Science of Sex: Marijuana and Sexual Activity

November 30th, 2017

Welcome to the sixth installment in a new feature on Of Sex and Love: Science of Sex. In this feature, I plan to discuss the science of sexuality in an easy-to-digest format that’s accessible to the casual reader. I will also follow up with some extended reading material for people who want to know more about the subject of each post.

I try to update Science of Sex every second Saturday of the month, so check back soon.  This month’s incredibly late Science of Sex post is a departure from previous posts, but it’s one that I hope you will enjoy.

science of sex marijuana

A few studies have compared how substances affect sex drive, performance, and satisfaction. The two most commonly researched substances are alcohol and marijuana, with studies on the latter becoming more common as marijuana continues to be legalized. These studies piqued my interest!

Thus far, studies on cannabis use and sex point to some similarities to alcohol: people generally feel more relaxed and attractive when they mix either substance with sex.

Many people report being more aroused when drunk or stoned, but there’s a surprising difference between men: 50% of women reported being more aroused after smoking pot compared to 39% of men. The reasons may not bee entirely due to a chemical difference, however. Researchers suggested that women were more likely to need a reason to allow themselves to have sex, and marijuana changes the “path” to sex with which women are more concerned than men.

Cannabis use can decrease a man’s plasma testosterone (women see an opposite effect, which might account for the greater increase in desire) with greater effects on more heavy smokers. This is especially true on days after intense use. Thus, marijuana can both increase and decrease desire in men. Sperm counts also drop in these men to below 30 million per ml, which could be an obstacle for people who are trying to conceive.

Regardless of those differences, both men and women who smoke pot are likely to have more sex than those who don’t — about 20% more sex. No conclusions have been drawn, but the combination of increased arousal and decreased inhibition probably helps.

Smoking more marijuana doesn’t necessarily lead to even more desire, however. One joint seems to be the sweet spot. Doubling that still increases desire but only by half as much.

Discover how the dual-control model of sexual desire affects arousal, too.

Interestingly enough, both alcohol and marijuana affect how people choose sexual partners, but someone is more likely to sleep with a friend when stoned and a stranger while drunk. Regrets are increased after drunken sex more than stoned sex, too. Marijuana does lead to increased risky behaviors, such as not using condoms with established partners.

Most people are familiar with the phenomenon known as “whiskey dick,” which occurs when a man who has imbibed alcohol cannot become erect. Some men experience difficulty with erection while high, but not nearly as many.

The influence of marijuana on orgasm is varied:

  • Some people experience more orgasms
  • Some have more intense orgasms
  • Some have fewer orgasms or difficulty orgasming

The mind that marijuana puts someone in can prove too much of a distraction and may come with paranoia or other negative side effects that do not bode well for sex.

The type of sex that people have after smoking tends to be softer and gentler while people who drink have more aggressive sex. The sex is also likely to be slower, and many men report lasting longer after smoking, likely due to the endocannabinoid system.

At least one study finds an increased likelihood of sex during menstruation when marijuana is involved. Mixing cannabis and pregnancy may have unwanted effects. Research suggests that marijuana both reduces conception and successful pregnancies.

Pot might be a moon for desire more often than not, but there are definitely times when you should abstain, and users should beware the increased potential for risky behaviors.

Further Reading

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Categories: Science of Sex

Fun Factory Laya II

November 29th, 2017

Fun Factory Laya II
$199.19 from SheVibe

I can’t say for sure that I am the person who was the most excited to find out that Fun Factory made a second version of the Laya II, but I must be up there. After all, I liked the original, perhaps more than most reviewers. And when that one died, I bought another, which currently seems to be on the fritz (that makes the comparison a bit difficult).

Truth be told, I wasn’t aware that the Laya II was in development, but it’s certainly a needed change. It’s been, what? Well, over a decade? Since the first one, which was underpowered due to relying on 2 AAA batteries. That was the main complaint from others, and I have to concede they have a point. But Fun Factory managed to eke out some moderately rumbly vibrations despite the meager power source.

This time around, Fun Factory has updated the power source to an internal battery This is now charged via Fun Factory’s Click N Charge charger. I assume this comes with a new motor, and it feels different to be sure, but I am not positive.

Along with that comes more modern, bubble buttons that are certainly easy to locate in times of passion than the depressed buttons from the original Laya Spot. The Laya II also comes in a sleek black silhouette, which is sophisticated and appeals to my aesthetic. I never had a color combination of the original Laya Spot that I loved, but some people might miss the option.

While the freshman attempt was covered in Elastomed and ABS plastic, no one was really sure what Elestomed was or how safe it is. I just assumed safe enough. I never had any issues other than my first Laya showing up smelling like ass. After airing out and several washings, the bad smell eventually faded. I would be shocked if Fun Factory produced an updated Laya Spot from anything other than silicone. It has since become the default for most toys, let alone luxury toys. This is noticeable especially at the nose of the toy, where it makes the most contact when I use it, which has more noticeable squish than the Laya Spot. Laya II remains firm beneath the silicone, however.

The silicone makes the Laya II a lint magnet, as you can see from my photos.

Aside from those changes, the Laya II looks pretty similar to the original. It’s got the same general shape, which looks something like a snakehead when you look at it head on or a sneaker from another angle. I am glad for this because it’s the shape of Laya Spot that I always loved. It was rounded enough to press without hurting myself but not so broad that I felt nothing.

The base seems narrower and longer. Truth be told, I am not sure if the Laya II is the same size as the original. It’s hard to measure, and the black certainly makes it seem narrower. But it just might be my eyes playing tricks on me. It looks a little longer in photos, however.

Laya II Laya Spot Comparison

I’m not sure that some of the changes were warranted. For example, the 3-button design works but doesn’t add much. There’s a master power button, the Fun Factory button, and the + and – buttons. I like the feedback of these buttons, which the company has used on other toys, but the FF button on some adds a boost that’s missing with the Laya II. Otherwise, the buttons work exactly as you’d expect with the + button cycling through the 4 steady modes of vibration and the six settings. You’d think the third button could do some of the work.

But that’s not the most frustrating thing about Laya II. The most frustrating thing, by far, is the power output. Now, if I was willing to cut some slack when it was just a battery-operated toy that ran on AAAs, you have to understand how much I wanted to like Laya II. I’m not just not sure it’s any stronger than the original, and it sure as hell is buzzier. With a decade to improve it, you’d think Fun Factory would be able to add a little more oomph. Lelo did it with the second Siri, which is another clitoral vibe.

Fun Factory Laya ++This really isn’t a surprise. I stopped by the toy store to feel the Laya II and noticed it right away. The lower couple settings feel a little more rumbly, but when I turn up the power to feel something — anything — more, I am disappointed. This is probably exacerbated by the fact that there are only four steady settings on Laya II. The original had something like 7 and would occasionally kick out a few more (you had to listen very carefully to ensure it was turned off when you were done with it). You run out of steady vibrations abruptly and disappointingly with the Laya II.

There are six new settings, combinations of pulsation and escalation, that are utterly unsatisfying due to the lackluster motor that’s behind them. I’ve never liked rhythmic vibration more than constant vibes, but I’ve always recognized that you need some oomph behind them to make it worthwhile. Laya II just doesn’t offer that.

There is a single exception, which is one setting that combines pulsation and escalation at a slower pace but somehow draws a little more power from the motor. This, surprisingly, is where I settled with the Laya II.

And I was eventually able to get off, twice, with a healthy helping of lube (in the past, I often used Laya Spot without lube or through my underwear) and more time than I expected that I would require for the Laya II to do it for me. It was moderately frustrating but mostly surprising.

With a toy such as the Laya Spot, which I have loved and relied on for a decade (that’s longer than any relationship I’ve been in!), I’m not looking for surprises. I only wanted upgrades. It’s sad to say that Fun Factory failed on this one, a rating that I rarely hand out for what I’ve long considered my favorite toy company, not surprisingly because they’ve made some of my favorite toys.

But, hey, if you’re not a power hog, love the original shape, have never tried the Laya Spot or simply want to add something different to your collection, maybe Laya II is worth the risk. It’s all I’ve got now, after all, if my Laya Spot continues not to work correctly. )=

For the rest of you, I’d suggest the Siri 2 or perhaps the Tango.

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Categories: Reviews, Vibrators

On one hand, lemons

November 10th, 2017

I don’t know when I first stumbled across Dr Emily Nagoski’s post on Lemonade Sex. I think I began reading her blog after I read her book. I’ve continued to read and references her work since then.

If you’re not familiar with Dr. Emily, she’s an expert on sex whom I greatly respect. Teaching and speaking about sex are her day job and, I suspect, her passion. Among her work is a relationship guide, and her post on lemonade sex starts with the following sentiment:

I spend a chunk of time talking about coping in my relationship guide because it turns out that effectively coping with stress is quite possibly the most important thing you can do to improve your sex life.

I believe you, doc.

Dr. Nagoski goes on to explain how stress can kill one person’s libido or raise another’s. And it wreaks havoc on your relationships. This is where coping comes into play. Coping is all about taking the hand you’ve been dealt and making the most of it or, you know, making lemonade out of sour lemons.

The good doctor recommends having sex with your partner even when you’re too stressed to really want it. It doesn’t need to be amazing but maybe could be. And you don’t do it because you’re expected or you feel obligated to do it for your partner. Lemonade sex isn’t about how sex is good for you. 

Lemonade sex paints having sex like flexing a muscle to keep it strong or maintaining something even though you’re not actively using it. Emily compares it to eating vegetables, something that people rarely like but that they do because it’s good for them — just like lemonade sex.

And the analogy to veggies works for me because eating them isn’t amazing, but the energy is. I’ll periodically ingest something with tomatoes (okay, technically a fruit) or spinach that’s so tasty that I feel legitimately excited over something that’s good for me.

I’ve been there with sex, too. The slumps with my ex-husband were never more than a few weeks and less so related to a lack of desire and more due to a lack of habit. It’s easier to fall out of the habit of something, even sex and even if you’re a pretty sexual person, than we always realize.

So I’d throw my ex a bone, and sometimes he would me. I found that this bone, or lemonade sex, worked in exactly the way that Dr. Emily predicted. Where my body went, my head followed, even though it hadn’t been in the game just a few moments before (she describe this as responsive desire). A similar thing happens when I watch someone I’m in a relationship with masturbate. I think I’m only an audience member but find myself drawn to willing participation in short order.

The concept of lemonade sex is one that’s controversial, and Emily admits this in her blog post. No one is suggesting anything that’s nonconsensual.  It’s important that if you have lemonade sex, you do it for you, because it’s beneficial for yourself, and not your partner. I think that’s the emphasis that Emily is trying to make toward the end of her post.

That’s also what’s stuck with me since I originally read this post. The kneejerk reaction might be to view lemonade sex as something that’s negative and potentially blurs the lines of consent, but I certainly think that it’s useful to consider whether throwing someone else a bone is really throwing yourself a bone in the long run.

Check out Dr. Emily’s post about lemonade sex on the Dirty Normal, and stay for her other insights into sex.

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Categories: Everything Else

Made to Beg

November 9th, 2017

Every day, I am to make her cum with my mouth. She expects to wake with her thighs spread and her nether regions being worshiped by my tongue. If the room isn’t awash with the sounds of oral, she will be most displeased.

We repeat this routine in reverse every night, and sometimes she’ll call me on her break at work. I’ll rush to her office, kneel beneath her desk, slip her skirt up her creamy thighs and pull the fabric of her panties to her side. I’ll push her buttons while her fingers grace her keyboard. She sends a memo, answers a call. I kiss the inside of her thighs, nuzzle her clit with my nose and drag my tongue along the inside of her labia.

At home. At work. In the back of a cab. This is what she expects. This is what she allows.

Tonight is no different. She lets me lick her clit. I cannot dance my tongue across her nipples or kiss her neck, but I can delve between her folds and smell her natural aroma. I can grasp her hips and roll her labia between my fingers, but I cannot stroke her hair or face. I bury my face between her legs and bury any wistful thinking about the rest of her body.

But it’s certainly not a bad job. Her taste, as I run the tip of my tongue on either side of her clit, somehow matches her personality. It’s like her soul has become tangible, and I feel more connected to her when I’m tonguing her hole.

I know to start with flat, broad strokes and when to dart my tongue inside her. Her moans are familiar music to my ears, encouraging me to suck her clit and nibble on her lower lips. I recognize the tremor in her thighs — thick from working out more than I would ever do — just before she orgasms, and revel in the pressure on my head when she clamps down, her body tense before the final release.

I breathe in her scent, slow my ministrations and remain silently poised until her legs release their grip on my head. Only then do I come up for air, remembering that I have nearly forgotten to breathe.

To an observer, we might be calling it a night at that point. The pussy worship is done, but the night is still young.

It’s then that my lady turns from a demanding diva — okay, never quite that — into the passionate giver the most people would never suspect.

She gazes deeply into my eyes while penetrating me with her fingers. Like magic, she’s working my G-spot with her thumb on my clit. I can never quite tell what the difference is between someone who is good at this and someone who’s not, but is the best of the best, making me sigh with pleasure and lift my hips closer to her. She’s like a goddess, showing me glimpses of Heaven. She knows how to keep my on that edge longer than should be humanly possible before stroking me to orgasm. My body shudders; waves of ecstasy wash over me.

You might think we would be done, but we’re not.

This woman, this beautiful and capable woman, knows what to do next. She secures her favorite harness around her waist and thighs, carefully chooses a bright silicone dildo for the night’s activities and puts it in place before returning to her place beside me. Lightning quick, her hands are in my hair, tugging and pulling me closer to her. Her tongue invades my mouth as if she owns it. If we’re honest, she really does.

Her kisses are ferocious, the type that take your breath away and leaves your head spinning. But isn’t my head always spinning with her? She’s never been one for long makeout sessions, though. This isn’t the position she wants me in, so she breaks our kiss.

Toned arms flex as she grabs me by the hips and turns my body away from her. On hands and knees, I know exactly what’s coming for me. She coaxes that dildo, slick with lube, between my lips. With one hand wrapped around the base, she rubs it against my clit, which is already swollen with desire. I try to press my body back against her, but her free hand slaps my ass. It’s always her pace, her plot.

I never really mind, of course. I’m moving my hips to grind against the slippery dildo, and my own juices have added to the mess. If I were controlling the pace, I would be fucking myself senseless without a second thought to prolonging orgasm. I’m a greedy slut when it comes down right to it, and she knows my every weakness.

It may feel like forever, but it’s just a few minutes of teasing. She likes seeing me come undone just as much as I love losing myself. She’s the darkness to my light or something cheesy like that. Luckily, I don’t really have long to think about it. Instead, I’m nearly howling when she slams that cock into my pussy. As greedy as I may be, it’s always a shock to have a toy rammed into your cunt without any heads up.

But it’s always a thrill to be filled and stretched, to be taken and to know your value directly corresponds to how well you take it. I always take it like a champ, and she likes that about me. I might worship her pussy, but she respects the lengths I’m willing to go to to please her and how much I respond to negative stimulation.

That’s why she grasps the hair at the back of my head and yanks it back. My scalp tingles and a shiver runs down my spine. She’s fucking me at a steady rhythm now, fast but shallow. My nipples are painfully erect, but she can’t see that from her vantage point. If my hair weren’t in her hand, I would lower my body to sway my breasts against the bed beneath me, but I cannot.

I’m at her whim, so when she picks up her pace and sinks the nails of one hand into my hip for better purchase, all I can do is gasp. It’s not unwanted, though. Any attention she lavishes on me is welcomed. I cannot believe that this woman is with me, marking my body with her own, working so feverishly to bring me to orgasm and so generous with her cunt. I don’t know how I get so lucky.

And I continue to get lucky. Her thrusting isn’t effortless. Sweat causes the backs of my thighs to stick to the front of hers. She pushes her knees further under mine, pulling my hair so that I am nearly upright in her lap. Instead of in-and-out, she moves her hips in circles, blissfully stroking my G-spot.

She’s leaning so hard against my back that I rest my head on the headboard. My cheek squishes against the cool wood. My mouth gapes open awkwardly; a bit of saliva drips out. I don’t care, either way. If I did, I would care even less because she tells me to rub my clit. This is the sign that she wants me to orgasm — and soon.

I reach my hand beneath my legs and work my clit as if my life depends on it. Sometimes that feels true when we’re in the throes of passion. Nothing can be more important than fucking this woman or letting her fuck me. How could it?

I block out the rest of the world, focusing on the way my fingers feel on my clit. I try to match the pace of her cock deep inside me. We find our perfect rhythm. Yin and yang, right?

“Cum.”

Could she sound any more perfect?

And I do. I furiously rub my clit until my muscles are spasming. She listens to my body’s response and pulls the dildo free of my pussy after milking my G-spot to a squirting orgasm. I ejaculate onto her thighs, my legs, the bed beneath me. My body has never felt so much pleasure. I moan, jerk my hips, and throw my head back. I’m not sure I’m even still human. Something, not primal but more natural, takes over. I’m more fully myself and experiencing such clarity that the world seems full of limitless possibilities.

As soon as my orgasm subsides, my muscles go slack. I sag against her body and the bed. I try to calm my ragged breathing, but I’m not quite sure that I’ll ever be able to get enough air. Still, there’s a stupid grin on my face. It never gets old, the way she fucks me, the way my orgasms feel. She sits patiently as we both wait for my heartbeat and breathing to return to normal. She lightly caresses my arms, and I feel grounded.

I smell our sex. My arousal. Hers. By this time, I am practically begging to kneel between her legs. I may be covered in sweat and fighting exhaustion, but still I do her bidding.

It might seem like prison from an outsider’s perspective, but we both know this is my home. It’s where I belong.

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Categories: Stories

Image © MisterUnlucky; used with permission.