Category Archives: better sex

What Happens In Vegas, Stays In Vegas (Baby)

I stirred up a little controversy with this posting the other day when I said most women didn’t like porn sex. C’mon, a girl can have some fun, n’est ce pas?
I love aggressive sex. I love a mix. I come with my own multi-speed. I can’t do the same thing all the time, and when I get given the green light, you bet your ass I can bring added elements into the game. I go from frolicking to ferocious and back again in mere minutes. Never, ever be predictable. That’s my motto.
I wanted to stir a little controversy with that posting, though. Yes, it was in absolutes, and yes, it was tongue-in-cheek. Let me explain things in a little more level-headed manner, then.
Here’s the gist of it: Don’t fucking assume you know what your lover wants. Don’t assume that because you saw it on TV, it’s definitely gonna be working out for them. Talk and find out what page you’re on. Figure out what you’re wanting to do to each other, and know where you’re going to go, to a degree. (I mean, you never want to script these things. It’s about going with the moment. It’s like planning your vacations – sure, having an itinerary is nice, but isn’t a little spontaneity a good way to go, too?)
Be open with your lover, be accepting of hearing what they want, let them know you’re not going to judge them for their desires, make sure they realize that fantasies and wishes are nothing to be ashamed of, that we all have little weird things we’d like to experience, and it’s okay. That’s what you’re there for, for god’s sake. (And it’s always okay to say no. Just don’t judge.)
There are a lot of women out there, particularly, who are terrified of asking for what they really want. They’re scared they’ll be judged. They’re scared they’ll be perceived as being a dirty whore. They need to know they’re in a situation where they can ask for what they want.
That’s why what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
When you’re in your bedroom, or wherever you choose to play, you can be any character you want to be. It should never, ever colour or tint who you are as a person outside of the bounds of play – unless you choose to allow that.
It’s absolutely possible to know how to wield a riding crop and pick the lock of pair of handcuffs, and still be a good, caring person. It’s possible to groan “Fuck me with your throbbing hard cock, you beast” and teach kindergarten. Duality’s possible in the human condition, but the right to privacy in a bedroom’s something everyone deserves.
(Pity the US government’s missed that memo.)
A safe environment needs to exist, and whether a woman wants to be fucked like Jenna Jameson is something she has every right to decide, but not something she should be judged for. Men need to allow their partners the duality of being as bad as they wanna be, without assuming any moral judgments on that behaviour.
And women absolutely need to allow men to speak to their fantasies, too, without judging them. So he would love a three-way, how does it hurt you to know that? The fantasy existed before you, and it will exist after you’re gone. If you’re not interested, you say so, but never, ever judge a lover for saying what they wish they could have.
Hell, I’ve known men who’ve fantasized about three-ways but never actually want to have one, for instance, but sharing that fantasy validated them because it allowed them to put an image to words with someone they wanted to share it with.
Never underestimate the bond of having open communication. Being able to talk about these things can be one of the most erotic experiences you share. Allow the conversations to map the terrain you plan to explore as time passes.
Keep Vegas in Vegas, baby, but keep on rolling them dice.

A Game For New (And Old) Lovers

Part of the fun of a new relationship is that of getting to know each other. We get to make a mental checklist. You learn their mannerisms, routine comments, favourite phrases, what their contemplative expressions are, how they look in that moment where they’re truly relaxed, and so forth. In the bedroom, it’s no different.
(But let’s be honest. The beauty of a great relationship is that you continue learning about your lover over the long term. Hell, we never stop learning about ourselves, so how could we ever stop learning about them?)
We forget, sometimes, how truly expansive the land of lovemaking is. It covers vast territory, and the amount of activities at our disposal is legion. Sometimes, it might be nice to have a map at our disposal.
Enter this little game I’ve thought of. Let’s call it “School Me, Baby.” It’s a lusty little literary exercise, the kinda thing that turns a geek like me on.
You and your lover go to the bookstore and you each pick out a book on sexuality that best appeals to you. Now, it’s not rocket science, this book-selecting thing. Most of them will cover all the basics, but the question is whether or not it covers the best for you. I mean, self-help books are like underwear; almost any will technically do the job, but which best fits you is a highly subjective matter. In this matter, you want to ensure that the book covers everything from foreplay to positioning. If you’ve got kinks, you may have to buy a second book to reflect that, too, so go right ahead.* Take the time to scan through books. If you’re not really pro at deciding what books work for you, simply pick one subject to look up in each; say, oral. Read. Whichever passage evokes the experience best for you, that’s the book that best fits you.
So, you pick a lazy Sunday morning, head into the bookstore together, and spend an hour or two just browsing through sex books in the corner together. Decide which one each of you wants to take home, buy them, and head back to the pad.
Now you get to either head home to read in different parts of the house, or you can separate for the day and read in different areas. The only thing is, you’re going to decide how much you’ll be reading, and if you want to, what sections you’ll be covering. (Foreplay? Oral? Anal? Kinky? Old-fashioned lovemaking? Something rougher? Waterplay?)
You’ll make arrangements to meet again soon – that night, the next – for dinner.
Between now and then, your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to read the required readings with a highlighter in hand. Anything that turns you on, gets you revving, or has you touching yourself, you highlight.
You can make an evening of reading the passages together, if you like, or you can trade books and get together again the next night, after you’ve done your homework. I think it’d be kind of sexy and hot to get a bunch of candles going, toss a blanket on the floor, scatter pillows about, and open up to, say, the highlighted section on oral. Naked, sprawled on the floor, the receiver reads the passage out to the soon-to-be-giver, and when the giver’s suitably inspired, they get down to work – possibly even while still being read to.
I have this image of the guy going down, hearing about, oh, say clitoral sucking techniques, and after he gives it a valiant try, looking up, and saying “Like that?” This is one of those times you can have a dialogue while you’re doing it. Have fun, exchange feedback, make it a game where you try slight variations of each technique, and see what one provokes the best reaction. Call it the “compare and contrast” segment of the evening.
Any which way, the point is that you learn from your lover’s perspective, in clear and certain terms, what it is that they find works for them, or what it is they’d like to experience.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, no two bodies are the same. There is no one surefire just-add-water instant-orgasm trick. Everyone has different needs, and for many people, it’s really hard to express exactly what it is we’re desiring. This is one of those little tricks designed to take care of those differences between us all.
VARIATIONS:
Not only can you highlight what turns you on as far as having done to you, but you can also highlight, in another colour, the things you’d love to do to your partner.
You can buy the book for your lover, highlight all the things you’d like to have done to you, and put Post-It notes opposite those sections with little suggestive notes, such as, “And in return, I would pin you down, and then perform – turn to page 94.” On page 94, you’d highlight raunchier parts the passage of what it is you’d do. Use page tabs to mark sections.
When reading your lovers’ book’s highlighted passage, if anything smacks of something you’d like to experience that wasn’t covered in your own book, underline it and mark the page for your lover.
As mentioned above, there are kinks in the world. Kinks are made, not born, and if you’re entering a new phase with your lover where kinks are something you’re wanting to explore together, starting that phase with an exercise like this, except using books focusing on BDSM and other alternative lifestyles, might ensure you’re both on the same page when you’re starting out, or give you an overview of the possibilities the new lifestyle you’re considering might offer to you as a couple.

Advice for Young Lovers

The sun was rising by 6a.m. this morning, and spring seems to be all around. A comment was left by an 18-year-old male, and I thought about when I was 18, the first time I made love, and how disappointed I was. I thought about the things I wish I’d been told back then. These are them.
Everyone tells you not to rush things. As a female, this is doubly true. Men can begin having sex younger and have positive results sooner, provided they know what they’re doing, but for women, more than 30% will not orgasm until well past their 20th birthday.
The best advice anyone can ever tell you about sex is this, it’s not about the orgasm.
Sex is about cartography and geography. Sex is literally the lay of the land. It’s about discovering your partner’s body – all of it. It’s about knowing how he or she reacts when you kiss the back of their knees, what favourite odd spots on their bodies you can suck and bite and have them shudder senselessly.
It’s about being in the moment, reacting to every little thing your lover does, either vocally or physically. It’s forgetting about end results and expectations. It’s here, now, and nothing more, regardless of what you might wish to make of it.
Sex is a language, and like any language, it takes time to learn the subtleties that distinguish an amateur from a master. Like any language, one can spend their entire lives improving their abilities and exploring ways to use the words. Writers become greater as their lives extend, orators become more powerful every speech they deliver. So too do lovers command skill as time passes.
Women take longer to identify with their sexual selves. As a young male lover, you need to be brave enough to talk to your woman before you have sex. You have to make a pact to tell each other when something feels comfortable or not, you need to express your fears and apprehensions, and if you have boundaries, you must state them, and they must be respected. You need to never take it personally when something’s not working. It’s biology, not you.
Women also take longer to be aroused. If she isn’t wet, she’s likely not aroused*. You could use lubricant, but then you would be jumping the gun. If she ain’t feeling it, honey, it ain’t happening. The more aroused you make her, the more you’ll realize how awesome it feels to take someone to that place. Take the time to really make a journey of it.
As a young female lover, you must lower your expectations. At first, things might hurt, but then they begin to feel incredible, if your lover has skill. Think of it as getting your ears pierced. Sex, like wine and blue cheese, can sometimes be an acquired taste for a young woman, but you need to get past the fear and apprehension. If you don’t feel like you can trust your lover, then you have no business sleeping with him.
In no place in our lives is trust more important than between us and our lovers.
You have to trust that if you said, You can do anything you’d like to me, that they would know where to stop.
You have to be patient. You have to know that the best sex of your life will not come until after the age of 25, if not after the age of 30. You have to know that sex is the physical manifestation of emotion. It’s spontanaeity, need, desire, passion, love, lust, curiousity, creativity, and eagerness balled up into one experience. It can be overwhelming when it’s great, and for new lovers, that can be intimidating and shut you down. Do not be afraid of the feelings, let go. Embrace it.
Making love is the physical act of making yourself vulnerable. When it comes to day to day life, we tend to try to avoid vulnerability. We do everything we can to not reveal our fears and failures to others. When making love, there’s nothing you can hide. It’s all there. You might as well give in to the moment and embrace the exposure vulnerability brings with it.
As you grow up, you realize the old cliché is true. If it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger. The more you’re able to make yourself vulnerable in everyday life, the richer your relationships of all kinds shall be, the deeper your experiences with others will be. Perhaps you’ll be hurt easier more often, but the depths and richness of other relationships will far exceed the pale of a cautiously lived life. So too with sexual experiences. The more you trust each other and open up, the greater the sexual reward.
I’m old-fashioned and I don’t believe people should have sex until they’re 18 or so. I’m a pragmatic person, though. Whenever I do something new, I educate myself about it. I read everything I can, I learn what I need to learn, and I do what I need to do, and I do it well. The only time that didn’t happen was with sex, as I first slept with a lover at 17. As time went on, I educated myself and learned more. It changed everything for me.
The best thing you can do is head to your local independent bookstore that focuses on psychology and sexuality and scour the sexuality section for a book that speaks in a language that you relate to. Then, learn about the biology of the human form, not just what the bits and pieces are called, but how they will respond to your touch. I think it’s better to do this in a bookstore because there’s so much misinformation and opportunism on the web. Just my two cents.
But don’t take the authors’ word for what makes great sex & great loving. Take your lovers’ word. Every person’s body responds differently to touch, and you absolutely must know from your lover what is or is not working for them. You cannot just assume what you’re doing is working, since that twitch or shudder may be from discomfort. Ask. Let them tell you what they feel about what you’re doing, and again, do not take it personally.
It’s not about you. It’s about them. Never forget that.
If you cannot speak about sex with your partner, then your communication on everything else will be shit as well. You must be able to express what you want and need, because these are the things that are true to your core. If you cannot express these things, then what of any consequence, I ask, can you ever express?
And when you learn to be patient, to communicate, to react to each other, to trust each other, then you will be on the road to reaching sexual satisfaction together.
Don’t forget, it’s nice to feel pleasure yourself, but it’s incredible to know you’re providing it for another. Learn to enjoy the experience of giving, since that’s what separates the good lovers from the great: Generosity.

*There are SOME women with lubrication difficulties who sometimes never really emit the same signs of arousal as another woman might, so again, communicate and follow the signs. Does she look like she wants more of you? Does she look ready to take it a notch further? Use your powers of deduction, Sherlock. Better yet? Ask.

Why women sometimes fake orgasm

Because you won’t listen to us
when we say it’s not going to happen for us.
Because you don’t believe us
when we say it’s fine for you to come without us.
Because we don’t want to hurt your feelings
those times you’re trying so hard to please us.
Because you usually can’t tell.
Because we feel like failures when we can’t.

Love Will Conquer All, Baby

I was reading something just before bed, stated by the venerable clothing designer Karl Lagerfeld, in answer to the soon-to-come fashion onslaught of heavy, dark clothing that’s to be replacing the light, fun, and airy lines we’ve been enjoying of late. Lagerfeld said, “If you read the daily papers, you are not in the mood for pink and green.”
If you are what you wear, are we as a society becoming depressed? Valium and Lithium and Prozac, oh my.
I’d lay my cash on a big, fat yes, but hey, what do I know? I’m just a formerly depressed not-even-yuppie who’s an observer, not a player.
Depression’s out there. Hell, even the upcoming ankle-length hemlines are screaming it. We’re depressed. As a people, we need to get happy. This war shit’s bringing us all down. We got Vice Presidents running around shooting good citizens. Gas prices are nuts. The Canadian economy’s strong enough to be a steamroller. Clearly, it is the end of times, and our nerves are a tad frazzled.
Me, I say the cure is sex.
Okay, let’s look at this, then. Stress and self-esteem issues, as well as external factors (thus the stress) cause depression, as do biochemical issues. Right? Sex is good for the nerves, great for the self-esteem — (especially if you can get ‘em to scream your name. Hmm. I really have to stop falling for the strong, silent types. My ego’s taking a hit.) – and releases endorphins.
In all seriousness, studies have shown we’re all at an all-time touch deficit. I’ve been hooking up with some guys of late, lots of great dates, no seconds, but I’ve kissed (uh, to coin a phrase) every one of ‘em. Life’s too short not to share a kiss (or something) or stretch it out over three or four hours. Sex? Nice but not needed. Making out does wonders for the self-esteem. Gets the juices flowing, the pulse racing. It’s the very definition of alive. No one should have to go without. I’m going into withdrawal, days without a kiss. A necking session would hit the spot, but I know what else would, too.
In a world where there’s famine and war and natural disasters and poverty and stupid religious extremism and pettiness… shouldn’t you at least be getting laid?
I for one applaud the relatively recent revival of the “Make Love, Not War” campaign. I need to get me a button, man. I’m willing to sacrifice myself to the cause. I will have sex in the name of peace, and soon. Afterwards, we’ll spoon, smoke a joint, drink some absinthe, and listen to Imagine, followed by White Rabbit, and some Dark Side of the Moon. Is there anybody out there?
Maybe this whole Iraq thing was just what the Sexuality Movement needed. Drop some bombs, shed some innocent lives, get the tempers flaring back home, have the pacifists realize they’re really pissed off but since they’re pacifists, they can’t go out back and shoot beer cans off the fence, so, instead, they smoke fatties and fuck.
Who knows. Maybe Bush did the right thing after all. I don’t fucking know. I do know that everyone getting a little more action would probably be not such a bad thing. Me, I always liked the fact that Clinton was getting head in the Oval Office. I figured he’d at least be relaxed enough to make the rational choice in any scenario that unfolded.
I think anyone in power with lives in their hands should absolutely be on a sex quota. They must be gone down on once every eight days, minimum, and are entitled to sex twice per week, minimum, with no less than 28 minutes foreplay each time. Sure. As a start. With time on the job, age, and increased responsibility, the sex allotment increases. Like a health plan or any other benefit.
Yeah, I don’t know what the hell the problem is, but I know sex is the solution.
Pity the new fashion scene’ll be here soon and skin will be a thing of the past. But, brothers and sisters, we shall overcome. Right?
*Yeah, I’m a pinko lefty with a loathing for the war and a disdain for both the American and new Canadian regimes. I mean, does it sound like I have conservative sex? C’mon! Get real. You knew this. You like me anyway. I’m the good kinda libertarianish type.

Can't Orgasm?




A word of advice?

If you’re a woman, and you’re unable to orgasm,
and you have photos of your family
anywhere near
a place you regularly like to have sex?

Move them. Seriously.



Why? Because psychology is important in sex, and so is shame. If you feel shame, you won’t orgasm. If your mommy or daddy or little nephew Joey have eyes on you with your legs spread and a guy controlling you?
Yeah, good luck with finding your happy spot.

Vixen Moves: "Wake Me Up Before You Blow-Blow"

There are some things that, if you’ve never done them, you’re simply not a vixen, no matter how hard you kid yourself.
Love, sex, life — they’re all made better with surprises.
That said, if you’ve never woken up at four in the morning, rolled over, and snaked down your sleeping lover with kisses from head to toe, until they’ve awoken, and then gone down on them, well, you’re really missing a fantastic experience, and you ain’t the vixen you could be.
I guess guys are more open to night moves than women might be, but me, well, my lovers have carte blanche to roll over and begin playing with me anytime they want. They know there’s a chance I will say no or push ‘em away, but a better chance I’ll say yes, and most importantly, they know I’d never fault’em for trying. And you shouldn’t either. You should never leave your lover feeling trepidatious about sharing their desire with you. That should go without saying, but fuck, one could write a book about it.
This kind of unsolicited move is the sort of thing a guy just loves. “She thought about my cock? By herself? Way over there, on the other side of the bed? And, oh, my god. Look how bad she wants it. Ooh… God, I’m a lucky guy.”
I’m being cutesy about it, but it’s true. Even if you go down on your man and don’t bring him to orgasm, I bet he’ll be more affectionate towards you and feel more secure about how you feel regarding him. It’s a really, really hot moment, but it can also be an incredibly tender and affectionate moment. I love the intimacy it provokes. It’s hard to get behind the wall of The Common Male, but once you do, it’s a great place to be. Doing things like this, it takes you there.
As a woman, you simply need to understand the love a guy has for his cock.
It’s the only toy he gets to play with his entire life. He never needs to change the batteries, it’s there morning, noon, and night. When everyone else forsakes him, his penis won’t. It’s the source of some of the best physical feelings he’s ever had (and the worst).
It’s not just some appendage that signals he’s ready for sex, and too many women are dismissive of that incredible bond a guy has with his cock. All you have to do is imagine the lifelong weirdness of dressing rooms, the unwanted uprisings, the intra-guy size competitions that don’t even need words, and you begin to get a sense of this strange alternate universe inhabited only by Owners of Penises.
What you also have to understand is that you should never just pounce yourself on a penis in the middle of the night. Some surprises are bad. Plus, chicks can make the mistake of assuming a middle-of-the-night erection is a result of him being next to her. Nice. Pigs look good in flight, too, and I just bought my season boarding pass for Mount Hell.
It’s biology, simply nature, and probably has little, if anything, to do with you. Get over yerself, honey. It’s a penis.
So, you’ve got to ignore that erect cock if it’s there, but it’s likely not, and start the games by gently kissing your way up and down his torso. Increase friction as he’s starting to wake.
Going tender all the way is nice, and definitely an option, depending on mood and the kind of day you know he’s had, but there’s something surreal and wild about being woken for someone’s primal desire, and that’s speaking as a woman. I can’t even fathom how a guy would feel being woken for a reasonably primal session of body bites and a blowjob. (Feel free to offer testimony, boys. I’m all ears.)
But being a playful kinda gal myself, I’ve seen the result of a man being awoken for that, and I’m guessing those shudders, gasps, and moans were a ringing endorsement.
So, long story short: wake his body before you wake his cock, otherwise the experience isn’t going to be as much bang for the buck, or worse, could be a blatant failure. Take the time to tease him awake. It’s simply more fun, and it should serve to put you more in the mood, too.
Another thing you need to know, if his penis begins to grow flaccid during the experience, a) you’re probably not doing anything wrong, and b) don’t keep working it.
It’s a blood-flow thing, and you need to let his biology get what it wants. Move away from a softening penis, if you’re wanting it hard again, and start biting, licking, sucking in other areas. Engage in ass play. Anything you want, so long as you’re drawing all the blood away from the penis. But you want to keep a hand on his balls or shaft, just gently squeezing or touching, not in an erotic way, but in a “I’m still here, baby” kind of way. Remember, cock play is as nurturing as it can be for a guy sometimes, and if you’re doing a special treat like this, don’t let him forget why you’re there. But don’t keep arousing the beast, either, since you’re going for longevity and this will help you get there. Just be present.
Having a hand on the resting member also tells you when he’s hardened again. Then, you make your way back down. Take him in your mouth and do what you need to do.
I say, make it as slow and long and doting of a blowjob as you can muster. Have spurts of primal savagery, but be mostly attentive, steady, and tender, not because we’re avoiding savage, but because this special-event head should be a long session and you need to conserve energy. (Be PowerSmart!)
Between the intermittent moments of cuddling and the kissing and all that, I tend to try to stretch a middle-of-the-night special-event blowjob to an hour or so of a long, drawn out tease, with one or two “rest” breaks of five or so minutes in between. (And you can remove your hand during the breaks, maybe lie down at his side, your head on his chest, your hands exploring his body, with a knee/calf resting bent over his groin, maybe making gentle tugging motions from time to time. You’re still there, but in a way that says you’re taking some time to recoup, ”but I’ve not forgotten”.)
If he’s starting to want to be inside you, tell him he can (and should) do that in the morning, that this is about him. Seriously, let him have his time in the sun, and make sure he understands that’s what this is. It’s about him. For him. By you. Happily. It’s knowing someone wants you pleasured that’s as hot as being pleasured, and don’t forget that.
The blowjob technique itself is pretty much the same as what I’ve described before (see “Good Girl’s Guide to Giving Great Head, parts one and two). It’s the waking-the-body-up bit that really is imperative, particularly when he’s got an auto-erection in the night. (If he’s been lying there cupping the round of your ass or breast while spooning you, odds are there are external factors at work. Still, wake the body before the beast.)
And, ladies? If you’ve never had the pleasure of being awoken for sex, what have you been waiting for? Look your lover in the eye and say, “I’ve never been woken up for sex before and I hear it’s a little more surreal and intense. I’d love it if you’d take me in the night sometime. Surprise me.”
If your guy isn’t the brightest bulb in the box, tell him to do so via smothering your sleeping body with kisses. There’s nothing quite so lovely and nice as being awoken by lips dancing down your body. You’d be surprised how much your body will want it, if you let it go there.
I keep saying that the goal as a good lover is simply to feel the moments and go with them, but really, why do we always wait to be in the moment before we feel it? Let’s make the moments happen. Initiate. Women do it far too little. What, you’re concerned he’ll REJECT you? Have you been present on Planet Earth long? Man reject woman for sex, free sex? It happens, but so does lightning striking humans. It’s a long shot. Run with the odds. The plus is, you’ll feel like a goddess when it works out.
C’mon. Live a little. Wake the beast. He’ll play nice for you.

Who I Am and Why I Bother

Hi, there. I’m Steff, and I’ll be your pilot.
I seem to be getting new readers every day, and I wonder what their reactions are when they get here. I’d like to say a little about myself and what my little mission is. So. Without ado.
Who am I? Well, I ain’t your standard-issue sex writer. I’m cute, but I’m more comfortable in jeans and a funky shirt than anything else. I ride a scooter. I listen to indie rock and know what the inside of a mosh pit looks like. I work with kids sometimes. I’m smart, I’m independent, I live alone, and I’d rather be single than in a less-than-filling relationship. I went to Catholic school as a kid, was elected to the student body in college, always had good grades, used to volunteer a lot, always have done well professionally, can work a room and schmooze with the best of ‘em, have never worked in a sex trade, haven’t had a lot of partners due to old-school ethics… Et cetera.
In short, I really am the good girl next door who likes to play a little bad from time to time. Any parent in the world would be thrilled to have me in the family, but god forbid they ever find the home videos.
As a result, being a do-gooder goodie-two-shoes for most of my life, coming to terms with my sexuality has been a long and hard path. I went through hellacious battles with self-esteem, with judgment, and with self-scrutiny. I wondered if giving head meant I was a whore. I was scared that being a hard-core lover girl in the bedroom would mean I’d find a $100 bill by the bed when I was through. I didn’t want to be this thing I had inside of me, this chick who wanted to tear into a guy’s flesh and devour him whole. It was dirty, wrong, and in God’s eyes, not something I should do. Sex was for procreation, not for entertainment, was the memo I’d gotten.
I was passionately religious in my youth, and it’s the case with anything I ever come to believe: I get behind it with a vengeance. Catholicism was no different. The Sound of Music was my favourite film (and I have the special edition on DVD now, heh — “the hills are alive with the sound…”). I wanted to be a nun. (It’s why there’s a really sexy nun in the banner of this site. Hell, she gets me hot. I like to imagine sometimes that I really did it, I became a nun, and some man some where gets me so goddamned riled that I throw down my Bible and my rosary and take ‘im down then and there. Well, there’s always role-playing.)
I kid you not, man, but every time they spoke of Jesus getting spikes driven through his wrists, I had to sit on my hand ‘cos I could imagine the pain of stigmata. I remember the funny look my mother gave me when I told her that at the age of eight. She said, slowly, “Well, that’s very… pious of you.”
It was fucked. I was intense. I drank the Kool-aid, and then I learned about the world at large in my teens. I began reading about cults, about the myth of religion, about the world religions, and I learned all the similarities and all the fear tools. I began asking why a god who was supposed to be love personnified would make us bodies that could know such incredible pleasure, and then sit back and laughingly tell us it was a sin to know it. Not the god I had in mind, I thought. I started walking away from organized faith while swearing to keep the ethic (and I have). Then began the slow process of learning to get past guilt.
Then that was followed by this process of really owning my self and my body on my own terms, learning about sexuality. I began seeing what the lack of sexual expression seemed to do to all the old housewives and husbands I knew. I knew I never wanted to get old that way. And I wanted to be alive now.
I then explored my sexuality in the confines of my relationships, and was doing really well at learning about my more confident self inside.
But then, life. Life threw me a curveball, tossed me some death and depression, heartache and loss, and I gained weight, lost my sex drive, and with it, a lot of my will to live life as it deserves to be lived. Whew, I fell apart for about three or four years, into this horrible cavernous place of blackness, despair, and shame.
Then, whammo. Got into an accident, should’ve died, didn’t, realized I was the luckiest bitch ever, and a stupid one for wasting my life, got my shit in gear, began losing weight, got back into writing, and started having some serious experiences in the circle of life once again.
Rediscovering my sexuality* for a second time, after literally learning that whatever didn’t kill me made me better, stronger, faster, has been a fucking miraculous experience. Every week I’m a better, cooler, sexier chick who’s more in touch with who she was than seven days previous.
So this place is as much a record of my journey – but with certain details kept for my enjoyment only – as it is a reflection of my anger for having to have fought this hard this long to get where I am now. Women, when it comes to sexuality, are the victims of a system that has idealized the notion of sex without ever really talking about what the real components of it should be. Men, therefore, are victimized by a system of their own making. Funny how that works. We live in a society that fucking worships sex and hasn’t got a goddamned clue how to have it. This, my friends, is the Age of Irony.
And some of us out here on our sexual soapboxes hope to turn the attention where it needs to be – on the fact that this is an act shared between consenting adults using only what “God” gave them, their bodies. How sex ever became perceived as being so amoral is beyond me. It can be wildly fun, tragically passionate, incredibly tender… sex can be anything you want it to be.
If you only know what you want.
And I guess that’s what my goal is. To play a small part in helping people learn what they want. By writing positively in an everyday gal kind of way about sexuality and about sex acts that are normally written by people who are, well, a little more enthusiastic and lifestyle-ish about it, I try to take what some might consider exceptional sex back into the realm of the ordinary.
I’m just an ordinary gal with an extraordinary appreciation of sex. And I like to share. So, welcome to my world. I hope you stick around awhile.

*The interesting thing is, the more I learn about my own sexuality, the more I realize I need to know about others’. Every human body is unique, but there are commonalities of experience, and the more we learn about others’ loves and needs, the more we’re able to adapt to our own. It’s when I stopped looking at just me for my growth that I finally began to grow. We need others. And sexuality, well, it’s about others.

the all-sex diet

mm. this is what i needed, a friday night in, relaxing.
it’d be better only one way, if i had a little quality male companionship, maybe some massages, getting intimate on the floor. that’d be nice. a bottle of red, naked, too many blankets, a small world of candles scattered… mm.
to confess, i’m a little tired and i’d probably fail to be myself. being alone’s really not too bad a thing this evening. i have a beer, a little vancouver herbology, and soon, a long oily soak in the tub. lots and lots of oil. sigh. my own private valdez.
had a nice night earlier this week, but i didn’t realize how much he’d worn me out (and vice versa, i’m sure) until today. i have that sore-all-over kinda stiffness from full-body overexertion, but as much as it’s a little annoying, it’s also nice to know it really was as much work as it felt like. fun work, but still. now that’s my kinda fatigue, baby.
you know what i want? i want to take off the weight i have in mind to lose by way of sex. i don’t really overeat anymore (i sure as shit don’t undereat) but i certainly need more exercise. i need sex. that’s all. all i need is a little aerobics and a lil’ strengthening and toning. i know precisely how to obtain it. a plan of conquest. especially in light of all these well-placed aches. (the inner thighs, the lower belly, the arms, hell, the boobs. oi.)
fuck the l.a. diet. damn the jenny craigs. to hell with grapefruit. watch this, weight watchers. give me orgasms and breathlessness. i know. i’ll call it the all-sex diet.
yeah, that’s the ticket.
“and thursday, we recommend two hours foreplay (staggered for endurance purposes) followed by a rigorous 15-minute doggy style, as well as two sets of wall-aided laterals, and to conclude, water sports, including…”
friday, rest.”
“saturday, turn off the phone. close the blinds. it’s time for a six-hour session of territorial pursuit. you will need: tethers, non-slip surfaces…”
sigh. if i could sign up for that diet, i absolutely promise to take my vitamins every day and even eat my veggies.
i didn’t even have sex with the guy, it was all foreplay, and it was still that strenuous. keep in mind, i cycle, i have freeweights. i may be a bonus lover, but girl’s got endurance, a’ight? the last guy i slept with didn’t even get me close to that overextended. (not that i didn’t try to cause it. some things are mysteries.) it was nice for a change.
(wistful sigh, low groan) yeah. that’s the lifestyle.
but, i ask you, some days, is there just nothing else better than kissing? there’s nothing like the duel of two smooth, soft, energetic tongues. feathery caresses, grip’n’grab gropes. pushin’ up ‘gainst each other, angling for a better, closer position. that slow escalation of breath.
every kiss is an aphrodisiac for another. i can never have just one.
it’s so hot. a guy who can kiss, well, forget his bad points, he’s graded on a curve. kissing, what is it? what is it that makes kissing so damned sublime? it’s almost like necking’s the reminder of all things good. it’s innocence, yet it’s heat.
as much as i love having sex and thus tend to not wait too long for it, i have to admit that it often feels disappointing in a jaded way if necking sessions always result in sex. there’s something really hot about working yourself into that slobbery frenzy brought on by a heated make-out session on the sofa/then bed — and having to let it ride.
do you ever just sit back and enjoy that somewhat sexually frustrated expression on your partner’s face when you just know it can’t go further? not that you’re thrilled to be paining them, but it’s just great to always know you’re the one who’s bringing that heightened sensation into their world, and it’s nice to know they feel that it’s such a loss it ain’t goin’ further.
i guess, for me, i like the anticipation, knowing what’s going to happen next time as a result. i suppose that’s what makes it easier for me, as a chick, is i can honestly say, “yep, gettin’ laid next time” since, well, if I want it, i’m pretty liable to get it, right? how often does a chick want to get laid and the guy say, “well, not right now.” it happens, sure, but the odds are in my favour.
and my powers of persuasion make me suspect i’ve missed my calling as a jedi knight. just saying.
so, i’m on the hunt for the man who can calm my savage beast. when located, the all-sex diet goes full boil. i’m always so gung-ho when i start new things.
what, beginner’s enthusiasm? luckily it takes me awhile to tire of things. 😉 and i’m very, very goal-oriented. love that pursuit.
the all-sex diet program is now accepting applicants.

Unleashing Your Vixen: Moves From the Bottom

Woman on Bottom bravely asked a few of those questions most women don’t ask because they’re too embarrassed. How does a woman, under her lover, get involved and change the pace of things when he’s thrusting away? And also, does a Vixen’s role change when it’s lovemaking as opposed to fucking, and vice versa?
Let’s tackle part two first. The difference between “lovemaking” and “fucking” is a mood, an edge. Fucking’s when animalism comes out to play. It’s when the emotions hit a fever pitch. Lovemaking’s true intimacy and tends to be more about exploring your lover (if you’re doing it right, that is) and expressing how you feel. Now, this is very much in theory. I don’t know about your lovelife, but those distinctions apply well to mine.
So, then, here’s the thing. You do the same stuff. It’s not that complicated. It’s just about the edge and how hard you go for it — so to speak.
For fucking, you bite a little more, a little harder. You dig your heels deeper, your fingernails scratch harder. You thrust or squeeze or whatever you do, faster, harder, and more greedily. It’s a mood thing. The actions are essentially all the same.
It’s kind of the difference between pedalling a bike along a nice, flat seashore, and taking in all the scenery, working consistently and over a long period, versus getting that bike up a monster hill with the sweating, teeth-gritting, and panting that comes with it. You go with the mood.
I really don’t think you need to worry too much about changing things up. Learn to just go with the moment. And if you apply the wrong amount of intensity, who cares? So you’ve gotten a little overeager in lovemaking and it switches gears a little to some down’n’dirty fucking. Is that really so wrong? Stop overthinking it. Go with it. Feel the moment and see where it takes you.
Odds are, accidentally switching to fucking from lovemaking will leave you both spent and laughing and thrilled. Hardly an unfortunate accident.
All right. Back to the beginning.

He’s over you, in you, on you. Thrusting. His eyes are closed, he’s concentrating, keeping his rhythm, and he’s used to you doing this – very, very little – so he’s not really too worried about you. Occasionally he plants a kiss on your neck, a token reminder that in other galaxies, in alter-existences, this tango would be danced by two. He continues thrusting, biting on his bottom lip now, clenching his eyes shut, maybe imagining what it would be like if you suddenly couldn’t get enough of him, and you start to think, “Geez. It’d be nice if I felt a little more involved. What should I do first?”

The easiest thing to do is always to start nibbling on his neck, biting, sucking, and nibbling on his neck. Keep it light and simple – hickeys are fun for folks who can get away with it, but are a real pain in the ass when we can’t, and I’m speaking from experience, when a hickey caused a world of grief for me at work. After all, that’s why we wear shirts: Put the fucking hickey on the shoulder, on the chest, on the ass, anywhere you want, but think twice about the neck.
Don’t spend too long on the neck, if shifting the mood’s what you want to do. Begin sinking your teeth into his shoulder, biting a bit.
While you’re dining on Grade-A shoulder, you can reach around him. Press your palms flat on his shoulderblades and drive your hands firmly, with an awful lot of friction, all down his back, over his ass. Squeeze his cheeks, dig your nails in if you want to, and maybe even use a finger to tease him in the crack of his anus. If you’ve been seldom involved, then THAT will should show him that something turned your lightbulb on. “I’ve been reading,” you can tell him.
During all this, you really, really become absolutely in the moment.
Focus on how things feel – know what’s happening to your body. Focus on his rigid girth sliding in and out of you, how warm and good that cock feels, how it feels when it’s moving from shallow into deeper passes and back again. Focus on the slapping sounds, really try to follow what’s happening with your lover’s body.
Feel the moment, like I said, and let it take you where you should go. Be the moment, Grasshopper.
Let the moment lead you, don’t worry about “But Steff said shoulder-back-palms…” NO, I suggested it. Mostly, just let the moment and what you really wanna do deep down in that dirty place you usually ignore.
As you grow to study your lover’s moves more and more, you’ll be able to start anticipating things,&  you’ll know what it takes to really heighten the moment, via thrusting, biting, whatever, but that knowledge comes from studying – how does he move, what feels best for you?
If you shift yourself slightly, does his penis hit somewhere else inside you, a better place? Know these feelings.
It’s different for every single one of us, so you need to be the documentarian who’s keeping notes on how to vamp up her own sex life. Capische?
So, as you’re nibbling/biting/sucking/putting those god-given lips to good use — and those hands, they should always be working the moment one way or another, even if you’re rubbing your own clit as he thrusts (they like that, too) — you find his rhythm and you respond.
I don’t care if he’s 280 pounds – you should be strong enough to start doing some thrusting in sync with his. Every time his pelvis lifts, yours sinks back into the mattress. When he lowers to thrust into you, you raise your pelvis up into his. You thrust as hard as you can, on beat, every time.
It’s easier to thrust on the bottom if you have your knees bent and your feet planted — or with legs wrapped around him — but as you exercise those lumbar muscles and lower ab muscles, you’ll start getting stronger and better at thrusting in nearly any position you find yourself in. If you learn how to move from the hips themselves instead of using your whole groin area to thrust, you’ll find the movements to be sharper, more intense, and with more payback at his end (and thus at yours).
And it’s important to get your muscles stronger so you can thrust in any position, because there’s not a lot of men who don’t love the feeling of having a woman’s legs wrapped right around their waist during sex.
What’s really great about wrapping your legs around a guy, when things are heating up and you’re really into the moment, you can use your legs to pull him as tight and hard and deep into you as possible. Your legs will be wrapped around the small of his back at this point. After he’s thrust down into you, squeeze and hold him there, tight. For men, I’m told most of their sensation’s both at the head of the penis or the base of the shaft, so when you’re pulling him in hard, he’ll be really, really enjoying the moment. Keep your legs there but release some pressure, and let him resume thrusting, but if you want to be playful, you can cutely instruct him, “Mine. Stay!” Or something along those lines. Get dirtier if you want to, since I find that fun. Be careful, though, because this could feel TOO good for him and you might prematurely end your fun.
The thing about talking during sex, though, and I’ve been guilty of stupidity on this front like almost everywoman in the world, is that it’s important to try and steer away from routine things. Keep the sentiments short and to the point, and keep the focus on action, not conversation so much.
Say things, but don’t expound, unless it’s about something happening then and there that can be improved or changed.
The more you say, the more you run the risk of saying the wrong thing and wrecking the mood. Let’s face it, during sex, our brains aren’t getting nearly the blood nor oxygen it desires, so let’s not overwork the thing, shall we? Keep the blood where it belongs. Flowing in your loins.
Back to using your legs. It’s funny that so many women think there’s nothing they can do being under a guy. It’s just a silly thought.
Using your legs defines how everything feels. Using your legs to change your body angles even slightly affects the way his cock feels (to both him and you) as he slides in and out. Some positions allow you to feel him even deeper, harder.
The thing is, you need to get into those positions, you need to explore them.
Wrapping legs around the hips, a great start.
So’s intertwining your legs lengthwise with his and locking them into place via scooping your foot under his shins or something can allow you to use your muscles then to clench everything in your abdominal and vaginal and anal region. This can really make it a nice, tight, arousing fit for your man of choice. It tightens all the muscles so he’s getting more of a vice grip on his shaft, something most men’ll tell you is a good thing – but, AGAIN, too much of a good thing can result in him blowing his load early, especially if having you involved is a shock to his system.
Therefore, don’t let the moment become a marathon, hey?
One of my all-time favourite moves, and I’m not sure quite what I like about it so much, but it’s probably along the lines that it has an awful lot of deep sensation and is closest to some of the classic moves like doggy style, is the one in this photo. All you need to do is either push him back a little or ask him to kneel for a second, then pull your legs up in front of his chest and put your ankles over his shoulder. This position feels so goddamned good but you need to be a little flexible to pull it off. (I’m not some size 6 with yoga classes under her belt, but yeah, I can bend. You might surprise yourself, too. Try it. If it hurts, you can always stop. Bet it feels purty good, though.)
Personally, I find it excellent for low-back problems, but that’s not going to apply universally. If you can handle it, do it, because men have a lot to love about this position, too. Guys are visual and they absolutely love watching their penis slide in and out of a woman, and this position not only gives them the vantage point from which to see that, but unlike doggy and a few other positions, it allows them to see your face as they take you to the edge – and your breasts as they bounce side to side and up and down with every thrust the men make. Seeing the face, though, there’s something undeniably amazing about knowing it’s you who’s caused that look of agonized ecstasy to spill across a person’s face, and I suppose it’s one of the factors I enjoy about this position. I love watching him watching me.
Finally, the easiest, and still one of my faves, and allows for some of the sensation of the above position without you having to ask him to move, is while he’s thrusting, simply use your hands to pull your knees up to your chest (by his shoulders) in a classic knee-to-chest leg-stretch. A lot of feeling, allows for a really deep thrust, and he’s guaranteed to love it. You can alter the sensation here, too, by moving back and forth between allowing your back round out (sort of like the cat pose in yoga) and then arch away from him. It’ll drastically affect how it feels, but definitely be careful if it’s your first time trying those, since it could be a bit challenging on a virgin back. But, yeah, back and forth — arching, rounding — subs in for thrusting, giving him the same amount of contribution from you, but in a sensationally different manner. Give it a go.
As your legs tire a bit, you can take breaks by letting your legs wrap around him again. I advise going back and forth between these positions during a single session, if you’re looking to change things up a bit. A moment or two in this position, a moment or two in that.
But, hey, there’s a lot to be said for seeing one thing through, too. Every time is different. And should be.
Just GO with it. Stop thinking! Start feeling! Ignore society’s advice to act on logic, not emotion. Feel the moment and let it take you where you should go. That’s all it takes.
And don’t worry — “feeling the moment” will take you to newer, bolder, more different places as time passes, because the lover you are within will change and grow as you lighten up and think less. Being the best lover we can be doesn’t happen over night, it takes years, decades, because it’s not just about skill — it’s about being truly open and comfortable with yourself, and that’s the journey we’re all after for the whole of our lives.
And here’s where it really starts to take hold.
There’s more on this topic to come.
(The photo is from SexyFX.com, an awesome site.)