A-Z Of Bad Sex

poot poot

A) Anal

While having your butt filled with something fun feels excellent, that pesky place of excrement has a tendency to behave inconveniently, euphoric rapture via your bum can become an awks puddle of bloody poo with a poorly placed poke. Always be sure to get your fucky friend to gob on your tush before taking it for a spin.

Such a shame that so many of us spend our lives pretending we don’t have a butthole, because that little guy is a beacon of sexual excitement.

B) Bad breath

If, for some weird reason, you decide to upload a couple of thousand calories to your innards right before banging, at least have the common-fucking-decency to chuck a chewing gum around your pie hole after huffing a doner. No one wants their shag enveloped by the wretched stench of the terrible things you stuff into your stomach.

C) Consent

Consent cannot be assumed It’s not in the clothes we wear, it’s not in our flirting, foreplay or the amount of times we’ve had sex before and it can be withdrawn at anytime. Consent is freedom, yet our cultural understanding of consensual sex is statistically petrifying and problematic.

Only consensual sex can be pleasurable and all sexual encounters must be based on mutual enthusiasm. Physically displayed acts of resistance aren’t the only versions of ‘no’, emotive clues such as tenseness and hesitation are non-consenting communicative methods –  and something small like a snog should never fuel your misplaced sense of entitlement.

d) Don’t stay over

Sadly, if you’re married you probably can’t avoid this. However if you’ve acquired your fuck from an interactive, human carousel be sure to duck out post-orgasm because your morning body fumes are the number one cause of ghosting nationwide and lord knows the last sex organ you saw was your cat’s.

e) Ecstasy

If you’ve yet to bone on this gleeful class A-er then let this be a call to arms. Doing sexy stuff under the exhilaratingly ethereal influence of ecstasy is an interstellar splintering of senses. Dopamine receptors smoulder through your skull as orgasms froth hotly through skin, smashing delight on loop through your entire being. A queef becomes beautifully profound. Just don’t die.

F) Flatmates

Turns out a certified way to piss off the people you live with is by subjecting them to the odious, squelchy acoustics of your delinquent sex life – weirdly enough hearing your flatmate’s flesh flopping against a stranger’s is the least chill.

flat mates illustration zoomed inG) Ghosts

Watch out for them. Once I peed in the plant pot in a dude’s hallway because I was convinced malevolent entities were knocking about his downstairs bog.

H) Head

Successfully sucking on another person’s genitalia is basically an art form. Getting bad head is a fucking tragedy because not only has a human being destroyed your trust yet again, but withstanding the cringe of someone sploshing their tongue pathetically around your pubes is something you’re just going to have to suck up because it’s a miracle that someone’s actually agreed to engage with your vagina.

I) Ignored  

Being ignored during sex is literally the worst.

Nah, srsly tho: selfish sex shouldn’t be tolerated, ever, because fucking each others brains out should always be mutually fulfilling.

Always keep dialogue open. Society is big on sexuality control and the undersexed female. Women in particular are constantly hounded with notions that their pleasure is of less importance than their partner’s, or entirely non-existent. We’re told that vocalising our own desires detracts from theirs – sex is just something that’s done to us.

These pernicious myths about sex are deplorable. Fuck ‘em. Your own pleasure is there to be satisfied, explored and most importantly valued. Prioritise your own libido – whether it’s a finger up the butt, a dildo dabble or some other sort of fun, new peen/vagine concoction, fucking holler.

J) Jaffa Cakes

The perfect mid-bone snack.

K) Kinfolk

When some gets mad at you for accidentally on purpose cumming on their copy of Kinfolk. (If you’re reading this, I’m not getting you a new copy.)

L) Lashed

Avoid getting too lashed pre-plowing. Having someone’s genitals thrust into your own when you’re pissed feels like the worst car sickness imaginable, plus the ability to hold in farts when smashing under the influence is certifiably not a thing.

M) Memes

Not for looking at during sex, apparently.

oral illustration

N) Nothing

What the majority of my sexual encounters are reminiscent of  :(((((((

O) OK

OK sex is even worse than bad sex. In short: if you can’t fuck rebelliously don’t even bother. Partner acquisition shouldn’t be a snore, fucking should feel like floating through air, whirring froths of electricity fizzling through your skin.

What would you prefer, an over the bra boob squeeze or a tongue up your butthole? Like, duh!

P) Presidential Election

Go ahead, try and pretend that America electing an abhorrent facist piece of shit whose sole accomplishment is being rich hasn’t permanently demolished your appetite for other members of our species.

Q) Questions

Questions to avoid:

  • Did that feel as shit for you as it did for me?

  • Did you know that Lorena Bobbitt was 23 when she cut off her husband’s dick?

R) Recovery

Recovering from sexual trauma is a tumultuous process that can be as empowering as it is gut wrenching. For me, the journey was immensely straining on my understanding of intimacy, and kneading your nether regions into another’s is pretty much as intimate as it gets and it may feel like you’ll ever be able to enjoy sex in a positive, healthy way again. Sexual contact itself becomes triggering.

The nonconsensual invasion of one’s body corrodes autonomy, meaning any attempts at healing you’re able to scuttle together become the only thing truly yours when the thought of human contact sends last night’s dins spewing into your Calvin Kleins. When the smallest touch is traumatic it’s vital to go at your own pace and be heartened by the knowledge that you’ll never be defined by what happened to you – and – that even after having sex used as an abominable weapon against you – you will learn to jizz again.

S) Sex toys

Fucking is garbage unless you’re doing it with electronic things and maybe nipple clamps.

T) Tinder

Hahahahahahahahaha

U – Underwear

The one rule for a happy, fulfilling sex life? Always wear dark underwear. Nothing crushes your crush more than retrieving your skid-marked, cummy undies from the side of their bed. Don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?

V – Vaginas

FAILING TO  REALISE THAT YOUR VAGINA IS LITERALLY THE BEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO YOU!

Once you’re over comparing yours to a porn star’s it’ll be much to let your mind and body collide. Vaginas are beautiful, diverse and unique. They aren’t supposed to be watertight, they leak all sorts of fluids and sometimes they smell. It doesn’t matter if yours flops, droops, squeaks or dribbles. They’re messy and powerful and touching them the right way unleashes magic.

W – Wishing you were anywhere else in the fucking world

X – The XX

We live in a world where there are legal nipples and illegal nipples. But probably even worse than that, we live in a world where people put their own free will to disgusting use by soundtracking their humping to bands like this.

I don’t mean to massively fall out with everyone, ever, but since when is listening to music that it’s virtually impossible to muster up the strength to give a shit about better than revelling in your own disgruntled, sweaty sex sounds? And are Cannibal Corpse not the official soundtrack to your sex life too?

There’s a difference between making out in the rain music and having-your-tits-torpedoed-with-your-tinder dates’-seamen-in-the-Peckham-Spoons-WC’s, music OK? Sorry but this sort of shit just doesn’t warm my cold, black heart and it most definitely doesn’t warm my vagina.

Y – Yas queen

The sex was abysmal but you still managed to cream via thinking about Idris Elba, you’re basically a national treasure!

Z – Zzzz

The sound of me sleeping soundly knowing I’ll never have to explain why there’s faeces in that flower pot your mum got you for Christmas because we met on fucking Bumble.

Illustrations: Jessica Vaughan 

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