consent

5 Awkward But Effective Ways I’ve Initiated Sex

Kate Sloan

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Being a sex blogger, contrary to popular belief, isn’t all sensual sweet nothings and longing looks all the time. My approach to sex has never been what I would call “sexy.” I am, instead, a dorky goofball in the sack. And fortunately, that’s worked out pretty well for me.

I don’t know how “normal people” initiate sex. Maybe there’s no such thing as “normal people” when it comes to sexuality. There’s only what’s common, and what’s less common – and I’d wager that awkwardness in bed is far more common than most folks would admit.

Below are five actual things I’ve said in an attempt to get the sexy ball rolling. These are all lines that worked, i.e. happy and enthusiastic sex resulted soon thereafter. I share these not so much as prescriptive suggestions, but as a reminder that you can be silly and strange in bed and still be sexually successful (whatever that means to you). If you’re a weirdo and someone is excited to bang you, that excitement is partially because you’re a weirdo, I promise. Own that, use it, and don’t be ashamed of it!

“I kinda wanna cuddle you. Would that be weird?”

A lot of my sexual initiations begin with “I kinda wanna,” actually. It’s less anxiety-provoking for me than a cocksure proclamation of intent, but it still communicates desire. “Would that be weird?” is really just another way of asking “Would that be okay?” or “How would you feel about that?” – a.k.a. requesting consent.

I said this while lying in bed talking with someone who I found intensely attractive but whose feelings about me I wasn’t sure of. I wanted to do much more than cuddle him (and eventually we did), but I figured this request would be a gentle way to test the waters. He laughed and said, “No, that wouldn’t be weird!” and I breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled me in toward him, because I had a much better sense of where I stood.

“Hey, you should spank me, if you want to.”

“You should…” is definitely bolder than “Do you want to…?” or “I kind of want you to…” but I felt okay being bold in this case, because the person in question had already told me he enjoys spanking people. And we had been flirting a bit, so I ventured to guess he’d be open to spanking me.

Knowing this was a ballsy way to phrase my request, I opted to soften it by adding, “If you want to.” This builds consent into the statement. I probably wouldn’t use this approach with someone shy and accommodating, because I’d want to make sure they actually wanted to do it, rather than just agreeing out of a sense of obligation. But the person in this case was someone I believed would state his objections if he had any. Lucky for me, he was on-board.

“I wanna kiss you, but I’m nervous.”

I said this to someone who made me feel even shyer and awkward-er than I am normally. So much so, in fact, that my eyes were squeezed shut when I said this to him. Admitting my desire felt monumental, embarrassing, huge, even though I knew he wanted to kiss me too.

I often find that owning up to my anxiety – speaking it out loud – helps diffuse some of its power. Built into my confession is an unspoken request for validation. An understanding partner would respond with something like, “Aw, don’t be nervous. C’mere.” I think the person in question did indeed say something like that to me. But I can’t really remember; the excellent kisses have blurred my recollections.

“Would you like some boobs in your face?”

I said this to a friend while cuddling with her and another person in bed, and it ended up leading to my first threesome. She had mentioned that cuddling made her slightly uncomfortable because it’s so intimate, and that adding a sexual element can help mitigate that for her. So I offered up a solution that might make her feel better. All three of us knew we were headed toward threesome-town; this was my gentle way of setting that process into motion.

A lot of folks bristle at the thought of direct consent-asks – “Would you like…?” “May I…?” “Do you want me to…?” It’s true that these can sometimes be a bit clunky or unnatural, but I’ve never found that asking for consent “kills the moment,” no matter how artlessly it’s done. I’d always rather be too sure of my partner’s “yes” than not sure enough. Don’t let anyone shame you out of directness; it’s a good, useful, conscientious approach.

“I really liked going down on you and would love to do it again sometime.”

I sent this via Twitter DM, buried in a paragraph of spluttering explanations and excuses, because I was embarrassed by the intensity of my hunger for dat dick. This initiation probably would’ve been more effective if I’d just said it straight-up, instead of insulating it with clauses like “Sorry if this is crass and un-chill, but…” and “Feel free to ignore this if you think I’m being weird.” I already knew this guy liked having my mouth on his junk, so I didn’t need to be so cagey about what I wanted.

Enthusiasm is such a key part of an effective sexual initiation. In fact, I’d say that the basic recipe is “express enthusiasm + ask for consent.” Initiating sex isn’t just about asking, “Do you want to do this?” – it’s also about establishing, “…because I really, really do.”

 

What are your favorite ways to verbally initiate sex? What are the best initiations other people have said to you?

 

My Dream Partner (At Least, Right Now)

Kate Sloan

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He’s so damn smart. He knows all my big words and even teaches me some new ones. His eyes sparkle with intelligence. He gets all my references and odd turns of phrase because he’s whip-smart, quick and responsive.

He’s funny as hell. Makes me laugh so hard I can’t breathe. Comes up with dumb puns to impress me, and high-fives me when I pun back at him. His celebrity impressions are spot-on and he’ll valiantly try even ones he’s not confident about because he wants to make me laugh. Sometimes I say something that strikes him as so funny he can’t help but dissolve into giggles, gasping for air, eyes squeezed shut.

He smells amazingly good. I can nuzzle my nose into his chest, inhale deeply and immediately feel at home and comforted. He lends me a shirt he’s worn and I wear it all day and feel swaddled in sexiness and sweetness.

He’s a total kinky perv like me but his consent ethics trump everything and always come first. He’s into long conversations about likes and dislikes, and debriefs while we cuddle naked after trying something new. He values safewords, safe-signals, 1-to-10 scales, check-ins. He only wants to do things we’re both excited about.

He’s a gentle kisser and cuddler but a rough fuck. He pins me down, grips my wrists above my head, manipulates me like a doll. He growls things in my ear that make me dripping wet and then follows through on them. He values the clit, understands its fragility and what it likes, but can also pound the fuck out of my G-spot with fingers or cock or toys. He’s hungry to make me come, to challenge me and himself, to change things up, but still fall back on old faithfuls. He’s quick with a condom and a bottle of lube and can accomplish both while biting my neck, grinding a thigh against my pussy and announcing in salient detail what he’s about to do to me.

He’s tender and affectionate. An arm around my waist while we walk in public. Gently stroking my hair while we lie on the couch watching Netflix. Offering me an arm to cling to, like an old-fashioned gentleman. A quick kiss on the top of my head or the back of my shoulder whenever he feels like it. Long aimless cuddle sessions.

He’s romantically and sexually adventurous, but deeply rooted. He sees no reason we shouldn’t explore, diversify, experiment with other people, but his first priority is always making sure I feel safe, cared for and valued. His heart leans monogamous while his brain excitedly explores other avenues with me.

His creative vocation (whatever it is) wows me every time, even as it’s old hat to him. His talent is so singular and sexy it makes me want to swoon and kiss him hard. And in turn he’s in awe of my talents, respects and supports them, thinks I’m the cleverest Head Bitch in Charge.

He plays no games. He says what he means. He acts like he likes me, because he does. His word is dependable and binding; what he says he’ll do, he does.

He’s so cute, it boggles my mind. I look at him in a grey sleep T-shirt or a lavender button-down or a zipped leather jacket and just think about how much I want to kiss that sweet face or get it between my thighs. He still gives me butterflies whenever he walks into a room, or shows up wherever we’re meeting for a date.

His written communiqué is on point. His sexts are delicious. His romantic emails are worth printing out and rereading late at night. He writes me dorky notes on post-its stuck to the sides of takeout containers or the inside covers of borrowed books. He’s all about words of affirmation, like me, and the words we exchange are affirming as hell.

Mainly what I remember when we’re apart is how he makes me feel. That’s more consequential than how he looks, how he fucks, how he talks. The very thought of him makes me giggly and swoony, but I also feel safe and affirmed in his presence. He’s “similar enough to me to make me feel comfortable, and different enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.” I want us to challenge and comfort and comfort and challenge each other for as long as we possibly can.

Interview: Kasuchi, my favorite fanfiction writer

Kate Sloan

The search for erotic media that actually turns you on is always a crapshoot. Some porn aligns with all your kinks but is poorly lit or sloppily shot. Some erotica is beautifully written but just doesn’t turn your crank, subject matter-wise. All too often, I settle for stuff that almost meets my needs, but falls short in one area or another. It’s a state of affairs to which I’ve become accustomed.

Of course, my pickiness makes it all the more exciting when I discover a piece of media that ticks all my boxes. And one such example is Kasuchi’s fanfiction. Like, all of it. Everything she writes.

The character development is on point. The prose is skilled and emotive. The voices are true to the shows she writes for. The sexy scenes are hott (yes, with two T’s). Y’all know I have high standards for fanfic, and Kasuchi is nonetheless my fave writer in the whole medium.

I bugged her for an interview, because I wanted to pick her brain about how she does what she does, and how she feels about fic as a whole. She was sweet enough to answer my fawning-fangirl questions, and what ensued was a super interesting chat about fiction, fandom, fucking, and consent (hell yeah!). I hope you like reading this as much as I like reading Kasuchi’s stories…

GJ: What, for you, is the appeal of writing fanfic? What do you get out of it?

Kasuchi: I LOVE writing fic. I’ve been doing it since I was 14, give or take? But I think what I started writing fic for was me wanting to see more of the thing I loved. I wanted more about what Hermione and Ron were doing with their lives. I wanted more about Mulder and Scully and all the moments we didn’t see on screen. I wanted more about what happened between episodes of The Office.

Nowadays, I think I write fic because I love the characters and want to expand and push and build them, see what happens under duress, see what happens (and feels natural, given what we know about who and how they are) when they’re put in non-comedic situations. I won’t also pretend some of it isn’t wish fulfillment; I want those two characters (any two characters, let’s be honest) to kiss, and to kiss passionately, right now, almost always.

GJ: What qualities/criteria do you consider important in good fanfic?

Kasuchi: Ah, that’s such a subjective question! Because I think everyone comes to media and their material with their own biases and prejudices and experiences, and those things color what we think of as being “good,” you know?

For me, I look for primarily three things:

(1) Dialogue — I need, NEED, the dialogue to be good, to be realistic, to be true to the characters. It doesn’t have to be exactly what the character would say in any given situation, because that’s not our job as fic writers. But, I have to believe that character would say that, meaning you (the author) have to do a lot of work to get me to that. If a generally goofy character is serious and responding with real gravitas, show me how and why that is before we get to that moment. Or, do that moment and then show me how we got there emotionally. Basically: is the dialogue naturalistic and natural to the character? If no, I click away.

(2) Narration has to flow — does the narration of the story match the tone? If we’ve got a story that’s about a character, like a vignette about their emotional growth, then the narration is everything, because it’s our (the readers’) glimpse into their inner monologue. If we’ve got a missing scene/moment kind of fic, then maybe the narration needs to get out of the way so that the dialogue can shine. For example, I’ve been writing characters who are detectives or generally observant; the narration tends to include notes about body language or expression changes, things I believe a good detective would notice and file away.

(3) Verisimilitude — Does this feel like real life? Since I’m not involved in many fantasy fandoms, this is really important. I love authors doing research on the setting of a show and including location details. Hell, I live in New York and write in details about Brooklyn into my fics about Brooklyn Nine-Nine all the time. I love that; it gives stories a sense of place and a better sense of how the fic itself fits into the larger world it resides in.

GJ: What qualities/criteria in a TV show (or other piece of media) make you want to write fanfic about it?

Kasuchi: Frankly: a lack of emotional resolution on some front. Shipping is the easiest one of these, but I wrote a lot of NCIS fic because the show was so rude to my fave character (Tony, and Tim to a lesser extent — and this was true of Psych, too) by always making him the butt of the joke or giving him the most depressing outcome and playing it for laughs. So I wrote fic to compensate for that, to make him more heroic or romantic or capable in a way that the show seemed determined to not do. That’s usually what gets me writing.

GJ: Do you have any tips for writing good sex scenes, in fanfic or fiction more generally?

Kasuchi: I’ve actually got a huge essay about this that I’ve been writing since, uh, last May (oops) but I think my best tip is: don’t do it before you’re ready. I was 16 when I read my first explicit sex scene, and I wrote my first one when I was 17. I didn’t even have my first kiss until I was 19! I wrote a lot of fade-to-black and sensual stuff before I felt more comfortable talking the mechanics of sex in fiction.

Now, from a more “authorly” perspective, I’d say: read romance novels. Read them voraciously. Read as many as you can. And not the category stuff (the Harlequins and Mills & Boon books), though adding some of those into your reading diet is good, too. Rather, read the single-issue stuff, the 250-page behemoths that usually have 3 scenes that are 20 pages of sex. Read those. Read erotica, the published stuff — Allison Tyler and Jaci Burton and Cathryn Fox and Lacey Alexander and Maya Banks and so many other women who have written — have BEEN writing — erotica for over a decade. Their work is there, and fanfiction is as much about the learning as it is the product. Go read the masters, go recreate their work. We all learn that way. I won’t pretend some of my early (unpublished? I honestly can’t remember) fic is me literally rewriting treatments of Mulder/Scully and Inuyasha/Kagome erotic fanfiction. Unless you’re having a lot of sex as research (which, hey, no shame in that game), the reading of novels/short stories is much easier.

The most important thing: do not use pornography as a template. Porn tends to be soulless and empty, with at least one of the parties mentally disengaged. Some pornography isn’t like this, but those studios are few and far between and often cater to queer markets. That’s fine, but if you want to show intimacy in your erotic scenes, I would urge reading written material and using pornography (or gifs of pornography) as inspiration rather than a guide.

GJ: Do you consciously choose to integrate enthusiastic consent into the sexy parts of your stories? (One of my favorite examples is that moment in “I’ll Know My Name As It’s Called Again” when Jake pulls at Amy’s pants and says “Yeah?” and she says “Yeah.” So perfect!) Do you think erotica writers have an obligation to include this element, or can erotica be “escapism” that doesn’t conform to real-life sexual rules?

Kasuchi: Oooh, this is a really big question. I think I’ll try to answer it by going backwards.

I don’t think that erotica has an obligation to include these moments of consent. But: I’d also differentiate between “types” of erotica.

I think published work and erotic fanfiction should include these moments. Here’s why: for the published stuff, art tends to serve as a bellweather and a measure of social acceptance and change. We can see this most obviously with drunk driving; thanks to television, the idea of driving home drunk is pretty anathema to most of the “millennial” set. In the same vein, what we consume (i.e. erotica, which when published is essentially “curated”) should serve as a way of normalizing consent. I know many people come to read erotica for different reasons, but no one is going to prevent young, curious teens from checking those books out from the library or sneaking them out of their parents’ rooms or buying them along with YA stuff from the bookstore. Hell, with the e-readers, it doesn’t even matter!

So in that sense, erotica becomes for women (and I use women here only because I think women are socialized to seek out reading material rather than audio-visual material, and because these books target women in turn) — most especially young women — a gateway to getting questions answered. To that end, yes, erotica needs to include consent. And, for similar reasons, we need to have those moments of enthusiastic consent written into our fanfiction. Fandom as an audience tends to skew young, I think; I’m 25 and I feel like the Old Lady in the Room, sometimes. So, knowing this, I think fic has a responsibility to be the change we want to see in the world. I know I learned a lot about the world, about relationships, about women and friendships and families from fanfiction and other writings. Knowing that, I tend to do a huge amount of research for stories because I want to pass on that gift of learning from fic onto the next “generation” of fandom.

I do think there’s a space for escapist erotica, though. Kinkmemes are explicitly that: wish-fulfillment. Same for Literotica; despite its classy title, it’s sorted by kink, and that’s important, because going in, you know what you’re getting yourself into. I won’t pretend there aren’t erotic stories that I go back to that I fully know are escapism. The delineating factor there is knowing what purpose that work serves. It titillates and it touches on taboo subjects and it is me going into the story aware of its hows and whys. That’s not the same as me reading a fic that pretends to be about my two faves having a romantic weekend away together, but then there being elements of non- and dub-con. Warnings exist for this reason. Kinkmemes exist for this reason. Consent should and must be a natural, normal part of sex, just like condom/prophylactic use is de rigeur in most pornographic films and even in published erotica and contemporary (and even some historical!) romances.

Do I consciously choose to integrate it into my stories? At first, no. But at this point, not doing so doesn’t feel like Jake Peralta (in this specific instance) — but I feel I’ll keep writing that into my more erotic work. I like it because it gives the reader a moment to take a breath before the rest of the story goes, and it gives the characters a moment to check in with each other, something that I think is hard to “choreography” into a love scene naturally as it progresses.

For the scene you reference specifically, Jake tugs at her waistband but doesn’t pull them off of Amy until she says yes. Consent is freely, enthusiastically, continuously given. And, I love the idea of one character giving the other an “out” because I think that’s just fair. Plus, it’s such a great character moment; the one giving the out is doing so out of affection and insecurity; in doing so, they’re saying, “It’s okay, we don’t have to go further than this.” And the other, in reaffirming their consent, is saying to the other, “You’re the one that I want.” In what universe is that anything but simultaneously hot and moving? Consent is 100% sexy.

4 Skills Erotica Writers Need (That I Totally Don’t Have)

Kate Sloan

Hey, remember when I told you I was writing sexy fanfiction? Well, I’ve been doing more of it. And it’s making me think a lot about the conventions of the erotica genre: which ones I hate, which ones I love, and which ones I envy and desperately wish I could incorporate better in my own writing.

Here are four erotica-writing skills I totally admire in other writers and want to get better at.

1. Writing erections in a way that isn’t clichéd or porny.

Writers throughout history have come up with zillions of flowery ways to write about female arousal. Glistening petals, hot honeyed centers, engorged pink nubs, blah blah blah. But it seems to me that penises are often described more crassly and minimally, especially hard penises.

The other night I eloquently tweeted “Booooooneeeeerrrrrrs” because I was slightly wine-drunk and didn’t have the brainpower to adequately describe how I felt about this story. CTRL+F your way down to “When the food arrived” and read until Jake gets “very, very hard.” That, to me, is an example of a sweet, almost romantic description of a boner.

Part of the problem is that I don’t know a whole lot about how it actually feels to get a hard-on, and there are very few dudes in my life who I would trust to answer that question for me without things getting awkward in some way. Hmm… (P.S. Dude readers of this blog, please don’t take this as an invitation to send me detailed messages about your wang. Thaaaanks.)

2. Showing, not telling, feelings.

I’ve been a writer since I was a kid. It’s my vocation, career, and favorite hobby. I’ve taken more writing classes in my 22 years of life than most people take in their entire lifetimes. And yet, somehow, I still periodically need to yell at myself: “SHOW, DON’T TELL!” This frustratingly ubiquitous writers’ mantra still hasn’t completely sunk in for me.

I find myself writing stuff like “She felt apprehensive” or “She thought she was going to swoon onto the floor” and then I have to go back and fix those phrases to make them more demonstrative. “She bit her lip and wrinkled her nose.” “Her cheeks warmed and reddened.” Whatever.

“Show, don’t tell” should be taped up over every writer’s workspace. Sometimes I think I should get it tattooed on the inside of my eyelids.

3. Creating tension.

I’m not good at building romantic/sexual tension in my stories, because I haven’t experienced a whole lot of it in my actual life.

Why? Because I’m a candid weirdo who doesn’t know how to flirt and usually ends up saying really on-the-nose things like “I think you’re cute” instead of beating around the bush in any way.

This approach has its advantages, obviously. But it also means that I have very little sense of what genuine flirtation actually looks like. So I find it hard to write that stuff.

It’s infuriating, because when I read great flirty dialogue in other people’s stories, it makes me squirm and giggle and clap and say “AWW!” and that feeling is basically the whole reason I read romantic fiction of any kind. Damn, I wish I could make my readers feel that way.

4. Demonstrating consent without being too heavy-handed.

It’s a sad reality that we live in a culture where demonstrated consent can sometimes be the antithesis of sexiness. At least, to some people.

A lot of the kinks I love to write about are power-based: bondage, spanking, “ravishment,” and so on. These are things that obviously require explicit consent and negotiation in real life, but in fiction, sometimes seem hotter and more visceral when there’s minimal discussion beforehand.

Though I understand that porn and erotica are meant to be about fantasy and escapism, ethically it doesn’t sit right with me to write this kind of scene without at least some acknowledgment of consent. But how do you do that without draining the hotness out of it? I struggle with this not only in fiction but also in life.

But I have high hopes that good sex writing can lead the charge in demonstrating how consent conversations can be sexy. I think the onus is on us erotic content creators to think up and disseminate blisteringly hot consent negotiations so that the general public learns how to have those chats without losing their boners in the process.

What skills, techniques, tropes and conventions do you admire in erotic writing?

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?