Monthly Faves: Hickeys, Hankies, Collars & Community

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Like last month, this was a tough one for me: my mood disorders were all over the place and I found it difficult to function a lot of the time. Luckily, sex stuff (especially certain types of kink) is helpful to me in that regard. Hooray for sexual healing!

 

Sex toys

• I’m never getting over the Double Trouble. It provides the most consistent and fulfilling A-spot stimulation of any toy I’ve ever used. (But, secret confession: it still doesn’t hit the spot quite as well as my partner’s fingers.)

• While I’m still annoyed with the controls scheme of the Shibari Mini Halo Wand, it nonetheless got a lot of love from me this month. Sometimes my clit craves rumbly vibrations in a shape smaller than the Hitachi but bigger than the Tango, and the Shibari Mini is ideal when that’s the mood I’m in.

SheVibe sent me a green and yellow Godemiche Adam and it’s gorgeous. The super-defined coronal ridge doesn’t always agree with my vagina (more detail to come in my review), but I’m pretty into the toy’s dimensions. Plus it looks badass in my harness.

 

Fantasy fodder

• So, this is a new thing for me: I’ve been having fantasies about being collared and owned. Often these aren’t even sexual fantasies; I just take comfort sometimes in imagining myself being a dom person’s good little pet, sitting at their feet and attending to their needs. (Now I just need an Aslan collar… and a dom-y person to put it on me…)

• Currently my favorite thing is getting fucked – with fingers, a toy, or a dick; the tool itself is inconsequential – while being held down. Early this month, I went on a first date with someone who (at my behest) pounded me with my Eleven while putting steady weight on my upper chest with one hand, and, oh my god. Give me that, always, please.

• My new beau has a thing for hickeys. I used to love these back in high school, because they were tangible proof that I was liked; just spotting a hickey on myself in the mirror was enough to put a big goofy grin on my face. Now I wonder if that affection for hickeys was also a sign of my burgeoning kinks, because there is something about feeling “marked” that is so sexy to me now. My boyf likes to leave a purple mark of ownership in the middle of my chest, and I wear it like a badge of honor.

 

Sexcetera

• I bought some blue and pink bondage rope and have been learning some rope basics. This is a fun skill that I hope to explore more!

• I’m in a Facebook group for local kinksters and it’s the best. It’s reminding me of the importance of community, and of being around like-minded people, even just in a digital space. Plus there are a lottttt of hotties on there; holy fuck. Can I smooch all the dom cuties’ faces?!

• March 27th was my 4-year blogiversary. I didn’t write a celebratory post like I did last year or the year before, but rest assured: I love you all very very much and I’m grateful every day to have this platform and this community. Four years ago, it was my dream to write about sex for people as nerdy and passionate about sexuality as I am, and that wish has come true many times over. Thanks, babes!

 

Femme stuff

• My boyf gave me one of his flannel button-down shirts to wear. It’s soft, and warm, and wonderfully too-big on me. I love wearing clothes and accessories that were given to me by people who care about me, especially at times of emotional distress, because it reminds me that I’m capable of being adored. I spent many a stressed-out day this month snuggled up in my beau’s cozy shirt, thrown over a nightgown or a T-shirt or nothing at all.

• I was told to wear gold for the Smut in the 6ix promo shoot, so of course I made a trip to American Apparel immediately. (It is the place to find over-the-top, porn-friendly clothes, don’tcha know.) I bought a ridiculous gold lamé halter bodysuit and it’s excellent.

• I recently acquired a light blue handkerchief and have been wearing it on my right wrist, as per the hanky code. Probably very, very few people I encounter even know what this means, but it gives me a private thrill nonetheless.

 

What were your faves this month, cuties?

Review: Fucking Sculptures Double Trouble

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Did someone break into the penthouse of my vagina and steal the blueprints? Because the Fucking Sculptures Double Trouble feels like it was designed just for me.

My vagina hungers for it. It can’t make up its mind which side is better. “Tonight I want the smaller side,” I’ll think, and insert that slightly slimmer end until it slides all up into my A-spot. That fuck-yeah feeling of deep pressure and rhythm seems like everything I could possibly want… until I remember that the toy’s other side exists.

I flip it around and push the big side into me, turning it sideways at first so it’ll fit. It finds my G-spot with alarming ease. It’s like a little fist, so round and firm, exerting pressure in places I didn’t even know I needed it. I rock it against my G-spot fast until I squirt, and still I want more. So I flip the toy back around. And again. And again.

This is how every session with my Double Trouble seems to go: a slow, jagged, delicious ascent toward orgasm, unable to decide what kind of stimulation the toy provides best. It’s the Renaissance man of my vagina. And it was appallingly expensive, but in the sticky heat of the moment, I don’t remember or care.

imageI first tried a Double Trouble at Bex‘s house. They were borrowing Caitlin‘s, which is the standard inky-black color that the DT usually comes in. While Bex and Penny chatted in the next room, I retreated to the air mattress Bex had set up for me in their office, pilfered some lube, and settled in with the Double Trouble. It felt luxurious and heavy and huge, and I didn’t think my vagina would like it as much as my eyes did, but I was wrong. I was also, admittedly, very drunk (I had been out cavorting with a friend earlier in the evening), which made me wonder if perhaps I was experiencing the toy with a rose-tinted vagina.

I immediately noticed that the A-spot stimulation I could get from the DT’s smaller end was excellent, and it made me come super hard in combination with my trusty Tango. But the larger end wouldn’t fit inside me at all, which I decided was a dealbreaker, especially given how expensive the toy is. It took a lot of willpower not to place a drunken order from the Fucking Sculptures website that very night, but those drawbacks were enough to keep me from hitting the “Add to Cart” button. (Well, let’s be real, I think I did hit “Add to Cart” but at least I didn’t hit “Check Out.”)

However, in subsequent months, I started to notice that all my favorite dildos du jour were massive and S-shaped. And I kept casting my mind back to that debauched night on Bex’s air mattress. On Twitter, I complained about not being able to afford the dildo of my dreams – and within 24 hours, I got booked for two cam shows with kindly horny men who wanted to fund my dildo habit in exchange for some saucy Skype time. The internet is magic, y’all.

imageMy lascivious benefactors only covered about half the cost of the toy, but that was enough to justify it for me – especially since Fucking Sculptures was having a sale at the time. I emailed Maria, co-owner of the company, to ask if she happened to have any Double Troubles left from the limited-edition, sky-blue “Dreamy Daze” batch that had been made back in May. As it turned out, she had exactly one left. And if you know me, you know that I love blue sex toys. So that sealed the deal. I ordered it on the spot.

Courtney Trouble has said that they designed the Double Trouble to be “a representation of a cunt from the inside out,” and that’s totally what it feels like to me. It fills the hungry void that my vagina sometimes becomes, and presses against the exact spots where I want pressure.

imageThe smaller end is the one I use the most – and I’m using the word “smaller” pretty loosely here, because it’s still big; it’s just more tapered and pointed, so it’s easy to insert even if I haven’t warmed myself up or used any lube. (My vagina is a professional, though, so your mileage may vary. Go forth and lubricate, my friends!) It has the mild curve and slightly narrowed tip that tends to work well for hitting my A-spot, and indeed, it does so fantastically. I just need to push down on the other end a little bit to get the angle right. I’ve even taught a few partners how to do this, and it seems to be a fairly easy toy to fuck someone with: despite how deep I like my Double Trouble inserted, I’ve yet to have a partner painfully bump my cervix with it, because the curve and taper are just right.

I like the bigger end too, but I have to be in the right mood for it. As I’ve mentioned here before, intense G-spot stimulation isn’t really my jam; sometimes I crave it but mostly I can take it or leave it. However, when that’s what I want, this end can totally deliver. It’s enormous and has no taper, so I have to turn it sideways to get it into me, but once it’s in, it’s comfortable (not like my so-intense-it’s-almost-painful Seaside Steamroller). The angle is not as drastic as something like the Seduction or Comet Wand, so the most adamant of G-spotting fans may not be pleased with it, but it works well for my body.

Fucking Sculptures makes their toys out of soda lime glass, which is heavier than the borosilicate often used for cheaper, mass-produced glass toys. As you might have noticed, the Double Trouble is gigantic, so it’s pretty heavy: about 1.75 lbs. I’m used to thrusting heavy toys (my beloved Eleven is 2.75 lbs) so this doesn’t bother me unless I’m using the toy for a long period of time and my muscles start to tire. But if you have any mobility or strength issues in your arms, wrists or hands, you will definitely hate the Double Trouble.

But me? I definitely love it. If my vagina and this dildo both had OkCupid accounts, their compatibility percentage would be 99%. And they would exchange flirty messages that quickly became explicit. And then they would go on a drinks-date, banter wittily for a few minutes, and retire to the Double Trouble‘s apartment for some raucous, sweaty sex.

 

You can buy the Double Trouble at SheVibe! And you should, ’cause it’s the fucking bomb!

The Anatomy of a Good Tinder Message

Ah, Tinder. Shallowest of shallow dating apps. Devourer of time, energy and brain cells. Cesspool of tiger-obsessed weirdos, hostile Felipes, and “Netflix and chill” jokes. So terrible, and yet so enslaving.

I’m currently in the throes of a full-blown Tinder fixation, which happens to me from time to time. The gameified rush of swiping left and swiping right turns me into a rabid date-seeker, desperately flipping through my available matches for anyone who seems not-awful. And even when the motivation to find partners is removed, I still find Tinder fascinating on a sociological level. Look how far we’ve come, us clever humans, that we can find companionship and sex just by flicking our fingers and staring at colorful images on a tiny screen.

But although I’m enthralled with Tinder, I still kind of hate it. And the thing I loathe most about it is that the people on it are boring. Or, rather, they’re generally not good at demonstrating how interesting they (probably) are.

Sending an initial Tinder message isn’t like walking up to a stranger at a bar. If we met in real life, the content of your greeting would be less important than its delivery, your attractiveness, and my mood. A simple “Hey, how are you?” at a bar could turn into a rollicking conversation if I found you cute, I was in a talkative state of mind, and we had good conversational chemistry after that opening line.

On Tinder, however, “Hey, how are you?” is boring. I get several messages like that every week. And though I could glance at your profile again when you message me, I might not. The content of your message is all I have to go on. So if it’s bad, I’m probably not gonna talk to you. Like, at all. Not even in weak pleasantries, the likes of which you might get if you “Hey, what’s up?”-ed me while I was grumpy-drunk at a bar.

Before I go any further, a caveat. This post might make it sound like I never initiate conversations on Tinder, or that I expect men to be the initiator in all cases. Neither of those things are true; however, that is how it’s gone down in most of my Tinder chats. Blame it on patriarchal gender roles or the Dickonomics of Tinder; men tend to drive the action on this app, and on most online dating services.

Since that is the case, I, as an active female user of Tinder, am by default an expert on what kinds of messages I do and don’t like to receive. Months of boring conversations and uninvigorated openers have sharpened my sense of this. Here are the three things I think you crucially must do when you send an initial Tinder message to someone you think is cute:

  1. Compliment them. Choose something specific about them that you genuinely like, and tell them that you like it. Assuming you’re looking for something more than a hook-up, it’d be smart to compliment something non-physical, like a personality trait that comes across in their bio or a hobby shown in one of their photos. If you can’t think of anything to compliment them on, well, why did you swipe right on them, then? Surely there was something about their pictures or description that appealed to you.
  2. Prove you’ve read their profile. Reference something from their bio or photos. If your message is so generic that you could copy-and-paste it to many different matches, you’re not trying hard enough.
  3. Ask a question or two. If you don’t, they’ll have nothing to respond to! Try to avoid boring, commonplace questions like “How’s your week going?” or “What are you up to tonight?” You can ask those later, once you’ve got the conversational ball rolling. To start, ask them a question they’ll be excited to answer – maybe something about one of their passions or interests.

Those are the three basic building blocks of a solid Tinder initiation. Bonus points if your message is also funny, properly spell-checked, and hints at an activity or interest that might make for a good first date if the conversation goes well.

To illustrate how and why a first message’s construction is important, I’ve pulled a few examples from my own Tinder inbox. They’re not pretty, but hopefully you’ll learn something from them.

imageThis dude had clearly read my profile, but maybe only the first sentence of it. I understand that it’s exciting to encounter a sex blogger if you’ve never met one before, but when guys take this tactic with me, it makes me feel objectified and reduced to this one small detail about who I am. And while he did ask a question, it’s a bad question: it only warrants a quick yes or no, and the answer is already in my profile. When you ask someone a question with the intent of starting a conversation, it should require more than a few words in response, and it should be a question you don’t already know the answer to. Finally, he complimented me, but it’s a generic compliment without much substance. I already know he finds me attractive, because he swiped right on me; now I want to know what else he finds interesting about me. And if the answer is “nothing,” then we’re probably not a good fit.

imageSome guys try to initiate convos in gimmicky ways like this, and it just doesn’t work. It makes me feel like you’re a con man and I’m the mark. It’s also an insult to my intelligence: this dude and I both know he isn’t really messaging me to get my help remembering the name of a movie he once saw, so why pretend that’s what’s going on? Online dating can feel so contrived anyway; it’s best to be genuine. Tell me about yourself and ask me about myself, instead of constructing this strange excuse to talk to me.

imageThis is an example of the kind of message that would go over better if it was spoken out loud at a bar or a party, but doesn’t work well in a medium like Tinder. More than half the messages I get are some variant of “Hi,” “Hello,” “What’s up?” and so on. These messages are boring, require the bare minimum of effort to send, and show zero indication of why the person finds me interesting. I’m only motivated to answer this kind of message if the person’s profile is very intriguing to me, which is rare.

imageI get the sense that this guy was probably just looking for a hook-up. If that was his goal, then his approach was a good one: he complimented me on my physical attractiveness, and later asked me straight-up if I wanted to “have some fun” (i.e. hook up). I didn’t answer because I was looking for something more relationshippy. Keep in mind that your messages can and should establish some sense of what you’re hoping to get out of the interaction. I find physical compliments unsatisfying on Tinder because, duh, I already know you’re attracted to my photos; now I want to know why you might be attracted to my brain. But if sex is all you’re after, a physically-based compliment could be a good way to subtly communicate that.

imageThis message is a question, and an interesting one, so it’s got that going for it. But I didn’t reply because the message contained no indication of why I should find this guy interesting. I’m not on Tinder to educate people or to have philosophical discussions; I’m on there to meet people for dates and/or a relationship. So, while it’s great that this guy wants to learn about the poly lifestyle, I’m gonna need a little more than “I don’t understand this thing; please explain it to me!” to get me interested in talking to someone.

imageThis message could have been copied-and-pasted to literally anyone, if he replaced my name with someone else’s. It’s fantastic to get a message from someone who shares my interests, but if that’s the case, I’d love to know what those interests are! All I could really reply to this is something like, “Oh yeah? Like what?” and that’s not the kind of message I’d be bursting to send. Be interesting and specific. Craft your message so I’m excited to answer it.

imageThis is a cool opener. It’s simple, but I like it. Asking someone about their passion is an easy, accessible way to capture their attention and get them talking. This guy could’ve improved his message, however, by relating the question back to himself so I’d be interested in answering him rather than just answering the question. For example, he could’ve mentioned a favorite journalist of his and asked if I’d heard of them, or he could’ve told me what led him down the road to his passion. Providing more information for the person to respond to is always better than not providing enough!

imageThis is the first message I received from the guy who is now my boyfriend (!!). It caught my attention because it’s straightforward and instantly proved he’d read my profile: he’s referencing my bio where I mention that I like old movies, celebrity impressions and Scrabble. He’s given me some information I can respond to (“Why The Wizard of Oz?” “What are your favorite board games?”) and pointed out some commonalities between us that might make me want to talk to him. He potentially could’ve improved this opener by complimenting me, but pointing out shared interests is a type of compliment – it means, “Hey, that thing that you like? I like it too, because it’s a good thing!”

What are the best first Tinder messages you’ve ever received (or sent)? Do you find that some approaches lead to actual conversations more often than others? I want to hear about your Tinder experiences in the comments section!

Review: Shibari Mini Halo Wand

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I wanted to like the Shibari Mini Halo Wand. And there is so much that I do like about it. But it has a fatal flaw that I just can’t get past, no matter how much I try to convince myself it doesn’t matter.

So let’s get the Mini Halo’s hamartia out of the way right off the top. When you turn it on, it starts at the strongest vibration speed. If you want to get to the lowest speed instead, you have to hit the “change speed” button eight times.

Please take a moment to visualize yourself trying to press a vibrator’s button exactly eight times in the middle of a masturbation session – no more, no less. And then imagine yourself needing to do that multiple times during any given session. And then imagine yourself throwing the vibrator across the room in a fit of rage. Congratulations, you have just experienced a fraction of the aggravation I endured while trying to test the Shibari Mini Halo Wand.

See, when I use vibrators, I always begin at the lowest speed. My clit is sensitive so I need to start gentle and ramp up from there. If I start at a moderate or high power level, not only will it feel painful and uncomfortable, but it’ll also get me real numb real fast. And that significantly lowers my likelihood of reaching orgasm. So the lowest speed is the way to go, at least at first.

If you read that last paragraph and thought, “That’s not just you, GJ – that’s how most people use vibrators,” well, yes, I think you’re probably right. Which is why it’s so annoying that Shibari chose to design their wand this way. I could understand having the wand remember the speed you used last time and starting there, like the Doxy Wand does; I could even understand having the wand start at the top speed if there was also a “go to the lowest speed” button, to make that process instantaneous. But there isn’t. You gotta hit that middle button eight fucking times to get it to speed number one.

If it seems like I’m harping on this a lot, that’s because I am. And also because it irritates the fuck out of me. This wand could have been so great if not for this one issue.

The Mini Halo is a wonderful size for a wand vibrator. It fits in my hand comfortably, and is large enough to feel impactful but small enough to fit into a purse. The head is shaped such that you can get broad or narrower stimulation depending on how you angle it. The vibe feels solidly constructed, but retails for just $59, less than lots of “fancier” wands on the market.

The vibrations are excellent. They are deep, rumbly and penetrating. The intervals between each of the eight speeds are small, so the cranking-up process feels smooth and gradual rather than jumpy or jarring. The toy is rechargeable and holds its charge for a long time – I’ve had mine for over three months and have only needed to charge it once in that period. Although, admittedly, I probably only used it 7 or 8 times before deciding the deep, strong orgasms it delivers aren’t worth the hassle of dealing with its tragic flaw.

If you want a rechargeable wand vibe, get the Magic Wand, Iconic Wand or PalmPower. If you just want a strong, rumbly, awesome vibrator, get the We-Vibe Tango, Lelo Siri 2 or (again) Magic Wand. If you think you can forgive the Shibari Mini Halo for its major defect, then go for it, because it’s otherwise a top-notch toy – but as for me, I am far too lazy and uncoordinated to press a button exactly eight times after each and every instance of turning my vibrator on.

 

Thanks to Peepshow Toys for sending me this vibe to review!

My Clit is a Diva and I’m Sorry-Not-Sorry

“Higher.”

He moves his fingers a centimeter higher on my clit, and keeps rubbing.

“No, higher,” I say again.

He looks at me quizzically. I grab his hand and move it where I want it. Ah, yes. That’s better.

A couple minutes later, his hand slides down to my opening and he pushes two thick fingers inside me, finding my G-spot and then my A-spot with ease. And that’s nice. Fuck, he’s good at that.

When he comes back up to my clit, though, he forgets everything he’s learned. Goes straight for the exposed bud in the middle of my folds. I wince.

Higher.

Without even looking at his face, I can feel his confusion in the slow way he drags his fingers upward an inch or two. Maybe this is the time when he’ll remember, when he’ll get it. I love that moment.

Later, after drinks and dinner and sly sex chats in a noisy pub, we walk back to his place together. Boots crunching in the snow, arms bumping against each other casually as we walk. “I think I’m starting to figure you out,” he says. “It seems like you like the shaft of your clit to be stimulated, not the clit itself.”

I brighten. “Yeah! Exactly.” And I want to hold his hand, but both of our hands are stuffed in our coat pockets to hide from the cold.

“In my experience, you’re definitely an outlier,” he tells me, “but it’s nothing I can’t work with.”

Later that night, he gets it just right, and I don’t even have to move his hand.

This is a process I’m used to. Because my clit, like me, is a finicky princess. It likes to be stimulated downward through the clitoral hood, or sideways through the inner lips. When I use vibrators, I usually hold them over my clit hood, or on one of my outer labia. My pussy can handle a lot, but one thing it cannot handle – one thing it actually hates – is direct clitoral stimulation.

I was inspired to write about this after reading JoEllen’s post about the Womanizer, a clitoral stimulator I tried and admittedly liked. In her review, she writes about her hatred for direct clitoral stimulation, and her distaste for the common sexual discourse which says, “Touch a woman’s clit and she’ll definitely come!” It got me thinking about how sexual outliers are often shamed, even within the sex-positive communities which claim to unjudgmentally accept all preferences and tastes.

As a sex toy reviewer and a routine user of vibrators, I’m often accused of having “desensitized” myself. When I explain to laypeople or even “sexperts” that I have trouble coming from the touch of a partner’s tongue, fingers, or dick, sometimes I’m told I should lay off the vibes for a bit and see if my sensitivity returns.

Granted, I am more sensitive when I take a vibrator sabbatical. And I make a habit of avoiding vibration and orgasms for 2-3 days before a scheduled encounter, so I’ll feel everything my partner does to me and reach orgasm more easily. But it’s not vibrators that made me this way. I think my body’s just naturally a tougher nut to crack.

You know how I know that? It’s because my orgasm difficulties aren’t related to a lack of sensitivity, they’re often caused by an excess of sensitivity. When a partner’s tongue grazes my exposed clit, it hurts and I get wrenched out of the moment. When a vibrator slides too low on my clit hood and makes direct contact with that bundle of nerves, I feel overloaded and have to crank down the power. When someone’s fingering me and goes straight for my clit, instead of spending time turning me on by touching the rest of my vulva first, I get overstimulated and that makes me feel numb. It’s like my clit panics and hides under a blanket, if by “hides under a blanket” I mean “gets desensitized by the onslaught of sensation.”

It’s been nearly two years since I’ve had an orgasm from oral sex. This is big news, considering how obsessed with cunnilingus I used to be. But, yes: the last person to get me off orally was my ex, with whom I ended things in late 2014. I’ve slept with several more people since then but none of them have made me come with their mouth.

I think that’s partly owing to how my body has changed: I tend to need more intense stimulation now than I used to, for a longer period of time, to reach orgasm – and tongues get tired sometimes. I also rarely come without some form of penetration these days, which – let’s be real – is a difficult thing to incorporate into cunnilingus and often isn’t done very well when people try, at least in my experience.

But the other reason, and maybe the main reason, I haven’t come from oral in ages is that I haven’t had a partner stick around long enough to learn how I like it. Most of my sexual flings in the past two years have been short-term or one-offs, always with people who had other partners at the time and therefore couldn’t be expected to keep my Very Specific preferences programmed into their muscle memory. My ex had time to learn my rhythms, signals, noises, and most importantly, how to lick my clit without causing me actual pain.

My clit needs to be romanced, seduced, won over. It needs you to play hard-to-get, while knowing the whole time that you’ll eventually give it what it wants. I want you to ignore my clit for a long, long time, while you kiss my mouth and neck, suck and lick my nipples, smack my ass and thighs, bite my mons and fleshy hips. I want you to shower my labia and vaginal opening with attention, because most people don’t. I want to be at the point of begging you and punching the bed and moaning in despair for at least five whole minutes before you even hint at going near my clit.

The reason for this rigamarole, you see, is that it amps up my sensitivity while also increasing what I can handle. If I’m halfway to coming by the time you make clit contact, I will almost certainly come at some point. What guarantees me not coming is if you jump straight to my clit and short-circuit the whole system. Be careful. Approach with caution. Don’t cannonball into the pool; just trail a few fingers in the shallow end and see what happens.

My ex understood this. He also understood how to use his lips and tongue around the periphery of my clit instead of stroking it directly. He knew when to wander away from my clit for a while, to lick my opening or nibble my labia, so the main attraction could take a breather and gain back that original fervor to be touched. And when the time came to buckle down and do identical tongue-circles for a couple minutes to actually get me off, he knew how to do that too.

Once, he asked me, “Is there ever a situation in which you want me to lick your clit directly?” My first instinct was to shout “NO! NEVER!” but when I thought about it some more, I reconsidered. “You can try it, as long as you’re very gentle,” I told him. After that, he would occasionally – as sparse punctuation in a widely varied cunnilingus session – pull my clit hood back and press the lightest, softest, slowest of licks to my exposed clit. It felt almost like an act of kink: I was giving him the power to do something potentially painful, and he was doing it without hurting me. I trusted him, handed over a particular power I rarely trust partners with, and he used that power for good. It was kind of magical.

Going down on someone with a picky clit is a complicated business, man. It requires showmanship paired with tenacity. Decorum married to determination. A sense of flair, and some elbow grease. But yeesh, those orgasms were worth it.

In fact, since my ex, I haven’t had any orgasms with partners that didn’t involve me assisting in some way: holding a vibe to my clit, or rubbing it with my fingers. Because, as I said, none of them were in my life long enough to learn what I like, remember it, and get good at it.

But I live in hope that I will have another partner who’ll put in the time, effort, and brainpower to figure me out. Who’ll get to know my clit’s weird ways, the same way he gets to know mine. Who’ll learn me like a video game, patiently, and never get annoyed that there’s no cheat codes.

Because, dammit, my clit’s an outlier, but it still deserves pleasure.