I remember reading an article in my 20’s about “rediscovering the handjob,” and frankly, in my opinion, one of the most liberating and freeing aspects of coming into one’s own (pun exceptionally intended) as we age sexually, is rediscovering the inherent sexiness and carnality of those “early days” acts that felt, at the time, more like stepping stones on the way to “real” sex. For many of us this was adolescence, but whenever it happens, there is nevertheless a “bases” system sort of imposed upon our sexual trajectory. Of course, now, and at this practice, you know that we know that the construct of “real sex” is a fallacy, centered around a heteronormative and often misogynistic construct of penis-in-vagina sex. From a personal standpoint, I don’t fault my younger self for looking at The Handjob, for example, as one of those stops along the way, but I was fortunate enough to have a ravenous curiosity, fun partners, and the flames of recently unleashed repressed sexuality fueling me to expand my notions of sex beyond that. As I continue to explore and develop new [metaphorical] muscles in this aspect of my life, I’m finding evermore that a return to what we once perceived as “the basics” has deepened and intensified my connection to pleasure, passion, my partner, and my body.
That article about handjobs (and you know I wish I had saved it) rocked my (and my partner’s) world at the time. Spoiler alert, the keys were lube lube lube, enthusiasm, and props. And this isn’t Whose Line–“props” meant more strings of pearls, silk scarves, and toys, such as cock rings. It took a basic “step” in the artificial hierarchy of sex acts and made it fun and flirty again–for everyone! Pleasure is pleasure, and I am more and more confused where, along the way, society decided that certain things needed to be retired, or else deemed “less than” in the course of a person’s sexual life. Regardless, it really started my wheels turning–there I was, returning to an act I had eschewed for a decade or so, but with the benefit of less self-consciousness, and more willingness to embrace it for exactly what it was–my touching them, connecting with them, and enjoying their pleasure. Plus, with age also comes that sincere “FUCK IT” attitude that loosens inhibitions surrounding a concept of what I “should” be doing, and trying new things (e.g. the toys). LAST founder Moushumi Ghose, LMFT herself says that “we don’t have to put our mouths on each other’s genitals, we don’t have to spread our legs, or even penetrate the skin to get each other off.”
Sex is sex is sex is sex
In my experience, getting older has actually meant an enormous expansion of what “sex” means. When I was young, probably a preteen, my religious school was known for expelling and suspending adolescents for “sexual activity,” which included any manner of sexual touching. (I obviously take big ol’ issue with this on many levels, but that’s for another time, and another article). At the time, I thought it was crazy that getting fingered on the baseball field was somehow equated with a whole penis inside of a vagina (we won’t even talk about how queer sex was figured in, because let’s be honest, they were figuring that differently entirely). And for the newly sexual, those can be wildly different! But I remember my (also religious) mother saying to me that all of it counts as sex; it’s all the same. For her, she meant that sexual touching is sexual touching and should be treated as equally transgressive regardless. I disagreed with her so vehemently at the time, and in the context in which she meant it, I still do. Those teens on the baseball field [yes, very on the nose, no, I’m not making it up] had their boundaries, which drew the line somewhere before penetrative sex. But the administration saw only transgression without that nuance. In that way, “all sex is sex” actually flattened the meaning of sex. But in the course of my sexual life (and through discovering my own queerness) I have had occasion to ponder the nuance there, and have evolved to agree with my mom’s words, but not her meaning.
Rather than declaring all sex acts the same [read: the same level of “badness”], I think of sex as a dynamic, nonlinear playground. It’s a big umbrella term I see as expansive and exciting, as opposed to a flat metric for punishment, which is a crucial difference. I’ve had penetrative sex that is more prescribed and feels tamer, more “proper” and less intimate, than some notable sloppy makeouts, grinding on laps and panting into each other’s mouths. Which tells me a couple of things–that it’s not really about the act itself, and that there still persists an “acceptable” notion of sex, and an “other” version. Heteronormative and fundamentally Puritan (because the US was, indeed, built by Puritans) ideals may have stretched to accept sex in certain contexts, but it’s under their specific terms (straight and chaste), which together, do their best to take the sexiness out of sex. It allows for sex, but the insidious undercurrent flowing beneath it all says yes but as long as it fits in this box and you don’t enjoy it too much. Or, to put it practically: there’s no alignment in traditional values with a couple of 30-somethings jerking one another off because it’s fun and they can’t keep their hands off of each other. In this way, sex and its many forms really can be a supreme act of defiance, while opening so many more doors to pleasure.
Acts of Defiance, or: Doors to Pleasure
Leaving my problematic schooling behind, and returning for a moment to the inspiration behind this whole article, let’s get into some of those aforementioned acts that may have been left behind us in our journeys through sexuality. Several years ago, Moushumi published an article entitled “#SafeSlut: Why Mutual Masturbation Is The SEXIEST Thing You Can Do,” which inspired my meditations behind this piece when I stumbled upon this. In her article, she addresses the concept of being a #safeslut, celebrating sexual freedom and desire for multiple partners, safely. One of the sexiest ways to do so is mutual masturbation. Slut or no slut, it’s one of those activities under the sexual umbrella that doesn’t quite have a place on that fabricated sexual hierarchy. According to Moushumi, “it’s sometimes hot enough, taking our clothes off in front of someone else, letting them know how aroused we are by them and agreeing to engage in mutual masturbation without actually touching one another…I think the acknowledgment is key here.” Mutual masturbation and/or watching partners get off can be deeply intimate because you are watching someone enjoy themselves the way they do when no one is around, and you are allowing someone else to watch your own personal pleasure. “The other person becomes aware of how turned on you are and, by masturbating, in their presence, each party gets a key into the other’s sexuality, like a bird’s eye view,” says Moushumi. Not only is masturbation pretty heavily stigmatized (particularly for girls/young women), but it’s also extremely vulnerable. If you’re like me, you grow up hiding it, and even if you’re not, generally we masturbate behind closed doors, privately, and without our inhibitions tying us down. How could it not be deeply intimate to allow someone into that space? And when you’re connected to someone in such a reciprocal way, is it any wonder that it can be so hot? I’ve known more than one person who has been too embarrassed or self-conscious to masturbate in front of partners, so when I talk about “returning to the basics” here, in this case, it’s really a return to our personal, original experience of sexuality–where we explored before we invited anyone else along for the ride. For me, the loosening inhibitions of my 30’s has allowed me to incorporate these experiences with my partner with an invitation I chomp at the bit to accept.
Though published during precedented times, Moushumi’s article had no idea just how relevant it would become with the advent of COVID-19. In addition to and alongside mutual masturbation, things like sending nudes, FaceTime/phone sex, and erotica all surged forward with a vengeance once lockdown hit. Single, hurt, and struggling with my self-esteem at the time, I rediscovered the art of taking nudes, sexting, and ~smut~ (a term I use adoringly and warmly). Flirty texts got me hot and bothered, and I felt like a teenager re-figuring out how to look at my body and connect to it sexually. As lockdowns lifted, in-person dating restarted, yet I carried with me those techniques, preaching their efficacy to anyone who will let me talk long enough. The tension building from these acts is reminiscent of “early days” dating; before penetrative sex or sexual touching were really the default. Both casual dating and committed relationships can fall prey to this idea that “real sex” is the endgame, and once that’s achieved, the rest of the play falls to the wayside. But returning to those early ways we used to build tension can amplify pleasure, and have explosive effects on connection. Again, the things that used to feel like “stepping stones” toward “sex,” can actually be impactful and substantive all on their own–just like our good old friend, The Handjob.
Speaking of stepping stones, there was a point in a previous relationship that I was startled by the realization that, despite having had sex just earlier that day, I couldn’t remember the last time my partner and I had kissed. Kissed! The very first act most of us associate with sexual attraction to someone! A milestone I had once painfully yearned for, that now had been neglected. I suddenly remembered all the kissing that had been done with no agenda, no endgame. Kissing for the sake of kissing–and that, I think, is the central element of this. Acts of pleasure are sufficient all on their own, not necessarily as a means to an end. Some result in orgasm, some don’t, but none of them need to point resolutely toward that “penetrative sex” goal. Queer sex for the most part inherently understands this, but for heteronormies, it feels so linear that the simplicity of a good makeout can get pushed out of the rotation. Even in queer relationships, partners can find themselves disconnected from those earlier, flirtier acts that don’t necessarily revolve around genitals. Letting ourselves be led with passion, as opposed to box-ticking, calls us back to the things that sparked excitement, and promise, and, again, tension.
Some years back, a friend was telling me about some frustration with her partner, and that she asked him why they never just made out anymore. As it turned out, he anticipated that any making out signaled the inevitability of her then wanting to have sex, as opposed to enjoying their activity, which stressed him out and put pressure on him. First, WOW does communication continue to be paramount, but also: ultimately, they both wanted the same thing–a good old fashioned makeout sesh.
Enjoy the Journey
I’d like to acknowledge that perhaps “make out” feels like a silly term, but realistically we know it encompasses all manner of touching–the dry humping, ear play, biting, teasing, the dirty talk, you name it! All of which deserve to be free from the strictures of whatever sexual production line to which society has assigned them. Are you so caught up riding your clothed partner’s lap that you don’t even care if you get naked or not? Try reveling in that space, as sexy now as it was the first time you’d ever done something like that. Breaking away from that prescribed hierarchy can also work hand-in-hand with rejecting goal-oriented sex of any kind. We’ve written about the pitfalls of goal-oriented sex, and how it can be a barrier to connection and intimacy, placing a lot of undue pressure on all parties involved. Getting off is obviously a top-tier experience, but so, too, are all the moments of pleasure along the way; lifting the focus from the “goal” (read: orgasm), doesn’t mean it’s unimportant, or off the table, but rather expands (once again) the concept of sex to include the entire experience, beginning to end. It rather invites us to consider that it really can be all about the pleasurable journey, with or without the destination.
Back to Basics–Your Way
Listen, you may be reading this and thinking “um okay but I hate handjobs” or “I don’t like penetrative sex anyway, not my issue” which is valid! Different strokes (😏) for different folx, but the heart of my point remains the same. Regardless of the specific things you enjoy from the sexual cafeteria of life, heteronormative socialization would have us believe that there is a step-by-step structure to ascend–not unlike the Relationship Escalator Moushumi has talked about–and that once you’ve reached the top, every sexual encounter is formatted accordingly. If we consider the alternative, however, how expansive and full can our intimate lives truly become? Regardless of whichever acts you consider “the basics,” at the heart of it all, lie the connection and desire between partners. If it was hot and intimate to you before, it can still be hot and intimate to you now, regardless of how your experiences have “escalated”! Embracing the things we enjoy together simply because they are enjoyable undermines the fake hierarchy and opens those doors of pleasure to us. Sex is sex, however you get sexy, and I implore you to not let anyone tell you differently.
Caitlin Oates
Author
Doubling as LAST’s practice manager and intake coordinator, Caitlin is a writer and creative with a passion for sex-positivity, LGBTQIA advocacy, and mental health care.
Caitlin earned her bachelor’s degree in communications from Northwestern University, and now flexes those communication muscles teaching medical students humanism skills, coaching athletes in functional fitness, and learning from and working with LAST to promote, amplify, and normalize the importance of sexual and mental health.