sexual technique

Sexual self-doubt is an epidemic. As if we haven’t already had sex-related shame heaped onto us since birth, a lot of sexual discourse online lumps people into a binary of “good at sex” versus “bad at sex.” Many of us are not given clear benchmarks of what these terms even mean, which makes it even more difficult to put the worry out of one’s mind: Am I a terrible lay?

Technique vs. approach

If worries about being bad in bed weren’t so prevalent, my industry – sex writing – would not exist as we know it. Articles abound, online and in print, that claim they’ll teach you “techniques” that will make you into some kind of sex god. Stroke the clit in a circular motion, tap the frenulum to a steady rhythm, finger-blast the G-spot hard, press a vibrator into the perineum. This type of advice is largely well-intentioned, but I think it misses the point: Being good in bed is more about your approach than your technique.

There are exceptions, of course. Sex professionals, for instance, tend to have better technique than many laypeople (pun not intended) – so I’d expect that the beauties at the Discreet Elite VIP escort agency have better blowjob skills than your average cocksucker, and pro dom(me)s are more skilled at flogging than your average kinkster. Often these people are being sought out for their skills specifically (among other things), so it makes sense that they’d have to hone their technique.

But I think, for the average person, it’s better to have a good approach to sex (which, naturally, a lot of sex professionals also have!). By that I mean: Do you pay attention to partners’ verbal and non-verbal cues in figuring out what’s working or not working during sex? Do you ask questions or invite feedback as needed, if you’re having trouble making someone feel good? Do you co-create an environment where you both(/all) feel safe to communicate openly and honestly? Do you have good psychological tools for handling difficult feelings that may come up when someone gives you constructive sexual feedback, and can you implement those tools when you need to?

I think these things matter much more than physical technique, especially since everyone likes different things in bed. Why try to navigate new territory with an old map? I think it makes more sense to learn the skills that will enable you to create new “maps” on the fly when you need to.

A or B?

Okay, if there’s one sexual skill you really need (aside from ascertaining consent, duh), I think this is it. Some sex educators call it the “optometrist” approach, because – like an optometrist during an eye exam – you’re going to ask your partner, “Does this work better for you, or this?”

Try it with anything; just remember to phrase it as an “either/or” question, because those are often easiest for people to answer in the heat of the moment. “Do you want it harder or softer?” “Faster or slower?” “Deeper or shallower?”

While actual verbal feedback can be super helpful, especially with a newer partner, you can also use this technique silently in your own mind to try stuff out and discover what works best. Try licking softer, and then harder, and see which gets a bigger reaction. Thrust a little deeper, then a little shallower, and stick with whichever one seems most appreciated. This might sound simple and self-explanatory, but it’s amazing how many people get so wrapped up in their own nervousness (or pleasure) during sex that they forget to pay full attention to their partner, thereby missing crucial cues that could help them get better at fucking that particular person.

Compassion is king

Sex is a very, very personal thing for many of us. One’s sexuality can feel core to one’s identity – so judgments on one’s sexuality can feel like judgments on one’s very existence. Those judgments, and the feelings of shame they provoke, can stay with you for months. For years. For a lifetime, in some cases.

With that in mind, I think it’s really important to foreground compassion in all of the sex we have. That doesn’t mean you have to let people steamroll your boundaries, but it does mean you should tread carefully so as not to step on any emotional landmines. Never make critical comments about someone’s body during sex, unless they’ve explicitly asked you to do so. Never laugh maliciously at a partner during sex; strive to only laugh with them, about things you both find funny or silly. If you have to criticize someone’s technique, focus moreso on “Here’s what I prefer” than on “You’re doing it wrong,” because – as ever – they’re not actually doing it wrong, they’re just not doing it the way you like it (yet).

I strongly believe that part of being good in bed is knowing how to create a safe environment for pleasure. No one can fully lean into their pleasure in your presence if they feel it’s unsafe to do so. One way to establish that safety, and to build that trust over time, is to make compassion the baseline ethic with which you approach sex. And I don’t just mean for romantic partners, either – even casual or short-lived hookups deserve the dignity of your respect and compassion. And I’d hope it would go without saying, but incase it doesn’t: You deserve partners who treat you that way too, and it’s completely fine to keep looking until you find one.

I’ve only been sexually active for 16 years or so; I’m sure my views on this will change even more as I grow older, and they’ve already undergone many transformations. But at this moment in time, these are the main things that I think make someone “good in bed.” Approach is everything, in my view, because a good approach helps you find the right technique(s) for the person you’re sleeping with, and helps you make them comfortable enough that they can enjoy your technique(s). How does that old saying go? “Give a man a fuck, and you satisfy him for a day. Teach a man to fuck, and he’ll satisfy his partners for a lifetime.” Something like that.

What do you think makes someone good in bed? Sound off in the comments; I wanna know!

This post contains a sponsored link. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Truly did not know what photo to pair with this piece so here is an old one of me doing a cunnilingus face.

I spend a lot of time on the Sex forum on Reddit, so I read a lot of posts from frustrated virgins who are afraid that they’ll never get laid. One of their more pervasive fears is that it will be immediately obvious to their first partner that they are a virgin, because of their unpolished technique. They live in terror of being humiliated by a partner who judges them for their abilities or lack thereof.

I have been there myself. While struggling with a prohibitive fear of giving blowjobs at the age of 18, I sincerely worried I would never get into a healthy, happy relationship, because I was mostly attracted to cis men romantically but had no idea what to do with their junk, which I assumed would be a dealbreaker for almost all of them. I imagine this fear is even more pronounced for men with little experience, since our culture too often paints heterosexual sex as men’s responsibility to manage from start to finish, whereas it’s considered more acceptable for women to lie back and have things done to them. (I’m not saying that’s how it should be, but for many people, it’s how it is.) It’s no wonder that these men are so terrified of having poor sexual technique; they’ve been told that their skill level will be the main deciding factor for whether the sex they have is good or not, both for themselves and for their partner(s).

The advice I always give these guys is some version of the following: your attitude matters way more than your technique, and your attitude is what will actually allow you to develop good technique. What should your attitude be, going into a first-time sexual encounter (or, frankly, any sexual encounter)? I think it should be centered around the desire to listen to your partner, pay attention to their reactions, communicate, explore, experiment, and have fun. And you do not have to be some kind of sex god to do any of that. You just have to be attentive and enthusiastic, and you have to care. I already know that these guys are all of those things, because they care enough about sex and have enough enthusiasm about it to wonder how to get good at it, and they’re (usually) attentive to the answers they receive on their posts. The part that they’re missing is the “relax and have fun” part, but that gets easier with time.

Technique-wise, there is definitely a lot you can learn before you ever have sex with another person. You can read articles online about the clitoris, the G-spot, or whatever other parts you’re interested in pleasing. You can study anatomical diagrams like you’re memorizing a map before a road trip. You can read books on sexual technique, like She Comes First and Becoming Cliterate. You can check out instructional websites that focus on sexual technique, like OMGYes or https://www.thepleasurekeys.com. You can practice on your own body, because even if you have different anatomy from the people you’re predominantly attracted to, genitals are all analogous to one another and share plenty of commonalities.

It’s crucial to remember, though, that all the technique-based knowledge in the world is no substitute for asking your partner what they like. Few things frustrate me more than men who keep doing a thing I’ve repeatedly told them doesn’t feel good for me, because their ex-girlfriend liked it, or they read about it in a magazine or something. While it’s always possible that you could introduce someone to sensations they never knew their body could feel, generally your partner will be the world’s leading authority on what feels good for them and what gets them off. To ignore their feedback is to ignore the most useful sexual advice you’ll ever receive.

Given the choice between a partner with well-practiced sexual technique but a shitty attitude, or a partner with an excellently open-minded attitude but no technique to speak of, I would choose the partner with the good attitude almost every time. (I say “almost” because hey, we all make choices that aren’t in our best interest sometimes!) If someone is communicative, kind, generous, attentive, and enthusiastic, you can pretty much teach them whatever sexual skills you want them to learn. It may take practice before they get the hang of it – it usually does – but once they figure it out, they will be leaps and bounds ahead of that douchebag who claims to be a killer cunnilinguist but actually just keeps doing that tongue-flicky thing you told them you hate.

So if you’re reading this and feeling inadequate because you lack sexual experience, just know that your attitude will take you farther than anything else. I’d much rather the face between my legs be looking up at me with cheerful curiosity than with smug certainty. That way, we can discover new pleasures together.

This post contains a sponsored link. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.