Being a demisexual¹ with responsive desire² (most of the time), it can take a while before I’m feeling in the mood. I love a lot of sensual play, but not sensual play for the sake of getting somewhere else. I like to think of sensual play as a stream of erotic energy that can choose to flow into sex or remain its own contained reservoir.
I was sitting at the bar with my friend the other night and we got on the topic of foreplay (naturally…this is what a typical dinner with me looks like). We talked about the joys of being exploratory with sex, how it feels nice to try new things, and also how freeing it is to actively release the tit for tat mentality — you know, I scratch your back, you scratch mine. Or in this case, I polish your pearl, you polish mine.
This classic definition of foreplay proclaims that any outercourse activity will inevitably lead to intercourse. This mentality is rooted in heteropatriarchal bias and doesn’t actually reflect the experience of many people, which is why I prefer the term sensual play over foreplay. I still use both terms interchangeably, and am not urging that we wipe out the term all together, but I think it’s important to remember that foreplay is tethered to narrow ways of thinking about sex, to climbing the sexual staircase³, to falsely imply that intercourse is everyone’s preferred path to pleasure and/or orgasm.
Contrary to the staircase above, which says all roads lead to intercourse, I prefer to veto any hierarchies in sex and pleasure. I prefer to aerate my sex, broadening its scope so it can open and breathe like a fine wine. This brings out more flavors and complexities, leaves more room for play and creativity, allows more parts of my body to receive attention and pleasure. Intercourse is part of my sexual menu, but it’s not the special every time I dine. You know what I mean?
Ev’Yan Whitney says sensuality transcends sexuality. I love bigger umbrella terms like sensuality and pleasure because they can encompass sex and sexuality, but also so much more. I define sensuality as slowing down enough to savor how my senses make way for pleasure. When I’m rushing, trying to multitask, or dancing away with a whorl of thoughts, I can’t as fully register the input from my senses. For me, sensuality goes hand-in-hand with presence and mindfulness.
When I give myself over to the moment fully — tuning into present sensations while releasing expectation — I feel content with any way(s) I connect with my partner. When I let go of society’s made up emphasis on going all the way, I can revel in what’s here for me right now. Presence during pleasure allows connection to bloom; allows me the space to feel into what I prefer and don’t prefer; makes room for tenderness and new ways of learning about myself and the person I’m with.
Lori Brotto wrote an entire book about mindfulness and desire that actually inspired me to become a sex educator. It also highlights why stress management and Restorative practices are such a vital part of enhancing pleasure » speaking of, my new Restorative immersion is live and it will help you create more space in your body and mind, making room for sensuality + pleasure.
I tend to leave more room for sensual play in my partnered experiences than my solo experiences. Lately, I’ve been practicing slowing down in my self-pleasure practice, prioritizing exploration and variation. I think that part of why I don’t take my time when I masturbate is because I already trust myself and know exactly what I like; there’s less need for navigating, negotiating, and taking time to open and trust. I’m kind of in a state of foreplay with myself throughout the day — moving my body, taking deep breaths, cooking myself yummy meals, spending quality time with myself — so when it comes time to pleasure myself, I’m ready and receptive. I definitely prioritize orgasm for myself, which is great, but I think that it can take away from exploring other types of pleasure.
I want to slow down and savor that time with myself and my body. I want to learn how to receive more deeply. I want to extend the same care and curiosity to myself as I do when I’m with my partner. In her essay The Animal Within the Animal (which we’re discussing in our next sex ed book club meeting on 1/31), Melissa Febos writes:
I love how she wraps sacredness around self-pleasure; how she reclaims it as this essential, primary thing; how she reminds us that it can be one of the only purely private places in a world where we’re constantly exposed. Sensuality is one of the best ways I know how to preserve and extend the preciousness of life.
some other resources:
Sensate Focus is a great for practicing sensual touch and exploration.
This Sexy Contexts Worksheet from Emily Nagoski can help you clarify what factors contributed to past positive sexual experiences so you can recreate those reliable contexts.
¹ More on this here
² I did a whole series on this » read part 1 here
³ I first learned about the sexual staircase model in Desire by Mercy & Vencill. It’s essentially a tiered model of sex, placing sexual acts at certain levels, with the top level being penetration. This heteronormative model devalues other forms of pleasure that exist outside of penetration. Adhering to this model can cause us to get stuck (or bored / unstimulated) in our sexual lives.
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