I love a good post-sex debrief.
Not every time, but sometimes a conversation about how awesome the sex was can add to the exhilaration of a good fucking. And of course, on the flip side, a deconstruction of what went wrong can be very useful.
Ultimately, sex debrief can be a bonding and learning experience. Sex is all about communication: with your body and with your emotions. Adding in actual verbal communication after the fact (let alone during) can benefit both (or all) parties.
If the sex was mind-blowing, it can be affirming and informative (“I nearly left the solar…
The annoying habits of my brain during sex
It’s hard to switch off my brain at the best of times. But to have it still whirring around during sex is truly annoying.
Ironically I was working super hard at being present in my body the last time I had sex. To really be in the moment.
And then I thought ‘Hey I can write an article about this struggle!’.
Seriously brain, shut the fuck up.
Can I please just concentrate on my partner between my legs giving me a pussy snack? A rather delicious episode of snacking too.
I love orgasms. Who doesn’t? I love having them on my own, I love having them with my partner. I love how they make me feel inside and out.
So when I’m nearly on the brink of one and disappears in a poof of smoke, I feel pissed off as fuck.
Orgasms can be elusive for women. Some have them easily, alone. Some have them easily, with a partner. Some women don’t struggle with either. Some struggle with both.
Inherently women struggle. And it’s not just from difficulty orgasming.
You could say that women’s orgasms struggles mirror the struggle we…
Last night as my partner and I were snuggling in his bed (we have separate beds so I can sleep), I asked him when he last wanked. Yesterday, he replied, In the shower. Cool, I said, Was it a good one?
He laughed. We joked about spraying the shower walls with cum (which he didn’t do; don’t go too crazy here!).
We snuggled some more.
I then told him it’s been a few days for me; porn assisted.
We kissed. And snuggled.
We do this quite often, discuss our masturbatory habits. Lately sex has been low on the priority list…
Little pieces of a person remind us of who they were
My mum died just over 7 weeks ago. I just had to count the weeks — wow, only 7. It seems like it was ages ago but also just yesterday.
Grief really fucks with your sense of time.
I’ve written about her death here and here. It helped to (try to) make sense of it and to record what actually happened. I also wrote as a bit of an experiment to look back on; to see how my brain was handling the shock.
The shock is less so now…
I never realised the power of the spoken word during sex (or dirty talk if you want to call it that; I don’t) until the right words were spoken. Which I suppose makes sense. It’s difficult to imagine how good or bad something will be until it is actually done.
In masturbatory sexual fantasies the use of language is always a key component for me. …
Strange bedfellows indeed
Sex and death are two sides of the same coin. One creates life (potentially), one is the end of life. It seems counterintuitive to be thinking about sex when death is hanging around, but also not. What better way to remind yourself that you are still alive than to fuck?
The trouble is, you may not to. At least, that’s where I’m at right now. I want to but I don’t. Like a part of me can’t or won’t; I’m not sure.
It feels wrong somehow to get sexually aroused in amongst the grief bubble. I find…
Death just adds another layer of complication, or does it?
When my mother suddenly died recently, all the anger, frustration and resentment I had towards her felt like it suddenly disappeared. Literally like a poof! of smoke, it seemed to disappear into the air.
But it hasn’t really gone away; that was just my experience of shock taking over for a short while.
But seriously, what happens when someone you had a significant but fucked up relationship with dies? What about all that unresolved stuff? Where does it go?
In a recent counselling session my therapist and I agreed that…
Welcome to the club
I’ve had dead people in my life before. The odd extended relative. A friend of a friend. The child of a friend of a sister of a cousin. Someone you went to school with years ago.
You know the deal.
Some of us have acculuated a lot of dead people by the time we’re adults, some haven’t. Some get to 40 with barely a collection at all.
Some feel like they’re wracking up notches on their belt; their body count is so high.
There really is no rhyme or reason to it; it’s just bad luck…
The only way through it is over it
Grief is like a mountain that patiently waits for you to climb it.
It doesn’t move — ever. It doesn’t need to (let alone the fact that it can’t, of course). It’s job is to sit and wait. And it will wait forever.
One day you may find yourself at the foot of this mountain, sometimes very unexpectedly.
In the blink of an eye, someone you loved is gone and there is no going back.
You open your eyes to find a mountain in front of you. When you turn your head…
Australian writer, sexologist, & therapist. I sometimes write about sex & pleasure. I sometimes write about weird shit, my interests & being human.