I’ve had a nearly lifelong love affair with the sex-positive movement. It has made life better and brighter for me, given me a solid community to connect with, and helped me recontextualize my sexual desires outside of a patriarchal, slut-shaming lens. I’m very thankful it exists.
That said, the movement has attracted its fair share of criticisms. In my view, most of its critics focus on ways that individual practitioners fail to uphold the actual values of sex-positivity. The movement itself is based on the idea that sex is inherently natural and that any sexual activity performed in a risk-aware and fully consensual way is A-OK; of course, the implication is that the inverse is also true, that sex acts achieved through force or coercion are not acceptable. However, some people within the movement use sex-positivity as a guise under which to propagate harmful and coercive values, such as “more sex = better” (nope!), “everyone wants sex” (definitely nope!), and “having as much sex as possible is what makes you cool” (nope, nope, nope!).
Here are 5 activities I used to think were, in some sense, an important part of being sex-positive, which I’ve since realized are no such thing:
1. Having tons of group sex all the time. Lots of my sex-pos pals are way into threesomes, foursomes, and moresomes, and I’m happy for them! I’ve just learned over time that I’m too introverted, anxious, and hypersensitive to really enjoy group sex most of the time. I’m open to the possibility of small group encounters with trusted and beloved folks, but I no longer attend orgies hoping irrationally that I’ll somehow like this one even though I haven’t liked any others. Good for me!
2. Anal sex feels pleasurable and freeing for many people, but I’ve tried it a couple times and it has mostly just made me feel ill! I still like some forms of anal play – wearing a butt plug while I do other sex stuff, being rimmed, fucking other people with a strap-on – but actually getting fucked in the ass is probably just not for me. Remember: even when using what people think is the best anal vibrator in the world, or when hooking up with someone who claims to be an anal-sex pro, it’s entirely possible that you just won’t like anal – and that’s fine!
3. All my life I’ve heard that it’s important to avoid “starfishing” during sex – i.e. to be active and participatory at all times rather than “just lying there.” However, in exploring kink, I’ve learned again and again that some people like a partner who “just lies there”! I will clarify here that I don’t think it’s generally fun to have sex with someone who has no reactions to what’s going on, unless that’s your specific kink – but as a submissive, bottomy person who lives with daily chronic pain, sometimes I just want to lie back and receive during sex, and often my partners are delighted by that, because I tend to date/hook up with people on the toppier and dommier side of the spectrum. You do you!
4. A lot of porn shows people getting into acrobatic sex positions because doing so makes for a better visual. I’ve also seen many people doing this at sex events, orgies, etc., presumably because either those positions feel good for them, or they enjoy the exhibitionism of showing off that way, or both. That’s great for them, but I can only physically sustain a few different positions, and generally I’d rather feel good than look good.
5. There are also many sex-positive-identified people who will counsel you that not wanting an orgasm every time is doing a disservice to yourself, or is in some way less “empowered” or less “feminist” a choice than the alternative. While this is certainly true for many individual people (particularly straight women who have been conditioned over time to accept a status quo of zero orgasms, while their male partners are getting off left and right), I think it’s pretty useless as a society-wide mandate. Sometimes I just don’t feel like coming, or being touched sexually at all, but am perfectly happy to get my partner off – and that is my choice and my right!
What sex acts have you felt pressured to do because those acts were described as “cool” or “empowered” or “sex-positive”?
This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.
Today’s “12 Days of Girly Juice” instalment sums up my three favorite bang sessions of the year, and I have an embarrassing secret to confess: unlike last year’s diverse trio of fucktimes, all three of these encounters were with the same person.
It’s embarrassing because it implies that he’s the only good partner I’ve had all year, out of the 12 partners I had in 2016, and that none of the others were worth remembering or writing about. That’s not true at all; I had so much good sex this year and all of it was worthy of celebration!
But there are emotional factors at play which affect how I think about all those encounters. Many of those people have peaced out of my life, after messy break-ups, painful rejections, and/or shocking betrayals – and that drama retroactively mars the memory of the sex I had with those folks. What was amazing sex at the time just feels sad in retrospect.
The following three stories are about a fuckbuddy I’m still friendly with, one who doesn’t make me feel sad, resentful, angry, or betrayed. As such, my memories of sex with him have been left untouched by chaotic emotions, so I’m free to recall these memories in their full splendor. They seem every bit as hot, fun, exciting and transformative now as they did then.
I snapped this selfie for Bex before embarking on my BJ date. “Do I look pretty?!”
Impromptu blowjob date
On the evening of February 11th, I sat in a lukewarm bath, realizing my sex life was about to change.
A few days earlier, I’d blown a fuckpal whose dick just jived with my mouth. Craving blowjobs was a completely new thing to me, so it’d taken a few days to sink in: not only did I enjoy blowing him, not only did I want to do it again, but I couldn’t stop thinking about doing it again. This was, for me, unprecedented.
In a sudden fit of impulsive bravery, I leapt out of the bath, grabbed my phone, and tapped out this DM to the aforementioned good-dick’ed dude:
Apologies if this comes across as crass or un-“chill,” but I have been thinking a lot about going down on you and would 100% be down to do that again sometime soon. Just lemme know. Sincerely, girl who is totally not this much of a BJ perv with most people but just had to speak what’s on her mind(/vag).
His reply was, shall we say, enthusiastic. We hammered out details, I threw on some clothes, and then I ventured out into the icy Toronto evening, en route to dat dick.
I gave him two blowjobs that night: one when I arrived, amid giggles, blushing, and R&B slowjams – and one later, after we’d gone out for drinks and dinner, when he muttered darkly into a kiss, “I’m thinking about your mouth…”
Sexual tastes take time to shift; it’s rare for a kink to spring up, fully formed, overnight. So maybe my descent into the Blowjob Fandom was more gradual than I realized. But for me, this is the night I’ll always remember as The Beginning of My Blowjob Obsession. Some dicks are so good, they make history in your life. Some dicks are so good, they rewire your brain. Some dicks are so good, they conjure desire where before there was only distaste.
Some of the toys I brought with me to our hotel-buttsex date (and a bottle of gin).
Anal sex in a sketchy hotel
When we went out for dinner and drinks between Blowjob One and Blowjob Two (which sounds like a duo of Dr. Seuss characters I’d dearly love to meet), we discussed the possibility of him being the first person to fuck me in the ass.
It hadn’t occurred to me before that night in that Distillery District pub, but this particular fuckbuddy was really the perfect person to usher me into the world of anal sex. I liked and trusted him, we had good sexual rapport, and he had experience with butt stuff from both sides of the dick. He outranked me in the realm of Butt Wisdom, and I trusted him to guide me through the experience.
We booked a cheap hotel for the following Monday night and met up there, both nervous as hell and self-medicating with weed (him) and gin (me). We set the scene by cuddling, talking, and joking around. And when we were ready, we started into a sex sesh that lasted about four hours in total. Four languid hours of messing around, laughing, and trying things out. My butt got fucked at some point during the proceedings, but it didn’t feel like the Main Event; everything else was so much fun that the actual butt stuff felt very low-pressure and almost like an afterthought.
This night confirmed what I already knew: that goofy, relaxed sex is my favorite kind, that a shared sense of humor and rapport is vitally important to my sexual enjoyment with a partner, and that – yes! – I like getting fucked in the ass.
I don’t know that it’s always useful to agonize over who should be “your first” when it comes to a particular sexual act. I’m endlessly picky about who I want to fist me first, for example, whereas the first person I ever had sex with was just a friend, for whom I didn’t have sexual feelings. I think the importance of the person really depends on the specific act – and because anal sex is highly intimate, emotionally risky, and physically tricky, I’m super glad I held out for someone I deeply trusted and adored. The experience could not have been any better, truly. I think back on it with immense fondness and gratitude, and I hope my butt gets fucked more in 2017!
BAMF threesome
One night in April, my then-boyfriend was over an hour late to meet me. I complained to Bex, who said, “You know who’d never be late to meet you?” and then they said the name of my fuckbuddy, who, at that time, I hadn’t seen in quite a while and missed a lot.
Bex was joking about my FWB being better for me and nicer to me than my boyfriend, but they were also right. That boyf was disrespectful, unfeminist, and made me feel terrible about being a sexual person. He always wanted me to “warn him” in advance if I wanted sex, acted like it was a favor he’d begrudgingly do for me, and talked about my body less like a hot piece of ass and more like a mildly distasteful science experiment. Though I didn’t want to admit it, I missed having sex with people whose approach to sex was spontaneous, enthusiastic, and joyful. Like that far-away fuckbuddy.
After tweeting about Bex’s remarks, I went to bed, because I had work early the next morning. By the time I woke up, Bex had a) had a conversation with said fuckbuddy about my tweet, b) explained that my boyfriend was basically the worst, and c) established that me, Bex, and the FWB should totally have a threesome. Bex makes dreams come true. They hadn’t gotten the go-ahead from me to set this up, but they didn’t need to: months earlier, on a streetcar, I’d randomly turned to them and said, “Hey, hypothetically, would you ever want to have a threesome with [my FWB]?” to which Bex immediately said, “Yeah!” So there was a precedent. And now that plan had been set in motion.
Over the next six weeks, we planned, brainstormed, sexted, and negotiated. I booked a bus ticket to New York and wrote a decidedly sex-centric packing list. We titled this landmark event “the BAMF threesome” – “Bean (Agender)/Male/Female threesome” – or, alternatively, “The Great Threesome of 2016.” I broke up with my boyfriend, in part because I realized I’d never been half as excited about him as I was about this threesome.
We wore matching rainbow socks, ’cause we knew the dude liked ’em.
I took a 10-hour overnight bus from Toronto to New York, and then trekked from the bus station to Bex’s Queens apartment with my little suitcase and backpack full of sex toys. When I arrived, I found that we were wearing the same shirt, which just reiterated the whole “we are gonna sexually team up on a dude tonight” vibe.
The threesome itself was fucking adorable. Dude came over, showered, and the three of us nervously cuddled on a couch for an hour or two, talking and catching up. Then we semi-awkwardly transitioned to kissing, moved to the bed, and took some clothes off. What followed was a blurry mess of blowjobs, fingerbanging, spanking, fucking, biting, dirty-talking, and laughing. It was a magnificent synthesis of two people I love very much and all my favorite aspects of sex. So, basically: the best.
Despite all the threesomes I’ve been involved in, they’re not really my jam – I prefer the unbroken focus and intensity of one-on-one encounters. But sometimes the stars just align, and a magic threesome materializes from the ether like a stroke of genius. This was one of those. More than a sexual encounter, it was a bonding experience, a true test of friendship, some serendipitous playtime. I felt so lucky to know both of those people.
When we were done fucking, we ordered Mexican food, ate it while sitting unselfconsciously naked on Bex’s bedroom floor, and then climbed into bed for a cuddly three-way snooze. I’ve rarely gone to bed so happy, comfortable, and satisfied in my life.
What were your favorite sexual encounters of 2016?
I am always looking for “life hacks” that will make my day-to-day feel more joyful, more decadent, and more rewarding. I think this stems partly from my struggle with depression: if there’s any way I can convince myself to get out of bed on a bad day, I’ll try it, even if it’s something small and silly like putting on red lipstick, cranking some uplifting tunes, or – yes – inserting a butt plug.
If you like anal play, wearing a plug can bring a little extra magic into just about any endeavor. Slather your plug with anal lube, slide it in, and try any of these activities – if nothing else, they’ll be more interesting!
Penetrative sex. You may have tried this already. It can be a grand old time. If you have a prostate, the plug will rub against it with every thrust – and if you have a vagina, wearing a plug will make you extra tight, which your partner might enjoy. I’ll never forget the time I got fucked while a large-ish plug was in my butt, and my partner exclaimed, “Jesus Christ, you’re so tight! Who turned the sleep number up to 100 in your vagina?!”
Receiving oral sex. Gettin’ head can feel fantastic, but sometimes it just isn’t quite enough to get me off. A partner’s fingers inside me can add a little extra stimulation if need be, but that requires a lot of co-ordination on the part of the giver. Using a butt plug while receiving oral can circumvent this problem. The plug will shift and undulate slightly with the turned-on pulses of your pelvic muscles, creating a mild sensation of getting fucked that might help push you over the edge.
Giving oral sex. Going down on your sweetie can be a massive turn-on; even moreso if you have something to squeeze around while you do it. The giver’s enjoyment and enthusiasm are a make-or-break factor in good oral sex, so you’re doing a favor for both yourself and your partner if you find a way to crank up your pleasure even higher.
Getting spanked. Sex educator Tina Horn has said that one of her favorite things about spanking is just getting to handle a butt, because butts are great. In my experience, this isn’t uncommon: oftentimes, when someone is into doing stuff to butts more generally, they’re into spanking, and vice versa. So if your partner likes smackin’ your ass, they might enjoy the added excitement and extra squirming that results when you wear a plug while they do it.
Running errands. Look, no one said grocery shopping or going to the bank was going to be a rip-roaring good time. But you can make these things slightly more thrilling by doing ’em while plugged. It’s a fun secret you can carry around with you. (Bring extra lube so you can pop into a public bathroom for a quick reapplication if needed!)
Housework. I loathe cleaning my room, putting away my laundry, and organizing my desk. If I have to do these things (which I do, because I’m an adult and I don’t have on-staff maids), I might as well have a happy butt while I’m adulting. Bonus points if you put on some Taylor Swift or Carly Rae and dance around while you clean your space.
Working. I wouldn’t recommend wearing a plug at an actual workplace, although I know people who have. But if you work from home (or from cafés comme moi), wearing a plug can stiffen your spine and wake up your brain. This is especially true if you’ve got a dom-y partner who’s told you, for example, that the plug should serve as a reminder that they are expecting you to get your work done or you’ll get a punishment…!
Facing a fear. Speaking of dom-y partners: often it is easier to do something that scares you if someone you adore has commanded you to do so. A plug can be a tangible reminder of this, as you take on whatever’s terrifying you, from public speaking to air travel to returning the clothes your ex left behind at your house. Even without a partner bossing you into bravery, a plug can still give you something to focus on while you tackle your fears, like how meditators are instructed to focus on their breathing. It sounds silly, but the sensation of something in your butt can ground you and keep you present when your anxiety-brain is pulling you out of your body.
Posing for pictures. Tyra Banks famously advocates “smizing”: the modeling trick of smiling with your eyes, not your mouth. It creates an approachable warmth that looks lovely in photos. I think wearing a butt plug could do the same thing! You’ll have a glimmer in your eyes that says, “I have a secret.” The goofiness of this situation might even help relax you, so your natural charm and beauty come through in whatever boudoir shots or glamorous headshots you’re posing for.
Getting ready for a date. If your beau is into butt stuff, you can prepare your ass by wearing a plug before and/or during your date – how thoughtful of you! But even if not, sporting a plug during your pre-date prep could help get you in a sexy, flirty headspace. As your butt muscles relax around the plug, so too will you relax, loosen up, and lighten up!
What are your favorite activities to pair with a butt plug?
This post was sponsored by lubezone.org, and as always, all writing and opinions are my own!
Begin innocuously enough. Go out for dinner with the crush/bang-buddy/friend to whom you’ve just given a blowjob. Get a little drunk with him, on big pints of locally-brewed beer, and laugh at all the jokes he’s making because weed and BJs make him cheerful.
While talking about your sexual goals for the year, suddenly have a brilliant idea – but the kind of idea that maybe only seems brilliant because you’re drunk. Start to tell him, but think better of it. Cover your mouth with your hand. Blush a lot. Shake your head. Let him pry it out of you, because the more that you keep it inside, the better an idea it seems. Finally: ask him if he wants to be the first person to fuck you in the ass. Because you want it. Because you trust him. Because he’s been on both sides of butt stuff plenty of times before and knows what he’s doing.
Be pleasantly surprised when he immediately agrees, and yet also not surprised at all, because he’s sweet and chill and adventurous and seems to genuinely like you. Concoct a plan with him, involving a hotel room and hours of slow, luxurious warm-up. Nod sagely when he tells you, “Let’s sleep on it and decide tomorrow,” while knowing in your heart of hearts and butt of butts that you’ve already decided and the answer is yes. Pay the cheque and tipsily stumble back to his place together. Give him one more BJ for good measure before saying goodnight.
The day before, text all your friends and tweet to all your followers about your sodomous plans and get their advice. Put your favorite butt plug in and leave it in for hours on end, to re-acclimatize your ass to penetration after a long stretch of none whatsoever. Masturbate idly while the plug is inside you, savoring that weird mix of pleasure and unfamiliarity. Wonder idly if you should’ve invested in an anal thruster for a more realistic warm-up.
Send dude a link to a cheap hotel listing, which is your indirect-and-yet-very-direct way of saying, “Yes, I still want you to fuck my ass.”
While tipsy at a Valentine’s Day party, hide in the bathroom and sext the dude: “Very much looking forward to doing things to you with my mouth tomorrow.” Because you’re slightly obsessed with blowing him. Squeal when he texts back, “Bring toys.” Later, actually scream, at a totally inappropriate moment during the Valentine’s party, when he sends you a picture of a woman getting DP‘ed with toys. Because, holy shit, he’s going to DP you. Go home and add the Eleven and Double Trouble to your already-bulging toy bag because you suddenly want him to ram you with something big and heavy.
The morning of, do what you usually do when you’re anxious: journal a lot, listen to soothing music, and worry disproportionately about how to do your makeup. Have a breakfast of 3 Oreos and a cup of coffee, because you’re too nervous to eat real food and also because coffee will help clear out your system. Go about your day, running errands and writing and doing chores, while inevitably unable to focus on any of it.
As the sun starts to set, glaze your body in coconut oil so you’ll be nice and soft for him. Get in the shower and shave your legs, your armpits, your vulva, your butt. Like most lengthy femme rituals, this is more about the way it makes you feel than the way it makes you look: eliminate some of your anxiety by eliminating all of your body hair. Wash your body with Lush’s “The Comforter” shower cream, because smelling like berry candy makes you feel like the hottest, beautifulest babe. Fill a bulb syringe with lukewarm water, squirt it into your ass, jump up and down a bit, then let the water flow out of you. Do this a few times, until you feel confident and clean.
Put on some cute underwear, a comfortable outfit that’s easy to remove, and minimal makeup that won’t flake off if you end up face-down on a bed. Take deep, calming breaths and then dance your ass off (no pun intended) to energizingsongs for a last-minute burst of confidence.
Walk to the streetcar stop, carrying your heavy-as-fuck toy bag. Ride the streetcar and wonder what the other patrons would think if the bag accidentally spilled open and they saw all your butt plugs and fancy dildos. Get off where Google Maps tells you to, and walk toward the hotel. Start feeling intensely dizzy, partly from anxiety and partly from the exertion of toting sixteen pounds of sex toys through snowy city streets.
Arrive at the hotel, which is small and strange and reminds you of The Shining if it was shot on no budget. Schlep your stuff up to the second floor and find the room number that the dude texted you. Smile when he opens the door for you, because he’s cute and you like him and you’re happy you’re gonna do this with him of all people.
Tell him you’re anxious. He is too. Assuage your nervous hearts with weed for him, gin and chocolate for you, and giggly makeouts for both of you. This is a never-fail prescription.
Give him a beej. For two reasons. One: his dick is excellent, and having it in your mouth turns you on faster than just about anything else. And two: if you get nervous and back out of your buttsex plans, you won’t feel as bad about it if he’s already come. This move is strategic. Or… strabeejic, if you will.
Lube up a Pure Plug and slide it into your ass, while he gives you sage advice on technique and angle, like some kind of butt sherpa. Laugh a lot, because he’s doing silly impressions and voices for your amusement, and think: yeah, I definitely chose the right person to do this with.
Let him do stuff to your nipples and clit and G-spot, because holy fuck, he has talented hands. Do your best to give directions, because sometimes you get too shy to boss people around but you know you’ll need to be a top-notch communicator tonight if he’s gonna fuck your ass. Don’t come yet – you wanna save that for later.
Bend over and let him take out your Pure Plug and switch it for the Ryder. Recall when you first bought your Ryder, years ago, and tried to put it in with no warm-up and not enough lube, and how goddamn awful and stupid that was. Enjoy the contrast between that moment and this one: the slick way he slathers lube on the plug and lines it up just right. The utter ease of taking a big toy when you’re really ready for it. The encouraging words in your ear as you back up onto it and it slides in, pop, no pain, no problem.
Make out some more. Touch each other. Giggle. Play. This isn’t a race. There’s no schedule. No marks to hit. No obligation to follow through. Just do what you feel like. Teach him how to spank you. Show him how you like your clit touched. Tug on his chest hair. Kiss his cute face.
Recognize your readiness by how relaxed you feel. Anxiety dissolved and apprehension bested, grab a condom and some lube and get him hard in your mouth. Pull the plug out, slowly. Bend over the edge of the bed with a Hitachi pinned between your clit and the mattress. Smile against the sheets, because this feels like a game.
As he slides into you, breathe deep, cleansing breaths of calm focus, and then fast, heavy breaths of unexpected pleasure. Moan, writhe, bite your lip, grind against the Hitachi. Think about how easy it was for him to push into you. How hot, hard and slippery he feels inside you. How good this is, how much better it is than you even expected. Feel completely safe, and taken care of, and respected, and filled, and fucked.
Stop him after a couple minutes, because the sensation is… a lot. Curl up beside him and high-five him when he announces, “So, you’ve officially had anal sex now!”
When he asks how he can get you off, let him choose between the Eleven and the Double Trouble. Smile as he weighs each in his hands, taking the decision as seriously as you knew he would. And then lay back and let him fuck you so perfectly with the DT while the Hitachi’s mashed against your clit, until you come in the long and loud and wild way that you only ever come with partners who make you feel unashamed. Kiss his big lubey hands when he wraps his arms around you afterward and says, “That was hot.”
Once you’ve come back to earth, put your clothes on and go out for celebratory dinner and drinks at a nearby pub. Because, hell yeah, good sex is worth celebrating.
This post contains a sponsored link. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.
The new year is upon us, my loves! Mmm, dat sweet-ass blank-slate feeling. I love it!
This is the time of year when I start new notebooks and calendars, make new income spreadsheets and checklists in Evernote and Google Drive, and deep-clean my desk. #dork
Along with all that, of course, comes one of my favorite activities: GOAL-SETTING! This year is gonna be a big one in lots of areas, including sex. Here are some of my big, delicious, exciting sexual goals for 2016…
1. Get fucked in the ass.
You know, I was gonna write “Have anal sex,” but somehow that phrasing didn’t feel jazzy enough. Plus I would never lean in close to a partner mid-bang and whisper, “Would you have anal sex with me, please?” Nah. It’s much more likely I’d brush my lips against their ear and softly coo, “Would you fuck me in the ass?”
I just got tingles up and down my arms while writing that, which is how I know this is a goal I should pursue.
I’ve done plenty of Butt Stuff over the years. Plugs, dildos, fingers and tongues have all broached my ass, often with ecstatic results. But I have yet to be fucked in the ass, with either a flesh-and-blood cock or a strap-on. And that seems increasingly like something I should do.
For a long time, I had a partner who got squicked out by “gross” sex things like butts and blood, so while I felt comfortable with him, I didn’t feel comfortable asking him to fuck my ass. After that, I had a series of short-term or one-off partners, and didn’t have enough time with any of them to build the trust I’d need for anal stuff to feel okay. But now I have a stable fuckbuddy who I trust enough to let him spank me and restrain me on a regular basis, so this seems like a good time to start planning anal adventures.
2. Get fisted.
Ambitious? Yes. Intimidating? Certainly. Attainable? You bet.
I have had an interest in fisting ever since I first heard what it was. Hell, I’m wearing my Fisting Day shirt right now, as I write this. But despite the erotic intrigue it held for me, I always thought my vag was too small to manage it. It seemed like something I could’ve attempted in another life, under different circumstances, like winning the World Series or performing on Broadway.
While I’m still tight as hell down there (as my bang-buddy seems to remind me every time he fucks me – hnnng, yes, this is a nice thing to hear), I’ve also gained some mastery over my vaginal muscles. They’ve grown more flexible and resilient. Just as you get more range of motion in your hamstrings with every downward-facing dog you do in yoga class, your vagina also gets more versatile the more that you cram giant-ass toys into it. I can take the large end of the Eleven with no lube or warm-up (?!?) so I’m probably ready to work toward being fisted.
The aforementioned fuckbuddy has relatively small hands for a dude. There are ways in which this is less than ideal (my A-spot is pretty deep in there), but it might make him my perfect first fister. We shall seeeee!
3. Bang someone 20 or younger, and 35 or older.
Relative to my own age, the oldest person I’ve boned was 8 years older than me, and the youngest was (wait for it) 4 days younger. My sexual partners have been, on average, a few years older than me – somewhere around 28 to my 23.
That’s fine and good. I like sleeping with people who have more experience than me; I think it appeals to my submissive streak, since they’re generally more confident in asking for what they want and having their way with me (consensually, of course). I’ve also always been mature for my age, so I tend to click with older partners emotionally and mentally as well. That’s why I want to push the envelope a bit and try sleeping with someone who is 12+ years older than me, to observe the differences and broaden my sexual palate.
But… I have a bit of a kink for teaching people how to get me off. Plus there’s something so viscerally hot about those early sexual experiences when everything feels new and fresh. So I want to sleep with someone a few years younger than me, too. I don’t necessarily want to be someone’s first – that seems like a lot of pressure – but maybe their second or third. Hmm…!
Of course, both of these goals require the caveat that I’m looking for compatibility and not just a particular age bracket. I won’t sleep with some random 18-year-old douchebro who I loathe, or some skeezy 40-year-old creep, just to put a checkmark on my to-do list. I want to connect with people who are at different life stages than me but who are nonetheless in sync with me in the ways that count: we should make each other laugh, enjoy each other’s company, and have plenty to talk about.
And if the sex isn’t good, well, at least it’ll be educational.
BAMF threesome
