Tag Archives: being a good lover

Oh, You Naughty Librarian!

In college, I was a librarian. I worked both in books and in the audio-visuals section. Then I was a bookseller.

Everything I ever needed to learn about sex, I learned on the job. It’s probably the only thing escorts and librarians have in common.

Okay, well, no, not everything I ever needed to learn… but it sure as hell helped me write informative web sex commentaries like:

What can I tell you? There’s nothing like being paid in quiet work moments to go searching through shelves for titles you’d never have the balls to take out if you were just Joe Public, like Sex Tips for Straight Women from a Gay Man by Dan Anderson.

A quiet rainy night and no one in the bookshop, and I have a date with my boyfriend later? Sure, why not learn new oral techniques or read about the psychology of sex in the Guide to Getting it On by Paul Joahannides?

I was ALLOWED to read on the job. Clients might enter and ask about those books! (And in 3 years, only one did, and when I gave her Dan Anderson’s book and pointed out a couple passages worth really absorbing, she cancelled her evening plans then and there and invited her guy over for breakfast, laughing while I rang the book in.)

Will Manley reports over on his blog that, in 1992, he had more than 5,000 librarians answer his Librarians & Sex Survey, but the results were quashed by Those Who Be who thought, perhaps, that librarians couldn’t appear THAT naughty.

I woulda scored pretty good in some of the categories, I suspect, but thank god I’m not relevant here because you people just don’t need to know too much. Hi! I’m Steff the sometimes-sex blogger with boundaries.

But all this comes back to what I strongly believe — great sex requires:

  • great knowledge
  • communication
  • articulation
  • attention to detail
  • ability to be versatile
  • openmindedness
  • access to information and resources
  • insight and commentary
  • ability to not take things too seriously

Furthermore? I believe the people with the healthiest sex lives are usually people who are most open to other people’s points-of-views and lifestyle choices.

Why? Because being a great lover means realizing the world has more tastes than just yours. And accepting that personal taste matters.

The reality is, just because you think you have a money-shot doesn’t mean it works on everyone. Sex isn’t about YOU. It’s about your partner. And if your partner thinks that way too, then congratulations, you probably know what it’s like to have your mind totally blown by sex.

But if either of you think it’s all about the orgasm, or that your performance reflects on you in a “being-graded” kind of way, or that sex is about obligation or routine, then you probably haven’t transcended that place that takes some of us from being mere enthusiasts about sex to feeling profoundly sorry that the rest of the world doesn’t get what we’re talking about.

Frankly? If you haven’t been laid by a sex geek, you’re probably missing out.

The truth is, the more I learn about other people’s hang-ups, the more I read up on the difficult journeys many of us take as we fumble from awkward through to confident lovers, the more I’m able to accept myself as a total vixen-rockstar-lover while also being a woman who has all the insecurities most women have… and it’s okay. ‘Cos openness and vulnerability have their own hotness-factor, too — so long as I realize it’s in my head, I’m not the only person that feels this way, and I can admit it. Besides, that vulnerability is part of what makes me this unique blend of who I am.

My vulnerability is not all I can admit. I’ve found power in confessing things like this, that go against the supposed “sex blogger” image, even though I’ve written one of the most plagiarized how-to-give-blowjobs postings on the web. Why? Because I know I’m not alone, because I’ve shared in that human condition that writing & literature can inform us about.

It’s learning, reading, and sharing in others’ experiences and sexual journeys through blogging and the written word, and just plain learning biology, that has really allowed me to own my insecurities and stop apologizing for them.

So-fucking-what if I’m insecure about my size sometimes? If I tell a lover that and he uses that knowledge to covet ALL of me, it helps fight that insecurity — because it’s hard to fake that attention, it’s hard to be disingenuous as you consume someone whole. You can’t easily sell being turned on by a flabby belly, you know.

It’s my knowledge and life experience that helps me understand how and why we all differ sexually — I don’t have hang-ups about talking to a lover about how he likes it, what he wants, and other little fantasies and peccadilloes that shape each of us as a lover. It’s not some reflection on me if he doesn’t like it when I do X to him — that’s a reflection of how his body’s wired, and I can’t change it, no matter how good my X skills might have proven in other encounters.

That’s the kind of confidence that comes from education. It’s getting past THOSE conversations that make good intercourse become the kind of mindblowing sex that everyone dreams of having.

Learn something. Ignorant lovers are lousy lovers. Get over yourself. Learn about your partner, learn about how their sexual tastes differ. Teach them about you.

That’s when carnal knowledge is sexual power.

So: Do you think your knowledge about sex has changed you as a lover, and how? What are your thoughts on this?

Photo is by Dumio_Momio, and is Creative Commons.

Lousy Lover Syndrome

DirtyTalkingGirl (DTG) over at Pussy Talk recently posted this about her lover’s stubborness in wanting to get her off through oral:

I have to say that M gave me his best last night. He went down on me unasked, made all the right moves with tongue and lips, pulled my thighs over his shoulders, changed position and bent in over me from the side, tried every angle of oral approach and entry. He was textbook-perfect.

All to no avail. I couldn’t come.

At one point, I apologised. Told him it wasn’t him, I just wasn’t in the mood, time of month, blah blah. I added, I’d rather you fuck me. I wanted the penetration.

He said, “No, I want to make you come this way.”

As he laboured on, putting fingers here and thumb there and vice versa, I felt like a lawnmower that wouldn’t start.

This posting set me off, for some reason. I began thinking, “If someone as skilled in and open about sex as DTG felt this frustrated and this much like a failure when her lover plodded through what he thought was his money routine, then where would that leave a “lesser” lover?”

Feeling pretty fucking negative about sex, I suspect. And that’s not fair. In fact, it’s downright cruel.

Our bodies are enigmas. Some things work brilliantly sometimes, and sometimes they fail. That’s just the way it goes.

DTG went on to say that maybe a switch hadn’t flicked in her mind, that the mood hadn’t hit her, and as a result, she was left unswayed by his “best.” She asked to be fucked doggy style, and was again rebuffed. Her lover stuck with his seflish intent of having her reach orgasm his way instead of the one way she thought she’d be able to reach it, considering her somewhat uninspired state.

I’m here to tell you one thing and one thing only: I don’t give a shit if you’re the king or queen of the world with your skills. If your lover tells you it ain’t working, that they want to have you try X method, and you rebuff them because you’re somehow intent on bringing them to climax through your present approach, then it doesn’t matter what skills you have.

You’re a lousy fucking lover.

Listen. Listen. Listen. I’m always saying “listen for aural clues — a switch in breathing, a moan,” whatever it takes, right?

Well, when someone flat-out tells you what they want, and they tell you they’re having trouble “getting there,” and you disregard it, you’ve broken every damned rule in the book.

Me, I think that when the mental baggage started to come into the picture, DTG should have told him to stop. I think she should’ve made him realize that he was starting to make her feel bad.

But that’s just how it goes. It’s so overwhelming when we’re in the heat of that moment and all those inner bells and whistles start tooting: “You can’t come? What are you, frigid? You’re good at this. Hell, you don’t even need to do anything. The ride has come to you! Come on! Orgasm! Squirt, baby!”

We can logically dismiss it, but the hurt’s still going to find its way in, and we start thinking we’re being selfish AND a failure.

And the truth is, it’s not us being selfish, nor failures. It’s our lousy fucking lovers.

This applies to both sexes. Listen to your lovers, and don’t let your pride and inability to concede defeat leave them feeling like crap (and unsatisfied).

It’s wrong and it’s cruel. And it’s just plain bad sex. Wake the hell up.

You asked? My thoughts on tit-fucking, then

I’ve opened the topic of handjobs, and I’ll continue on them, too, but first a foray into titty-fucking, as one male reader has asked my thoughts on it.

I don’t know the numbers for how many women enjoy titty-fucking, but I know I’m actually turned off by the thought of it, and I simply won’t engage. I wish I wasn’t actually turned off , but it is what it is.

Fortunately, it’s never been a problem. I’ve actually never expressed the dislike until a conversation with the Guy tonight, but no guy I’ve ever been with has been interested. Why not? Maybe it’s not as common a fetish as porn would have us believe. Nonetheless, I have a couple reasons for why it’s not my thang.

First off, depending who’s doing the measuring and my time of month (breasts swell and reduce in relation to the cycle), I’m between a generous B-cup and a smallish C-cup. I don’t care, I’m fine with my breasts as-is, but their size would limit the benefit for titty-fucking, IMHO.

Second, I just don’t find it attractive. It’s not my thing. I won’t apologize for not liking it, either. I won’t judge others, since I really don’t give a fuck what you do in your home. It gets you off? FABULOUS. Not me.

There’s an interesting dichotomy in the sexual world. One aspect is the woman who enjoys almost any sexual act. She’s often portrayed as lewd, slutty, easy, or loose, just because she’s an enthusiast. And that’s bullshit, my friends. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the activities you enjoy surrounding sex should not judge who you are as a person.

But then there’s the flipside. If you’re hesitant to do some of the so-called edgier/pornified things, you get painted a bit as a vanilla lover, or someone who’s “conservative” in the bedroom, which is also bullshit, my friends. There are many things I’ll do, and I’m caught between both extremes on the perception of what kind of woman I am, too. I’ve probably had more public sex than a lion’s share of the people out there, I’ve dabbled in bondage and many other little game-type scenarios. I dirty talk, I’m creative, and I sure as hell take the initiative. I’ll talk about nearly any aspect of sex, but there are things that pull me back into my shell a bit, things that sometimes daunt me, things that even turn me off. I shouldn’t be judged for knowing what I like or dislike, and that’s precisely what happens too fucking much.

There are sex-bloggers who might even snicker at me for admitting I have found handjobs awkward, or that I’m not as come-friendly as others might be, or that I view titty-fucking with great disdain, but you know what? Get the fuck over it. It’s my prerogative.

Being a good lover is: A) Knowing what you like, dislike, and love. B) Knowing how to express your needs. C) Being open-minded without compromising yourself, whatever that might mean for you. D) Not judging your lover’s desires, but being true to yourself so you’re not going to resent them after the fact. (Always, always consider how you’re going to feel if you perform an act that’s not generally your cup of tea. Some things I’ll do because I know how “he’ll” feel, and thus, I know I’ll feel great seeing that expression on “his” face. Some things, “his” response just doesn’t matter because I know I’ll be left feeling like I’ve compromised who I am as a result of my actions.)

Sex and love and intimacy are minefields. There are things that will hit and miss with each of us, and our likes or dislikes need to be respected, or the collateral damage leaves all players pretty frickin’ fragged.

Honestly, titty-fucking’s just one of those things that I suspect every woman has a multitude of thoughts on. Personally, being a woman with a little more to grab around the mid-section, there’s nothing that turns me on better than a guy who navigates my entire body and who enjoys every inch of me. I’m fortunate in my present relationship to have a great guy who appreciates the whole of the female form, not just the three money-shot areas that many guys obsess over: Twat, tits, and ass.

And that’s one of the problems with titty-fucking. It takes some of us back to the boring same old shit that focuses on specific regions of our bodies when not enough of our bodies get explored during the rest of the act. When’s the last time you kissed her behind the knees? Or nibbled her low back? Or sucked the folds of her elbows? Huh?

My opinion on tit-fucking isn’t going to change any time soon. It’s one of those things that’s just true to who I am. I’m open to anything from anal to bondage to outdoor sex and sex toys of all kinds, but there are some things I’m just not in the mindset to ever enjoy, and I don’t even want to humour the guy and do it, just because I know how I’ll feel at the end of it, and it probably will be something along the lines of feeling cheap. No, thanks.

Again, this is MY perspective on tit-fucking. There are women who absolutely love it, and kudos to them. Whatever gets your rocks off, baby. But don’t judge me for what I dislike. Instead, realize that my knowing not only what I dislike but being able to express why takes maturity, insight, and self-knowledge – things I wish more people had the courage to express. Until, however, we stop judging people for what they do or don’t do, the sexual self-knowledge club might remain on the exclusive side of things. A real fucking pity, that.