kink

23 Things I Learned About Sex & Relationships At Age 23

Kate Sloan

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Today’s my 24th birthday! It’s a good day to reflect on the past year, because I think 23 was my most transformative and educational year yet. I banged and dated a bunch of different people, and it was essentially a crash course in emotional maturity and sexual confidence. Here are 23 of the most valuable lessons I learned about sex and relationships over the past year!

  1. I have a DD/lg kink. I first noticed these feelings back in late 2014 when a hot lawyer inspired some surprising fantasies in my bad little brain. In November I started seeing a dude who was muuuch kinkier and more kink-experienced than me, and when I disclosed to him that I had burgeoning DD/lg fantasies, he knew exactly what to do with that information. I still vividly remember the time I sassily asked him why I should follow his instruction to jerk off for him and he said, “Because you’re a good little girl.” It was the first time anyone had ever said anything like that to me before, and my vagina did cartwheels.
  2. Terrible mental health days are terrible kink days. At least, for me. If I’m already feeling extremely shaky, anxious, or depressed, kink tends to just worsen my mood. I learned my lesson from the time in January when an intense spanking on an already-anxious day made me burst into tears and sob deeply for several minutes while my confused partner tried to comfort me.
  3. …but, kink can help with mental health. Paradoxical, yes – but for me, there’s a fine and important line between “too distraught to submit” and “just distraught enough that submitting will actually help.” Pain, punishment and praise can help shake me out of a poor mental health day, used judiciously with a trusted partner.
  4. I can have casual sex… with people I don’t really like. Sex tends to open up my emotional floodgates, intensifying any burgeoning crush-y feels that already exist there. I was able to have some casual, feels-free fuckbuddies this year, but only because we didn’t click romantically. This is useful info for me to know going forward, though it does mean I’m incapable of being “chill” with anyone I even remotely like.
  5. I like pain (in some places). I’ve dabbled in spanking over the years, but it wasn’t until age 23 that I really grasped how much pleasure I can get from pain. Getting my tits and/or ass slapped has become one of my favorite foreplay activities. I even like getting my hair pulled, a proclivity that used to mystify me.
  6. I love giving blowjobs. HOO BOY, this was a big theme of my year. My previous blowjob experience encompassed only one partner, and while he was lovely, his dick and my mouth just didn’t have chemistry. In broadening my BJ horizons, I’ve discovered how much I can crave having a cock in my mouth when the right one comes along. (I’ve gotten pretty damn good at it, too.)
  7. I’m more of a size queen than I thought. Remember when I first started this blog and dildos over 1.5″ in diameter were a stretch for me? That is certainly not the case anymore… Just ask my Eleven, Double Trouble, and Seaside Steamroller!
  8. I need to trust my intuition more. My anxiety is excellent at talking me out of what I know, deep down, to be true. When I let myself listen to my hunches, I can usually tell when someone is flirting with me, likes me, or wants to get in my pants – and it happens more often than my anxiety wants me to realize.
  9. Aftercare is important. Coming from a pretty vanilla history, I never thought much about the importance of aftercare until I really needed it. Fortunately, all my kinky partners this past year (and even the vanilla ones) gave me the post-sex cuddles and reassurances I needed.
  10. Most men like thigh-high socks. They just do.
  11. Sex is grown-up playtime. My favorite sex is the goofy, unstructured kind. I love trying stuff, experimenting, playing around. I’m happiest in sexual partnerships with people who are similarly fun-oriented, rather than goal-oriented.
  12. I like being pinned down. Have you ever had a moment where, suddenly and all at once, you noticed a kink of yours that you never knew you had? That was me last summer when a partner put a firm hand on my upper chest and held me down while finger-fucking me. I went from “huh, that feels pretty good” to “holy shit, I am coming right now!” in about three seconds flat. I’ve been pinned down during sex a bunch of times since then, with similar outcomes. Now that I know I like this, I want to get better at asking for it!
  13. Threesomes are fun, but not really my jam. I’ve gained a reputation among my friends for constantly having threesomes. I’ve only had two, but I guess that’s still more than the average person? In any case, while I enjoyed myself both times, I still prefer the intense, focused connection of a standard one-on-one encounter. (Talk to me in a month, though… I have a rather epic threesome coming up on my calendar that might get me more on board with group sex.)
  14. When you’re sad, sometimes you just gotta feel your feelings. A couple of painful rejections left me in emotional shambles at times this year. I spent a lot of time crying on friends’ shoulders and saying things like, “I’m just so sad! I don’t know what to do!” My friends are fantastic and a lot of the advice they gave me boiled down to this: it’s okay to be sad when sad shit happens. Don’t try to run away from those feelings or distract yourself from them; just live in them for a while. It’s so much easier to move on when you’ve processed your feelings properly.
  15. You can like someone very, very much and they can still be wrong for you. You are not obligated to try to “make things work” with someone who’s a deeply bad match for you. Even if they’re a good person. Even if you adore them in many ways. Even if they don’t understand your reasoning.
  16. Platonic kink is a thing. I learned so much about kink this year, including that it can exist independently of sex. I have friends who fuel me by calling me a “good girl” when I finish my work; I have friends who phone me and speak to me in commanding, daddy-dom tones to calm me down when I’m anxious; I have friends whose kinks I know intimately and (consensually) use to guide them into healthier and happier behaviors. Kink is more than a sexual interest; it can be a psychological tool, a powerful motivator, a framework in which to understand yourself and your place in the world.
  17. Twitter is a great place to meet sexual partners. Half of the new people I banged at age 23 are folks I met on Twitter. Obviously it’s a problematic space and women receive a lot of harassment and abuse through tweets and DMs, but I’ve also built an audience there of clever, compassionate sex nerds, some of whom are pretty great sex partners.
  18. When you like someone, it’s okay to act like you like them. My anxiety makes this tricky, because even the smallest braveries feel like ballsy overtures to me. But I’m working on it. More people should know that they’re cute, and I should tell ’em.
  19. Don’t stake your mood on other people’s behavior. Most of my miserable-est days this year were the result of me believing, “If [person] would just [action], I could be happy right now.” I learned that I need to either change my expectations, or try to make things happen myself; waiting for someone else to read your mind and do what you want them to do is a fool’s errand.
  20. Anxiety-friends are invaluable flirting sherpas. This is no joke: I owe most of my romantic and sexual success this past year to Bex. Any time I didn’t know how to interpret a romantic interest’s flirty behavior, or couldn’t parse a cryptic text, or needed a push in a flirty direction, I went to them for advice. I have other “anxiety-friends,” too, who are willing and able to answer texts like, “[Person] said [thing], are they into me?!” and “What do I wear to a date-that-might-not-be-a-date?!”
  21. I like anal sex. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it, because my past adventures with butt plugs and anal beads had been inconsistently pleasurable. But, holy fuck, I was into it and I want to do it more.
  22. I don’t need (or want) monogamy, but I do need to feel special. I don’t mind having partners who have other partners. (Yay, #PolyLyfe and compersion!) But I do need my partners to make me feel valued, seen, and focused on when we spend time together. I received a few propositions this year from folks who date/bang a lot of people, and I learned that that only ever feels okay to me if they clearly like me for me – not because they like dating/banging whoever. I’m definitely not anti-promiscuity and there’s nothing wrong with being slutty! I just need a side order of emotional connection with my sluttiness.
  23. Life is too short for bad sex. I believe there are two main ways to be bad at sex: you can be bad at technical skills (“He kisses like a snake!” “Her fingering rhythm is inconsistent!”), and you can have a bad attitude about sex (“He refused to use toys on me!” “She got all sulky when she couldn’t get me off!”). I’d rather be with an enthusiastic newbie than a mopey pro any day. If you’re fun to bone, I’ll probably gladly teach you how I like to be fucked so you’ll know for next time – but if you’re a sad and draining lay, there probably won’t be a “next time.” I’ve raised my standards enough to say no to bad sex – because, frankly, I’d rather just masturbate.

 

Here’s to another sexy, educational year!

Interview: Tina Horn on Sexting, Style, Self-Discipline & Snuggling

Kate Sloan

tinahornI’m finding, increasingly, that my media consumption habits are based less around “What is this piece of media and what value will it add to my life?” and more around “Who created this piece of media and how much do I trust them?”

The world is full of books, podcasts, articles, and interviews on every conceivable topic. If there’s a piece of information I need to find, or a subject I want to learn about, I can do that in innumerable different places. So what matters to me more, now, is – who is imparting this information? Do I know them? Do I like them? Is their style and approach in line with what I want?

That’s why I got so excited when I heard Tina Horn was writing a book about sexting. When it comes to sexuality, she has one of my favorite minds in the biz. I love her podcast, her writing, her random and irreverent tweets. Ever since the word “sexting” burst onto the scene, every sexpert in existence seems to have shared their best tips and tricks for the medium – but I don’t trust most of their advice nearly as much as I trust Tina’s. She’s a seasoned sex pro, a clever whiz kid, and a dirty-talk aficionado. If anyone can help you up your sexting game, it’s Tina.

And indeed, the book rules. It covers everything, from the basics (how to figure out which vocabulary words turn you on! how to use OkCupid!) to the more nuanced considerations of sexting (how to get someone’s textual consent in a hot and respectful way! how to take a sexy selfie that doesn’t suck!). I consider myself a competent sexter (sextress?!), but Tina’s book made me ponder the whole activity much more thoughtfully, and I think my skillz have improved as a result.

So, I was delighted to be able to interview Tina about her book. Except, in classic sex-nerd fashion, we got a leeeetle bit off-topic because there were just so many exciting sub-tangents to delve into. Including X-rated Animaniacs fanart. Read on for the interview…!

Girly Juice: What kinds of “proto-sexting” activities did you engage in, in the early days of the internet or before that? (I was all about cybersex in ICQ chats and online roleplaying games!)

Tina Horn: I often wonder how my sexuality would have developed differently if I had not been just right age in history to be going through puberty right when we got dial-up internet in my house. Technology continues to inspire an urge for self discipline and self control in me, and maybe that has something to do with furtive, measured trips to the family desktop to talk to my internet buddies when I was 13, 14. I can remember sitting at the wooden desk in the den, madly typing, learning about the world through language divorced from identity.

I’m going to tell you about something I almost never talk about, because I hold a lot of embarrassment about this even though it’s obviously normal and quite adorable. Like I said, I was an adolescent when the Internet became a thing people had in their homes. As a child on the verge of adulthood, I just sort of assumed, oh, ok, you start to grow up and then your access to the world gets bigger. I was too caught up in my own teenage narcissism to give media a historical framework. So what did I look for online? I searched Napster for EVERY SINGLE TORI AMOS B SIDE AND REM LIVE CUT, and I looked for newsgroups about the shows I was obsessed with: The X Files, Quantum Leap, and Animaniacs.

So here’s the thing about Animaniacs. It was a show for children, but it had a very mature sensibility. It was saturated in popular culture and had this sophisticated ironic Borscht Belt humor. So I was a kid who was looking for people to talk obsessively about Animaniacs with. And the internet was filled with adults who were, shall we say, in touch with their inner child. So I spent hours and hours in IRC chat rooms and newsgroups. I think I was honest about my age and I knew there were a lot of adults and they didn’t seem to mind how young I was. I felt accepted and respected in a way I didn’t among my normal peers. Maybe my internet friends were predatory or maybe the Internet was just new to everyone and the novelty of talking to a precious child was no big deal. But eventually they started sending me links to fan porn they were writing and drawing about the cartoons we all liked. I of course have a very vivid memory of clicking on a file in an FTP folder and slowly watching an image load: a hand drawn illustration of Buster Bunny fucking Plucky Duck along with an extended explanation of why it makes sense for cartoons to sexually experiment.

Eventually I got together IRL with some of these folks, and suffice it to say I think some of them may have wanted to seduce me. I guess I was smart enough to be creeped out by that.  I started to actually hang out with some theater kids at school and spent less time online. Eventually this one girl who I used to exchange Sailor Moon drawings with sent me this angry hand written letter saying I was totally shallow and didn’t care about my REAL online friends because some dumb teenagers made me popular. Which was hilarious because of course my new IRL friends were all the freaks and geeks of my small town. I am happy to say I realized how totally backwards and fucked that was even then.

I think this has influenced my subsequent relationship to evolving technology, from texting to Skyping to naked selfies to online dating to Snapchat. I’m very skeptical about the relationship between our virtual selves and our IRL selves. I think technology can facilitate wonderful fantasy exploration, but it’s imperative that we can distinguish between fantasy and reality. That skepticism and self control really informs my proscriptions for etiquette and ethics in my Sexting guide book. I don’t mean to sound like no fun! Think about it: BDSM is also about negotiation, restraint, boundaries. When you have self discipline, you can be absolutely disgustingly filthy and profane and ecstatic within your agreed-upon parameters. When you know the size and shape of your pen, you can go hog fucking wild.

GJ: As a fellow writer, do you share my attraction to people whose grammar, spelling and vocabulary are on-point in textual communication? And how do you respond to people who tell you that this preference is elitist or picky?

TH: You know, there are such cretins out there that my bar is actually quite low! As long as someone is not being a complete troll, I’m pretty tolerant of slang, abbreviations, misspellings, creative grammar. I think the most important thing for me is STYLE. I’m sure we know some people whose use of slang is tacky and tone-deaf, while some people make me bust out laugh when they say something is on fleek or whatever. Same goes for grammar; you can get imaginative with grammar to demonstrate rhythm, emphasis, tone, even surreality. I guess what I’m looking for is writing that I can hear, as if the person is speaking to me, and there are formal and informal ways of achieving that with different digital mediums.

I used to joke that I thought the most important OK Cupid question was, “What does ‘Wherefore’ mean in Juliet’s famous speech about Romeo?” (It means Why, as in, Why must the man I love have a name my family hates?). Then a friend pointed out how classist that is, to weed out people you won’t date because they haven’t had a certain kind of classical education. I think both perspectives are valid. I do value people who appreciate literature and theater, and like to nerd out about language. Then again, I DON’T value exclusively dating people who have a similar education, background, or life experience as me. It’s important to know what you value, but it’s just as important to be critical of your own prejudices and the way our personal lives perpetuate systems of oppression.

GJ: I sometimes get anxious about starting sext conversations because I worry the other person will think I’m overeager, “too sexual,” etc. Any tips for mitigating my anxiety around that?

TH: I don’t believe in playing hard to get, but I do believe in finesse. You can tease without misrepresenting yourself. Use your sexting language to seduce. Sometimes you have to withhold a little in order to get the satisfaction of making your partner beg for it.

Think of your sexting conversation as a story, with a prelude, exposition, rising action, climax, and denouement. Or a pop song that starts off quiet and builds and builds its excitement and dynamics. Or think of sexting as a strip tease, in the classic burlesque sense. You can burst onto the stage fully nude and lewd, or you can appear fully clothed and slowly reveal more and more until you have your audience wrapped around your g string.

GJ: Are there sexual acts you like to sext about that you don’t actually like to do in real life? Or vice versa? Why’s that?

TH: Sexting is totally a place for fantasy. If you have a sexting partner who is capable of distinguishing between fantasy and reality, then go for it! The more absurd the better!

GJ: What celebrities or fictional characters do you think would be amazing sexters? Why?

TH: David Bowie has been on my mind so much lately, so I’m gonna let myself imagine his prolific, surreal, romantic sext life. Suck, baby, suck.

GJ: Do you ever have to do aftercare after intense/kinky sexting sessions? How does that work?

TH: I think if you’re sexting to get yourself and/or your partner off (whether it’s by language message, picture, or video) it’s important to stay with the person after orgasm. Unless you’re on the same page about using each other for stimulation. The magical thing about sexting is that you have such an effect on someone’s body, their nervous system, whether you’re across town or on another continent. Sometimes it can be jarring to feel so close to someone to the point of sexual ecstasy, and then get dropped back into reality. I would say use the same principals as IRL self care: let the person know you’re thinking of them, remind them of how hot your sexting was. The virtual equivalent of snuggling!

Thank you so much to Tina Horn for being as thought-provoking and generous as ever! Go check out Sexting – I’m sure it’ll elevate your sextuality to the next level.

No Moment is Unendurable, & Other Life Lessons I Learned From Getting Spanked

Kate Sloan

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Gaining life experience makes me better at having sex, but also, gaining sex experience makes me better at living life. It’s a two-way street.

I’ve talked to you before about the similarities between sex and improv, and one of those similarities is that they’ve both informed my life philosophy. Massively.

Recently I was trying to describe to a friend how I feel when I’m getting spanked – the times when I’m really in the mood for it, braced for it, craving it. I reach a point where the painful rhythm no longer feels like a series of individual impacts: it becomes a wave I’m riding. I feel in control of the ups and downs of my experience, even though I’m bottoming and therefore have given up my power in the context of the scene. I feel how I do when I’ve been running for a while, or gotten into the swing of an intense badminton game, or been kissing someone for so long that my mind goes blissfully blank.

That’s an endorphin high. And it feels like a meditative zen high, too – something like what psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls “flow.” It’s part of what keeps me coming back to the act of spanking, especially when I’m stressed and need a release. Like Jillian Keenan says, yes, spanking feels painful, and difficult, and in some ways unpleasant, but it also feels necessary.

When I first began experimenting with spanking, I would wimp out as soon as it started to actually hurt. I’d tell my partner to stop, feeling like I’d reached my limit, and we’d move on to other things. Over the past few months, I’ve explored this kink more and I can now handle vastly longer, meaner spanking sessions than I could when I started. But it’s not so much that my pain tolerance has increased; I just understand now that pain is okay. My world will not unravel if I experience pain. Some moments will be difficult, sure, but those moments will end. And I will still be okay when they do.

This is also a lesson I’ve had to learn in relation to my anxiety. A favorite mantra of mine (courtesy of author Susan Jeffers) is “feel the fear and do it anyway.” This is one of the simplest, scariest, hugest messages I’ve had to drill into my brain: that most of my fears aren’t based in reality and exist only in my own head. My amygdala might tell me that talking to a cute stranger at a bar or walking into a big party full of strangers is a lion-stampede-level hazard, but it is absolutely no such thing. In the vast majority of cases, I can safely ignore my fear. It’s tricky as hell, and my body and brain will fight me the whole time I’m doing it, but the exhilaration of going through with it is worth the risk, and it’s never, ever as bad as I think it’s going to be.

Alexandra Franzen said it better than I could: “Are you willing to feel temporarily uncomfortable so that you can accomplish something that is permanently amazing?”

When I push through my pain aversion during spankings, I reach that endorphin high – that top-of-the-mountain, good-kink buzz that quiets my mind and pleases my body. I impress my dom, and I get to rest easy knowing I’ve earned it when he tells me I’m a good girl.

When I push through my day-to-day anxieties, I get what Alex Franzen calls “glitter-bombs exploding through my veins.” I feel infallible, badass and brave. I gain a new fear reference, a confidence power-up, and whatever rewards await me at the other end of that courageous thing I did. (A date with a hot new acquaintance? A radio show hosting gig to put on my resumé? A hilarious story to tell at the next TMSG?)

Being brave is the hardest thing I ever do, and it’s also the thing that pays off the most. It’s terrifying, but it’s worth it. It feels impossible, but it’s worth it. It’s painful and awful and risky and reckless, but it’s worth it.

Now, what brave things are you gonna do this year?

Help, It’s a Kinkmergency!: Make Your Own Self-Aftercare Kit

Kate Sloan

Here’s how you know I’m still relatively new to kink: I didn’t take aftercare seriously until very recently.

I viewed it largely the same way I view those safety presentations that flight attendants give before takeoff: this is something I should be aware of, but it probably won’t apply to my life.

See, I cried after the first time I had sex with a man, but for the most part, sex doesn’t unravel me. I think sex is less tied to emotions for me than it is for the average person, just judging by the questions I sometimes get when I tell friends about my sex life (e.g. “How can you have sex with someone you don’t have romantic feelings for?!” and “What?! You could ‘take or leave’ kissing? Really?!“).

But the thing is, kink is way more emotionally taxing than vanilla sex (at least in my experience), which is part of why aftercare is so important. When I’m just getting fucked or putting genitals in my mouth or whatever, I can roll over and fall asleep immediately afterwards, or start cracking jokes, or get up and leave. I can spend some time decompressing and debriefing, but I don’t need to. Shit’s different with kink.

My partners have normally been wonderful about aftercare. They gave it without me needing to ask for it or even use the word “aftercare.” But last week, I went into a play session feeling a bit psychologically off-kilter already (don’t do this!!), so the extended spanking and biting and slapping that typically would’ve been fine… wasn’t. I felt more shaken up than usual, to the point that I started crying and couldn’t even properly verbalize what my problem was. To make matters worse, my partner said something shame-y to me, and I don’t think he meant to, but I just couldn’t handle it at that moment.

So I did what you’re never supposed to do: I skipped aftercare. I put my clothes on and got the hell out of there, because I felt a strong need to distance myself from that person at that moment. It wasn’t the brightest decision I’ve ever made, but it felt necessary at that time.

The face of someone who needs aftercare.
The face of someone who needs aftercare.

I’m really lucky to have lots of clever and supportive folks following me on Twitter, so when I tweeted about my situation, I received lots of suggestions. Upon arriving home, I munched carrots and hummus while watching a cartoon show on Netflix, while still wearing my winter coat with the hood pulled up because I felt safer that way. After about an hour of sniffling and breathing and crunching and (eventually) giggling, I started to feel less horrible.

It got me thinking about how important it is to have self-care supplies on hand, incase of a kinkmergency like this. Sometimes your partner has to leave right away, and can’t give you the care you need after a scene; sometimes you have a conflict with a partner during sex that leaves you both wanting distance; hell, sometimes you might even do kink stuff by yourself that leaves you feeling vulnerable enough to need some aftercare. Here are some suggestions for items to have at the ready, just incase.

 

Calming media

In my recent time of need, I gravitated toward Mike Tyson Mysteries, because it’s bright, silly, and doesn’t require a whole lotta attention span. I think cartoons, in general, make for good aftercare viewing. Some of my kinky friends swear by Pixar movies or old episodes of Bill Nye the Science Guy.

If you’re more inclined toward grown-up media, you could watch something you’ve seen a zillion times already. (Sherlock? The Office? Dead Poets Society?) Depending on how you’re feeling, it could be something funny or lighthearted, or something sad enough to induce some cathartic crying. Either could be helpful.

In addition to things to watch, you should also have things to listen to, incase that’s more the mood you’re in. I recommend quiet, soothing music (e.g. Jeremy Messersmith’s “Paper Moon,” Jim Guthrie’s Indie Game soundtrack, the Peaceful Piano playlist on Spotify) or something you’ve listened to so many times that you practically have the whole thing memorized (for me: Jeremy Larson’s “They Reappear” and the self-titled Fleet Foxes album). You could even make yourself a playlist of specific songs that reliably calm you down, and sync it to your phone/MP3 player/tablet/cloud, so you’ll have it at your fingertips whenever you need it.

Depending on your disposition and tastes, it can also be really calming to listen to well-spoken folks reading poems, monologues and such. For example, here is Benedict Cumberbatch reciting poetry, Tom Hiddleston reading a Shakespearian sonnet, and John Krasinski performing The Gingerbread Man.

 

Warm and cuddly things

Some people get overheated when overwhelmed by kink-related feelings; obviously you should listen to your body and do what feels best. But most people I speak to about this topic seem to say that they feel cold and/or shivery and need additional warmth after emotionally intense play.

To combat this, you can keep on hand some blankets, sweaters, coats, scarves, shawls, hats, socks, slippers, and/or mittens. In emotionally fragile times, I especially like to wear things that remind me of someone I love: a shawl my grandmother knitted, a jacket a friend gave me, some mittens my mom bought me.

You can also get warm by making yourself (or having someone else make you) some tea or hot chocolate, or by drawing a nice hot bath, ideally with some good-smelling stuff in it.

If you have access to a friendly pet, cuddle it. If not, a stuffed animal is almost as good. You can also try cuddling with real-live people if there are any around, and if that appeals. (It’s okay if it doesn’t. Sometimes the comedown from kink involves wanting your distance from other humans for a little while.)

 

Tools of self-expression and self-reflection

This will differ a lot from person to person and even from moment to moment, but you may want a way to process what just happened to you and what you’re feeling. You can keep it simple and just talk out loud about your feelings (I love to do this while sitting in a bath), or you can get a bit more involved and write in a journal, paint a picture, make some music, etc.

For stream-of-consciousness writing that I may or may not want to see ever again, I love 750Words.com. Sometimes typing is easier than writing by hand, physically and maybe emotionally too, since you don’t have to focus quite so much on what you’re writing as you write it. A service like 750Words is also more secure than a physical journal, which might be important to you if you’re writing about sensitive topics and difficult feelings.

 

Aromatherapy

I like the smell of bath products from Lush, scented candles from Bath & Body Works, and lavender essential oil. Figure out what smells you like and keep ’em around if you can. You may want to put on a perfume that reminds you of a happy time in your life. (Bonus happy-hibernating-turtle points if you spray this into the front of a cowl or scarf and then pull it up over your nose.)

 

Grounding snacks and drinks

I’m finding that I really like cold, crunchy foods when I’m coming down from subspace or a sex-high. Fruits and veggies give me enough sensory stimulation to ease me back to earth, and they’re also full of nourishment and hydration, which are important when you’ve just endured something intense.

A friend of mine keeps ice cream around for aftercare purposes. Another friend likes to pick up donuts on the way to a sex-date so they’ll be available for consumption afterward. It might be useful to think in advance about your own food-related proclivities, so you can avoid foods that will make you feel anxious or gross and choose only the ones that’ll make you feel good and happy.

It’s also really important to re-hydrate after a kink scene, or any kind of sex. You lose a lot of fluids through sweating, coming, and (maybe) crying. Load up on water, tea, juice, sports drinks, or whatever other beverages your body is calling out for. (Alcohol’s probably not a great idea at this time, though.)

 

Kind words and feel-good memories

imageThis one’s a bit more abstract, but still important, I think. Start keeping a file or folder – whether digital or physical – that contains all the compliments you receive from friends, family, and even strangers. It’s so easy to forget the nice things people say about you, because they’re often outweighed by negative comments that stick in your head more easily.

If you’re having trouble coming up with material for this “compliment bank,” ask 10 of your closest pals what they think your 3 best qualities are.

You could also keep an ongoing jar of happy memories/good things, like Penny does, to leaf through when you need a pick-me-up. For aftercare purposes, it might be best if this is a physical object rather than just a digital list; the visceral quality of paper in your hands can help re-ground you.

 

What do you do when you need to provide your own aftercare? Or when you need to do self-care in general?

Review: Tantus Pelt

Kate Sloan

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I once read about a French tradition in a fashion magazine, where you buy a red Chanel lipstick for a baby girl when she’s born and then give it to her when she’s old enough to rock it.

I was reminded of that custom when I got my Tantus Pelt paddle, because I want to buy one for every spanking enthusiast in my life. Top or bottom, dom or sub, casual dabbler or full-on kinkster: they all need one of these.

You might remember that I own a few Tantus paddles. I wasn’t a big fan of the Snap Strap – too long and stingy for my liking – so I gave it to a friend, and I hear she digs it. I was more partial to the Wham Bam, but even that was stingier than I typically prefer. And while the actual paddlin’ end of the Plunge works well for me, I was perplexed by the handle-that-doubles-as-a-dildo.

The Pelt, however, is my Goldilocks paddle.

I’m not the only one who feels this way about it. I used it on Bex, and Penny used it on me, live on Periscope right after I bought it, and we all adored it. When I brought it to Playground Prom and folks tried it out on each other on the dance floor, more than one person asked me where I had gotten it. I’ve brought it to my dom fuckbuddy’s house on multiple occasions and we’ve loved using it together. I even brought it to my first porn shoot and ended up with a tasty bruise.

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There is just so much about the Pelt that Tantus got perfectly right. For one thing: the material. All of Tantus’ paddles are made of matte black silicone. It looks and feels sexy and understated, and it can be boiled or bleached if you need to sanitize it between partners. The matte finish gives it enough grippiness that you probably won’t lose your grasp on it unless you get very sweaty or lube-y. The silicone is thick and firm enough to pack a real punch, but flexible enough that it gathers momentum with every stroke.

That momentum is the secret to the Pelt’s success. You don’t have to put much muscle into your swing to get a sizeable smack out of it. Its small size also makes it easier to manoeuver than the longer paddles Tantus makes, so I think this is the best paddle in the range for someone who has issues with strength or mobility: you don’t need a ton of brawn or co-ordination to use it. But if you do put some serious vigor into a Pelt wallop, you’ll get even more bang for your buck than you would with a rigid paddle.

As I mentioned, I’ve been on both sides of the Pelt, so I’ve come to appreciate its virtues both in the hand and on the butt. Aside from the aforementioned momentum awesomeness, I also like using it as a top because it’s just so damn comfortable to hold. The handle is slightly thicker and firmer than the business end, so it doesn’t flop or squish – Tantus’ designers are geniuses. The handle has squared-off edges but they don’t dig into my hand uncomfortably. Sometimes I like to pull the paddle’s end back toward me with one hand and then let it pop forward, like a slingshot, and that’s super fun and highly effective. And the Pelt makes some of the most satisfying impact sounds I have ever heard.

Bottom-wise, I get all swoony for the Pelt. It’s stingier and often more painful than traditional hand spankings or fist poundings, but if I’m properly warmed up, I can handle it. I sometimes like to have my skin stroked in between hits so I don’t get overstimulated, and the Pelt’s silky surface is lovely for that. This paddle warms and reddens my skin pretty quickly, which I totally dig. And while it can leave bruises and welts if used in the right way, it’s not so thuddy that marks are unavoidable.

In addition to all these great qualities, I also love that the Pelt is easy to wash, squishy enough that you can fold it up to fit it into a small bag, and (don’t make fun of me) has a sexy name. (I could never get down with the name of the Plunge. It reminded me of clogged toilets.)

The Pelt is my favorite paddle. My desert-island spanking implement. My interest in spanking has really ramped up over the past few months, and this wonderful tool has been my right-hand man during that journey. I own a lot of paddles but this is the one I most often tuck into my bag before sex-dates or pull out of my storage drawers for sex-visitors. It’s my one true paddle love, and I know it’s going to see me through plenty more adventures in my lifetime.