I love how I can make you hard. It’s a playful kind of power, one I yield with enthusiasm and an innocent smile that doesn’t fool anyone who knows how filthy I really am. But when I’m trying to make you hard – with words and photos and teases – I often feel compelled to hide the fact that sex can be messy.
Content warning for mention of mental illness and body dissociation. I apologise once again for taking a loose approach to the Sinful Sunday prompt, but I had taken these photos and am too impatient to wait to share them.
Earlier this week I posted my review-with-a-twist of Sheets of San Francisco’s fluid proof sheets, where I explored whether sheets that would protect my mattress – no matter how messy the sex became – would help me relax into using my vaginal dilators. My adventures with lube and piss were fun, but they also prompted a lot of thoughts about the pressure I put on myself to be perfect.
As much as I’d like to pretend it doesn’t, that pressure follows me into sex. My vaginismus and depression like teaming up to gang up on me, and sometimes sex is hard. Not-able-to-relax-while-someone’s-giving-me-oral hard, when my body is anxious and I can’t relax into the sensations. I’ve been trying to spend more time remembering that sex should be fun.
Because sex should be fun, right?
Sometimes it’s hard to remember that, to remember that sex should be messy and imperfect and fun. It feels vulnerable to share my messy, imperfect self, even though I know that the folks I love won’t notice my flaws. It’s ok to cry, to need someone to hold, to feel completely dissociated from your own genitals. Fucking is messy and imperfect – with tears and lube and come and shit and blood and condom wrappers splattered and strewn across everything – and that doesn’t make it less fun.
Fucking includes farting. It includes giggling. It includes making strange faces when you come. It includes unusual sounds of pleasure and inappropriately timed puns and kisses where your teeth crash together painfully. It includes all of these things and it’s still fun.
In the spirit of embracing my messy imperfections, I’ve taken some photos on my fabulous fluid-proof sheets that hopefully capture how fun, filthy, and flawed fucking can be. After all, Sinful Sunday photos also don’t need to be perfect either. And I hope they’ll make you hard. I want to make you hard – messily, imperfectly. I want to make you hard without hiding any of me, and I love that I can.
You should definitely check out Sheets of San Francisco’s fluid proof sheets, because I love making a mess of mine. You should also make sure you’ve subscribed to my mailing list, so you’ll get an email whenever a new sex toy review or post about about my adventures with butt plugs goes live on my blog.
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.