focused (which still hasn’t changed as much as one would hope, to be honest). Would they even be aware that their patients’ obvious signs of sexual arousal were indeed sexual arousal? Would they feel themselves getting sympathetically turned on and not know why? Would some of them be fully cognizant of what they were doing and secretly delight in it? Would a particularly attractive patient break their composure, prompting them to want to add their mouth or cock to the “treatment plan”? Would they do this under the guise of medical necessity, or would they simply come clean and confess to wanting their patient that badly, medical license be damned?

This fantasy haunted my brain for years, and somehow I never thought I’d really be able to act it out. This conviction was so strong, in fact, that when I met another person who shared this kink, I wanted to overlook his boundary-crossing and rudeness to pursue a potential scene with him. Eventually my self-respect overcame my carnal curiosity, but it was a hard-won battle. That speaks to how powerful this fantasy had become in my mind.

You can imagine my delight, then, when I disclosed this kink to my current boyfriend during one of our early phone chats and he expressed some interest in it. We began playing with it in phone-sex roleplays (and once in person so far). He is always a doctor and I am always a patient experiencing hysteria symptoms – usually sexual frustration and intrusive sexual fantasies, though my character’s naiveté varies so sometimes she doesn’t even have the language to identify these symptoms as such. Likewise, his degree of complicity in the situation’s sexual bent also changes: sometimes he is actively attracted to me and knows what that means and entails, and other times, he is more detached and professional (I enjoy both). Sometimes we imagine we’re physically together in his office at a medical practice; other times, I’ve called in to some kind of medical help line. Sometimes he uses hypnosis or (imagined) anaesthesia to relax me, or perhaps to lull me into a state that makes me easier to take advantage of.

Often, he has to explain my own anatomy to me, and I find this particularly exciting. As evidenced by my overlapping interests in roleplaying as a little girl or a precocious student, I love kink dynamics that allow for teaching and learning. The power discrepancy is electric, and when the thing being taught to me is something as basic as knowledge of my own body, that imbalance feels even more pronounced. I often envision my character in this roleplay as being either a virgin or the wife of a sexually clueless man (as I’m sure many Victorian men were), so that my doctor can introduce me to sensations totally new to me. Although in real life I’ve been a sex toy reviewer for 6+ years and an avid masturbator for much longer, in the headspace of this roleplay I can re-experience the magic of discovering new things my body can feel for the very first time.

Like many of my kinks, this one raises a moral dilemma for me. The whole idea of “female hysteria” is, of course, rooted in misogyny (not to mention cissexism), as are its treatments – whether imagined or real. But as I’ve discovered again and again with kink after kink, there can be something powerful about subverting your oppression into a source of pleasure. Though my boyfriend, playing the all-knowing doctor, is outwardly in control of the scene every time we do this roleplay, really it’s always me who’s in the driver’s seat. It’s me who requested this type of play, defined what I find hot about it, and set the boundaries I want respected. If I was born in Victorian times, maybe I’d be subjected to horrible medical interventions to “treat” my unacceptably high libido – but because I was born into this modern era instead, I get to explore authentic pleasure, guilt-free, with people who accept and adore both my libido and me. It’s a small comfort in a world still wracked by sexism and shame, but I’ll take what I can get.

 

Do you have any fantasies you feel guilty about? Have you ever experimented with hysteria roleplay or other types of medical play?

8 Fellatio Fears and How to Conquer Them

Kate Sloan

Blowjobs used to be one of the scariest acts I could imagine, and now they’re one of my favorite things. I’ve come so far (and made so many people come)!

As such, I get a lot of emails, tweets, DMs, and comments from folks who want to give more head, more skilfully, but are running up against a specific issue that makes this tricky for them. So here’s a little cheat sheet of common cocksucking conundrums and how I’d recommend combating them…

You feel obligated to give head, and you don’t want to.

How to deal:

  • Try to remember, above all else, that consent and comfort are paramount to sex and that anyone worth dating or fucking will know this.
  • That said, you’ll have a hard time finding a sexual partner who doesn’t want some kind of sexual reciprocation in their relationships, and giving pleasure is fun, so look for alternate ways to do that. Handjobs, sex toys, good ol’ P-in-V sex, and even talking dirty in your partner’s ear while they jerk off are all lovely ways to please someone without sucking their dick.
  • If you’re concerned your partner quietly resents you for not giving them head more often or at all, don’t just silently worry about that – talk about it. Have a proper sit-down conversation about it; ask them if it bothers them and negotiate other things the two of you could do together instead.
  • If you want to like giving head, take baby steps. Maybe tell your partner you’re going to blow them for five minutes and then switch to a different activity. Maybe start giving handjobs that incorporate progressively more and more of your mouth. Look for something you can enjoy about BJs, whether it’s the servicey headspace you get into or the sounds your partner makes or the texture of the cock against your tongue, and focus on that.

You’re scared of gagging/choking.

How to deal:

  • Tell your partner (or remind them) that this is a concern for you, and that they should therefore avoid pushing your head down onto their cock, thrusting into your mouth, and so on. Assert and defend this boundary relentlessly as needed.
  • Firmly wrap your hand around the cock midway down the shaft so it can’t get deeper into your mouth than you want it to.
  • Use your (lubed) hand on the shaft, in sync with your mouth, so that it feels like you’re taking it deeper than you actually are. Oooh, a cocktical illusion!
  • If you’re comfortable doing so, try deliberately gagging yourself a little bit on the dick once in a while by taking it just a little too deep. It’s easier to handle when you’re doing it to yourself and can choose when and how it happens, and “practicing” like this can acclimatize you to the sensation and may even lessen your gag reflex over time.

You’re scared it’ll taste bad (or you know it does).

How to deal:

  • Try taking a shower or bath together beforehand. It’s possible to soap up someone’s dick in a sexy manner, I promise. (Ask first!)
  • Use this knowledge how you will: the taste of semen and precum can be improved if the owner of the dick eats more fruit, drinks more water, and cuts down on their consumption of coffee, alcohol, spinach, cigarettes, garlic, onions, and spicy foods. (Sex writer Violet Blue recommends a smoothie made of pineapple juice, mango juice, a banana, half a cucumber, fresh ginger, vanilla extract, and honey. Sounds delicious!)
  • If you’re concerned the bad taste may actually be due to neglectful hygiene practices and/or some kind of health issue, gently and kindly broach the issue with the partner in question. Try not to make them feel embarrassed or ashamed. Emphasize that you’re bringing it up out of concern for their health and that you’d just looove to suck their cock more once the issue is resolved.
  • If all else fails, there’s always condoms (I would recommend either flavored ones or unlubricated ones, because regular condom lube tastes pretty gross) and/or flavored lube.

Boner issues are deflating your enthusiasm.

How to deal:

  • Absorb this reality check: boners are not a foolproof measure of arousal, attraction, or enjoyment. Erectile issues can be caused by a whole host of issues – medical, psychological, situational, and otherwise – and don’t necessarily portend a damn thing about how hot you are or how good your blowjobs are.
  • If you are feeling insecure about your desirability or sexual skill because of a boner problem, it’s okay to ask your partner for reassurance about those things. Just be aware that they may also be going through some difficult feelings about it and may not be in a good position to reassure you immediately.
  • Remember that dicks can still feel pleasure even when flaccid! Use your lips and tongue. Find new, inventive ways to give your partner pleasure with your mouth. Emphasize, with your actions and your words, that you are there to exchange pleasures and have fun, not to check off a bunch of goals on a sexual to-do list.
  • That said, your partner may not want a BJ while flaccid, for various reasons. Make the offer, but also be open to their alternate suggestions. Maybe getting you off would help them feel more capable and sexy in a moment when they might not be feeling that way.
  • If it’s a recurrent issue, and it regularly causes distress to one or both partners, medical help might be warranted. As with anything sensitive, approach this discussion with compassion and tact.

You’re worried you’re bad at it.

How to deal:

  • Communicate with your partner! If you raise this concern, they may very well tell you you’re being ridiculous and your blowjobs are actually fantastic. Or they might have suggestions for how you could change things up to give BJs that please them better.
  • Do sexual science experiments to determine which techniques work well for your partner. Think like an optometrist: is “A” better, or “B”? Try going deep and shallow, fast and slow, gentle and hard, wet and less-wet, and see which your partner responds to better. Ask them questions and pay attention to their body language and their breathing.
  • Look for new technique ideas in instructional sex books, porn clips, erotica stories, and whatever other blowjob-centric sexual media you can find. You never know when you’ll come across something that shifts your whole BJ game.
  • Remember that what you offer goes beyond just physical skill. The best blowjob machines in 2018 may be out of this world on a mechanical level, but they don’t compare to the hotness of having a real live person in front of you, sucking your cock.

You’re worried you don’t look hot while you’re doing it.

How to deal:

  • Again: communicate with your partner. They probably think you look hot while you’re down there. Try asking them, “What turns you on about watching me give you head?”
  • Watch blowjob porn – and, in particular, POV blowjob porn – for ideas on how to unleash your inner porn star while you give head. Smouldering eye contact, pouty lips, and a brow furrowed in mild desperation are all popular features of this porn genre… and they’re classics for a reason!
  • When this anxiety is particularly acute, consider blindfolding your partner. It adds a fun kinky twist to the experience and also takes the pressure off you to look scintillatingly hot at every moment.
  • Is there some pre-BJ primping you could do that would make you feel hotter in the act? Maybe some mascara, lipstick, blush, lingerie, or a particular hairstyle? These things are totally optional, but might make you feel more secure about how you look.
  • Remember that what you look like isn’t actually that important. If you focus on enjoying how the cock feels in your mouth and paying close attention to your partner’s responses, you’ll do a better job – and that concentrated-cocksucker aesthetic is super hot in and of itself!

You don’t know what to say.

How to deal:

  • Embrace that not everyone talks dirty and not everyone needs to. Maybe you can communicate everything you need to with just your eyes, and of course, your hot wet mouth.
  • If you do decide to delve into dirty-talk, keep it simple. Most people aren’t looking for a flowery dissertation while their cock’s being sucked. “You like that?” “Does that feel good?” “You want me to take you deeper into my mouth?” “You wanna come down my throat?”
  • Watch blowjob porn for inspiration. Some of my favorite dirty-talk pros are Aiden Starr, Tina Horn, Nina Hartley, and Heather Harmon.
  • Start sexting your partner more often (or at all, if sexting isn’t something the two of you already do), and pay attention to the language they use for their own body and sexual responses. They’re subtly communicating the language that turns them on.

You don’t want to swallow cum.

How to deal:

  • Tell your partner that (nicely, and without body-shaming or kink-shaming them). If they’re decent, they’ll understand.
  • Switch to a handjob toward the end of the BJ. Make sure your hands are wet from your spit (and/or add additional lubrication) so there’s not a huge difference in sensation. Have them come somewhere other than your mouth that’s acceptable to both of you – maybe on your face, your chest, or their own belly.
  • If you are okay with them coming in your mouth, but just don’t want to swallow, you can let the cum dribble out of your mouth onto them. It’s kinda messy, yeah, but they probably won’t be too bothered because they just got to come in your hot little mouth. (Maybe bring them some tissues, though!)
  • You could always go the classic route and just spit out the cum in a nearby receptable (cup, garbage can, even a tissue in a pinch). Just, again, don’t be shamey in the way that you do this. That stuff came out of their body. If you act like it’s gross, they’re going to think you find them gross… in which case, yeesh, why are you having sex with them?!

What problems do you encounter while giving blowjobs?

 

Heads up (pun definitely intended): this post was sponsored! As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Stop Giving Unsolicited Advice

Kate Sloan

Unsolicited advice is an epidemic, and it has to stop.

I literally can’t go a day on the internet without some random stranger popping out of nowhere to give me advice I neither asked for nor need. They’ll do it about anything. They’ll offer “wisdom” on sex and relationships (despite me having been a writer and educator in this field for nearly a quarter of my life), my mental and physical health (despite me knowing way more about my own situation than they do, certainly), business and money (despite me managing just fine). It’s infuriating.

Without a doubt, this scourge stems at least partly from systemic sexism. There is an implicit assumption, the world over, that women – and, frankly, anyone who isn’t a straight white able-bodied cis dude – don’t know what they’re doing and need guidance. This is insulting on many levels and also sometimes, I know, evades our critical judgment because we’re so used to media messages telling us which kinds of people are clueless and need help and which kinds of people are “qualified” to offer that help.

So I’m here to remind you, incase you forgot this or never learned it: your unsolicited advice is, in the vast majority of situations, unhelpful, unneeded, and best kept to yourself. Here are a few reasons why.

The person you’re advising may not want or need advice.

Many people talk about their problems just to blow off steam, or to express themselves in a bid for kinship and connection. They may well already have a solution in mind. They may well have encountered this very problem before, and already navigated it successfully. They may very well, for that matter, not even view it as a problem.

If someone hasn’t explicitly asked for advice, giving it is unnecessary and may even be met with (justified) anger and frustration. Try asking first, “Are you looking for advice on this?” or “Would you be open to hearing what I did when I was in that same situation?” or “Are you wanting empathy or strategy?”

You don’t know the full context and thus aren’t qualified to give advice.

Unless you are someone’s literal doctor, therapist, etc., it is hiiiighly unlikely you have even half of the context you’d need in order to understand their problem and which solution(s) would be likeliest to help.

This is particularly true for health problems (mental or physical). You have no idea whether the advice you’re offering is compatible with the other person’s current treatment plan, preexisting conditions, health history, traumas, triggers, etc. You probably don’t even know whether they’ve already tried the thing you’re suggesting (and trust me, it’s likely that they have, or have ruled it out for quite valid reasons).

This is why people usually only ask for advice from close, trusted friends/mentors or actual goddamn professionals: very few people in anyone’s life will have the necessary context and expertise to be able to advise properly on that person’s problems. You’re statistically unlikely to be one of those people, especially if you’re just a stranger from the internet. So zip it.

Giving unsolicited advice is presumptuous and rude.

It’s a behavior that operates on the assumptions that a) you know this person’s problems and life better than they do, b) you’re smarter or more knowledgeable than them, on this topic or in general, and c) they care about what you have to say.

The person you’re advising, whether or not you realize it, has been living with the problem they’re experiencing, maybe for a long time. They know how that problem manifests in their life, and what has and has not worked for it in the past. You do not have that information, even if you’ve been through that problem in your own way in your own life. They did not ask you. You do not need to weigh in. The world will not be any poorer for you having decided to shut your mouth.

10 Things I’ve Learned From 10 Years of Sex

Kate Sloan

Ten years ago today, I made my sexual debut with a rainbow-haired girl in a sweltering attic bedroom. I prefer this phrasing – “made my sexual debut” – over the more traditional “lost my virginity,” because, as many wise people have pointed out before me, virginity is a construct that serves only to bolster the patriarchy, alienate queer folks and other sexual “deviants,” and disconnect us from our own bodily autonomy. It shouldn’t be the huge deal our culture makes it into – and yet, I also acknowledge that it was a huge deal for me. I felt different the next day, like things had shifted. They had. And they’ve continued to.

Here are 10 big lessons I’ve learned in 10 years of having sex…

Sex with men isn’t necessarily terrifying. The thought of sex with dudes gave me terrible anxiety for years before I tried it. Granted, this was partly because I was further toward the gay end of the sexuality spectrum at that point, but it was also a fear of the unknown. I had bought into media myths about how men are unreasonably horny cads who “only want one thing.” Yeah, there are men like that, but most of the ones I’ve dated and/or fucked have been comparatively lovely. I’m much more inclined now to view men as individual, variable humans than as part of an unsettling monolithic group – and my sex life is better as a result.

All genitals are basically similar. Speaking of “We’re not that different, you and I…” – it was revelatory for me to learn, from sex ed books and general experimentation, that the analogous tissues in vulvas and penises have way more similarities than mainstream media would have you believe. This anatomical knowledge helps me map, in broad strokes, my own bodily self-knowledge onto other people’s bodies, even if they look quite different from mine. It’s much easier to navigate other people’s genitals when I’m mostly thinking about how each feature relates to my own, and how each part likes to be touched.

Sex isn’t love, and love isn’t sex. It’s almost embarrassing to have had to learn something that seems like it should be so obvious. Mainstream media mocks women (and anyone, really, but mostly women) who confuse sex for love, so it took me a while to even realize I was making this mistake, because I considered myself above it. But there have been multiple times in my sexual career when sexual compatibility (or even just one really good fuck) has equipped me with rose-tinted glasses, rounding up decent sex into star-crossed romance. An ex-boyfriend from 2017 told me when he was breaking up with me that “aside from our sex life and our intellectual connection, we don’t really have anything in common,” and it took me many months to understand what he was trying to say: that good sex and good repartée weren’t enough to build a relationship on. My current relationship is fulfilling both sexually and romantically, and I feel I’ve gotten better at recognizing that type of connection when it’s there – and recognizing when it isn’t there.

“Why” is just as important as “what.” I’ve learned this lesson particularly with regards to kink, though it really applies to all forms of sex. You can’t really know someone’s sexuality just by knowing which activities they like to do; you have to know why they like to do them. For example, some people enjoy being spanked because they like feeling punished or humiliated; I, on the other hand, like it because I like feeling focused on, and I enjoy the meditative and cathartic elements of consensual pain. If you know what acts someone likes, you can give them a satisfying experience on the physical level – but to satisfy them more deeply, more electrically, you need to know why they like what they like. Likewise: you’re unlikely to find deep satisfaction for yourself through kink and sex unless you know specifically what motivates you to pursue these things.

Giving pleasure can be delicious. I was a very bottomy bottom when I first started having sex: my first-ever friendship-with-benefits was basically a year and a half of her going down on me, because that’s what we both were into. We had fun, but those experiences left me with a skewed understanding of sexuality. I wasn’t sure how to get pleasure out of giving pleasure, because I had never really done it. It took years of further experimentation with other people – and, eventually, discovering bliss through blowjobs – for me to realize all I’d been missing out on. Now I’m much more egalitarian in my approach to sex, and being a servicey good girl is key to my kinks.

“Romantic sex” is whatever you say it is. The traditional concept of “making love” is all about slowness, gentleness, meaningful eye contact, and whispered I-love-yous. It never appealed to me much, because – spoiler alert – I’m kinky as fuck, and like rough sex. It took me many years to figure out that kinky sex can be romantic too. I’ve rarely felt as loved or in love as I do when a partner’s just consensually pushed me to my masochistic limits, or spent 40 slow minutes working me up to take his fist little by little. If you expand your idea of what constitutes “romance” in sex, you expand your capacity to feel love, and that’s a beautiful thing.

Communication is crucial. I was very lucky that my first sexual partner was a sex nerd like me. We liked to stay up late on MSN Messenger, deconstructing our latest sex session in excruciating detail and planning what we wanted to try the next time. That relationship set the tone for all my sexcapades going forward: I not only enjoyed sexual communication, but actively craved it and needed it to feel fully comfortable and satisfied by sex. Whether we’re negotiating a session before it happens, discussing adjustments mid-bang, or debriefing after the fact, I always appreciate the opportunity to talk about sex with the people I’m fucking. Far from “killing the moment” or “ruining the magic” as popular discourse would have us believe, it makes everything so much smoother and hotter.

Kink transcends the bedroom. Earlier this year, I had a deliciously kink-nerdy conversation with my boyfriend in a fancy cocktail bar. We were discussing whether our D/s dynamic is technically 24/7 or not – and we came to the conclusion that it is, because even though we’re not “in role” all the time, he is always, on some higher level, the boss of me. I have the freedom to say no to anything at any time, but I have consensually given him my power, and we’re both always aware of that as we move through our lives together and apart. “I used to hear about 24/7 D/s relationships on shows like Sex is Fun and think, ‘That’s not for me; that’s not what I want,'” I told my boyfriend incredulously. “I thought that too!” he said. “And yet, here we are.” I’ve learned that submission is more satisfying for me when it extends outside of sex. I want to please someone so much more in a sexual scenario if pleasing them is also part of our connection more generally, our relationship, my daily life. This is part of the reason one-night stands don’t really appeal to me anymore!

Sex amplifies emotions. For me, anyway. I know not everyone is wired this way, and some people even get offended when you imply sex is connected to feelings. I personally have never really been able to separate sex from my emotions, and I no longer really want to try. Kink can stir up catharsis; bad sex can ruin an otherwise harmonious relationship; good sex can make me think I like someone more than I actually do. This isn’t to say I necessarily fall in love with everyone who fucks me well – I’ve been banging my current FWB for over a year, for example, and the most I ever feel toward him is a profound but platonic fondness – but the link between my sexuality and my feelings is important for me to keep in mind when I’m deciding which sexual experiences to pursue. It’s part of why I eschew sex on the first date now, and it’s why I tend to avoid kink with new partners on emotionally precarious days. Self-awareness is so helpful!

There is always more to learn about sex. I’ve been a professional sex writer for over six years and I still constantly discover new kinks, new subcultures, new sexual acts, new relationship styles, and new sexual communication tricks. This is largely what drew me to my career path: the sense that sexuality is infinite, and infinitely interesting. I don’t think I’ll ever stop growing and changing as a sexual person. Unlike the Buddhists, who believe desire is a torturous trap, I believe to want things is to be uplifted, inspired, and propelled forward. I hope I keep developing new desires for the rest of my life.

What did you learn in your first decade of having sex?