12 Days of Girly Juice

12 Days of Girly Juice 2019: 11 Favorite Blog Posts

Kate Sloan

By the end of this month, I will have written and published 133 blog posts in 2019. I am a fiend; somebody stop me!! (Except don’t; this blog has become my main source of income in recent years.)

To sum up the year – and to give you some reading material to hang onto for when you’re hiding from your family in the bathroom over the holidays (lol) – here are my 11 favorite blog posts I published this year! (Curious about previous years’ favorite posts? Here’s 2018 and 2017!) These are ordered chronologically, rather than preferentially. Let’s dive in!

Early in the year, I wrote “Roleplay and Rapport at the Library Bar,” a post chronicling a roleplay scene I did with my partner where we pretended to be strangers meeting up to do an interview for a magazine story. This is one of my favorite scenes we did all year and I’m glad I had the presence of mind to write about it while it was still fresh! I liked including a few actionable tips at the end of the post for how to do a similar scene if you’re inclined to; I’m hoping to write more “sexy meets helpful” posts like this in 2020!

I always appreciate opportunities to write sponsored posts that are thought-provoking and engaging, and one of my faves of the year was “Sexting, Spanking, Stroking: What ‘Counts’ As Sex?“ The parameters of “sex” are unclear and ever-shifting, especially in this day and age, and it was fun to pontificate on the distinction between “sex” and “not sex” in this meandering post. I especially liked including little vignettes of encounters I’ve had that were ambiguously defined: “Does this count as sex?”

One of my most emotional posts of the year was “Obsessed & Distressed: Reflections on Rabid Love.” It’s about people whose affections could be deemed “obsessive” (like me) and whether or not their partners need to match that level of enthusiasm in order to stay with them happily. I’m still not totally sure where I fall on this – I think I could be happy with someone who loved less vehemently than I do, provided I was still getting that kick of hyper-focus from another relationship in my life – but it was fun to weigh the different sides of the issue nonetheless.

For my 7-year “bloggiversary” in March, I wrote “How I Became a Full-Time Sex Writer,” a timeline of my evolution into the salacious scribe you see before you today. I hope some folks found this helpful who are considering pursuing, or are already pursuing, a career like mine. When walking such an unusual path, it helps to have a road map, even if someone else’s journey isn’t quite the same as your own.

“You’re Someone’s Favorite Flavor“ was a retelling of a metaphor I’ve loved and used for a long time, about ice cream and attractiveness. I heard from a lot of people that this post helped ease some of their own panicked insecurities, which was, for me, the whole point of writing it.

My introversion remained an important part of my identity this year, hence writing a guide about “How to Take Yourself on a Date.” I was inspired by comedian Lane Moore’s dedication to the self-date, as detailed (alongside lots of other stuff) in her brilliant book How to Be Alone, and decided to write about my own experiences with this somewhat quirky practice. If even one person felt more empowered to “treat themselves” after reading my post, then I did my job!

When my partner came out as non-binary in July, I (of course) promptly wrote an R-rated post about it: “How They Fuck Me.” This was a meditation on the trans and non-binary partners I’ve been lucky enough to have, and the ways that their gender discoveries interplayed with our sex lives. This was one of my most popular posts of the year and I’m so glad!

I had a coming-out of my own in August, publishing a post called “So… I’m Demisexual!“ This was an identity I’d been pondering for a while, so it was good to have a chance to articulate it more fully, both for myself and for others. Ace-spectrum identities are still widely misunderstood, and shining more light on them is always worth doing.

One of the most fun posts I worked on all year was “The Joys of Distraction Play (or: I Wrote This While Getting My Clit Sucked).” Was this the first time that writing a blog post was, itself, a kink scene for me? Quite possibly…

My partner recently noted that my journalism education comes through in my blogging, and my post “The Case of the Disappearing Safety Pin Fetish“ was a prime example. I stumbled across this 1954 case study while researching a piece for a client about fetish psychology, and was immediately captivated. It led me to reflect on the ways fetishists are (mis)treated in our culture, and the hope that we might one day all be free to pursue our various kinks in whatever (risk-aware, consensual) ways we want.

Finally, I would be remiss not to include “Announcing… My Book Deal!!!“ in this list. I worked on this post behind-the-scenes for weeks while I awaited the go-ahead from my agent to shout about my forthcoming book from the proverbial rooftops, and I think it came out really cool. It contains not only the pertinent details about the book, but also a timeline of how the entire deal came to be – from the glimmer of an idea, to a signed contract in my hands. I hope it fires you up to pursue your own book deal, if that’s something you want!

What were your favorite blog posts you read this year (either on this site or elsewhere)? Link ’em in the comments!

12 Days of Girly Juice 2019: 12 Femme Essentials

Kate Sloan

Hello! Today kicks off 12 Days of Girly Juice, my annual year-end wrap-up series where I highlight everything that captured my attention most all year, from songs to events to sex sessions. The first instalment of the series is always about my 12 favorite fashion and beauty items of the year – so here we go!

Keith Haring limited-edition Coach Rogue bag

This was one of my anniversary presents from my partner Matt last year; I had tweeted about it many months earlier and I guess they made a note of that! The entire collaboration collection between Coach and Keith Haring was very up my alley – lots of pinks and blues, graphical hearts, and sequins – but this piece, in particular, really called to me. “You needed to own it,” Matt told me later.

This bag is made of ultra-supple blue leather, and is roomy enough for the books and journals I like to cart around with me (though tragically, not my laptop). It has a paler blue heart on the outside, made of – get this – leather sequins. The entire thing is so thoughtfully constructed, and it’s one of the most unique pieces I own. I look forward to carrying it for many years to come!

Velvet

This year I examined the possibility that I might have a mild velvet fetish – based on the fact that whenever I went shopping, I was unavoidably drawn to velvet items, and often felt quite sexy wearing them or even just touching them. Later I was invited to submit a story to an erotica anthology on the topic of queer women’s fashion, and what I ended up writing was an XXXplicit XXXploration of velvet fetishism. By the end of that writing process, I was like, “Yup. Probably into velvet.”

Some of my fave velvet items this year were the simplest: a couple of Christmasy A-line dresses in red and green, a pink slip dress with lacy edges, a deep V-neck crop top in rich raspberry. I think my all-time favorite velvet item, though, is a purple blazer I thrifted in high school, which has since been lost to time. One day I’ll find another one!

The Ordinary skincare

I’ve always liked simple skincare products the best. CeraVe and Cetaphil are my jam, with an occasional Lush product thrown in there. So I don’t know why it took me so long to get around to trying stuff from The Ordinary, which is known for its super stripped-down products, but I’m glad I finally did.

With the addition of their glycolic acid toner, squalane, rose hip seed oil, “Buffet” serum, and salicylic acid masque to my routine, my skin looks better than it has in a whiiiile. Yay!

Pink cardigan

At some point this year I misplaced my favorite old hot pink cardigan from H&M, and it immediately became obvious how central this garment was to my personal style. So, with my partner’s adorable encouragement, I replaced it with a basic one from Amazon and it’s remained a cornerstone of my look.

Kate Spade Holiday Lane Page bag

I bought this structured black leather tote to be my new go-to carry-on bag when I travel, because my old one was falling apart, and so far it has served me very well. It’s roomy enough for all the shit I tend to take with me on planes – laptop, journal, Kindle, gum, wallet, headphones, meds, Kleenex, lipstick, passport, an occasional silly neck pillow – and it also looks sleek and professional and Businesslady Chic.

People sometimes ask me for travel tips, since I do a lot more of it now, being in a long-distance relationship – and one of the best I can offer is this: establish travel routines that you find comfortingly familiar. I always take the same route to the airport, always wear some variation of the same outfit, always prepare and pack in the exact same way. Having a reliably good carry-on bag is an important part of that routine for me – it contains everything I need to get me through the anxiety-provoking process that is travel. It’s not just a purse, it’s a lifeline!

Lickability T-shirt

This is a weird thing to include, because it’s not girly or fancy or remarkable, but: my partner gifted me a T-shirt bearing the logo of their company, and I wear it a lot. It feels like the grown-up, millennial equivalent of sporting your partner’s letterman jacket (or, um, leatherenby jacket) – it’s a reminder that I’m loved. It’s also very fucking soft, and goes with everything. Score.

NARS Radiant Creamy Concealer

Y’know, sometimes you gotta shout out the unsung heroes. I’ve been using this concealer all year to cover an unidentified red spot that’s sprung up between my eyebrows (is it psoriasis? Is it sebhorreic dermatitis? It’s one thing for sure: resistant to my medicated creams for both of those conditions, ugh!!). The vanilla shade, which I use, also has a slight yellowish hue which – on my skin tone – works well for concealing purplish under-eye circles. The formula is creamy enough that it doesn’t get crusty and gross-looking like so many other concealers do, and it stays put pretty well, especially under powder. I’ve pretty much stopped wearing foundation, but concealer is a must-have for helping me feel cute, which is (for me) basically the point of wearing makeup.

L’Oreal lipstick in “Devil’s Matte-vocate Red”

This one was a real sleeper hit for me… My mom brought this lipstick back for me on a whim after a New York jaunt, and I wasn’t expecting to love it, but I do! It’s a rich shade of ruby red that just works. It stays on longer and more evenly than lots of more expensive reds I’ve worn, and I feel cute as heck in it.

Sugarpill lipstick in “Girl Crush”

I’ve previously written about the liquid version of this lipstick, but the standard version has been a major fave this year. It’s one of the best cool-toned hot pinks I’ve ever found, along with previous faves, NARS Schiap and Bourjois Pink Pong. Plus the packaging is legendarily cute and the formula is decently long-lasting without being drying. Sugarpill really knows their shit.

High-waisted jeans

I used to think this style was unflattering on pear-shaped people like me. That might be true – I don’t really know – but I’ve reached a point where I don’t give a shit. I have a pair of high-waisted jeans from Madewell and one from the Gap, and I feel super cute, curvy, and babely in them. When I tuck a shirt into them, I feel more put-together than I usually do in jeans, which helps them feel more in line with my polished femme aesthetic (I’ve previously had trouble wearing jeans because they made me feel sloppy and boyish, which is… not my gender). All hail good, flattering denim!

Black and silver dress

I forget when I even bought this slinky dress from H&M, but it’s very much a fave. I’ve worn it to dinners, drinks, shows, and even a wedding. It feels sexy and fancy, but is also incredibly comfortable (an important consideration for someone with chronic pain and depression!). I can throw it on over a black lacy bralette and a pair of tights and I look like I put serious consideration into my outfit. Ideal.

Cute phone cases

It’s 2019, so your phone case is more a part of your outfit than ever before. In an age of mirror selfies, this shit matters! I had a super sparkly rhinestoned one from BlingsSupplyShop earlier in the year, and then got tired of leaving a trail of rhinestones in my wake everywhere I went, so I switched to a “Sick Sad Girl” case from LookHuman (it’s a Daria reference). It gets compliments nonstop and makes me happy, which is all you can really ask for.

 

Those were my fashion and beauty faves this year! What were yours?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2018: 1 Fantastic Toy Company

Kate Sloan

Every December, I choose and highlight one company whose products tangibly improved my year, and that I think all my readers need to know about. Usually it’s a tricky decision, but the astute among you could probably already guess what company I chose, because I’ve been harping on about them all year long: Weal & Breech and L’Amour-Propre.

“But Kate!” you might be saying. “That’s two companies!” Yes, technically. But they’re run by the same duo, Josh and Tal, both excellent humans who make kinky trinkets here in my hometown of Toronto. And frankly, I couldn’t pick just one!

L’Amour-Propre deals primarily in acrylic pins and suede collars, each of which I have several of. My first item from them was a turquoise suede collar, bought basically as a fashion accessory late last year. However, as my relationship with my then-new partner developed, more and more products by this delightful little company became important in the story of our ~looove~. My darlin’ bought me a “Pun Slut” pin, for example, because he understands my soul. And when we decided we both wanted him to collar me, this royal blue suede collar was the only option we ever seriously considered. I still vividly remember the way he stared at me in the NoMad dining room as we discussed our collaring plans – like he couldn’t wait to wrap that suede around my neck and own me.

That collar was beautiful and served us well. But we were even more thrilled when, a few months later, we inquired about a custom upgrade because the suede wasn’t quite holding up to the sweaty wear-and-tear we’d put it through. Tal sought out a gorgeous blue leather at our request, and made a new collar for me that has thus far proved much hardier. We greatly appreciated Tal’s willingness to make our dream collar a reality.

Another fave kinky accessory of mine comes from L’Amour-Propre too: a heart-shaped lock we had engraved with the word “Daddy’s.” I wear mine on a chain around my neck to occasions where my regular collar might look out of place or not quite fancy enough. I adore it.

As a side note: Tal also does custom-engraved pins, which are ideal if you’re going to an event and want to clearly telegraph your name, Twitter handle, pronouns, or any other crucial information. And their new leather bookmarks are a kinky bookworm’s dream.

Weal & Breech, meanwhile, makes impact toys more gorgeous than any I have ever seen. I’ve collected several of their products over the two years they’ve been in business: a sturdy and stingy paddle, a sensually smooth truncheon, and a terrifying pair of nipple clamps. All of mine are made of purpleheart wood, because I enjoy the matchy-ness of that, and because it’s visually stunning.

Most recently, though, my partner reached out to W&B’s founder Josh to inquire about an anniversary gift for me. The company had recently Instagrammed prototypes of a hefty new mallet they had in the works, and both my BF and I had drooled over ’em and wanted one real bad. My partner asked if Josh could make one for me, and Josh – who I think of as the Ollivander of impact toys – knew, of course, that it should be made of purpleheart to match my other pieces. The final, perfect touch is a wrist strap made of the same blue leather as my collar – another thing my partner didn’t even have to request. Josh and Tal are sweetheart-geniuses. My mallet is unimaginably beautiful, and easily the thuddiest impact toy I own. Swoooon!

What was your favorite sex toy company of the year?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2018: 2 Fears Defeated

Kate Sloan

I’ve conquered a lot of fears in the past few years, or at least attempted to. Hell, life with an anxiety disorder is basically just a long process of battling fears, like walking through a brambly underbrush with a machete in each hand. In 2015 I upped my blowjob game and delved into threesomes; in 2016 I fucked on camera and navigated casual sex; and last year I explored polyamory more deeply and got better at tactful rejection. That’s a whole lotta scary things, and I’m proud of myself!

Here are two things I’d previously feared, that I managed to face head-on in 2018…

Long-distance relationships

I swore, when I was younger, that I would never fuck with an LDR. “I need a lot of attention and physical affection,” I reasoned, “and that just isn’t practical if the person lives far away.” What I had neglected to plan for, however, is that sometimes you fall in love with a geographically distant person even if you had planned not to – and that distance does not have to preclude the exchange of attention and affection.

Knowing full well about the hurdles long-distance couples face, my partner and I approached our relationship with thoughtfulness and intentionality. We built systems and routines that helped bolster our burgeoning intimacy: good-morning texts, near-nightly phone conversations, FaceTime calls whenever convenient, selfies and tweets and emails. We crafted a sex life from sexting and phone sex (more on that in a sec) that feels as real, enjoyable, and important to me as any in-person sexual connection I’ve ever had. We made it clear to each other, day by day by day, that we are committed to making this relationship work and making it last. We look for new ways to do that all the time.

We’re also deeply privileged to live not terribly far from each other – a 90-minute flight or an ~11-hour bus ride – and to be able to afford to see each other about once a month. It’s funny: when we first started dating, we agreed that 2 months was about the maximum amount of time we’d ever want to go without seeing each other, but we’ve never actually waited that long. The longest we’ve spent apart at a time is about 5 weeks, but we average around 3 weeks between each visit. Sometimes it’s hard, but it’s always doable.

Ultimately I’ve come to realize that long-distance relationships – if they’re as conscientiously intimate as this one – may actually be better suited to how my brain works than local ones, in some ways. I’m an easily-overwhelmed introvert, so being able to talk to my partner while pajama-clad in my bed at the end of the day is often preferable to, say, going out for drinks or schlepping my stuff to someone’s house in the cold. When a local partner is too busy to see me for a while, my anxious brain takes it as a personal affront – but somehow it still feels like a treat every time my long-distance partner spends time with me over the phone. Our in-person visits give me something to look forward to, like a life preserver to cling onto when I feel depressed, and also give me motivation to deep-clean my room at least once a month. It’s pretty ideal, actually.

I’m not saying long-distance relationships are something I’ll continue to look for in the future – it’s my hope that they’ll be a rare exception in my life, rather than a commonplace thing – but I’m not nearly as put off by the prospect of them as I used to be. And that’s nice, because it means more opportunities for love, sex, kink, and joy are open to me now, all around the world.

Phone sex

Another thing I thought I’d never like! Weird.

When I was a teen, my beloved friend-with-benefits would sometimes call me up and read erotic Harry Potter fanfiction to me over the phone. If I got turned on enough, occasionally I would touch myself while she breathed these fanciful words into my ear. I liked listening to her struggle to get through each sentence while straining to hear the changes in my breathing, the slide of skin against wet skin.

That was my only experience resembling phone sex, until about 9 years later, when a prospective sugar daddy emailed me asking if he could pay me for the pleasure of my company over the phone. The price was right and he was charming as hell, so we fell into a pay-to-play arrangement that culminated in a couple nights of him whispering filthy things to me while I moaned and purred and held a vibe on my clit.

I had always imagined that phone sex would require an equal give-and-take, a 50:50 exchange of dirty words and ideas back and forth, and indeed, I’m sure that this is how it works for many people. But I am a bottom, and a sub, and I go pretty nonverbal when subspace kicks in, so I knew I wouldn’t be well-suited to talk someone to orgasm. What I had overlooked, though, is that lots of tops and doms prefer to be the person driving the action, not only in person but over the phone too. That’s what my sugar daddy was into, and when I started dating my current boyfriend, I discovered that he was into it, too. He calls himself a “phone-sex top”: someone who says most of the shit and is more than happy to do so. It’s my reactions he gets off on: my moans, my squeals, my subspacily slurred responses to his questions. In this regard (and several others), we are perfectly well-matched.

It’s funny how I went from abhorring the idea of phone sex to it being easily 80% (or more) of my sex life this year. It’s a near-daily routine for us now, and as such, we’ve developed our own patterns, techniques, tropes and styles within our phone play, which you can read about in the interview series we did about it. Just like in-person sex with a consistent partner, our phone sex gets better and better the more that we learn about each other, and strives for a balance between reliable old favorites and exciting new explorations. It makes me so happy and doesn’t feel, at all, like a consolation prize for the “real thing.” Phone sex with my partner is real, deep, romantic, exciting, and a wonderful comfort.

What fears did you overcome this year?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2018: 3 Fave Encounters

Kate Sloan

Welcome to what is always the filthiest entry in my 12 Days of Girly Juice series: the one where I write about my favorite 3 sexual encounters of the entire year.

Moreso than being the best sex of my year, these are usually more like the most memorable, emotional, and/or ground-breaking encounters of my year. But yeah, sometimes they were also the best.

Predictably, this year all three of these were with the same person: my boyfriend/Sir/daddy, who I jokingly-but-not-at-all-jokingly refer to variously as my “dream dom” and a “sex god.” The only time this has happened previously was in 2016, when I guiltily chose 3 encounters with the FWB I was in unrequited love with, and he mimed affixing a badge of honor to his chest when I told him about it. But this time, it’s not embarrassing, because my BF not only knows I love doing sex and kink stuff with him – he works hard to make that the case. Aww. So without further ado, here are the 3 most memorable sex sessions of my 2018…

High Line First Time

I’m sentimental about first times. Many of us are. It’s a particularly useful trait for a sex writer, though, because first times are often juicy and exciting and strange and interesting and worth writing about. This can be true even if the sex itself is straight-up bad, as it often is when you’re learning a new person’s body.

However, my first time with my partner wasn’t bad at all, and I imagine that’s because at that point we’d spent many dozens of hours discussing and dissecting our kinks, sexting voraciously, and having phone sex in the dead of night. As a sex educator, I often advise people that sexting and discussing sex before the actual event can make it a lot better, but I think I didn’t fully realize that in practice until this year, when a boy I’d only spent about 2 hours with in person ever somehow fucked me better than… well, let’s just say… probably everyone I’ve ever met on Tinder, combined.

It happened at the Standard High Line, truly one of the most beautiful hotels I have ever seen, let alone stayed in. After checking in, we rode the elevator up to our room; he pressed the wrong button twice before finally getting us to our floor, because he was nervous, though he seemed otherwise as cool and collected as ever. The room had floor-to-ceiling plate-glass windows all along one wall, so I stared out at the city while we talked and giggled and took our coats off and laid out all our sex toys on a table. When a lull fell upon our conversation, he growled and pounced and shoved me up against that windowed wall, its coldness pressing into my back while his warmth pinned me there. He kissed me breathless and then started peeling my clothes off while looking up at me with utter reverence, like, “I can’t believe this is happening; I can’t believe I’m this lucky,” and that’s how I felt, too.

What followed was about 6 hours of sex, so things get a little blurry here. I remember feeling nervous and comfortable all at once, and crying out in pain while he scratched and bruised me in our big white bed. I remember that he hypnotized me in person for the first time, and I felt astonished all over again by his competence and the depth of perversion that matched my own. I remember that he bent me over his lap and spanked me with a paperback copy of Bluets – the first gift he ever got me – while intermittently reading passages from it aloud, which seemed to me then (and still) like the most goddamn romantic thing I could imagine.

When he held me down with one hand and pushed the Eleven into me over and over with the other, I thought about how this very dildo was the first thing we ever talked about, in a quirky and casual exchange on Twitter – and how it felt like things had finally come full-circle. And inside that circle was a lot of goddamn orgasms.

Melting in His Mouth

Speaking of orgasms… The gendered orgasm gap is still a rampant issue culture-wide, with countless factors contributing to its existence. In my own life, where this gap has existed, it’s usually been due to two main factors: the men I was fucking weren’t very good at touching vulvas, and I wasn’t very good at telling them how to touch mine. (If these problems sound familiar to you, please read and/or ask your partner[s] to read She Comes First and Becoming Cliterate, stat!)

This pattern explains why I’ve grown so blasé about new partners going down on me: they’re often not great at it, and it’s rare I feel brave enough or even invested enough to want to give them a crash course. But if someone makes it clear that they want to stick around in my life – and I want that too – I’m much more inclined to put the work in so they can learn how to get me off, especially if they’re appropriately enthused about this prospect.

My partner told me in some of our first explicit text conversations about his passion for eating pussy, but unlike many men who brag about this, he dropped some words and phrases that displayed a deeper-than-average understanding of cunnilingus, such as “stamina,” “enthusiasm,” and, uh, “Ian Kerner.” (Sex nerd in the haus!) My interest was piqued, though I remained skeptical.

The first time he made me come with his mouth, we had been dating for 6 months. I’m confident it would’ve been sooner if we weren’t long-distance, but even local partners usually take a while to figure it out. We made out for a long time, him grinding a thigh firmly against my vulva (a mutual fave) and biting and spanking me. He told me I’d been so good that I could choose how I wanted him to get me off, and I requested the Eleven and Magic Wand – but we didn’t even get that far, because in the midst of him warming me up with his mouth on my clit and his fingers pressing into my G-spot, I realized I was quite possibly going to come that way. I managed to choke out, “I’m getting really close, Sir,” and he knew just what to do, staying the course until my whole body tensed, spasmed, and finally relaxed.

He kept pounding me with his fingers afterward, because he knows I like that and is a gem. Hot tears poured out of my eyes. I know orgasms aren’t a dependable measure of love, devotion, or even attraction or skill, but it felt to me in that moment like he had found yet another way to prove how much he loved me. Figuring out how to make me come is hard, and actually executing the process is hard too, but 5 of my 30 lifetime sexual partners (!!) have managed it. In each case, they were people who really, really cared about me, and who made me feel comfortable and safe. What a beautiful thing.

His eyes sparkled with emotion when he crawled up my body to lie beside me. I asked him what he was feeling and he said, “You just came in my mouth. That’s really fucking intimate.” I had to agree.

Woodhull Wonderment

A friend-who-shall-not-be-named was able to procure me some marijuana-spiked edibles at the Sexual Freedom Summit (shh), and it led to some of the best sex of my year. Thank you, anonymous and resourceful friend o’ mine.

Prior to meeting me, my boyfriend had never tried weed, but under my careful stoner tutelage, he waded into high sex this year with me. While I’ll gladly smoke up and bone down any day, there is something special about sex on edibles: the high is (in my experience) slower, trippier, and more all-encompassing. True, you can overdo it more easily with edibles and it’ll take longer to come down from your fuck-up if you do, but if you get the balance of intoxication just right, it can be some of the best sex ever.

That was the case, this one fateful night at Woodhull. We each munched half a weed cookie, and by the time it hit us, we were on the balcony of our hotel room, kissing and pawing at each other in the stupefying heat. I’d paid extra for a room with a balcony, wondering when I booked it whether we would even use it – and because of this night, I’m glad I did.

Our makeouts got intense on that balcony, the way they can when inebriation strips away your self-awareness. I was craving pain, as I often do when high, so I asked him to slap my tits; he slipped them out of my dress, standing in front of me so no onlookers would get an eyeful, and smacked me around until I was panting. Then he switched to slapping my face, bringing me down full-force into a deep and disorienting subspacey state.

We wandered back inside and partook of what would soon become one of our favorite activities: high facesitting. Though we’re both fans of facesitting in just about any state, weed really amps up our enjoyment. The time dilation and disinhibition of a good high helps me relax into riding a partner’s face without worrying that I look weird, sound weird, or am taking too long. Meanwhile, I am sure the sense-heightening effects of weed help my BF enjoy tastes, smells, and sensations even more than usual – and in a reclining position, he can enjoy them in lavish repose. Ideal.

I fucked his face for who knows how long. Time didn’t fucking matter. When we were done, he told me, “You sat on my face for the perfect amount of time,” although neither of us could say with any certainty what that amount had been. As with most good sex, in retrospect I don’t remember many details – just the overall sense of hotness, closeness, and wild abandon.

What was the best or most memorable sex you had this year?