Two-Year Blogiversary!

Kate Sloan

That’s right, Girly Juice is two years old today!

With that in mind, here are 10 things I’ve learned from the past two years of sex blogging:

1. “I have a sex toy blog” is a great conversation starter. Whether or not you can tell from reading what I write here, I’m pretty shy in real life. I tend to be that person who hangs out in the corner, smiling and nodding, until someone asks me a question. And if the question is “What do you do?” or “What are you up to?” then I always have a great (and sometimes show-stopping) response…

2. Sex toys do lose their appeal… eventually. Well, some of them. I’m no longer impressed by run-of-the-mill vibrators, standard dildos, or “innovative” gimmicks. A toy has to actually feel good and work well to get my attention – which means, unfortunately, that many things I receive these days just don’t thrill me. I often get asked if sex toys start to “get old” when you’ve tried dozens of them, and the answer is: the mediocre ones do.

3. Materials matter. I used to have a somewhat laissez-faire attitude about materials – I knew to avoid jelly at all costs, but I assumed everything else must be at least passably safe. Well, I was wrong. I’ve learned that porous toys can give me infections, and that phthalates can be present even in toys that claim to be phthalate-free. I grow less and less trusting of mega-sized toy companies by the day, because they seem to lie about their toys’ materials so damn often. My vagina is healthier and happier now that I stick to non-porous, legitimately phthalate-free toys.

4. Rumbly vibrations rule. When I first started reviewing toys, I was kind of unimpressed with vibrators, because the only ones I’d tried had been buzzy as fuck, always making me numb within minutes and leading to disappointing and difficult orgasms. The first super-rumbly vibe I discovered was the Wahl (thanks to Epiphora, whose recommendations are always stellar), and it changed my life. Suddenly, orgasms were easy. And not only that, but they actually felt better. Since then, I’ve discovered my favorite rumbly vibes, the We-Vibe Tango and Salsa, and I use them on a near-daily basis because they’re just that fantastic. This is the kind of success story I wish on anyone who pursues greater pleasure through sex toys.

5. Strap-ons aren’t just for lesbians or pegging… Men can use them on women too. I should probably write a whole post on this topic, and maybe I will. My boyfriend, ever the mature and sexually giving hero of my life, has happily strapped on various dildos over his flesh-and-blood dick to add some variety to our sex life from time to time. If I’m in the mood for something huge, something tiny, or something with a more intense texture than a natural penis can provide, I can get it. Of course, my boyfriend’s penis isn’t neglected – he just knows it’s not the only tool in his toolbox, and I think that’s wonderful!

6. Everyone wants to review sex toys, but most people don’t know (or don’t want to know) what it actually entails. As I discussed in my sex toy reviewer FAQ, playing with toys is actually a pretty minimal part of what goes into making a blog like this happen. I spend most of my work hours writing, editing, answering e-mails, managing ads, and generating endless links. I’m not saying it’s not fun (hell, I love writing!), but I think it’s pretty different from what most people are envisioning when they excitedly ask me, “How can I get into your line of work?!”

7. The sex-positive community has fewer creepers than you would think. While I complain about deceptive fetishists and other people of that ilk, 90% of those encounters have happened to me in non-sexual sectors of the internet. When I talk openly about sex in a way that’s smart and thoughtful, I find I tend to attract mostly people who want to talk about sex in similarly smart and thoughtful ways. It helps that the sex-positive community is all about consent and tends to shun people who lack respect and decency. There will always be those weirdos who silently favorite all the tweets where I mention masturbating, but those people are greatly outweighed by folks who are genuine, kind, and only sexualize me with my explicit consent.

8. My vagina is capable of more than I thought. Toward the beginning of my sex blogging career, a 1.5"-diameter bulb tripped me up. Nowadays, I can handle pretty big dildos if I warm up and lube up properly. I’m not quite a vaginal superhero, but I can do more than I thought I’d ever be able to do. (And hey, I’m going to a fisting workshop next week – that’s something to aspire to!)

9. It’s my blog; I make the rules. I went into this loosely modeling myself after sex bloggers I admired: people who wrote erotica, people who reviewed sex toys, or people who wrote clever how-to posts. Over time, I’ve grown to realize that I don’t have to stick to what’s already been done. I can write tirades about oppressive language, I can wax poetic about gender identity, I can give advice I wish someone had given me. There are no hard rules. When it’s your space, you can do what you want – and often, sticking to the truest part of yourself is what will attract more readers, reblogs, and retweets!

10. If you want something, take steps toward getting it. Sounds obvious, maybe, but 3+ years ago I never knew there was a way I could acquire sex toys that were out of my modest student price range and have a significant platform from which to speak my mind about sexuality. I also idolized people like Tristan Taormino, Epiphora, and Courtney Trouble, never anticipating that I would ever have Twitter exchanges with them or review stuff for them. If there’s someone you want to know, reach out to them. If there’s something you want to do, start – today. If you want to make something, get the materials together and begin. You never know what could happen!

Thanks for reading my blog, lovelies! What’s your favorite post from my past two years? What type of post would you like to see more of in the future here?

Review: Lelo Ida

Kate Sloan

I never knew a toy could make me scream in pain until I tried the Lelo Ida.

I didn’t see it coming, and neither did my boyfriend. So we were both pretty horrified, since pain wasn’t supposed to be on the agenda that night (and vaginal pain isn’t the kind I find hot, anyway).

The Ida is an overhaul of Lelo’s previous couples’ vibes, the Tiani and Noa, meant to be worn inside the vagina alongside the penis during PIV sex. Incase you didn’t know, Lelo got into a legal tussle with We-Vibe when the latter accused the former of stealing their unique toy design, and We-Vibe won, so Lelo had to scrap everything and start from scratch.

I assumed the Ida would be like a poor man’s We-Vibe, and it is, but it’s worse than that: it’s an assault on the genitals. It’s like trying to fit a square peg into my round hole.

I think my major problem with it is that the internal portion is SO BIG. No, it’s not big by dildo standards, but when you try to shove a penis in underneath it, it digs into the vaginal wall and feels appallingly out of place. It reminds me of those occasional awkward moments when my boyfriend’s penis jams my NuvaRing into an odd position and it hurts, except the Ida is so much worse than that, because it’s firm and it’s rotating.

Yep, the internal portion rotates. I thought this would be my favorite feature, because historically I enjoy internal rotation, but actually I can barely feel it. When my boyfriend’s penis is inside me, I can’t tell if the added girth is stopping the rotation entirely or if I just can’t feel the silicone arm’s slow stroking over the wave of pain I’m experiencing. Either way, it doesn’t do a damn thing for me.

The external part of the toy doesn’t cause me pain like the internal part, but it’s still a pretty massive failure. Traditional couples’ vibes have a slim external part, made to tuck neatly between the labia so it can access the clitoris easily and directly. The Ida, instead, has a large round disc, almost as big as my palm. Ain’t no way a disc is fitting in between my labia, so it just sits on the outside of my vulva, the vibrations ever-so-slightly reaching my clit but certainly not enough to induce an orgasm. I would imagine this problem would be even worse for people with thick outer labia.

I had an orgasm from the Ida once – once – and here is what I had to do to make it happen: I had to use it by itself (no penis, no dildo), I had to turn it up to the highest setting so my clit could perceive the vibrations, and when I got close to orgasm, I had to physically press the disc against my clit to give it enough sensation. When the ordeal was over, I felt so drained and disappointed that the orgasm hardly felt worth it. And that was the best session I’ve had with my Ida.

With my partner, no amount of lube and warm-up and patience can make the Ida pleasurable or even comfortable. It just feels like I’m getting stabbed in the vaginal wall. I scream into the pillow and push my boyfriend away. He gets upset and distressed that he has hurt me. And then we give up on the Ida and have sex normally, which still kind of hurts after the Ida’s onslaught on my vagina. This happens every time we use it. I have had enough.

Did I mention that you have to pay $200 for the luxury of getting poked in the vaginal wall with a piece of rotating silicone?

There are other details I could mention in this review – the Ida has a remote, it’s waterproof, it has two high-tech motion-sensitive settings, it’s made of smooth body-safe materials – but really, none of that matters, because I cannot recommend this toy to anyone. I refuse to.

If you want a comfortable couples’ vibe to wear during PIV sex, try the Noa – it’s the only one I’ve ever liked, and it’s half the price of the Ida. If you want to have more control of your experience, try holding a long-handled or small vibe against your clit during PIV: I recommend the Eroscillator, Mia 2, or Tango.

But please, don’t get the Ida. Or if you really want the Ida experience, try putting a sharp rock in your vag next time your partner’s about to penetrate you.

This toy was sent to me for review by Lelo. Dear Lelo: I still love you, even though I hate the Ida.

How to Fulfill Your Fetish Online Without Being an Asshole

Kate Sloan

I don’t have a fetish, so I don’t know what it’s like to have one. But I imagine that fetishists, especially those whose fetishes are unusual or taboo or both, often have a hard time finding materials or situations that get them off.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, so some fetishists begin to behave in ways that could be described as creepy or harassing toward other people, whether or not that was their original intention.

Your sexual desires are (with few exceptions) good and valid, but harassing people to satisfy those desires is never acceptable. This post will suggest some ways that fetishists can cut down on gross behaviors and potentially still get their needs met. (This is not to suggest, at all, that every single fetishist behaves inappropriately. I am targeting this post solely at those who do. I love the rest of you and encourage you to get down with your bad self!)

I have to emphasize that I’m writing this not as a fetishist, but as a person who has been harassed throughout my life by fetishists. I’ve had an online presence in various forms since I was a child, so there are a lot of (non-sexual) pictures of me online in various places – for example, I’ve documented my outfits in photos for years. And of course, as a sex blogger, a lot of people seem to think I’m open to sexual harassment on that front as well. I’m writing this as someone who has been personally hurt and victimized by many disrespectful fetishists and wants those behaviors to stop, both for my own sake and for the sake of others who I know have been targeted in this way.

Be honest and upfront.

I once received a private message on Flickr from a shoe fetishist. He gave a false name, falsely identified himself as a woman to seem less threatening, and explained that he owned a shoe recycling plant and would happily accept any donations of old shoes and boots I wanted to send along.

Having been lied to in similar ways before, I knew right away that this was a shoe fetishist. I called him out and he came clean, admitting he had lied to try to fulfill his fetish.

The thing is, I do have a lot of old and unwanted shoes and boots, and I’m not necessarily averse to the idea of sending them to a fetishist. But I’m certainly not going to cooperate with someone who has outright lied to me and tried to trick me. Someone who does that shit doesn’t deserve my shoes, or my accommodation, or my respect.

If you have a fetishistic request to make of someone, don’t try to trick them and don’t make up elaborate lies to get them to do what you want. Tell them honestly why you want it – i.e. that you have a fetish. Your honesty may scare off a higher percentage of people, yes, but you’ll be a better person, and those who (like me) are on high alert for deceptive fetishists will have more respect for you and may even indulge your request.

Don’t give me the dirty details without my consent.

I don’t want to know that you jerked off to my picture. I don’t want to see a picture of your spent dick to prove that you jerked off to my picture. I don’t want you to send me an unsolicited paragraph of “erotica” detailing how you jerked off to my picture.

If you really want to send me a dick pic or whatever, first send me a vague and friendly message asking if I’d be interested in receiving such a piece of media. If, and only if, I say yes, you may send that piece of media along.

Receiving an unsolicited penis photo (or whatever it may be) is sexual harassment, and it is gross, and you shouldn’t do it.

Humanize yourself.

Be friendly, and not just as a means to reach a sexual end. Show me why I should like you, and why you deserve my attention.

If your only identity in my mind is that of a creepy dude who stalks me online, or someone who silently favorites all the photos of me wearing tights on Flickr, or a guy who tweets winking emoticons at me every time I mention that I masturbated, I’m not going to like you. I’m not going to feel good about you being in my online social sphere. I may even block you.

On the flipside, if you strike me as a friendly, interested human being who just happens to find part of my life sexually exciting – in a respectful and always consensual way – then I’m more likely to respond to you, treat you like a person instead of a scary nebulous internet creep, and I may even send you a photo of me in tights from time to time. Who knows?

Know the limits of your fetish.

Real talk, folks: if your fetish involves non-consent (e.g. rape or secret voyeurism) or it involves sexual situations with those who cannot give consent (e.g. children or animals), you need to straight-up accept that there is no ethical/acceptable way for you to authentically experience that fetishistic act.

Find a trusted partner who is okay with roleplaying those scenarios. If not a long-term romantic partner, then perhaps a one-off fling you find on a fetish discussion board. Have fun roleplaying. Do not attempt to do this shit in real life. If you feel like you want to, you may need to pursue psychological treatment and help.

Read people’s profiles.

Does their profile say they’re under 18? You should probably leave them the fuck alone.

Does their profile say they’re in a monogamous relationship? They’re probably not going to want to send you naked pictures of themselves or engage in sex chats with you.

Does their profile say that they immediately block people who leave them sexualized comments? Maybe you shouldn’t fucking do that, then.

No means no.

I know you may be desperate to get your needs met, but continually going after a person who has already told you “no” is absolutely not the way to do it.

When I get seven messages from the same dude asking for pictures of me naked in knee-high boots, and I already said “no” to him the first time, his subsequent messages make me feel progressively more and more unsafe and victimized. I will block him, I will feel scared, and I will probably hesitate to post pictures of myself after that, for fear of attracting more people of that caliber.

If someone says no, leave them the fuck alone and go ask someone else (respectfully). Rinse and repeat.

Online harassment victims, how do you deal with people who send you inappropriate messages, photos, etc.? Fetishists, how do you use the internet to get your sexual needs met in a respectful and healthy way?

Breath and Energy Orgasms: Initial Attempt

Kate Sloan

A few weeks ago, I went to my local sex shop Come As You Are for a porn pyjama party (which is a story for another blog post, I guess!), and at the end of the night, they offered us a 10% discount on anything we wanted to buy from the store, as a way of thanking us for coming to the event and giving feedback on the porn they screened.

I perused the whole store before deciding I didn’t really need any more sex toys, but might want a book instead. Barbara Carrellas’ book Urban Tantra caught my eye because I’d previously read another book of hers. I bought it and have been reading one chapter each night before I go to bed.

Ms. Carrellas (long-term partner of trans icon Kate Bornstein, if you’re wondering) writes about sacred sex in a way that’s candid and easy to follow. She doesn’t bog down her readers with too many Sanskrit words or advanced yogic concepts, and she makes sure to explain in laymen’s terms any potentially unfamiliar ideas, like the seven chakras. Instead, she gives relatively concrete explanations of how to do things like breathe more deeply, raise your sexual energy levels, and even have what she calls a “breath and energy orgasm.”

I’m a skeptic about a lot of sacred sex stuff. I don’t know why. I’m a somewhat spiritual person, and obviously I love sex – but for some reason, I often find it difficult (physically and mentally) to combine those two ideas. Maybe it’s lingering anti-sex religious shame, or maybe just a lack of practice.

Last night, I got to the chapter in the book about breath and energy orgasms, one of the things that Barbara Carrellas is most known for. I read the whole chapter and then decided to give it a shot.

You should read the book for a more detailed explanation, but basically the technique involves “breathing into” certain chakras (energetic points on the body), starting at the lowest one (the perineum) and gradually working up the body until you get to the highest chakra (the top of the head). You’re supposed to do this while lying on your back, rocking your hips, and remaining constantly conscious of your breathing – kind of like an active meditation.

I’ll tell you right now that I didn’t have an orgasm, or anything resembling one. That doesn’t surprise me – it was my first attempt. But amazingly enough, I did get turned on – legitimately and tangibly so, with wetness and swelling and so on – and I did feel somewhat blissed out when I was done. It wasn’t like a post-orgasmic high; more like a post-yoga mellow. Except I was also sexually aroused.

This morning I woke up with a terrible headache. It feels almost like a hangover or some sinus tightness, except that it’s localized right on my sixth chakra (the “third eye” in between the eyebrows). In the book, Barbara mentions a few times that chakras can get blocked with “emotional gunk” and that this sometimes results in pain or discomfort localized to that spot, especially when you’ve been deliberately trying to move energy between chakras. I don’t know if that’s what happened to me, but that’s what it feels like. I guess my next step is to do some research on the sixth chakra and figure out what thoughts or feelings could be stopping it up.

I’m still having a lot of creeping skeptical thoughts about sacred sex, but I’m trying to keep an open mind. Part of being sex-positive, the way I understand it and live it, is being a perpetual explorer and student of all things sexual (all things that appeal to you, anyway).

What are your experiences with sacred sexuality? Have you ever had a breath and energy orgasm? Or any kind of metaphysical experience during sex or masturbation?

Porn Review: SPIT

Kate Sloan

Some friends of mine have started a feminist porn collective, and it is blowing my mind and titillating my genitals.

Spit calls itself “alternative porn for the aroused mind.” It’s photographic porn featuring performers who have never or rarely made porn before, so it feels authentically sexual – because it is.

Most of the photosets on the Spit website thus far were shot at play parties (i.e. sex parties) held with the explicit intent of generating porn imagery. Participants can have sex privately anywhere in the space, and if they want to get involved in the porn, they can sign up in advance, get partnered up with another performer based on mutual attraction, and fuck in a porn-specific room in front of photographers.

I have friends who have modeled for Spit, and I can confirm from their stories that they’ve been treated ethically and have had a great time doing their shoots. Ongoing consent is valued and is clearly communicated through the photos. That’s important to me in the porn I consume. My conscience needs to be at ease before my pussy can get in on the arousal party. If you’re that way too, you’ll dig Spit.

Straight sex, queer sex, hard-to-define sex. Some sex without kink, some kink without sex, and a whole lot of kinky sex. Cocks, twats, hands, toys. You’ll see all of this on the Spit website.

The photographer of each set is identified along with the performers, so if you find yourself digging a particular photog’s style, you can look at other sets they’ve shot. I find it especially fun to see different photographers’ takes on the same erotic event: while one artist might focus more on genitals, another might pay more attention to facial expressions. It’s so cool to see.

I’ve never been a huge fan of still-photo porn – it calls to mind stuff like SuicideGirls, which is beautiful to look at but (at least for me) not nearly as arousing as video – but some of Spit’s sets capture passion and movement wonderfully.

The folks behind Spit also mentioned to me that they will be moving into the realm of video in the future. I can’t wait.

I’m in an interesting position in that I know a lot of the people who are in these shoots. I’ve talked with them, I’ve sipped wine with them, I’ve cuddled with them – so it’s surreal and magical and cool to see them fucking each other in porn.

But I think, even if you’ve never met any of these people, there is a neat sense of “Huh, these people look like average, regular people.” They’re sexy as hell, in a “I could actually fuck a person like this” sort of way. I love that.

The website’s interface isn’t the best. Each photoset is laid out all on one page, so it’s not terribly friendly for people with slow internet connections. I’d prefer a system that allows for flipping through sets using arrow keys, or viewing a set of thumbnails and choosing just the pictures I want to see. Spit is still in its infancy, and I’m looking forward to seeing its functionality improve as it gets bigger.

Membership is $9.99 a month, which gets you unlimited access to the photos. (Spit also hosts some erotic stories, but the photos are really the main event. You can find sexy stories all over the internet, but these photoshoots are one-of-a-kind.)

If we’re betting on what’ll be the Next Big Thing in the feminist porn genre, my money’s on Spit.

Thank you, lovely Spit folks, for letting me look at your porn!