Njoy Eleven

12 Days of Girly Juice 2020: 3 Fave Encounters

Kate Sloan

This has been a more difficult year than usual for me to keep track of memorable sexual experiences in my mind. Not because I didn’t have any good or great sex this year – I had a lot! – but because normally I have some situational or locational markers to help me remember specific instances better. In 2020, there was no “that time we did watersports after a night out at a cocktail bar” or “that time we used a new toy we’d just picked up at the local sex shop” or “that time we fucked immediately upon finally arriving at our hotel after a cross-country flight.” There was, however, a lot of “that time we had sex in bed after hanging out in bed all day.” 😂

As a result of these circumstances + the way my brain organizes sexual experiences, I don’t remember the exact dates of every stellar rendezvous I had this year, despite (still) keeping a sex spreadsheet. But I remember the feelings, and the vibes (so to speak), and the highlights – which is sort of how I feel about 2020, too. So today I’ll tell you about some of the best encounters I do remember.

I’ve also thrown in a little write-up from Matt about each of these, like I did last year, because it’s fun to hear both perspectives sometimes. Enjoy!

 

Non-reciprocal (but surprisingly reciprocal) oral

My very first sexual partner, back in 2008–2009, could have orgasms from going down on me. You can see how this experience might lead a person to be disappointed by subsequent relationships where that didn’t happen!

Of course, I know how uncommon and unrealistic this is for most people. It makes for a great fantasy – that someone could find your pleasure and your genitals soooo hot that it could make them come, basically untouched – but it just isn’t how most people’s bodies work. And yet, somehow, a decade after that first sexual relationship, I found myself dating (and eventually married to) someone who happened to have the same talent.

Some of my most satisfying sexual experiences this year were times when my love went down on me – slow, gradually escalating, dedicated, and reverent – and brought me to an orgasm so intense that it made them come against the bedsheets in the same moment. Sometimes this happened while they were in chastity, which makes sense, what with their sensitivity being amped up and orgasm threshold lowered – but sometimes it was just sorta random.

I am very lucky to have a sweetheart who loves giving oral sex that much. It feels powerful to me every time, and affirms that I am actually hot, even at times when I severely doubt that to be true. Some people chase and fetishize the elusive simultaneous orgasm during PIV – but I prefer a simultaneous orgasm during oral, tbh!

Matt says: I’ve always been a little embarrassed with past partners when I’ve come from going down on them, because of what culture tells us about “premature” ejaculation. The fact is that eating pussy is one of my all-time favorite sex acts, so of course it turns me on. And sometimes tasting someone come in my mouth is enough to push me over the edge. The first time this happened with you, I was shy to admit it at first, but when you reacted with a loving giggle and a beaming smile, I knew you were into it. This is also the most frequent way I experience simultaneous orgasms, with my orgasm almost always beginning just as you start to come and peaking as I work hard to maintain the rhythm of my tongue on your clit and ride out the waves of pleasure. It’s definitely worth the cleanup. 

 

Slapping their cock to orgasm (content note: inflicting pain on a penis)

One of the kinks Matt and I explored more this year was CBT (that’s cock and ball torture, not cognitive-behavioral therapy!). While many people with dicks are scared to death of any pain or injury befalling that area (and reasonably so), personally I think it’s nice to mix a little pain in with my pleasure – and fortunately, my spouse agrees.

We had experimented with occasional cock-slaps here and there, but one night in June after they’d already made me come with my Bandit and Eroscillator, we got into some dick-slapping that was much more purposeful and concentrated. After a few minutes of teasing slaps, I realized that it seemed like they could come from the hits I was raining down on their dick. (One of the benefits of being in a long-term sexual relationship can be developing the ability to sense such things.) I kept up my rhythm, the slaps becoming gradually more firm and fast, until eventually, they came hard, whining and whimpering.

Though I’m not much of a natural domme, there is something thrillingly powerful about being able to give someone a totally new-to-them type of orgasm. I’ve subsequently improved my CBT skillz and can now make them come with slaps pretty easily and consistently. Cool!

Matt says: I don’t remember exactly how we started doing CBT together. But I definitely remember the first time I came from it. I was in a subby, trancey headspace and every one of your slaps was making my cock harder. I felt myself beginning to leak precum against your hand and craving release. I didn’t know it was possible for me to come from slapping alone, but I felt myself getting closer as your hits became more rhythmic and focused on my frenulum. I asked for permission to come, and had one of the most intense orgasms of the entire year. It’s amazing to learn a new way to come, and we’ve had a lot of fun playing with it since.

 

Wedding night sex

Of course, there are traditionally a lot of expectations heaped onto the night of one’s wedding, sexually speaking – and though we wanted to make it special, we also knew it was just one night of many, many, many nights we’ll spend together as a married couple, so there was no need to put undue pressure on ourselves.

After our post-wedding dinner with a few friends, we checked into the Conrad Hotel for the night, where they had set up champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries in our suite (aww). After some kissing, cuddling, and decompressing, Matt fucked me with the Njoy Eleven – the dildo that indirectly led to us meeting in 2017, because they mentioned on Twitter that they liked my review of it – while I used the Eroscillator on myself. (I remember the way their brand-new wedding ring clinked against the metal of the Eleven…) Then we had good ol’ PIV. Classic.

It surprised me to notice that despite wedding night sex being considered “special,” an anomaly, in real life it actually felt pretty similar to great sex we might have on an average day, save for the location (and the fact that we had to peel off our formalwear beforehand!). I reject the idea of waiting until marriage to have sex (for myself, anyway – you do you), because it prevents you from assessing your sexual compatibility with the person you plan on tethering your life to – and the flipside of that coin is that I already knew I love fucking Matt, and that I could be happy doing so for the rest of my life. That night just confirmed it.

Matt says: Romantic! We were a little drunk and a lot exhausted, but we weren’t going to waste a beautiful hotel room and our wedding night by going to bed early. After some champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, I fumbled around trying to figure out the complicated lighting system and went down on you in the dark for what felt like the perfect amount of time. I knew I wanted you to come on the Eleven, like we discussed. And I knew I wanted to come inside you. So that’s exactly what happened. It couldn’t have been more perfect. And then we fucked once more in the morning, for good measure.

 

Hope it was a wonderful year in your sex life, too (if that’s what you want/enjoy)!

12 Days of Girly Juice 2019: 3 Fave Encounters

Kate Sloan

I had a lot of good sex this year (quit braggin’!), but these encounters stick out in my mind as some of the best and most memorable. Read on for R-rated descriptions of my various perversions and their manifestations!

Bimbo Hypno (Content note: bimboification, ableist language, forced feminization, hypnosis, age play / daddy / DD/lg)

All these years that I’ve been writing 12 Days of Girly Juice posts, I’ve never highlighted a phone-sex encounter as one of my favorite sexual experiences of the year – but phone sex feels to me more and more like real and legitimate sex, and so it would be strange not to include some, especially since it makes up about 55% of my sex life at this point! (Uhh, more dorky statistics like that to come in my year-end Sextistics post. Just you wait!)

My Sir and I had been thinking a lot about “intelligence play”/bimboification/forced feminization, and the intersections therein, when we decided to do a scene incorporating all of these. After extensive negotiation, here’s what we settled on: I laid out a full face’s worth of makeup on my desk and set up my computer there. Sir called me on the phone, put me into trance, and suggested to me that with every item of makeup I applied, I could let go of a little more of my intelligence. I could sink into the bliss of ignorance, set aside my overanalytical adult tendencies, and just be a pretty, childlike little doll. When they woke me up and called me on FaceTime video, I was already feeling spacey, and that just developed further as I began to put my face on, piece by piece.

By the end of the scene, I was slurring slightly on super simple sentences. I looked very cute but could barely formulate a thought. I was deeper in “little space” than I’d ever been before, feeling genuinely like that little girl I so often roleplay as. My daddy took me to bed (by which I mean, we each separately retired to our beds) and fucked me over the phone the way they do almost every night – but this time felt different, because my brain felt dimmed. As someone who’s too often wracked with anxiety and intrusive thoughts during sex, it was magic to be able to just… turn that off. I was always a very bright little girl when I was a kid, but sometimes being a little less astute for a while can be amazingly relaxing.

Matt says: This was definitely one of the most memorable scenes we did this year, even though we weren’t in the same room. I remember watching you on FaceTime video putting on the makeup and getting dumber, and getting more and more turned on as you got dumber, and I was struggling to figure out when I should fuck you! I wanted to fuck you from the beginning, but also I wanted to make you as dumb as possible and let you finish your makeup, obviously… so it was a struggle against my own arousal! I was also thinking a lot about what questions I could ask you to confirm and convince you of your dumbness. I asked you about process, like about why you were doing certain things with your makeup, and you had kind of a hard time figuring that out. The hypnosis, I remember a lot; the makeup, I remember a lot; the resulting phone sex, I don’t remember as much. It was like, sex with you-but-dumber, which was great, but it didn’t stick with me as much as watching you get dumber. But I do remember I came really hard, so…

Unprecedented PIV in Portland (Content note: alcohol)

I don’t know why, but I never assume roleplay scenes will lead to particularly good sex. I mean, for me, that’s not the point of them: they’re more about playful exploration, closer to an improv show than a porn shoot. But sometimes, the sex therein can be incredible.

When Matt and I spent a week in Portland, it seemed like a good opportunity for a roleplay we’d been wanting to do for a while: we would go to a bar and pretend to be strangers meeting for the first time. We decided on Barlow, a swanky cocktail bar around the corner from our hotel. I went over there, ordered a daiquiri, and sat reading How to Date Men When You Hate Men, the loud title of which further contributed to what we already knew: the beginning of the scene would be tricky for Matt. They would have to woo me – a shy, defensive introvert, perpetually wary of strangers’ approaches – into wanting to talk to them. Wanting to talk to them so much, in fact, that I would put my book down to do so. This is no small feat!

Matt came in a few minutes after me and ordered a daiquiri as well, which ended up being the catalyst for our conversation (they were damn good daiquiris!). We small-talked about drinks, books, and the conference we were both attending, and then, inevitably, discussing my line of work led us to disclose (some of) our kinks and (some of) our attraction to each other. I agreed to let them come up to my hotel room, saying “Maybe we could just make out” (which is indeed what I would say if I actually met a hot stranger at a bar in broad daylight in a city with which I was unfamiliar). We paid our check, made our way to the hotel, and giggled nervously in the elevator.

I honestly don’t remember much about the sex that ensued, mostly because its conclusion was so bafflingly intense that it probably blew all the other memories out of my brain. We were having good old-fashioned dick-in-vag sex, and I had the Eroscillator on my clit, and before I even fully realized what was happening, their dick felt so good that I came – way sooner and more easily than I normally would from this activity – and felt them coming at the exact same time. A simultaneous PIV orgasm is one of those sexual goals that I’ve never really understood or fetishized, but it felt so perfect in that roleplay – I had the sense that even though we were “strangers,” we knew each other’s bodies and minds deeply, and were instantly, fiercely connected to each other. That’s pretty much how it felt when we actually met for the first time, so it was romantic to revisit that sensation – albeit while having an orgasm so hard and fast that it surprised me and left me breathless.

Matt says: What sticks out to me about this scene was how difficult it was for me, because I am not used to “picking up people” in this way. Even though I knew you’re my partner and we were gonna end up at home together, I felt really high-stakes about picking you up. So, from the moment I walked into the bar, I was really nervous about what I would say to you, when I would say it, where I would sit – everything about the whole interaction. I was very calculating about it, even down to our interactions with the bartenders, because they didn’t assume we were together, and then when I tried to pay for us together, that was a whole problem I had to solve… It was this, like, choreographed dance in the bar, and once we were back in “your” hotel room, it was much easier to relax into fucking you. I felt like I had “scored” you, which is a feeling I don’t often get, and I really wanted to impress you with my oral skills and PIV skills and stuff. I felt like the way we came together was beautiful and perfect, and if my character had walked off into the night and gone back to their Airbnb or whatever, it would’ve been this beautiful perfect moment, but then we got to spend the rest of the day together and it was even better.

Cryin’ & Goodbyin’ (Content note: hypnosis, alcohol)

I was only supposed to spend a week in New York in August, but as my flight time neared, Matt wrapped their arms around me tight, silently Feeling Some Feelings, and then observed, “I’m not doin’ too good.” I wasn’t doin’ too good either. We rearranged our plans to give me three extra days in New York, which wasn’t very much but seemed like enough. We just weren’t ready to say goodbye yet.

On the night before our actual goodbye, we attended a workshop on hypnosis and sadomasochism, stopped off for some late-night Mexican food, and then came back home. Matt wanted to do some trance stuff (naturally) and asked me what I wanted to feel; I was so flooded with love already that my answer came easily: “I want to feel romantic.” They put me into a deep, slightly drunken trance (margaritas are delicious!!) and then talked me through amping up my pre-existing romantic feelings. With my hazy eyes fluttering, I clutched at them and began to cry. Big, hot tears soaked my beloved’s pillow as they talked me through it, murmuring in my ear about love and trust and togetherness.

When they woke me up, they went down on me lovingly and fucked me with the Eleven lovingly and made me squirt lovingly. It all looked very rough from the outside but was actually maybe the most romantic sex I had all year. Kinksters are redefining “lovemaking” and I’m very glad.

Matt says: I was so sad that you were leaving, even though we had extended your stay. I was just wrecked. I was so fucked up about it. Watching you spill your tears all over my blue pillowcase in this beautiful, long pattern made me feel better about it, and then I was like, “I want more of that.” So I did this trance scene, and I got more tears out of you, and then I fucked you and got you to squirt all over my sheets, and my sheets were just covered in your wetness and your essence… I felt like I had gotten everything out of you that I possibly could before you left, and that made me feel more okay about saying goodbye. I laid on those sheets for days after you left, like, “She’s still here, in a way.” Fuck. It was the perfect ending to that trip.

What were your most memorable encounters of the year?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2018: 3 Fave Encounters

Kate Sloan

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

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

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

High Line First Time

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

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

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

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

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

Melting in His Mouth

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woodhull Wonderment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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