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Let’s Normalize Lube in Sexual Media!

Kate Sloan

It comes out of nowhere. I’m never expecting it. Why would I?

A reference to lube? In a mainstream piece of media? Really? Are you sure?

This time, it’s the character Lily on my favorite show of the moment, Netflix’s Sex Education. “I’ll bring the condoms,” she says, while negotiating an upcoming sex-date. “You bring the lube.”

There are a lot of parts of the queer, kinky, asexual-spectrum experience that are not represented accurately, or at all, in media depictions – so I’m not exactly surprised when on-screen sex has little in common with my real-life encounters. But lube seems like such an amazingly basic thing to leave out of fictional sex altogether. It would be like if an entire cinematic universe flat-out refused to acknowledge condoms exist (which, I suppose I should note, the mainstream porn “cinematic universe” often seems to do). It is not only inaccurate to many people’s experience of sex, but also irresponsible – because anyone learning about sex should simultaneously learn about lube.

It should show up in so many movies, books, shows, podcasts, and magazines we’ve consumed by the time we become sexually active that we add it to our carts when we drop by the drugstore to pick up condoms – a no-brainer. Its usage should be one of the standard pieces of advice we give to every teenager in sex ed classes and “the talk.” Doctors should bring it up alongside birth control when counseling soon-to-be-no-longer-virgins.

I argue this, in part, because I myself didn’t discover the wonders of lube until I was about 19. Sure, I’d read about it in the occasional erotica story or informative article, and had heard folks discussing it on the Sex is Fun podcast, but somehow I assumed that someone like me didn’t need to worry about it. I got plenty wet enough on my own, thank you very much.

But then I started reading sex blogs, and I noticed the fervor with which some of my favorite bloggers used lube every single time they masturbated or had sex. I bought a bottle of my own (water-based, IMO the best kind for beginners because of its versatility) and started using it religiously. And it, indeed, changed my life.

With the addition of a good lubricant, bad sex got better, and good sex became amazing. Masturbation was easier, and I did it more often because I no longer had to wait for my body to get all the way turned on before sliding a dildo inside me. It even worked well for external stimulation – I experimented with using it on my clit, labia, and nipples, and found it was far preferable to my previous “lube” of choice, spit. The clouds parted and angels sang upon my genitals.

This has been an overall theme in my process of learning about sex: even though (as a budding sex nerd) I always knew way more about this stuff than my peers did while I was growing up, it’s often been the simplest lessons that took me the longest to learn, and that I had to push myself the hardest to absorb. I was hesitant, for example, to touch my own clit during intercourse even though I knew it would feel good, I was initially scared to give handjobs or blowjobs because I worried being bad at them was a breakup-worthy offence, and somehow I didn’t realize just how much a good lube could improve my sex life until I tried one. Oh well – better late than never.

One of my big takeaways from this experience is that, as I said, we need to incorporate lube into more sex ed curricula and media. It would make people who don’t self-lubricate “enough” feel less broken, and people who have sex involving non-self-lubricating holes (including many queer and trans people) safer and more comfortable. It would go beyond the dry (no pun intended), safety-focused information so often given to teens and would teach them about pleasure – because as far as I’m concerned, additional pleasure is the main benefit of using lube. Maybe that’s why it’s so rarely talked about in comparison to condoms and birth control.

Kudos to Sex Education, not only for mentioning lube several times (including in a memorable scene where our sex-genius heroine Jean advises a young gay boy that water-based lube is the best choice for anal sex), but for mentioning it in the context of pleasure. Sex advice shouldn’t make sex seem scary or intimidating – and I really feel that spreading the good word about lube can go a long way toward diminishing sexual shame and raising the overall global quotient of sexual pleasure.

 

Thanks so much to the lovely folks at Promescent for sponsoring this post! They have a new collection of lubricants out, including a water-based one, a silicone-based one, an organic aloe-based one, and a peppermint-infused arousal gel.

How to Do Solo Foreplay

Kate Sloan

Many of my sex educator friends despise the term “foreplay.” The way it’s traditionally used, it refers to any sexual activities that precede intercourse, from kissing to dry-humping to oral sex. This definition is problematic for so many reasons: it leaves out queer and trans people, as well as people who can’t or don’t want to have penetrative sex (for reasons medical, psychological, and otherwise), while devaluing and de-emphasizing sex acts that many people enjoy and find wholly satisfying all on their own. (My sex life, for one, is deeply enriched by self-contained oral sex sessions!) This conception of foreplay also implies that sex is a scripted endeavor that must unfold in a particular order without deviation. Overall, it leaves a lot of people unsatisfied and forgotten.

While many high school teachers forbid their students from using Wikipedia as a source for assignments, I’m a grown-up so I can quote Wiki as much as I like, and their definition of foreplay, being crowd-sourced, is pleasingly inclusive: “Foreplay is a set of emotionally and physically intimate acts between two or more people meant to create sexual arousal and desire for sexual activity. Although foreplay is typically understood as physical sexual activity, nonphysical activities, such as mental or verbal acts, may in some contexts be foreplay. Foreplay can mean different things to different people.” (Emphasis mine.) YES, Wikipedia!! This is the definition I want you to keep in mind as you read this post.

I’m enthralled by foreplay as a concept, particularly since reading Emily Nagoski’s book Come As You Are a few years ago and learning that I have what’s called “responsive desire”: I usually don’t get turned on until sexual stimulation – physical, mental, or ideally both – is already happening. Nagoski posits in her book that women’s desire is likelier to be responsive, while men’s is likelier to arise more spontaneously – though these are, of course, just over-arching trends and not set-in-stone rules. But maybe these tendencies are to blame for the cultural perception that foreplay is something women need and that men could take or leave. Nothing is ever that simple when it comes to sexuality (and where the hell does that narrative leave trans and non-binary people?!).

In any case, today we’re going to talk about solo foreplay, i.e. providing yourself with your own foreplay. The way I see it, there are 3 main reasons a person might like to do this:

  1. As a prelude to masturbation, to make it more pleasurable, decadent, romantic, momentous, etc., rather than just hopping into the action immediately.
  2. As a replacement for foreplay with your partner, perhaps because the foreplay you do with them is unsatisfactory in some way (in which case, I would recommend discussing that with them when you feel able to do so), because you have a limited time window in which to have sex with them (e.g. the 20 minutes between them getting home from work and the two of you having to leave for a family function) and you want to make the most of it, or because you’re feeling submissive and have been commanded (or have offered) to get yourself turned on before your partner arrives, so they can “use you.” 😏
  3. As a supplement to foreplay with your partner, to make the whole sexual encounter more pleasurable and exciting for you.

Whatever your reasons for actively turning yourself on, having the ability to do so can feel highly empowering – especially for people who have been socialized to believe that their arousal is someone else’s job to conjure up. It can be, but it doesn’t have to be, and you’re denying yourself a vast range of wonderful experiences if you depend solely on your partner to get you revved up!

With that in mind, here are some suggestions for ways you can stoke your own fire, so to speak:

Eliminate stressors, as much as possible. Stress has an actual physiological effect on your ability to get aroused, so – while you may not be able to tune out every little thing that’s making you anxious or sad – try to set the stage for a stress-free session of sensuality. I find that even just tidying up my room, putting on some relaxing music, and turning off my phone can help me breathe a sigh of sweet relief.

Fantasize. Let your inner perversions run wild! Recall a sexy memory. Imagine fucking your favorite fictional character. If you’re planning to have sex later, this step could be as simple as vividly picturing (or even sexting about) what you hope will happen. See where your dirty mind takes you!

Watch porn or read erotica. This is my go-to when I just don’t have the focus, energy, or creativity for fantasizing. If you’re nerdy like me, you may even want to start keeping a document or spreadsheet of the links that turn you on the most – whether they’re amateur blowjob clips, hypno erotica, or Brooklyn Nine-Nine fanfiction – so you can return to them whenever you need a reliable libido boost.

Use an arousal gel. These are topical products meant to be applied to the genitals (they are usually designed for clits, but can feel good on penises too!) to encourage bloodflow to the area through the use of mild tingling or warming ingredients. Promescent’s Female Arousal Gel, for instance, contains peppermint, which will certainly get your blood pumping! I find that these make me more sensitive, too, often resulting in longer and stronger orgasms.

Touch yourself, even just non-sexually (although sexual touch is lovely too!). Massage your aching muscles with a wand vibrator. Moisturize your whole body while gently kneading out the knots of tension. Grab a good lube and massage your nipples, the area around your genitals, and your genitals themselves – slowly and methodically, noticing how everything feels.

Try a little pain. This is totally optional, since not everyone finds pain sexy, but it can encourage bloodflow and greater sensitivity, so it’s worth a shot! You can slap, scratch, or pinch your skin, or experiment with nipple clamps, Wartenberg wheels, and other instruments of sadomasochism. Straight-up pleasure is nice, but pain can feel delicious too!

And finally… Don’t put pressure on yourself to get super turned on, or have an orgasm, or look hot while doing it, or anything. The traditional concept of foreplay paints it as a goal-oriented on-ramp, but sometimes it can just be play. If it leads to more, great! If not, great! Solo play is about getting in touch with your own body and your own pleasure, however that manifests for you.

Do you ever do your own foreplay? What are your favorite methods?

 

This post was sponsored by the wonderful folks at Promescent, who recently released a new collection of lubricants as well as a pepperminty arousal gel that I think lots of you would enjoy. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

The Fine Art of the Romantic Bruise Selfie

Kate Sloan

Content note: this post discusses, and contains photos of, bruising – only the happy, consensual kind, but bruising nonetheless. I encourage you to take care of yourself and skip this one if that’s tough subject matter for you.

 

“Aftercare” in kink is a somewhat nebulous concept, deliberately so: its definition varies from kinkster to kinkster, as do its purpose and scope. I know people for whom aftercare is, by necessity, a lengthy cuddling session filled with kisses and compliments – and I also know people for whom it is “Thanks for the good time; see ya!” followed by street meat and a volley of texts to a friend. It can be whatever you want it to be, as long as it works for everyone involved.

It’s important to remember, too, that aftercare can be an immediately-afterwards thing, or it can be a quite-a-while-afterwards thing, or both. The blissed-out cuddle sesh after a kink scene might satisfy your body and your snuggly neurotransmitters, but your rational brain might want additional aftercare a few days later in the form of, say, a text dissecting what went right and what went wrong. Sometimes those texts contain pictures of bruises.

It’s been said (I think by Jillian Keenan?) that bruises are to kinksters what hickeys are to vanilla people: tangible proof that a particular encounter happened, that someone likes you enough to have marked you in this very romantic and/or erotic way, that you are desired and desirable. Sending “bruise selfies” the day after a scene – like sending “hickey selfies” the day after a makeout session – can convey a flirty message: I like you and I like what we did together.

But bruise pics also serve another, more kink-specific function: they’re a way that a submissive or bottom can communicate more info, post-scene, to their dominant or top. “Even though what you did to me probably would’ve looked scary, dangerous, or even abusive to an uninformed outsider,” these photographic missives seem to say, “I loved it, I’m glad we did it, and I love the results.” Tops are being immensely vulnerable and brave when they communicate their desires and then act on them; sending bruise pictures is one way of showing them that their bravery was well-received and was worth it. This can teach them, over time, that it’s okay to be even more brave, even more often.

“It makes me proud of our time together and I love knowing they’re thinking of me.” -@stryker_von

“When topping, it’s an affirmation that they had a Really Good Time and are still thinking about it. That’s a great feeling! As a bottom, it feels like a little wink to our complicity in a scene – “Look at what we did to my body, together. Isn’t it pretty?” -@tinygorgon

“I sometimes get self-conscious and worry that I have hurt them too much. My other reaction is wow, they endured that much for me and were so wonderful 😍” -@cewa1308

Once you go out into “the real world” with your bruises, you’re apt to encounter all kinds of pushback – family might scoff or stare if they spot the damage, doctors might pry or even assume you’re in an abusive relationship, and your other partners (if you have any) might wonder why you didn’t leave them more real estate on your skin for marks of their own! But in those first, pure moments of mutual bruise enjoyment that ensue when you snap a pic the morning after and send it to the bruise’s creator, you don’t have to feel guilty or self-conscious about the perverted masterpiece that has bloomed on your body – you can just bask in its beauty together.

Taking pictures of your bruises is also a gift to your future self, because – if you’re anything like me – someday you’ll love having a record of your kinky journey over the years. I’m less prone to bruising now than I was in my early twenties, in part because I simply don’t play as hard as I used to, so I love paging through my old bruise shots as a reminder of how strong I am and how much I am capable of enduring. The people who gave me those marks have mostly disappeared from my life, but the memories, and the photographic evidence, remain – allowing me to celebrate my own resilience whenever I revisit them.

I’m insecure and perpetually unsure if I’m actually a “good submissive.” But in those photos, I can see evidence that I am, in stark black and white. (Or black and blue, as the case may be.)

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

5 Reasons to Buy Sex Toys in Person at a Sex Shop

Kate Sloan

With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, you might have a sex toy purchase in mind, whether you’re hoping to wow your partner or just have a nice night getting sexy solo at home. While it may be tempting to hop onto an online retailer’s site (like those of my lovely affiliates and advertisers whose banners you see in the sidebar!), overall I think the physical sex shops in your area are a better bet – and in many ways, more pleasant and fun!

If you’re not sure where to go, don’t fret – lots of websites publish sex shops listings in your city, like my friend JoEllen’s Superhero Sex Shops series. Here are 5 reasons I would counsel you to go to a physical store rather than shopping online…

 

1. The salespeople are knowledgeable. I mean, if the store is worth its salt, anyway. A good sex toy salesperson will be able to recommend toys within your budget that meet your needs. They often also know useful info about material safety, lube compatibility, and product warranties. And if you come across a toy that makes you go “???” it’ll definitely be much easier to get an explanation out of a real live person than it would be to parse the sometimes-vague sales copy accompanying that same toy on a website somewhere. A helpful sex toy pro can be a godsend!

 

2. You get a better sense for the toys. Even when a toy’s measurements are listed online, it can often be hard to really understand just how big it is until you’ve seen it and held it in person. The internet also doesn’t allow you to feel how strong or rumbly a toy’s vibrations are, how firm or squishy its material is, how solidly or shoddily it’s constructed, how ergonomic it is to hold, and many other factors that could tangibly contribute to how well a toy will work for you and your body. Touching and looking at a toy you’re considering buying “in the flesh” can be a game-changer!

 

3. It’s faster. This close to Valentine’s Day, who has time to wait around for an unreliable postal service to get your toys to you?! When I worked in sex toy retail, I noticed that a lot of customers came in because they needed something immediately, whether it be a box of condoms, a bottle of lube, an enema to prep for an impromptu anal sex session, or (in one memorably gorgeous sex worker’s case) a cheap vibrator to use with a client. When you’re in a pinch, sex shops can help you out – and even driving to a shop in the next town over is likelier to be faster than ordering from any website.

 

4. It helps keep shops open. For the same reasons I’d encourage you to shop at local bookstores rather than loading up your cart on Amazon (which is demonstrably evil), I also think you should give your money to local brick-and-mortar sex toy stores when you can. They are an invaluable community resource, especially in a world which demonizes and suppresses factual sex education. Even if you don’t personally care whether these shops stay open or not, think of the 16-year-old girl who wants to buy her first vibrator behind her parents’ back so she can enjoy sex with her boyfriend more, or the 14-year-old trans kid looking for his first binder or packer, or the 72-year-old woman who doesn’t know what a modem is but wants to finally learn about her clitoris. Physical sex shops can be life-changing for these kinds of people and so many more.

 

5. It’s fun! Seriously, if you’ve never taken a partner to a sex shop, you are missing out. It can be flirtation and negotiation rolled into one, as you stroll the aisles and ask each other, “Would you ever use this?” or “What do you think of this?” Even if you go solo, shopping in person is very different from doing it online, because you’re more likely to stumble upon things you might have never otherwise considered but that pique your interest nonetheless. Introduce a little serendipity and spontaneity into your day – and your sex life – by strolling into a sex shop and seeing what’s on offer!

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

A Dating Site For Non-Monogamous People

Kate Sloan

One of the biggest questions I get from readers – whether they’re kinky, demisexual, polyamorous, or any other off-the-beaten-path sexual minority – is “How do I meet people like me?”

It’s a fair question. When you’ve grown up already having non-standard sexual desires, it’s easy to feel isolated – and since the fulfilment of these desires often hinges on meeting other humans who are also into them, the whole ordeal can sometimes feel futile. “Why did I bother figuring out my shit and coming out,” you might wonder from time to time, “if I can’t meet anyone halfway decent to explore this stuff with?!”

Enter SwingTowns: a dating and networking site for swingers, polyamorists, and non-monogamists of various other stripes. Hallelujah!

When I signed up for an account, I was instantly impressed with the multitude of options SwingTowns offers its users to identify their gender and sexual orientation. These drop-down menus include (for gender) butch, crossdresser, femme, genderfluid, genderqueer, intersex, man, other, trans – F to M, trans – M to F, transgender, and woman, and (for sexual orientation) asexual, bicurious, bisexual, “bisituational,” gay, heteroflexible, homoflexible, lesbian, other, pansexual, queer, straight, and unsure. While these lists certainly aren’t exhaustive, I’m not sure it’s possible to make an exhaustive list of all the ways people can identify – and SwingTowns certainly has most other dating sites beat in this regard.

I also like that you’re able to choose to identify publicly as poly (“looking for friendships and emotional connection that may evolve into sex later”), a swinger (“looking for sex or sexual activities that may evolve into more sex and friendships later”), both, neither, or “other.” These are pretty broad categories, and certainly not all poly people or swingers would agree with the definitions given, but I do notice a pretty distinct schism between these two types of non-monogamist and their proclivities and codes of ethics in the communities I run in, so it’s nice to be able to state upfront what your basic relationship style is. You can also create a profile as either an individual, a couple, a polycule (3 or more people), or a club/group.

SwingTowns supplies good prompts for (optionally) filling out sections of your profile – it asks you, for example, what kind(s) of person you’re looking for, what your fantasies and desires are, and “Is there anything else you want people to know about you?” It doesn’t require your real or full name, and it doesn’t require photos that show your face.

As one would hope for a site of this nature, SwingTowns has granular privacy settings which allow you to change, for example, which users can see your photos, who can message you, who can see your profile at all, and so on. There’s also a blocking feature, and a reporting feature, though I can’t say for sure how robust these are (I have yet to find a dating site/app that really emphasizes safety and an anti-harassment stance as fervently as I would like). You can also filter out particular demographics – say, straight men – from your searches, though it’s unclear to me if you can ban them from being able to see you altogether. (You can, however, easily just reject every request you get from a straight man trying to view your profile or message you.)

I have had a few exchanges with actual humans on SwingTowns – mostly with couples seeking a unicorn for a threesome, or dudes “looking for some fun” – but many of the messages I’ve received on the site have been invitations to groups or meetups for swingers local to particular areas near me, like Hamilton and Niagara. To that end, I wonder if this site might be especially useful for non-monogamists who also happen to be vanilla – there’s a fair number of non-monogamy groups and events listed on FetLife, the social networking site for kinksters, but despite the high rate of overlap between the kinky community and the non-monogamous community, not all eschewers of monogamy are perverts in other ways!

The FetLife comparison is apt, because like that site, this one is nowhere near as slick and modern as a high-budget dating site like OkCupid. The interface is often clunky, confusing, and hard to navigate. For example, when someone requests access to my profile, looking at their profile doesn’t bring up options to accept or reject their request – as far as I can tell, you have to do that from the email SwingTowns sends you to notify you of the request. The site sends a lot of emails, by the way: I would recommend examining your notification settings ASAP upon joining, so as to shut off the deluge of emails you’re sure to receive – unless you want them!

There’s an ill-considered Tinder facsimile that shows you a photo of a user and allows you to “pass” on them or “like” them, but often the photos don’t contain faces or any meaningful details because this is the type of site where people would largely rather remain anonymous (understandably), so the “swiping” system is pretty hard to use successfully – especially since, when you click on someone’s photo to try to learn more about them, very often access to the person’s profile is restricted and has to be specifically requested. I can see how it would be challenging to create a system where people can feel safe sharing their private info (even just the fact that they’re non-monogamous, which, to some people, is very private info) while also making it easy to sift through potential matches. SwingTowns’ system is far from perfect, but it’s a noble attempt and I think they’ll keep working to make it better.

You can upgrade to SwingTowns’ premium membership plan for $17/month (last I checked, anyway) or a discounted “lifetime” price. Similar to OkCupid’s “A-List” membership and other such services, this one gives you better search tools for finding matches, advanced privacy settings, and a few other perks that would make it easier to use the site. However, the basic features would work just fine for connecting with other non-monogamous people, groups, and events in your area – which, of course, is the whole point. It may not be the most polished dating site on the web, but given how hard it can be to find experienced and enthusiastic non-monogamous folks on standard dating services, I think the trade-off in ease of use is worthwhile for the types of connections you could make on a site like this.

 

This review was sponsored, which means that SwingTowns paid me to write an honest, fair review of their service. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.