I’m Turned on When I Feel Safe

Consent is essential. It’s important. It’s also sexy.

Consent is sexy. But sometimes, I feel like that’s become more of a slogan than something anyone actually stops and thinks about.

It’s catchy. It’s a good way to remind everyone that consent and sex are intertwined. But a lot of the discussions I see about consent just doesn’t do justice to it.

It’s often treated like a compromise. As if consent itself is awkward, off-putting, and will put you out of the mood — but you won’t have any fun without it, so suck it up, ask permission, and then find a way to get back in the moment.

That strikes me as odd. It makes me wonder exactly how people ask for consent. What kind of approach are they using if it’s such a boner killer?

Because if you ask me, consent isn’t just important. It’s not just necessary. It’s also a huge fucking turn-on.

I find consent — and I’m talking explicit, verbal, the-right-words-coming-out-of-your-mouth consent — physically arousing.

Feeling Safe and Playing Dirty

I get turned on by a lot of things (and not just because I’m on hormone treatments).

Obviously, there’s the visual stuff. Tattoos. Strong hands. Exposed forearms. Beards on fellas, colorful hair on gals (and fellas). Clothes that pop with color.

There’s the way someone sounds. An easy cadence and a good flow. A sweetness or softness to their voice. An Australian accent never hurts.

And then there’s personality. That’s a huge one. That’s maybe the biggest factor — and I suspect it is for most people. If someone’s personality really turns me on, I’ll start finding things I love about their appearance. But looks can never make up for an unappealing personality.

It’s harder to describe and pin down exactly what draws me to someone’s personality. But a big one is trustworthiness, respect, and care.

And I don’t know a better way of gauging someone’s character than by the way they handle consent.

Someone who takes steps to make sure I’m comfortable, to make sure I feel safe, and to make it clear that they will treat me with respect is a baseline as far as I’m concerned — I would never hop into bed with someone who didn’t do it. But it’s also an active turn-on.

When I hear words of reassurance, when I’m told things will only go as far as I want them to, when I’m shown my comfort matters, I get hot.

When someone demonstrates respect, I also feel more relaxed. Being at ease is essential to my arousal. A little tension and surprise can be sexy — too much of either and I’m just going to get nervous and not in a good way.

It also helps me have better sex. There are some things that really get me off, but if they’re taken just a little too far might make me feel violated.

It’s a really fine line, but I love playing right at the edge of it.

I get to play that way with my husband. Even after fifteen years of fucking, he still checks in with me sometimes to find out what I’m okay with, where my line is, and to reassure me that he won’t push or pressure me.

I feel incredibly safe with him, and because of that I can let him do things I couldn’t do with just anyone.

He knows I fantasize about come — swallowing it, taking it in my mouth and letting it dribble back onto his cock, and having him come in me while we’re fucking. He also knows they’re only fantasies. I don’t want to risk getting pregnant again and I’m not ready to taste come.

He knows where my limit is and he uses it to turn me on.

When I’m giving him head and I’ve gotten to the point where I’m taking as much of his cock as I can handle, I’ll see his muscles tense up. I’ll hear him moan. And he’ll usually say something like, “That feels so fucking amazing, it makes me want to come in your mouth.”

It always boosts my arousal and makes me suck even faster.

He also knows I like a limited amount of control play. I don’t want to feel suffocated, compromised, and I want to know that I still have complete control even though I feel like I’m giving some of it up.

Again, he knows the line and I know he won’t cross it.

He can pin my wrists down while fucking me because he knows how to do it without making me feel trapped.

He can impose little rules without making me feel like I’ve lost my autonomy.

And he can tell me to be completely quiet without making me feel silenced.

All those things are hot, hot, hot, but they wouldn’t be if he hadn’t explicitly secured my consent first.

We’re talking about my husband here, but the same thing applies to newer or more casual fucks, too. It’s an active turn-on to have them secure my consent and show their respect for me. When I’m flirting with someone who makes me feel safe, when I’m building anticipation, I’m not prepping myself to have basic, tame sex. I’m building up to the dirty stuff I love, the stuff that hits all my kinks, the stuff that makes me giddy and blushy just to think about.

It’s Not Just About Physical Safety

Over the last few months, I’ve learned that consent isn’t just sexy in physical encounters. It’s also really hot when there’s no possibility of being physically violated.

I learned that through cybersex. I didn’t really think of consent when I went into cybersex. I felt relatively safe — the people I cyberfuck don’t even know my address. But it can still be the difference between a really hot exchange and an okay one that just gave me an excuse to jill off a bit.

I’m a bleeding heart Millennial. I use my phone for texting, apps, and to send myself reminders to work out that I try really hard not to snooze. I don’t actually talk on the phone unless it’s with my doctor. So, all my dirty exchanges have been over text and email.

Most recently, I’ve been having those exchanges with a flirty friend. The way he spoke to me made me feel flustered, so I was excited to see how that would translate to dirty talk.

He didn’t disappoint. The first time things got steamy, I locked my bedroom door, settled into bed, and just let his words have their way with me.

He brought the heat. I tried to make as few typos as I could with just one hand. And then, he sent a message that brought it to a complete halt.

“I have an idea. Call my phone. Yet one rule… Neither of us can say a word”.

I stopped typing. I stopped stroking myself. I started to panic.

The timestamp told me I had been staring at the screen for five whole minutes. This guy had gotten me so hot and worked up and here I was leaving him on read.

I just couldn’t decide. I was trying to talk myself into it. I was trying to talk myself out of it. Mostly, I just felt my brain melting in panic.

I really wanted to hear him breathe and moan and come.

He wanted to hear me pant and whimper and come.

I wanted him to hear me pant and whimper and come.

And one of the great things about fucking around with someone other than your husband is that it pushes you into new territory, and this was very new territory.

But I was so self-conscious. I was terrified. I went to all my worst-case scenarios.

What if I accidentally speaks and he hates my voice?

What if I come weird?

What if he hears one of my kids knocking on my door mid-call?

I finally broke my silence to tell him I was still trying to decide. At this point, I was half trying to think of the best way to back out of it (how do you back out sexily?)

But then he sent me a message that changed my mind immediately.

“No pressure. Your pace. Always.”

That pulled me right in. All my apprehensions disappeared. Those words made me feel safe and respected, and those feelings made me so fucking horny. I immediately replied, “I can’t believe I’m going to do this…” grabbed my phone, and had the hottest masturbation session I ever experienced.

Be Explicit

I like my consent the way I like my dirty talk: super explicit.

A few guys have told me that they don’t really do the whole verbal consent thing. They just look for non-verbal cues that it’s okay to proceed and act accordingly.

Non-verbal cues are good indicators, especially in long-term relationships, but they’re not substitutes for verbal consent.

For one thing, when you’re trying to use your body language to “ask” permission, it doesn’t always come across as a request. In a lot of cases, it would make me feel pressured and it would make me feel unsafe.

And if your partner is trying to telegraph a “no” with their body language, how can you be sure you’re picking up on it and not misreading it. Almost every woman I know has a few stories of men who push ahead because they can’t pick up on the non-verbal cues they’re signalling.

So, don’t mess around and take risks. Secure some explicit, verbal consent.

And no, you don’t have to ask for consent for every single step you want to take. That’s a complete myth. But if you’re going to make any bold moves, it’s good to check back in. Don’t just surprise a lady by trying to stick it in her ass, coming on her face, or giving her a smack without making damn sure you’ve got the go-ahead first.

Plus, it’s just not as sexy. There are plenty of arousing ways to ask for consent. Learn them and master them.

And no matter what, explicitly showing that you respect someone, that you’re giving them an out, and that you care about their well-being will never make sex worse. It only stands to make it better. So, ask, get permission, and do all the nasty shit she wants you to do to her.

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