Personal

I’m Dating a Demisexual!

Kate Sloan

Have you ever heard of demisexuality?

It’s okay if you haven’t. I hadn’t either, until I read a post on a friend’s blog, a response to a woman who had recently come out to her mother as being demisexual (i.e. she doesn’t experience sexual attractions to people unless she already has a strong emotional bond with them).

The argument against this woman (which I do not necessarily agree with – I’m still not entirely sure) was twofold:

1. You should not use LGBT terminology like “coming out” to apply to an identity that is not nearly as oppressed or disadvantaged as LGBT identities are.

2. You should not regard demisexuality as a legitimate identity, because it’s just a way to slut-shame women who don’t need to be emotionally connected to someone to have sex with them.

Initially, as a queer and sex-loving woman, I thought, “Yeah! Stop appropriating our terms and making other folks feel shitty for enjoying loveless sex!”

And then my boyfriend told me he believed himself to be demisexual.

Obviously, this required me to re-examine my beliefs about this orientation. And I realized what I always end up realizing when I initially reject someone’s self-professed labels: We each get to choose how we identify, and it’s no one else’s place to dispute that.

The thing is, there are people who genuinely aren’t sexually interested in folks until they know them a lot better (or, to quote Ewan McGregor’s character in the movie Down With Love, “all the way better”). It’s not intended to slut-shame on any level; it’s not a case of sexual elitism or puritanical ethics; it’s just the way their brains work. And if they feel like they want to use terminology like “coming out” to describe their experiences, we should allow them to do so… provided they are willing to accept the fact that they are (assuming they’re also straight) inherently privileged and not oppressed to nearly the same degree that LGBT people are.

Look, no one’s going to call you a freak for wanting to wait until you know someone better to have sex with them – no one, at least, who isn’t either totally stupid or totally joking. No one’s going to try to strip you of your basic human rights for being sexually choosy. So yeah, it’s probably going to piss some people off if you try to group yourself in with other non-standard sexual identities like gay or asexual or even kinky. That’s something you basically have to be willing to deal with if you want to proudly identify as demisexual.

As for the practicalities of dating someone who’s demisexual, here’s what I can tell you:

1. When we’re out and about together – walking down the street, getting drinks at a bar, whatever – I will occasionally see people that I find attractive. People who, if I were single, I might flirt with. People who seem cute and fuckable to me. By contrast, this never happens to my boyfriend. Literally never. If I point out some girl and say, “Wow, look at that foxy lady,” my man might acknowledge that said woman is pretty or is wearing a nice outfit, but he will express ambivalence on the topic of whether or not she is sexy or whether he would “do” her. I find this a bit vexing.

2. Recently I told my boyfriend that I sometimes wished our relationship was closer to “monogamish” than monogamous – that I would feel happier within our relationship if I were able to kiss and flirt with other people on occasion. While he was okay with this, and readily agreed to this “rule change” in our relationship, he could not fathom feeling how I felt. He could not identify with my need for the excitement of pursuing, and being pursued by, other people. I tried to explain it to him, but he couldn’t really get his head around it.

3. He is much more interested in emotionally-based sex than I am. I’m not sure if this is because he’s demisexual, or just because he’s a gentle, sensitive kind of guy (or maybe they’re related?), but it’s very noticeable. Sometimes I joke that, in some ways, he’s “the girl” in parts of our sexual union, because if he had it his way, I think we would always have slow sex in missionary position. I, on the other hand, would be happy to have hard, fast, doggie-style sex almost every time. We both enjoy having sex both ways (and other ways too), but it’s clear that we each have our favorite way, and they differ.

I believe strongly that the universe delivered me exactly the kind of lover that I was yearning for in the months before I met him. My previous boyfriend had exhibited signs of possibly being very bad at monogamy, and so I felt an acute desire to be with someone who had eyes only for me. So of course, I ended up with a demisexual – someone who can be hit on by a random hot person and have no interest in them whatsoever. I find it amazing how this worked out.

This is a huge topic, one I have a lot of interest in and haven’t yet formulated strong opinions on. So I have to ask you, readers: What’s your take on demisexuality? Do you think it’s a legitimate identity? Are you at all offended by it? Do you know any demisexuals? Tell me all about it!

10 Sexy Things I Appreciate About My Boyfriend

Kate Sloan

1. He uses toys on me, enthusiastically and often. He is also totally thrilled that I review sex toys now, because we have all these fun new things to play with all the time. Some of my best orgasms ever have occurred while he was licking my clit and thrusting a toy inside me (a particular favorite for this purpose is the Lelo Mona). Seriously, the man knows his way around a dildo.

2. I told him once, long ago, that before inserting a toy into me, he should lube it up, either with actual lube or just by sticking it in his mouth for a few seconds. Ever since then, he’s typically begun each toy-play session by basically giving it a blowjob in front of me. He’s completely straight, but he knows it delights me to see him do this – not only because it’s hot, but because it reminds me how happy I am to have a sex-positive and open-minded boyfriend – so he does it every time.

3. He’s uncut. Fuck yes. I don’t mean to be insulting to dudes with circumcised cocks, and it’s just a matter of personal preference, but damn, do I love me some foreskin. It’s easy to operate, and smooth, and fun to play with. A++, would jerk again.

4. He fucking loves cunnilingus. Like, probably as much as I do. We met on OkCupid and I made sure to mark the “do you enjoy giving oral sex?” question as “very important” for my matches; I do not regret this decision. Receiving impassioned oral from a dedicated lover is one of life’s greatest pleasures, methinks.

5. Not only does he love cunnilingus, but he understands its importance in the grander scheme of sex. He understands that I need to be well-lubricated and turned on for intercourse to feel good. He understands that I need warm-up if I’m going to be able to masturbate to orgasm while he’s inside me. And he understands that good, enthusiastic oral can make me feel more loved and appreciated than almost anything else I can think of.

6. He’s adventurous. We’ve attempted some kink, a bit of roleplaying, a few silly positions. We’ve experimented with weird toys, for me and for him. We’ve laughed at our fumbles and moved on to have progressively better and better sex as time has gone on. Sex is like a game – you have to keep moving, you have to try new strategies and tricks to achieve your goals.

7. He knows how to use his cock. When we first met, he hadn’t had much experience with straight-up intercourse, and was nervous about his abilities – but over the year we’ve been having sex, he’s learned. Oh boy, has he learned. He can hit my G-spot with stunning accuracy, and often at high speeds. He seems to know the exact angle and pressure I need from him to help me get off during PIV. It’s extremely impressive and I don’t commend him enough for it.

8. He communicates. I mean, he’s dating me, so of course he does – but he does it well, and without complaint. When we have a problem, sexual, romantic, or otherwise, we discuss it until a solution is found and the issue dissipates. We’re both good at asking for what we want, even in the middle of the action. We don’t have to use coy metaphors and embarrassed phrasings – we just say it, whatever it is. Communication is the cure for bad sex, which is why ours is so damn good.

9. He doesn’t see penetration as the be-all and end-all of sex. We frequently have “intimate times” that involve using only our hands and mouths on each other, and neither of us views that as a downgrade of any kind. When I want to be fucked, I know he can deliver, but I greatly appreciate the fact that he values hand and mouth sex as much as I do – as much as everyone should.

10. He’s really fucking handsome. His face, hair, hands, mouth, arms, ass, and cock are totally enticing. And he smells how I imagine George Clooney would smell after a day at the beach. Is there anything sexier than a smart man who smells good? I doubt it.

Progress Report: G-Spot Orgasms (Revisited)

Kate Sloan

The last time we spoke about G-spot orgasms, I had only just started to experiment. I’d given a stack of towels a permanent home on my bed, and I’d invested in some highly-praised G-spotting toys. But I’d barely ventured into the world that is G-spot pleasure.

I’ve been playing with my G-spot a lot more lately, so I thought I’d give you a little update on how it’s going.

I was reading Deborah Sundahl’s squirting bible and she mentioned that some women find it easier to incorporate a steadily-lessening amount of clitoral stimulation over time, as they learn to master their G-spots. This idea sounded much easier and more appealing to me than just dropping clit stim cold-turkey in favor of concentrating on my G-spot.

Today, I started with my Amethyst, a favorite but oft-forgotten dildo of mine. It’s glass, and fairly skinny, so it requires little to no lube and is great for warm-up. Plus, when inserted, it makes a freaking bee-line for my G-spot, immediately triggering that need-to-pee sensation.

Normally I need a little clit play to get me going, but the Amethyst felt good right away. I wish it were always this easy to get started. (Maybe it would be if I always started with the Amethyst!)

After a while, my pussy started to crave something bigger. The small, tapered end of the Amethyst just wasn’t cutting it anymore, so I pulled out the Pure Wand. The G-spotter to end all G-spotters. A pound and a half of glorious steel.

Like glass, steel barely needs any lube – I just stuck the Wand’s larger end in my mouth for a second and that was enough to get it to slide in. My G-spot was pretty swollen and aroused at this point, so again, it felt good right away. I thrusted and rocked and tilted and manoeuvred. Good god, the Pure Wand knows what it’s doing.

After about 15 minutes of that, I started to feel a little stuck – like my arousal wasn’t progressing anymore. So I grabbed my Eroscillator, kitted out with the fingertip attachment, turned it to the lowest setting and held it on my clit while continuing to thrust the Pure Wand. I increased the speed of my thrusting, and a few times, I felt the glimmer of an oncoming orgasm somewhere in the distance, but it didn’t happen.

I should tell you that the Eroscillator’s lowest speed is not normally one that gets me off. I always click up to the second and third speeds to finish the job. While using it in tandem with the Pure Wand, I occasionally felt a momentary desire to increase the power of the oscillations, but when that happened, I knew it was only because I was focusing on my clit too much. Ms. Sundahl says achieving G-spot orgasm is about shifting your awareness from your clit to your urethral sponge, so I knew that’s what I had to do.

I left the Eroscillator buzzing at a low speed on my clit, while thrusting very fast with the Pure Wand. I focused all my mental energy on the way the big steel ball felt as it slid over my G-spot again and again. I revelled in that sensation, that unusual pleasure that I don’t typically encounter without the help of toys. And before very long, I came.

It wasn’t a full-on G-spot orgasm – I felt some of it in my clit, and was hypersensitive afterward in a very clitoral sort of way. But I definitely feel that I now know how to shift my orgasms into a deeper part of my pussy, at least somewhat… and that feels like an important step.

Claustrophobic Closet Kisses

Kate Sloan

Over a year prior to my current boyfriend, there was another boy who I dated for a paltry three and a half weeks. Let’s call him R.

R was, like most of the people I’ve ever been attracted to, tall, skinny, and awkward. He made me laugh and smile with his earnest sweetness. He wore ridiculous running shoes with trailing laces and had a huge toothy grin which he flashed when he wasn’t sure what to say.

R was on the student council at my high school, so he had his own “office,” which was really just a repurposed storage closet. It was large enough to fit a desk, a chair, several posters, and his backpack. He basically used it as an oversized locker or a surrogate bedroom; it was always a mess.

Sometimes I would drop by when I knew he’d be there, during his spare period. I’d duck out of art class and creep down the hall to the door with his name on it, and knock, my stomach doing excited gymnastics.

A few of the times that I came to visit him, R and I got up to no good in his office. I’d sit on his desk, trying to be seductive, while he signed important administrative forms or drafted an essay… and eventually he’d notice me, put down his work, and start kissing me.

His desk was in the corner. I remember being pressed up against the wall, so I physically couldn’t move away from the kiss if I wanted to. R was an aggressive kisser, all sloppy-tongued and gropey-handed, which I tried unsuccessfully to convince myself I enjoyed.

I remember thinking, I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. My friends raved about kissing, how it was romantic and intimate and life-affirming, but I never felt that. There were no fireworks or orchestral swells. There was only a giant prodding tongue and nagging feelings of doubt and claustrophia.

Naturally, R and I broke up pretty quickly – we were not a good match. I barely missed him, but some effects of my time with him have lingered.

To this day, it still bothers me to be kissed when I’m trapped against a wall, or any other confining surface. My favorite kissing position is straddling my boyfriend while he’s sitting down, because that way, I feel in control, like I can retract consent at any time without making a huge deal of it.

Of course, it helps that my current boyfriend is an excellent kisser, knows that tongue should only ever be an accent, and doesn’t try to asphyxiate me with his mouth.

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Rub My Own Clit, Dammit!

Kate Sloan

I’ve understood, for as long as I can remember, that the clitoris is the main source of female sexual pleasure. There’s never been any doubt of this in my mind. I’ve been having clitoral orgasms since I was nine years old, and it’s only in the past few years that penetration has even been included in my masturbation at all. I completely understand, and have for a long time, that penetration, by itself, typically doesn’t do a whole lot for me.

However, despite all this, I still felt shitty and inadequate when I had heterosexual intercourse for the first time and got nothing out of it.

I think a lot of women probably react this way. Whether you’ve mastered your clit or never even heard of it, it can be a massive letdown to realize that this one sexual act, which our culture has placed on a giant pedestal, isn’t the ultimate bringer of pleasure. It sucks to think something’s going to blow your mind and then find it disappointing – not only because of that disappointment, but also because it makes you feel like there’s something wrong with you.

(Yes, I know there’s nothing wrong with me; I’m perfectly normal. I’m one of the 75% of women who can’t, as yet, orgasm from penetration alone. Didn’t stop me from feeling like a failure when I lost my hetero virginity.)

A few weeks after we first fucked, my boyfriend and I had a chat about our sexual goals. I had a bunch of random ones, comprising all kinds of stuff from butt plugs to back alleys, but my man had only one item on his sexual to-do list: he wanted me to reach orgasm while he was inside me. Not necessarily from his penis alone (he’s very clued-in and knows how unlikely that would be), but an orgasm nonetheless. And because he asked so sweetly, and wanted it so sincerely, I knew I had to figure out a way.

I did a bunch of research, came up with ideas, and made notes. I read about the Coital Alignment Technique and the anterior fornix. But eventually, I came to the conclusion that these fancy methods and positions were too complicated for us to tackle as beginners, and I would have to keep it simple. I would have to rub my own clit during sex.

The idea of that was intimidating. I didn’t want him to see my weird orgasmic faces up close, or to get annoyed at me for taking too long to come. But he seemed enthused about my suggestion, so we gave it a shot.

We determined that, because he takes far less time to reach orgasm than I do, we’d have to commit to lots of foreplay to get me super turned on, to help bridge that gap. He went down on me (my boyfriend is a self-professed “cunnilingus king”) until I could feel the stirrings of an orgasm building in my pelvis, and then, already hard and condom’ed, he slid into me.

I touched myself. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see him looking. I turned my head to the side so he couldn’t see my expressions. I focused really hard on the sensations in my clit, trying to ignore the distraction of his penis. And after several difficult but pleasurable minutes, I came. Hard.

Immediately, I burst out laughing and shouted, “We did it!” He laughed too, and held me for a few moments, both of us revelling, before continuing to fuck me.

Over the next few weeks, we practiced a lot more. It got to the point where his cock was no longer a distraction, but instead, an addition, an asset, a huge help.

To this day, this is still the method we use to ensure intercourse is satisfying for both of us, because we both find it fun and easy. It may not be as interesting as the C.A.T., but it works for us, and I don’t feel ashamed of it anymore.

I guess I wrote this for all those women who worry that it’s “weird” to touch themselves during sex – that it’s insulting to their partner, that it’ll look strange, that they shouldn’t have to add anything “extra” to sex. Because the thing is, our anatomy is built oddly, and many of us need that additional stimulation. If it feels tacked-on initially, give it time; it won’t be long before it starts to seem just as natural as a penis in a vagina.