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Archive for sexploreum

TERRIBLE SEX TIPS: “There Are 8 Kinds Of Female Orgasms — Here’s How To Have Them All!”

The frequent stimulation of the throat and experiencing these [throat] orgasms can lead to a better connection with your intuition and feminine wisdom, a deeper expression of your needs, creative and artistic abilities, and your higher potential.

When we regularly deep-throat our partners’ dicks, WE CAN BECOME BETTER WOMEN, HOORAY.

Yes indeed, there is much to thrill the Terrible Sex Tip fan in this article, and by thrill I mean creep you right the fuck out. For starters, it’s another article that makes orgasms feel like Pokémon: gotta have ‘em all!

Well, no, we don’t have to. We’re being told we should want them all, and should strive to have them all because… because... Guh, this is the part that makes me get all tin-foil-hat about a distracted populace being an essential part of late-stage capitalism. MOVING ON.

Let me say that I have had profoundly moving and mysterious experiences in sex. I have come just from squeezing my thighs together and listening to my partner talk on the phone. Mostly I just chalk that sort of thing up to the human mind being a strange and glorious place; I don’t feel the need to pin that down or replicate the experience.

I don’t mind if other people talk about chakras and light and transcendence. If that gives you something to meditate on, more power and blessings be on your sexual-spiritual adventures. But everyone I’ve seen writing for mainstream media about tantric practices, they can’t stop there. Like the writer of this article, they just keep going with what I consider unsubstantiated bullshit.

He makes a little bit of room in the piece for more obscure orgasms, like the nipple orgasm. “The nipples … are connected via energy channels to the clitoris.” Fuckin’ WUT. What energy channels? Nerve endings are real, and yeah, they are weird; I personally can make little sparks happen down there if I stick my finger deep enough in my belly button. (I don't do that anymore, but I did when I was eight. Don't judge me.) But I don’t assume that everyone has that same neurological bridge.

The author put something called a "urinary orgasm" in here. It’s relatively rare, he says. Just drink a lot of water and release it mid-fucking, he says. Put some towels down, he says. That’s called water sports, dude, and relief at getting to pee is not the same thing as having an orgasm.

In classic over-generalising style, the writer dismisses the clitoral orgasm as “shallow” and something to avoid whenever possible—“It just doesn't serve you and charge you like deep vaginal orgasms do,” fucking WAT. He then goes on to describe other types of orgasms that originate deeper into the cunt, with the orgasms supposedly getting correspondingly better until—surprise, surprise!—we reach the cervical orgasm.

Yes, that's the one that you “probably haven’t heard of,” the one that you can’t really have when you’re being a floozy and sleeping around, the one that requires you to fucking get pounded on your cervix… the cervical orgasm is the holy grail for many tantra people, based on what I've read. Like many an article about the cornucopia of female orgasms, this guy pretty cavalierly dismisses clitoral orgasms as being shallow compared to vaginal orgasms, and then vaginal orgasms are like an ephemeral breeze compared to the cervical orgasm.

Please, can you just let people explore themselves and not assign any inherent value to whichever methods and holes and dangly bits they like?

Speaking of holes, this writer went to a lot of effort to hit all of them. I will buy anal orgasms, because when someone is having a good time down your back alley, there’s a LOT going on, sensitive tissues moving back and forth, etc. But throat orgasms? The pleasure I get from deep throating is entirely from being in a certain subby head space, very little if any from the physicality of it, because the uvula is not a clit analogue. The author says there is a minor chakra back there that you can pound, er, stimulate, which he says results in a different orgasm. Don't worry if you start gagging, or “if some fluids come up. You’ll get better at it over time.” And you want this, yes you do! Because…. Wait for it…

“The frequent stimulation of the throat and experiencing these orgasms can lead to a better connection with your intuition and feminine wisdom, a deeper expression of your needs, creative and artistic abilities, and your higher potential.”

When we frequently deep-throat our partners’ dicks, WE CAN BECOME BETTER WOMEN, HOORAY.

To be completely honest, I should probably stop looking at any article that talks about tantra. I experience deep connections, but the spiritual shit sends me right up the wall. I’m sure there’s a way that people can write about those deep connections without COMPLETELY raising my hackles, but I haven’t found it yet. In the meantime, the mainstream articles are going out there, about getting past those cheap floozy clitoral orgasms and being smug about being BALLS DEEP IN SOMEONE'S CHAKRAS.

I mean, is that what tantra is all about? Spiritual deep-dicking? That's what I'm seeing out there, and that's what this article feels like. If not, then please, my tantric friends: get some other writers, maybe even yourself, to WRITE IT BETTER, because your current PR volunteers are not repping you well.

Also, if sex tips leave people feeling bad about the good things they already enjoy, those tips are not transcendent, they are Terrible.

*****

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FROM THE FUCKBUCKET: “What was your hottest epiphany?”

My hottest epiphany was, in itself, not hot. It was the opposite of hot. It was the coldest that I had felt in my life up until that point, and it happened in my counselor’s office when I was rocking back and forth in a chair that was not designed for rocking, sobbing and doubled over from the psychic pain. But eventually it led to the best sex I've ever had.

Let me explain.

I had gone into counseling because I had cheated on my longtime partner, a woman, with a man. Although my awareness of my bisexuality had been sneaking up on me, to the point where I was starting to feel a little weird at office parties (I had a crush on my male editor at the newspaper), I thought I had it “under control.” When I subsequently went to a newspaper convention, drank two margaritas the size of my head, and rather aggressively pursued a male advertising sales rep from Sacramento… I realized I had nothing under control and sought out counseling.

There in the comfortably bland office, I dissected and discussed my craving for "male company," after nearly nine years of avoiding that shit like the plague. That was not the epiphany. I knew that I wanted cisgendered men back in my life, at least for the bouncy fun bits. The hard part was weighing that desire against everything else in my life.

Because I was still with my partner, and I still loved her, and I knew that pursuing my sexual desires was going to throw everything into chaos. She was already hurting, and I didn’t know how to make that stop. My new-found mantra for that period was You can’t unknow what you know, but saying it didn’t really help.

I felt guilt for what I had already done, and guilt for what I hadn’t even done yet, and deep, deep shame for all of it. It took me months and months to drill down to the core of it, something leftover from growing up in a large religious family with scarce resources and scarce love and sex being a perversion anyway: I felt that I wanted too much. I wanted more than I “deserved.”

Of course this goes back to always being a little bit hungry, and never being able to ask for more because there wasn’t more. But the current-day psychological upshot was that I felt that my wants, of any sort, were excessive. I was "greedy" for wanting what I wanted, and my happiness was nowhere worth near as much as other people’s. I could feel the desire—so profound that it transcended mere tingly bits—and at the same time I could feel my horrified recoil at my own selfishness, so I had been going around and around like a gyroscope, balanced in this endless push of lust and self-loathing.

I don’t know how exactly I broke that cycle. My counselor coaxed me down the path multiple times, as I made little baby steps and then waited for God to strike me down. I had to brace myself against the sure knowledge that yes, my choices would affect my partner, and try and fail and try again to be ethical, to be caring. I had to weigh, over and over, the risks and potential outcomes. I had to be at peace with the nature of my sexual self, and with the knowledge that it shifts and changes.

This is a process more than an epiphany. I still don’t always know how to proceed with my passionate pursuits. I still definitely worry about how those pursuits affect others. But at least I know that I must pay attention to my desires. I can’t always fulfill them right away or at all, because the world is not that kind of place, but my desires are valid and important, and they are definitely not too much.

*****

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FROM THE FUCKBUCKET: “were you always so open about sex, or did that come about over time?”

Were you always so open about sex and sexual experiences, or was it something you became more open about over time? If it was over time, why?

At this point I really am pretty upfront about most of it.

Neither our ability nor our desire to communicate about sex are things that come pre-installed at the factory. As kids we may be touching ourselves all over the house, or playing doctor back behind the shed, but actually talking about it?... Nah. We tend to absorb whatever our family does, for better or for worse.

With that in mind, I would have to say that I probably was more open and exploratory about sex stuff at an earlier age than anyone had a right to expect, given my background. Despite having been raised in the Mormon church, I still managed to find plenty of books with dirty bits by the time I was 10 or 11, and went looking for ways to experience dirty bits by the age of 14 or so. (Or maybe there was every right to expect that, because of that fighting spirit of opposition, but how come none of my siblings or cousins broke free?)

For a while in junior high school, I had one friend who was willing to share with me a lot of the details about her sex life. We would stare up at the Duran Duran posters on the walls and ceiling of her room, and she would tell me what she did with her boyfriend on those nights where she told her mother she was with me. (Yeah, I was the Alibi Friend.) At the age of 13, that definitely felt like a sort of open-sharing sex-ed outlet, but then I got bigger, both in tits and body, and crossed the line into plus-sized and focused more on school and our other friends turned on me, so I lost that. I was on my own.

From that point forward, my approach seems to have been:

  • fumble toward “bliss”
  • fuck up, sometimes hardcore
  • learn and integrate that learning OR take a huge reactionary swing in another direction
  • repeat

Eventually, over time, I got better with the various steps of this process. I started sitting down and thinking a little more in advance about what constitutes “bliss” for me. Additionally and where possible/necessary, I learned to think about other ways to get that bliss, some of which may be better for me and other people than just being led on a wild goose chase by my cunt.

I got better at dipping my toe in. Paradoxically, I also got better at plunging into the deep end, keeping my eyes open and committing to the dive. Sometimes that’s the thing that fucks you up.

And so, as I got better and more confident at following my (sexual) bliss, the learning curve became less harsh, less steep, considerably less fraught with explosive arguments and confused tears and occasionally lab tests and actual danger. (I should say that the curve has only really gotten shallower in the last seven years. I'm a late bloomer in so many things!) My mistakes aren’t so big now that I’ll feel the urge to run screaming in the opposite direction. And I am managing to find people who can walk and talk with me through the learning.

Now, as back when I was 13, my path seems to unfold right out in public view; I have never been very good at hiding my explorations for long. I don’t know if it’s because I’m stubborn or an exhibitionist or what, but no matter how difficult or weird it gets, wanting to be up front about sex stuff seems to be part of my personality.

Eventually, that led me to creating various shows around sex and sexuality because that’s what interests me. In performing around the world, I started to see that whatever attitude I have seems to be good for other people to witness. Authenticity in sex, especially in areas that don’t have societal support like kink or queerness or alternative relationship approaches or even as basic to me as asking for what I want… most people want more of it, but they don’t know how to get it.

I don’t know that I do either, but I’ve been trying to for a while, so it seems worthwhile to share my experiences with others. It feels like a way that I can make a difference.

*****

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ADVICE FROM A PHONE WHORE: making room in hard conversations with “slow talk”

I’ve talked about silence in dirty talk before, where we leave spaces in the narrative stream to let the heavy breathing and grunts and sexual tension do some of the work. But before we even get to the juicy bits, there are often other conversations that must be had, with silences that aren’t nearly so sexy and are, in truth, a bit scary for most people.

These are the conversations that make the juicy bits even possible, the ones in which we bring up opening the relationship for the first time, or asking to close the relationship temporarily because we need to catch our breath. We are asking our lover to prioritize our relationship in the middle of crisis, or telling them that we are a little or that we like their boots way more than we let on, or that actually we are asexual. We are telling them that things felt weird at the dungeon last weekend, and we don’t want to go again until we figure out why.

I have had so many of these conversations in my life. Sometimes I think I would be happy if I never again had to have another one, because they are tiring and time-consuming and yes, terrifying. And yet, that is the cost of being a person in deep connection with other people: tough things sometimes need to be said. This means that we need to leave room for those things to be said.

I am not ashamed to say that I got some of the best training in how to do this from taking long calls with one of my most challenging clients, Rollercoaster Man. He was very uneasy in his own fantasies, and incredibly cautious in picking his way through them. He was sometimes depressed to the point of death ideation, and brought that to our calls. And when he was in either of these headspaces, he left silences that you could drive a truck through.

At the beginning of my time with him, I remember talking a lot. The long silences made me nervous. But the more calls I took from him, the more I saw that filling in those gaps only made him talk less. If I wanted him to participate in some way, I had to just shut up and wait.

I got reasonably proficient at sitting with silence, and then I learned to take that to my own tough conversations with partners because dealing with polyamory and touring and distance, and individual and mutual life dreams is tough. Oh, how I wanted to push all kinds of words and counterarguments and banal encouragement and my own sadness and guilt and fear into those spaces. But those conversations were not only mine; they were for my loved ones as well.

So I held my tongue, or tried to, and just focused on slow, deep breathing, if it felt like the person I was talking with had more to say. I checked in occasionally with “how does that feel?” and “do you want me to stay here?” or “that sounds awful, I’m sorry.” The slow pace kept me more present, kept me from flying off the handle or running away from the discomfort or making assumptions. The conversations stayed good, or at least friendly and workable.

"Slow talk" can work in both face-to-face and written exchanges. During our first year or two of long-distance relationshipping, my partner and I had limited real-time face-to-face communication, but lots of texting; we also had a lot of challenging relationship stuff to work with. Thankfully, we developed a convention to “ask for asterisks,” which means we put an asterisk at the end of our comments when we are done with that thought, and then, and only then, can the other person start talking. The asterisk allows the person expressing to get their whole idea out, but it also is a gift to the person listening: even if parts of what our partner says are challenging, we get time to take it all in as a whole. (We have occasionally found ourselves saying “asterisk” during face-to-face conversations as well, it’s that useful.)

I should mention that slow talk doesn’t really help with the fear in the short run; those long silences can stretch out to seeming infinity. But in the medium- and long term, I find it builds trust and space for all the explorations and feelings that otherwise have no place to go. So give it a shot, the next time your partner turns to you and says, “There’s something I want to tell you.” Breathe deep, exhale, and give them room.

*****

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FROM THE FUCKBUCKET: how to convince myself and partners that safe oral sex is totally fun and not paranoid and uptight?

Seriously, how to convince myself and any partners that safe oral sex, i.e. using a condom or dental dam, is totally fun and not paranoid and uptight and just no fun?!

Do not google "dental dams" in your quest to sexify them. Unless you have a distinct medical kink, the search results will not be sexy.

FULL DISCLAIMER/DISCLOSURE: you are talking with someone who has rarely used protection when either giving or receiving oral sex. Back when I was younger and wilder, I just didn’t think about it because you can’t really think about that when you’re drunk and deep-throating; there are other, more urgent things going on. More recently, when I was being actively polyamorous, I still didn’t use protection for oral, but at least I thought about it. I weighed up the relevant risk factors and decided that it wasn’t for me.

But I'm not going to discuss whether safer sex practices for oral are paranoid or uptight. In the scope of sexual behavior, it’s a choice that everyone needs to get informed about and then make for themselves. What you are asking about is how to make that fun.

Before I pull some ideas out of the play box, I think you may need to spend a little time with yourself on the question. If you don’t believe that this is just a normal thing to do before fun oral times, then I would imagine any tips and tricks you try to pull are going to look and sound and feel a little forced. So maybe you could be asking yourself things like:

  • Where have you gotten these words that you use in this mental soundtrack? “Paranoid.” “Uptight.” Where did those come from?
  • Do you remember anyone ever saying those actual things to you? If yes, what was that sexual encounter like? Or did it close down? What happened there?
  • What are you really worried about, if your partners think that you’re paranoid and uptight? What’s the worst that could happen, if they think that?

You can and should also have this conversation with partners, or at least question them, if they ­­do use that judging language. This is very much a part of negotiating around sexy times, and if this is one of your hard boundaries, then you are better off without people who want to break it. I know that sucks, because yeah, that fucker was hella hot, but you know it’s true.

An important step toward keeping the stress out of using protection during any kind of sex seems to be NOT MAKING IT A BIG DEAL TO HAVE IT AVAILABLE. Keep your condom/dental dam supply well stocked and close at hand, for example, and not something you have to rummage for, or god forbid, run down to the corner store for.

And then, bring out the item(s) that you would like to be needing, BEFORE you need them, and just keeping it chill, you know, “I just want to be ready.” Then you can keep on with your making out, get back into the zone in case one of you fell out of it, and then, when you do need the protection because things are about to Go Down (see what I did there?), there’s not a big fuss.

NOW, on for some thoughts around the Safe-Sex Sexification Program! Lucky for you, people have been wrestling with this for decades, I would say, since HIV popped up its head. You can google this shit and find decent tips all over the place, things like

  • take turns getting the protection in place
  • try out different varieties of condoms and dams
  • incorporate role play scenarios into it (wearing gloves while putting the protection in place, a la Doctor)
  • learn that whole putting-it-on-with-your-mouth thing
  • go to TOWN on food play, like drizzling caramel sauce on their cunt. If you’ve got enough coverage with the dental dam, you can build a whole fucking sundae down there, with all the toppings. (Don’t forget the tarp.)
  • SAY HELLO BONDAGE AND BODY ENCASING, like gimp suits and plastic wrap and cock sheaths.

Yes, staying healthy is the main point, but our brains seem to resist being told to do things for our health. I think my own personal inclination would be to experiment with the safer-sex supplies as props, as toys that you can play with, rather than health supplies.

*****

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