12 Days of Girly Juice

12 Days of Girly Juice 2016: 10 Perfect Sex Songs

Kate Sloan

I’m a music nerd and a sex nerd, so of course, one of the things I get nerdy about is sex music. I have an ever-expanding playlist of sexy tunes, the perfect soundtrack for sheddin’ yer clothes and bangin’ yer babe. Here are my 2016 favorites, hand-picked to facilitate your melodious fucktimes…

Yuna feat. Usher – Crush. At one point this year, a friend gave me some verrrrry potent weed while I was at his house, and I started to “green out.” I was dizzy, paranoid, and nauseous. To calm me down, my friend showed me the video for this song, which he’d only just discovered. It’s such a groovy, juicy slow-jam that it did indeed calm my nerves and lull me into relaxation. I thought I’d like it less if I re-listened while sober, but nope: still a solid sex song.

Campsite Dream – Kiss Me. This dancefloor-appropriate cover of the Sixpence None the Richer classic is sweet, simple, and pretty. I like a raunchy, X-rated jam as much as the next gal, but there is something uniquely appealing about songs that are subtler in their flirtation. Who doesn’t have a fond memory of a kiss that was utterly chaste and yet meant absolutely everything?

Chet Baker – My Funny Valentine. An oldie but a reeeeal goodie, which only just made its way into my sex-song rotation this past year. Chet’s voice is like a droplet of hazelnut coffee dripping languorously down a swatch of dark velvet. There are other renditions of this song I like better (Rickie Lee Jones’ comes to mind), but for pure carnal appeal, this one wins out.

Nick Jonas – Don’t Make Me Choose. Nick’s Last Year Was Complicated was indubitably one of my favorite albums of 2016. It’s chock full of sexiness (“How did our clothes end up all on the floor? Didn’t we just break each other’s hearts?”) but I think this is the smoothest song of the bunch. Nick’s effortless, slightly whiny falsetto is delicious.

Naive Thieves – Anxieté. Another of my most-adored albums this year was Naive Thieves’ Vamonos, which came out in 2014 but took me til 2016 to discover. The lead singer of this band has a voice like molasses; I find it hot any time, but especially when I’m high (a lot of music makes me wet when I’m high, actually). The whole record is full of yummy, jumpy pop, but Anxieté is the song I most want to fuck to. It’s flustered, frantic, and tense – like a memorable quickie in a bar bathroom on an ill-advised Friday night.

Bahamas – All the Time. “I’ve got all the time in the world,” this song begins, and that sentiment is echoed in the music itself: it’s slow, languorous, rhythmically sidling toward its lazy goal. It feels like a Sunday-morning fuck, when the sun arcs in through an open window and makes your darling’s face even more radiant than usual. It feels like being awoken by a boner pressed up against your ass. It feels like your sweetheart bringing you a perfect cup of coffee after they make you come spectacularly, and then snuggling up against you and saying, “Mmm.”

The Neighbourhood – Daddy Issues. Look, if you want your song to get my attention, put “daddy” in the title. But this song delivers, even once you move past the name. “Go ahead and cry, little girl. Nobody does it like you do,” the singer purrs. “And if you were my little girl, I’d do whatever I could do.” This is the most sexualized version of a daddy/girl dynamic I’ve ever heard in a song, and dammit, it’s lovely.

A Yawn Worth Yelling – Empty Space. This band’s EP Start Somewhere became a mental mantra for me in early 2016, something to listen to on loop when I was anxious or sad and needed to calm down. It’s angry and whiny, in typical pop-punk fashion, but the lyrics are smart and the melodies are clever. There was comfort in thrashing the same songs over and over until I knew them inside and out. I want to get fucked to Empty Space while someone cute kisses my neck and grips my wrists.

Johnny Stimson – So Good. This song is sexy in the way that Marvin Gaye’s songs were, with a splash of early Justin Timberlake for good measure. It feels like an unexpected kiss from your lover in the middle of the street during a leisurely autumn stroll. They back you up against a fence and step right into your space, and for a moment you’re embarrassed, but then you’re too turned on to care.

Alina Baraz feat. Galimatias – Pretty Thoughts. An Alina Baraz song made it onto last year’s list, too; she’s a returning champion. What can I say: her music is dangerous. Play this song in front of someone you find attractive, who finds you attractive too, and just try not to have sex. I dare you.

 

What were your favorite sex songs this year, darlings?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2016: 11 Favorite Blog Posts

Kate Sloan

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2016 was a big year for this here blog: my traffic doubled, my website now brings in more than one-third of my income, and I published my 500th post earlier this week! Of course, none of this would’ve been possible without people to read my writing, so: thank you. Thank you for sticking with me, thank you for “getting” what I do, thank you for supporting me financially and tweeting at me and leaving me sweet comments. Every day that I get to write for you is a good day!

On that note: here are my 11 favorite blog posts I wrote this year. I’d love to hear which posts were your faves, too!

In January, I wrote No Moment Is Unendurable and Other Life Lessons I Learned From Getting Spanked. It was perhaps the first time I seriously delved into the intersections between kink and mental health, which was a major theme of my work this year. The article is about how getting spanked, in an almost Zen-like way, taught me that pain is not inherently bad, and that enduring it is not only possible but makes me feel like a badass. That’s a lesson I’ve taken with me into all sorts of scary or painful situations: new jobs, new projects, break-ups, rejections, and plain ol’ bad depression days. This is the kind of shit I mean when I say that sex is holistic and informs many different aspects of our lives!

In February I had what I can only refer to as a “blowjob epiphany”: I started liking BJs after feeling lukewarm-at-best about them until then. I wrote about it in a piece called A Dick Worth Sucking, in which I outlined the qualities that do, indeed, make a dick worth sucking. Shortly after writing this post, I was invited to perform in a sexy story slam at Oasis Aqualounge, and I read this piece aloud – to lots of laughs and jeers of approval from the audience, natch.

Later that month, I lost my “butt virginity,” and wrote about the experience in a post titled How to Have Anal Sex for the First Time (If You Are Me). Initially I wasn’t sure if writing it in the second person would work, but I loved the idea of it: I wanted it to induce the same giddy nervousness in the reader that I felt when it was actually happening to me. Sometimes I get cringe-y when I try to write straight-up sex stories from my life, because it’s vulnerable and difficult work, but I think in this case the result was worth all that cringing.

In May, I wrote about one of the highlights of my year, in a post called I Met My Sex-Positive Hero (And We Kissed). It chronicled the backstory of why I desperately wanted to meet Kidder Kaper – my childhood obsession with his podcast, the sex-positive revelations he wrought on my life – and then the eventful drama of actually meeting him: fervent Google searches, friends-of-friends connecting us, and a jitter-jumpy walk to that Minneapolis café. It was quite an adventure, and I’m glad I wrote about it while it was fresh in my mind!

Mid-year, I received a diagnosis of bipolar affective disorder (type II), and wrote about it in a post called I’m an Obsessive, Intense Weirdo and I Wouldn’t Trade It For Anything. It felt good to “come out” about a part of me I’d tried to keep hidden for so long: my utter and complete lack of “chill.” Getting that diagnosis helped me understand myself and my moods and behaviors a lot better, so I felt it was important to share with my readers as well.

In June I was sent a pair of butt plug shoes from Ainsley-T, and I wrote about it in a post called I Stuck a Shoe In My Ass So You Don’t Have To (Unless You Really, Really Want To). In some ways, it felt like a return to my roots: when I first started my blog, I was heavily inspired by Epiphora and her snarky sex toy reviews, and I longed to write reviews as hilarious and dramatic as hers. This post was an opportunity to write a “review” that felt more like a funny anecdote shared over drinks with friends, a style that turns my crank more now than writing straight-up-and-down product reviews.

Maybe my favorite post of the year was I’m a Good Girl, a series of vignettes about formative moments in my relationship with the phrase “good girl.” This was a prescient piece, given that I got that phrase tattooed on me mere months later. A lot of people wrote to me to say that this piece resonated with them or even made them cry, and that response gave me the confidence to write more personal pieces along those lines later in the year.

Reprising the topic of kink and mental health, in July I wrote Meditation, Mindfulness, and My Slutty Mouth, a piece about how blowjobs can be a meditative and calming act for me when anxiety and depression are kicking my ass. I’d never really heard anyone talk about this before, so I felt it was important to write – and, indeed, a lot of people wrote to me to say that they’d experienced similar “flow states” from performing oral sex and had never had the terminology for it before. Isn’t sex fascinating?!

One of my most-shared posts of the year was 5 Awkward But Effective Ways I’ve Initiated Sex. I think it resonated with folks because everyone wants to be a smooth operator but most people just aren’t that confident in their desirability and their “game.” I’m always trying to model an approach to sex that is fun, low-pressure, and adorably dorky, since I think most of our media models of sexuality are unachievably smooth and polished. It’s okay to be an awkward bunny in bed!

In late August, I received a firm-‘n’-final rejection from someone I’d had a crush on forever. I spent a week in bed crying and then I wrote The Quick-Start Guide to Getting Over Someone. Like I say in the post, it’s not an authoritative or exhaustive list of instructions; it’s just the strategies that have worked for me. And indeed, they did work. I’m still squeegeeing emotional detritus off the dirty windshield that is my heart, but at least it’s no longer agonizing. At least now I can look at him without wanting to cry. At least now I can get out of bed. That’s small, but it’s also big, you know?

My most popular post of the whole year was “Every Feminist’s Ideal Boyfriend…” It began as a response to an angry blog post about me which claimed that feminist women are more into Hitachi Magic Wands than men. I sought to prove that the two are not mutually exclusive, by sharing stories of times I’ve used vibrators with partners to spectacular effect. This piece got shared so widely that I even received some hate mail about it, which is how you know you’re doing evocative work!

What were your favorite pieces on my blog this year? How about your favorite posts on other blogs?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2016: 12 Femme Essentials

Kate Sloan

It’s December, and that means 12 Days of Girly Juice kicks off today! It’s my annual year-end series where I compile the best of the best from my whole year: everything from selfies to tweets to sexual encounters. Today we’re focusing on femme stuff – my favorite things that made me feel feminine, fancy and fiiine the whole year long.

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Hair

Bobby pins. There are some tragically unsung heroes of the beauty world – a really great hairbrush, a black eyeliner that is truly black, an eyeshadow blending brush that just works – and bobby pins are one of them. This year I used them for three primary purposes: to set my hair in pincurls (after creating the curls with a turquoise NuMe curling iron), to erect the front part of my hair in a triumphant pomp, and to pin bandanas into place so I could rock those rockabilly vibes all day long. I always carry bobby pins in my purse – they’re equally great if you need to pick a lock, scrub ash out of your bong’s bowl (#StonerLyfe!), or pin your bangs out of your face for an impromptu BJ. Soooo useful!

DevaCurl Ultra Defining Gel. This is the good shit. I have so much hair-admiration for my curly-headed sex blogger friends – Epiphora, Suz, and Hedonish, to name a few – but my own curls have always been hit-or-miss, because taking care of curly hair is so much work. However, this year I found a routine that works for me and creates excellent curls when that’s what I want to do. After washing and conditioning my hair, I use a cotton T-shirt to “scrunch” the excess moisture out of it, and then I flip my head over and scrunch in a few dollops of DevaCurl gel. Once that’s done, I cram my gestating curls into a Turbie Twist to help them dry even more. After at least an hour of turban’ed time, my hair’s ready to be taken out and air-dried – at which point, it becomes gloriously curly. DevaCurl’s products are brilliant, and the Ultra Defining Gel, in particular, rocks my world. I can go multiple days without needing to re-set my curls because this stuff keeps ’em in place for so long. YESSS!

Bandanas. I have always loved the rockabilly look – I gorged my eyes on SuicideGirls and old Bettie Page photos from practically the moment I discovered the internet – and I’ve attempted to replicate it to varying degrees of success over the years. In mid-2016 I briefly dated someone who loved that look, so I’d sometimes dress up as his good little Rosie the Riveting, complete with bandana, winged eyeliner, and red lipstick. I adore that aesthetic so much that it endured in my life even after that relationship ended. I especially love the delicious subversion of “queering” this classic 1950s look by choosing my bandana colors according to the hanky code.

img_5218Cosmetics

LORAC Pro palette. I am an extravagant femme, and therefore, I own an excess of eyeshadow palettes. There are many I love for their outlandishness or uniqueness – the Sugarpill Sweetheart palette, for example, or the Wet ‘n’ Wild Petal Pusher palette – but LORAC Pro is my favorite and most-used one, by a longshot. With its eight glitter shadows and eight mattes, all brilliantly pigmented and wonderfully blendable, it’s simply the most versatile bunch of neutrals I’ve ever owned. Whether I’m doing an everyday look or going all-out glamour-femme, I’m likely to reach for my LORAC Pro palette.

img_5216“Sleepy Sloan.” This is the name Tynan gave to the essential oil blend she custom-made for me, even though its effects don’t have anything to do with sleep; it’s just a cute name. I still adore this fragrance as much as I did when she first blended it for me. There’s a drop of it on the collar of my shirt or dress most days I go out, because it comforts and uplifts me.

Revlon lipstick in “Fire & Ice.” I didn’t think much of this lipstick when I first bought it. It’s a classic red that leans slightly orange, which has traditionally not been my jam; I’m more of a blue-based-reds girl. But this color has really grown on me: it’s punchy, saucy, and assertive, just like me on my best and boldest days. Slicking my lips in Fire & Ice gives me an easy confidence, a high-femme swagger. A tube costs about $8 at any drugstore, an admirable value for such a potent mood-booster.

img_5220Bourjois Rouge Edition liquid lipstick in “Pink Pong.” My other lipstick favorite in 2016 was, naturally, a bright pink. As a diehard devotee of pink lipsticks, I have lots of favorites – Bite’s “Violet,” NARS’ “Schiap,” and Revlon’s “Smitten,” to name a few – but this cool-toned, velvety pink really stole my heart this year. It’s not as long-lasting as some other liquid lipsticks I’ve tried, but it’s not as drying, either. If you’re looking for a hot pink that’ll light up your face and make your femme heart sing, this is one I’d recommend.

Clothes & Accessories

Aslan Leather collars. I have two: a pink one Bex bought me for my birthday and a black one I bought myself. I love them both. They’re comfy, good-lookin’, and they signal a bit o’ kink without being too over-the-top to wear in public. Oh, Aslan, why are you so good to us?

img_5221My hot pink Kate Spade purse. The model is the New Bond Street Florence. I bought it on a deep discount back in early 2014, but at that time, it felt almost too brashly femme for me; I was shyer then, and less willing to dress in a way that would command attention. But this year, I really “grew into” my gloriously pink handbag. It’s also conveniently big enough for my beloved MacBook Air, so I tote this bag on work-dates, weekend getaways, and airplanes. It makes me feel equal parts businesslady and fancy femme, and really, what more can you ask for?

MeUndies. I’ve enthused at you about these brilliant underthings before; I won’t repeat myself too much. Suffice it to say: it feels almost sinfully gratifying to swathe one’s genitals in lush, comfy fabric that’s covered in ghosts, donuts, dinosaurs, or little dancing dudes. All underwear should be this adorbz and well-made.

img_4819My new glasses. Before 2016, it had been a couple years since I’d gotten new glasses with my current prescription, and it was time. I’ve been trying to be braver and more authentically “me” lately, instead of always reverting to the shy, compliant little girl I’ve been forever, so I opted for some bold-as-hell frames when I bought new glasses this year. One pair is blue, one is black, and they’re both huge and distinctive. I feel like a hot nerdy bosslady when I wear them, which means I’ve been wearing glasses more often instead of just busting ’em out when I really need them. Hooray!

9279227874_ddd0ab3a62_kFrye harness boots. Mine are the 12R style in black, and I bought ’em back in January 2013. Since then, they’ve become my footwear of choice for so many different occasions: parties, dances, loungin’, adventurin’, performing at porn galas… Whatever my schedule calls for, really! This year I wore them in Malta, Rome, Minneapolis, Chicago, and Alexandria, among other places. These boots are such a signature part of my aesthetic that Caitlin said they felt like they were cosplaying as me when they wore a floral-print dress and boots. Here’s to plenty more exciting exploits in 2017 and plenty more stompin’ around in these durable, glamorous boots!

What were your favorite beauty and fashion items in 2016?

12 Days of Girly Juice: 1 Fantastic Toy Company

Kate Sloan

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2015 was the year of the Fucking Sculpture.

Though the company only really pinged on my radar this past year, they’ve been around for a good while. They crashed onto the scene in late 2012, instantly impressing bloggers with their dazzling toys and ballsy name. “These people just cut to the chase,” Epiphora wrote. “They called their company Fucking Sculptures.”

When I first looked at their designs, I agreed that the toys were beautiful – but none of them seemed like a particularly good fit for my anatomy. At the time, I was into bulbous G-spotting heads and drastic curves, ideally without a lot of texture. The ridges, bloops and gentle slopes in Fucking Sculpture’s designs were a treat to look at, but didn’t seem like they’d agree with my vagina.

Fast-forward a couple years, and a chain of events brought Fucking Sculptures to the forefront of my awareness again. I heard Aerie extol the bliss their G-Spoon gave them, including how it creates “mind-blowing A-spot orgasms.” Then I got to speak to the company’s co-founder, Maria, for the radio show I guest-hosted over the summer, and her passion for glass dildos made me even more curious about her products.

Maria was kind enough to send me a G-Spoon and I immediately fell in love with it. Not only is it a stunningly gorgeous piece of art, but it also hits my A-spot better than any other toy I’ve ever used. Friends and sex partners have half-jokingly accused me of being “addicted” to it. Sometimes I call it the “G-Swoon,” for obvious reasons. It is just a perfect chunk of glass.

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In the months since then, I’ve amassed two more Fucking Sculptures toys: the Double Trouble and the Pussywillow. (Reviews to come, eventually.) I wanted these so much that I actually paid for them with real money, which sex toy reviewers rarely do. They’re expensive, but they are worth it. And, you know, they’re not really that expensive, for what they are. Plenty of “luxury” toys are around the same price range or higher and aren’t hand-sculpted in the attentive and exquisite way that Fucking Sculptures are.

I’ve used my Fucking Sculptures with partners, in front of friends, and on camera. They always get oohs and aahs when I pull them out. Friends marvel at their beautiful colors and shapes; partners remark on how weighty they feel in the hand, and how much I writhe and wail when the glass makes contact with a perfect spot inside me. These toys are more than toys – they are pieces of art, conversation starters, prized possessions and treasured trophies.

As of right now, I think I own all the Fucking Sculptures creations I need… but who knows? As 2016 progresses, I might develop a craving for even more.

 

Which company made your favorite toys in 2015?

12 Days of Girly Juice: 2 Fears Defeated

Kate Sloan

I wanted to write about fears, because anxiety is a big part of my life. It affects me when I’m writing a difficult exam or performing music in front of a crowd, so of course, it affects me when I’m gettin’ sexy, too.

But this was an interesting year of forcing myself out of comfort and into discovery. I try to do that every year, but 2015 was a year where I really felt like I succeeded. Here are two fears I confronted headfirst in 2015…

 

1. Being watched during blowjobs

Oh, I know. I’ve talked your ear off about this before. But it really was major.

In 2011–2012, I went from “crying and hyperventilating at the very thought of giving a BJ” to “enthusiastically going down as long as the recipient had their eyes closed or a blindfold on.” And it was only in 2015 that I finally felt able to give a BJ without caring if the recipient was looking.

Of the five (!!) men to whom I gave blowjobs in 2015, only two received my spiel about “hey, I have a weird thing where I don’t like to be looked at during BJs; would you mind turning the light out/closing your eyes/looking the other way?” And both of those times were first times with the partners in question, so it was normal for me to be nervous.

I even caught myself slyly looking up at a partner while his dick was in my mouth recently, and as basic as that is, I can’t recall ever doing that before. The thought of it always previously gave me sooooo much anxiety about how I looked while giving head (slutty, silly, whatever). It felt like a massive step forward to even be able to exchange those two seconds of eye contact.

And hey, guess what? 2015 also brought the first time I ever gave a blowjob with spectators. Our cuddle-pile and emergency threesome at Playground involved me blowing someone while 1–2 other people looked on. And honestly, it didn’t freak me out at all. I barely even thought about it. I was just excited to have a cute boy’s cock in my mouth.

 

2. Threesomes

I had two threesomes in 2015, which is apparently enough that I now warrant the nickname “Threesome Girl.” (Seriously, someone called me this. People are strange.)

Recently I got into a discussion with some coworkers about threesomes, and one of them said, “I don’t think I’d ever have one. It doesn’t seem like it’d be fun.” This amused me because that’s what I used to think, too. Sex with more than two participants just didn’t seem up my alley. I thought it’d feel less intimate, more scattered, and that one person would inevitably feel left out of the action.

I also questioned whether I’d ever find two people who I was actively attracted to, who were also both attracted to each other. It seemed like a longshot at best.

Both of my threesomes thus far were very impromptu, each happening within a couple hours of being suggested, and I think that’s the only way they would’ve worked for me. Given advance notice, I would have panicked and talked myself out of it. “There are too many ways this could go wrong,” I would have thought. But everything went blissfully right.

There was none of the detachment or awkwardness I had feared. Both experiences felt shockingly intimate – sometimes even moreso than sex with only one person. I felt close to the action even at times when I wasn’t directly involved in it.

And though I had long denounced any threesomes where all three participants weren’t scaldingly attracted to each other, that part was actually fine too. Me and Bex don’t have sex with each other or even kiss, and that was perfectly okay because we were both so into the guy we were boning. Me and Georgia don’t have a particularly sexual connection either, but she nonetheless went down on me like a champ, and we both enjoyed it. I’m learning that there are a lot of complicated factors involved in making a sexual experience feel fun, and white-hot attraction isn’t necessarily mandatory (at least, not for me).

 

What sexual fears did you face in 2015?