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9 Weird Signs That You’re Actually Really Good In Bed

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By Kitty Fitzgerald

Really Good In Bed

1. You eat your food slowly.

And not just popsicles. Those who aren’t in a rush to devour their meals take their time in all aspects. You don’t skip over foreplay like it’s some annoying YouTube ad. You’ll give pleasure as long as you possibly can.

2. You aren’t afraid to be vocal.

Those who can speak on what they want in day-to-day life make for communicative partners. Sex is all about sharing: your body parts, your desires, your thirst, etc. If you’re the kind of person who lets it be known what you’re looking for, there’s a good chance that carries over into the bedroom. And good sex is vocal sex.

3. Your exes stay hung up for an incredibly long time.

I mean, can you blame them? They know just how good it can be. God bless those poor, horny souls.

4. You don’t regularly watch porn.

Porn has a numbing effect on sexuality. I’m not saying it’s the worst, but those who watch a large amount have a tendency to have problems…performing. That’s not to say if you don’t typically watch you don’t also have a large and healthy sexual appetite. But you know how to differentiate realistic sex with fantasy sex. Or, you’ve figured out how to combine the two.

5. You can sing, dance, or play an instrument.

If you have a natural understanding of rhythm, *ahem*, I’d bet your body does too.

6. You have regular dental check-ups.

Nobody wants to play tonsil hockey with someone who has untreated halitosis or undetected cavities. You’re on top of your dental health. And your make-out partners are grateful, I’m sure.

7. You’re comfortable with nudity.

And not just when you’re having sex. You enjoy a good nude selfie on Instagram, or a graphic image on Tumblr. You don’t find the human body threatening or uncomfortable. You appreciate the beauty in it. You are secure with your own body and have no problem letting everything hang out. You have confident sex, and that’s the absolute hottest.

8. You’re a good listener.

This should probably go without saying. If you are the type to sometimes just shut up and listen to what the person you’re with has to say, you’re the kind of person people want to fuck. You don’t make it all about you. You’re happy to be all ears.

9. You have a healthy view about sex.

So many people get fucked up because of their upbringing. When someone is taught that sex is fundamentally wrong and dirty, that’s pretty hard to unlearn. Not to say they can’t, because it’s happened many times. But if you’re someone who understands the naturalness of it all, you are already more dynamite in bed. No nagging guilt eating away at you.

Complete Article HERE!

6 Reasons Why Orgasms Need to Be Part of Your Morning Routine – Starting Now!

By Erica Braverman

Forget fiber cereal and coffee – and orgasm is the best way to start the day, hands down.

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A great start to the day can make the rest of the day fly by so much better. So what makes for a great start? Why not add an orgasm to the mix? Not only will your mornings be much more enjoyable, you’ll also get to enjoy a ton of physical and emotional benefits that last the entire day – and beyond!

Not convinced? Here are six benefits of daily orgasms:

Less Stress

Orgasm releases feel-good endorphins like dopamine and serotonin into the body, leaving you more calm, happy and balanced. Starting the day with a dose of good vibes will give you the clear mind you need to tackle whatever fresh hell the day serves up with a zen-like poise. (Try more than one! Read Top Tips for Multiples Female Orgasms for tips on how to do it.)

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Better Work Performance

Say buh-bye to anxiety and hello to the corner office. A recent study in Scotland proved that people who had orgasms before important speaking engagements felt much calmer and more self-possessed when it came time to deliver their speeches. This was probably thanks to the reduced cortisol levels that come from orgasm. Can you say “win-win situation”?

Bye Bye Belly Bloat

When you orgasm, a rush of oxytocin surges through you, making you feel physically amazing – while shoving your cortisol levels out the window. Since cortisol is the hormone behind both stress and belly bloat, you’re actually killing two birds with one stone. Go you.

Big, Beautiful Brains

Skip today’s regularly scheduled Sudoku puzzle – an orgasm doesn’t just make you feel great, it also improves your memory and boosts your brain activity. This is mainly due to a spike in your DHEA hormone, which also gives your skin that amazing post-sex glow. Hello, beauty and brains.

Laser-Sharp Focus

Masturbation is like meditation. You go through the motions, you do it consistently, you are persistent and regular, and after a while – boom! – our mind changes, you get used to the focusing and relaxing, and you start feeling the benefits.

­This is because meditation and masturbation both promote mindfulness: the ability to be present, to quiet your mind and to focus on one thing. Our brains have to process a lot of information, but with mindfulness, we can learn to slow down and control that flow of information even when we aren’t meditating (or masturbating!).

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Good Things Come to Those Who Feel Good

What is it with this widespread belief that what feels good is bad for you, and you can only achieve greatness through suffering? Newsflash: many things that feel good are also good for you.

In fact, a number of studies from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill show that pleasurable experiences tend to generate an upward spiral in our lives.

It’s time to get real with yourself and do things that give you pleasure while meeting your goals. Ditch that Type-A guilt and remember that much like drinking a green juice or hitting the Stairmaster, feeling good is good for you.

Starting the day with an orgasm isn’t just a way to feel good in the moment – it can set you up for success all day long, while improving your overall health and well-being.

Complete Article HERE!

Jessica Drake Wants Us All To Have Happier, Healthier Sex Lives

By:

Jessica Drake

At her sex ed workshops, Jessica Drake passes around a box with the words “live, laugh, love” printed on it. Inside are index cards of sex questions that people have written to Jessica under the cover of anonymity. During the workshop, she reads them out loud, and then answers them with compassion and useful tips from her experience directing and starring in adult films.

Drake’s workshops are mainly geared towards heterosexual couples, and touch on similar topics as Jessica Drake’s Guide To Wicked Sex, her line of instructional DVDs. So the questions tended to reflect the sorts of things that that straight couples might be interested in, but have no idea how to approach. Case in point: the majority of the questions when I attended were about how to have anal sex. Drake addressed the discomfort that men and women might have about the topic with compassion.

“If you’re reluctant to have anal sex, why might that be?” she asked. “Or if a woman doesn’t want to have anal sex, why?”

She wrote down the answers on a dry erase board: pain, mess, bacterial infections, stigma, and reciprocity were some. Then she addressed each issue with care.

“Pain shouldn’t really be an issue,” she said. “I tell people all the time that it’s a completely different sensation. It’s something you have to get used to.”

She stressed that pain was important because it tells us when something is wrong, but that lots of lube helps make the act feel more enjoyable, especially a water based product that has the viscosity to provide a cushion between one’s butt and penis. So does trying positions where the woman is on top, or both people are spooning, allowing the woman to control the depth and speed. This is unlike doggy style, a position that looks good on camera, but which is not necessarily great for those just starting to have anal sex.

For mess, there’s the simple solution of taking a shower, or the more thorough precaution of having an enema, a process that Drake explained step-by-step. In terms of bacterial infection, Drake stressed the important of not going back and forth between anal and vaginal intercourse, whether it’s with your penis or with toys.

Drake addressed questions about reciprocity in anal sex with a steady calm too. “I think it’s all a matter of an introduction,” she said, suggesting that people not to bring up anal sex or another type of act as something to do right away, but by discussing it over a romantic dinner, by watching a movie about it, and “build it up like it’s a fantasy,” without having to commit to trying it right away.

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Drake started getting into sex ed not only to give sex tips, but because of fans approaching her, asking if there was something wrong with them or their partner. She discovered that they were trying to model their sex lives after porn — which wasn’t as easy as it looked.

She takes great care to dispel such myths.

For example, when you cut to an anal scene in porn, you usually don’t see the actress wearing a butt plug in the makeup chair to prepare, or you don’t see the foreplay that goes on before the camera starts rolling. In porn it’s all urgent and immediate — which is sexy, but is also a fantasy. Urgent, immediate, wild sex takes some prep.

You also don’t see the consent conversation that happens between actors as to what they like, and what they won’t do in a scene. This is important — consent is a huge deal and Drake covers it in detail in her DVDs.

“Guys are like, ‘How do I make my wife or girlfriend have anal sex?’ Jessica recalled. “It’s easy, you don’t make anyone do anything.” Instead, she explained, you figure out if they’d be into it through an open conversation, and go from there.

She also makes sure that men — who often feel pressure to measure up literally and metaphorically to what they see in porn — don’t have to like everything they see.

“I’ve had guys speak up in seminars and really you can tell that they’re really grossed out [by anal sex],” she explained. “And I tell them, ‘If you’re that squeamish, you shouldn’t be having anal sex. That’s just the reality of the situation.’”

Drake’s career and fanbase put her in a unique position to talk about sex with authority, to breakdown stigmas, and to bring important conversations (like consent) to the fore. Here’s the best part: it seems to be helping people.

Complete Article HERE!

Against the cult of the pussy eaters

By Charlotte Shane

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As a thoroughly modern straight woman, I understand the political allure of demanding that a man go down on me. To insist on sexual pleasure—empowering! To tell a man to put his face in my ostensibly shameful genitals—transgressive! The vision of a woman, at long last, being the one to authoritatively order a man to get on his knees? Yeah, I see how that might look like sweet, sweet sexual parity. But after many years and a wide variety of partners, I feel more and more a part of the sorority of women who are ambivalent on receiving oral sex.*

And from all the evidence I’ve found, I’m far from alone. “Too slimy and soft/mushy,” one of my friends declared. “I hate it,” another texted me, not deigning to elaborate. “Too slobbery, too intense, too much gratitude expected,” said one commenter under an anti-pussy-eating confessional. One anti-oral crusader emailed me to complain: “Instead of learning useful hand techniques, most men smush their faces into my pussy and think I’ll be impressed with the effort.” Amen, sister. I’ve lamented the epidemic of fingering-phobia with more friends than I can count, as we wondered what should be done about the many men who’d love to use their mouths for 30 minutes but not their hands for five. And these are the same complaints echoed again and again when women write about why they’re not as enthusiastic about being eaten out as pop culture tells them they should be. One pro-head propagandist asserts it’s only done well about a third of the time. (A pretty generous estimate, in my, and others’, opinions.)

And bad oral is really, really bad. Like, not even worth the considerable risk of complete libido shut down if all does not go well. Where do I begin? There’s the exaggerated head movements. The humming. The saliva application so excessive I start worrying I’m experiencing anal leakage. Not only is it often performative and clueless—all show, no technique—but, for me anyway, stimulation that doesn’t actually feel good ruins me for stimulation that does. Under normal circumstances I might be really hot for that D, but if it’s delivered after ten minutes of bad head? Forget it.

There’s a reason for this recent proliferation of anti-oral screeds, mine included: Modern men are relentless in insisting they do it to us.

It didn’t always used to be this way. In the (very recent) bad old days, not only was women’s sexual pleasure emphatically not a priority, but the only acceptable way for her to derive any was supposed to be penis-in-vagina intercourse. But gradually, thanks to the sexual revolution and pro-clit feminism, men began to adopt a different attitude. Today, books like She Comes First are seminal sex manuals and sites like Bro Bible and Men’s Health share tips about how to better go down on a woman without making it out to be a big deal. American Pie, the movie that (ugh) defined a generation featured one man passing down the crucial skill to another, and getting him properly laid—i.e. “real” sex—as a direct result of his skill. And the rough, crying girl, Max Hardcore-lite gonzo porn of the early aughts has given way to the Kink.com trend of performers trembling through numerous orgasmic seizures, sometimes forced out of them by the infamous Hitachi magic wand.

There’s no doubt that some straight guys still deride women’s genitals as gross or dirty, and refuse to reciprocate the oral sex they inevitably receive, but we’re at the point where even hugely popular rappers brag about doing it. Straight masculinity has been reframed as establishing dominance through “giving” a woman orgasms, even if those orgasms are not—contrary to previous priorities—strictly penis-induced.

So in 2016, pussy eaters are far from rarities. There’s a good chance that by now, men who like doing it vastly outnumber those who refuse. Take the word of women who hate receiving; we pretty much have to physically fight guys off to stop them from latching onto us with their mouths. If you don’t respond positively to the basic experience of being eaten out, even competent oral is pretty icky.

But certain men aren’t willing to hear this. They often won’t listen to our clear statements that we’re not into it, because they’re going to be the special slobbery snowflakes who finally convince us how wrong we are about our own bodies. For men who appear to be in it only for their own ego—like Cosmo Frank—eating a woman out is far from proof positive of respecting her as an equal human being. It’s all about establishing how sexually accomplished and maybe even how feminist (!) they are.

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Certainly, this is an improvement from a time when the entire Western world seemed to have agreed to pretend the clitoris didn’t exist. But patriarchy and the cis-het norms inherent to it have a nasty way of reasserting themselves inside new, ostensibly progressive forms. Dan Savage’s widely embraced “GGG” (good, giving, game) mantra is today’s shorthand for being sexy, which means a wide variety of physical intimacy “within reason” should be on the table no matter what an individual’s own tastes. (Savage bestows a Get Out of Jail Free Card to partners with “fetish-too-far” requests like puke, excrement, and “extreme” bondage.)

Our current social standard for savvy young men and women is the sort of judgment-free fluidity—often called “open-mindedness”—that precludes people of all genders from expressing distaste for any sexual activity, lest they seem prudish and inexperienced. We’ve made oral sex de rigueur for progressive, or simply “standard,” sex—Dan Savage’s decree that you should dump someone who won’t do it to you, for instance, presumes universality of enjoyment.

We’ve gone so far that we’re back in a place where many women are pressured into pretending they enjoy something that doesn’t feel that good to them or else be shamed when they turn it down. It looks a lot like the same situation we were in before when vaginal, PIV-induced orgasms reigned supreme, right down to the outspokenly progressive, allegedly enlightened dudes accusing any woman resistant to a certain type of sex (oral, casual, or simply with them) as standing in the way of revolution.

If you believe the smear campaign against women who don’t like receiving oral, the reason for any distaste is elementary: The chick is just too insecure to enjoy it. Pop psychology says that if a woman doesn’t like a guy tonguing her, it’s because she’s neurotic and hates her own body. “A lot of women don’t like getting eaten out because they’re insecure about how their pussies look,” one site confidently states. “A lot of women have hangups about oral sex,” says another, which goes on enumerate these as “genital shame” and “trust issues.” One doctor’s advice column characterized a typical internal monologue as “good girls don’t have sex just for their own pleasure…”

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In other words, uptight, fretful broads can’t relax enough to enjoy this premium sex thing—which obviously always feels amazing just by virtue of it involving her junk—and so the lack of enjoyment is almost entirely on her and not her partner. This rhetoric is not progress.

Many straight women are sexually experienced, sexually voracious, self-assured people who know what they like in bed. Some of them know that they don’t like laying back and taking a licking. Yet there’s a micro-industry that equates self-confidence with enjoying oral, while tacitly admitting that enjoying it may not be the norm. Articles purporting to help women learn to love being eaten out often suggest recipients are self-conscious of how long it takes them to come, worried that the man administering the oh-so-progressive mouth love is getting bored.

Folks, we aren’t worried about the guy. We know he’s loving it. We’re the ones who are bored. Because in spite of all the hype, some sex educators have found that only about 14% of women report that receiving oral sex is the easiest way for them to get off. And if we do take a long time to come (whatever that means, by whoever’s arbitrary standards) it’s likely because the stimulation isn’t that successful. Women’s orgasms don’t take any longer than men’s—if they’re masturbating. Look it up.

Ultimately, the reason why some women don’t like oral sex is irrelevant. So what if someone is too self-conscious to enjoy it? She should endure an unspecified number of uncomfortable and unsexy sessions in the hope of forcefully changing her own mind? Since when does it show more confidence to allow a man to do whatever he want to your body than it does to speak up about what you actually enjoy? Or to suffer through something sexually unsatisfying to prove some larger point?

And for the record, the number one impediment to men being any good at crooning to the conch is their conviction that showing up is the only effort required. Going down on a woman is like any skill; it takes intelligence, attention, and practice. Putting your face in the general vicinity of someone else’s genitals is simply not sufficient. Combine baseless, wrongful self-congratulation with the already inflated yet desperate male ego, and it’s a recipe for very bad sex indeed. If you’re a guy reading this, and you’re feeling exasperated, please don’t. There’s a very simple rule: Be as effusive about going down on a girl as you want to be, but don’t let your own excitement for it manifest as ignoring her disinterest.

The big secret about eating pussy is that it’s really fun to do. As someone who has tongue-tickled the pearly boat—people call it that, right?—on more than one occasion, I can report that it’s extremely sexy. No man, and dare I say no human, deserves a gold star just because they’re willing to put lips to labia. Such a notion is just another part of the patriarchal conspiracy to keep women’s sexual standards low.

So go forth with your hatred of being dined upon, my fellow harlots. A sexual revolution that requires we endure head when we don’t want it is a revolution that comes at too high a price.

*This article primarily addresses het sex because the vast amount of pro-head propaganda out there presumes the women it addresses are straight, and I’ve not come across forums of queer women speculating that their female partners aren’t wild about being eaten out because they hate their bodies. But if you’re a queer woman pressuring your partner to submit to oral sex when you know they don’t like it, you should feel bad, too!

Complete Article HERE!

When you want to be into BDSM but it’s too soon because you’re black

by Luna Malbroux

Black BDSM

I don’t remember a time when I didn’t have fantasies about being dominated. I would imagine someone gripping my hair tightly or a stinging slap on my ass—all very exciting. But every time I would let my thoughts run wild, they would get rudely interrupted, like an angry grandmother unplugging the cord while you’re sneakily watching TV after 2 a.m., yelling “Turn this OFF!” As soon as my brain camera spanned to any props—whips, chains, that sort of thing—all I could think about was Roots.

Let me tell you something. Nothing dries you up quicker than Roots. If it’s not Roots, it’s Amistad, or Beloved, or the slave-revolt TV show Underground. Anyone who’s seen a slave movie knows that there are plenty of examples of black slaves having to whip other slaves’ backs, so a whip is a whip to me, no matter who’s holding it. Even if my fantasy involves no props and just a little garden-variety submission, Hollywood’s love of nostalgic “Remember When Negroes Were All Our Servants?” movies gives my brain enough ammo to cockblock my heart’s deepest desires.

It’s not just Hollywood that makes it difficult for me to SWB (Sub While Black). Even the present-day black experience in America can get in the way of exploring different types of sexual “play.” Can you imagine what a black person might picture if her partner wants to roleplay as a cop? The growing list of victims—Eric Garner, Sandra Bland, Michael Brown, just to name a few—are a constant reminder that as a black person in America, you are never safe. Which is a hard thing to balance when the very thrill of BDSM plays with our notions of safety.

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My first impression of the BDSM scene was that it was overwhelmingly white—like, really white, as white as a Rascal Flatts concert at a country club in Montana. Even the watered-down pop franchise, 50 Shades of Grey, has to be one of the whitest franchises ever. BDSM has been around for centuries, originating with the writings of Marquis de Sade in the 1700s. There have been historical examples of BDSM in African sexual, spiritual, and religious culture and early black leather culture of “The Old Guard” (returning black gay male veterans of World War II). But black people into BDSM were rarely seen in the media until the early 1970s.

Regardless of their environment, people of color constantly have to navigate stereotypes, discrimination and personal prejudices, and BDSM is no exception. Just being a young, black woman who owns her sexuality yields enough social stigma as it is. Throw in a desire to explore BDSM in a culture where freely enjoying sex is already taboo, and that is quite the mountain to climb.

But my fantasies weren’t going away anytime soon. Like the strong black people of all those tear-jerking slavery movies, my sexual appetite will not go down without a fight! So I began to ask myself: How does one be black and get into BDSM at the same time?

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When I first started having sex in college, I was determined to explore all my sexual fantasies, a la my personal hero, Samantha Jones of Sex in the City. But life at a historically black college in the South doesn’t exactly lend itself to the sexual freedom of a fictional, upper-middle class, white publicist in New York. The thick stew of the Bible Belt and racial oppression created pressure to be a Good, Christian, Black Woman. In other words: Don’t be a ‘ho.

l took baby steps in exploring my proclivities. I would whisper a few encouraging words like “Bite me harder” and “Tell me what you want me to do,” only to be met with “Wow, you’re so kinky!” (Really?) I wanted to go further, but I didn’t know how to dive deeper when my partners didn’t seem game at all. I bought handcuffs and shackles, but they ended up collecting dust in the corner. There were online resources at my fingertips—chat rooms, websites, books, articles—but the jargon intimidated me.

So I let go of my dreams of exploring my deeper BDSM fantasies until years later, when I packed my bags and moved to California.

In San Francisco, people proudly let their “freak flag” fly. There are tons of communities that explore BDSM, from dungeons to classes to meetup groups. I fell in love with exploring the different scenes of the Bay’s sexual subcultures and even created Live Sex, an interactive comedy talk show uniting sexperts and comedians.

It was doing this show that I stumbled upon a man who seemed promising in helping me explore my BDSM fantasies. The anonymity of my partners is important, so let’s just call him Ted Cruz.

Ted, a handsome and slightly dorky white guy with Paul Rudd-esque appeal, caught my attention after one Live Sex show. A history teacher, he piqued my interests immediately by flirtatiously debating the best ways to solve Middle Eastern conflict, the refugee crisis and the importance of critical thinking in schools. Check, please!

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Our night of drinks led to an invite to his house. He was a great kisser. He really took his time. He asked me if there was anything I wanted to do, and I told him I had the desire to explore a kinkier side but never quite found the right opportunity or partner. He nodded. It escalated.

“Your safe word is eggplant,” he told me, pulling my hair as he kissed me. “Say ‘eggplant’ if anything gives you too much pain.” It was clear it was about to go down, full-on 50 Shades of Grey style, minus all the money, so it was more like 50 Shades of Broke but hey, I’ll take it!

He was incredibly communicative, consistently checking in about consent. “This guy’s read a book or three!” I thought, high-fiving myself in my head. I was writing my triumphant journal entry as it happened. I pictured Kim Cattrall’s nodding smile of approval: “You’re the new Samantha Jones now, Luna,” she proclaimed.

Then, everything came to a screeching halt with one simple phrase:

“Call me master.”

Eggplant. That hurt. Immediately, all I could think about was my ancestors rolling over in their graves, breaking out like zombies in the Michael Jackson Thriller video. All my worst fears had come alive. I thought of Harriet Tubman admonishing me: “19 times! 19 times I came back, to save our people from slavery. All for you to be here willy-nilly, calling some white dude ‘master’?”

Life tip: No dick is so good that it’s worth being haunted by Harriet Tubman.

Ted was very receptive to my objections and apologized for his major blindspot. The history of slavery was something he was not reminded of every day so he was able to separate “master” in the context of BDSM play, whereas I…was not. I had failed again, even with a seemingly perfect partner.

I decided to investigate this problem further. First I discovered I was not alone in my anxieties.

“I am interested in going to BDSM meets, but I haven’t, mostly because I’m wary of being the only person of color there,” said Lynn, a young black woman I met in a sex-positive Meetup group. “Also, I’m not interested in being hit on because I’m the only black woman, which has definitely happened to me before.”

I can relate. Half of my stand-up material is derived from my experiences being fetishized. Joking about being told, “I want to look at those big black tittays” or the constant prodding of my hair has always been one of the best ways to cope.

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And because of these experiences, I always hesitated to join kink mixers in real life because I assumed a bunch of white people would be hoping I would come in and “Strong Angry Black Woman” them—i.e. play out their racists stereotypes of what they imagine a black woman to be. Lynn suggested I explore Fet Life, a social network for the BDSM, fetish, and kink community. It was a space she felt comfortable in, but even there, space has to be made for folks of color.

“When I first joined in 2010, there were over 300 groups, at least, and there were no groups for folks of color” said Daniel*, a black BDSM enthusiast who is quite the character. He quickly remedied that by becoming the leader of one of the largest groups for blacks on the site, Black Dominants/Tops and Black Submissives/Bottoms. The members offer each other support while navigating kink; he told me about one woman who reached out to the community after coming across a picaninny fetish.

For anyone confused, a picaninny was a racialized caricature (think blackface) that depicted dark-skinned cartoon children with bulging eyes and grins. It’s an image that painfully captures our history of racism. The idea of someone doing sex play around this was incredibly disturbing to me.

“We have this saying in the black kink community—my kink ain’t your kink,” said Feminista Jones, sex-positive feminist writer, community activist, and author of the book Push the Button. “There is something called race play, and it ain’t for everyone, and it’s not for me.”

Jones told me about an interview she did with writer and race-play expert Mollena Williams, an authority on race play who says that engaging in this kind of play may be empowering but always should be done with caution and consideration. (You can listen to her talk about a particular experience with race play in the Risk Podcast, Slave.) That’s all well and good, but I realized that it was the very idea of race play that had always deferred my BDSM dream. I can assure Langston Hughes that my fantasy indeed “dries up like a raisin in the sun” (along with my vagina) after hearing about a picaninny fetish.

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Luckily, one can experience and engage with BDSM without incorporating race play.

“It was a long path of reconciliation for me,” Feminista Jones said. “But some of the language of BDSM like ‘master’ and ‘slave’ has existed since before black people were enslaved. Most relationships have a dominant and submissive dynamic to them, particularly in religious communities, which many black people are a part of.”

There are endless explanations of why people, black or not, are into BDSM. Sex and relationship expert Celeste Hirshman told me our fantasies “are an unconscious attempt to soothe ourselves around challenging experiences that we’ve had or positive experiences that we’ve missed out on.” Others, like notable black kinkster Craig Fleming, suggest that one’s proclivities have to do more with nature than nurture, and although “people can use [BDSM] as a way to come to terms with a particular experience…it’s not therapy. It’s not the place to work out racial issues, or abuse.” Sometimes it’s as simple as: What arouses you arouses you.

For me, it’s more about exploring power dynamics. Before the “master” debacle, Ted rhetorically asked me, “Why does a strong, assertive, powerful woman such as yourself enjoy being submissive? Is it because you can let go of control? Because you don’t have to worry, or take care of someone?” His hunch may have been right. I was able to experience a type of attention and care that led to unbelievable pleasure. I felt freedom in moments of not having to be the decision maker, nurturer, or advisor.

“The key elements in BDSM is developing that trust in relationships,” Jones said.

For me, trust is the most arousing thing of all, and seeing a partner respond and adapt to a voiced need is one of the most important things in building trust with a partner. The experience taught me more about my limits and desires and how to communicate them. So even though it didn’t go the way I expected, I have hopes for exploring more kinky play in the future. As for, you know, the slavery stuff: Knowing that one can separate race play from BDSM gives me peace of mind. I know I can’t engage in anything that conjures up those images without getting angry or turned off. So for now, my safeword might just have to be “Harriet Tubman.”

Complete Article HERE!

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