Something a little different this week my loves, in light of my birthday I have decided

to pop in and let you in on a little secret… I absolutely DO NOT have it all figured out.

This week I am turning 32, and there have been a few small wins that I have been celebrating, including growing this community to almost 600 subs and 1100 followers… whatt?? Thank you! I also completed my first counselling paper which felt really good.

From the outside, I’m building my blog (it has been a life-long dream of mine to become a writer in some way), I’m supporting myself, and my Masters are well underway…

But to be completely honest, it has kind of been the week from hell.

I’ve been dreading the lead-up to this birthday, and to tell you the truth, 32 is really scary for me. Perhaps it isn’t for everyone, nor do I want it to be! But this birthday has been quite tricky for me.

This week I experienced a fabulous concoction of the following thoughts:

“Am I grown up enough? Is that how I look and sound on teams? Interesting. Is that wrinkles and sunspots? Why is my left eyebag so deep and dark on the day I must film and submit my assignment? Arm jiggles, thigh jiggles, butt jigglessss. Is my cat dying of cardiomyopathy or is that just purring? Am I going to be alone forever? Is 5 pancakes too many to eat in one sitting? Chocolate. That man is very handsome and yummy. I think I may masturbate. Now I am crying. Phewwwww.”

The thing is, I long for a beautiful, fulfilling relationship one day and to have children, and at present I am not currently in a relationship. And despite advancements in reproductive healthcare and the knowledge that I am still very much in that “window” (whatever the fuck that means), I often feel as if I am running out of time.

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Well, what a month it has been! I’m back at uni now, which means I’ve commenced my second Master’s degree (in Counselling; the first was Sexology, which isn’t entirely finished). I am also working full-time. So early on, I really do hunker down and focus on finding my feet in my studies, working, and maintaining a balance with other aspects of my life. I have missed writing to you! I love the weekly articles, but it’s not always sustainable with everything else. Nevertheless, it’s wonderful to be back.

This next article is about masturbation in relationships. I love this topic because it’s one I feel does not get enough attention. I see a lot of articles about self-pleasure, which is fantastic, but I am yet to find an article that specifically discusses the topic of masturbating whilst living with a partner. There is a lot to this topic, and a lot that I won’t be able to cover completely in this article, but hopefully it will reach you all on some level.

If anything comes to mind that you would like me to delve a little deeper into, I am very open to article ideas. So feel free to comment or send me a message.

It’s hard to believe we’re in August… I really can’t believe it, if I’m honest (nor the fact that I will be 32 this month, but that’s our little secret). I hope the rest of the year is prosperous for you, and if you’re just plot plotting along, good on you.

With that being said, let’s get into the article.

Talk soon my loves. X

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Have you ever struggled with masturbating whilst in a relationship? Many people in relationships struggle to masturbate and experience shame around it, for a variety of reasons. This is not surprising really when our culture still carries so much shame around sex.

In sexology, we use a biopsychosocial model to understand our experience of sexuality. This model recognises that there are various biological, psychological, social and cultural influences to our sex lives throughout the lifespan. Many of our beliefs about masturbation come from various socio-cultural influences, media, and messages we received growing up.

One of the common narratives surrounding masturbation whilst in a relationship is the idea that people should be completely satisfied by their partner alone, and therefore shouldn’t require self-pleasure. Some people will feel as though they’re cheating on their partner when they masturbate. Obviously this is a story, and not a fact, but we can begin to see the barrier this narrative creates for people and their relationship with pleasure.

Another challenge people experience, particularly within heterosexual relationships, is the narrative that women have been taught that their pleasure source must come primarily from their partner, and often through penetration alone.

At this point, we can ask ourselves: why does self-pleasure have to be an either/or experience between your solo pleasure and the pleasure you share with your partner? Why not both? And so we find ourselves delving a little deeper…

What would having both mean for you? What thoughts or beliefs come up when you imagine pleasuring yourself without your partner? Where might those ideas have come from? Sometimes simply asking these questions can tell us a lot. What does masturbation actually mean to you?

Something I think is worth reflecting on is how you define masturbation for yourself. What does it actually involve? For some people it’s direct genital stimulation. For others it might involve fantasy, erotica, toys, grinding, or exploring different kinds of touch.

Some people even prefer the term self-pleasure because it feels softer or less loaded than masturbation. If that’s you, that’s completely okay too. Use whichever language feels most comfortable and feels right for you.

Some questions that may be worth reflecting on include:

• What does masturbation or self-pleasure actually mean to me?

• Does that meaning change when I’m in a relationship?

• Where did those beliefs come from?

• Are these actually my beliefs, or have they come from somewhere else?

• If these beliefs no longer serve me, what might I like to change?

Your pleasure belongs to you. So why do we often shame ourselves for pleasuring alone, but not necessarily when we’re with someone else? For example, masturbating solo versus masturbating during partnered sex. What’s actually the difference?

Some people may find the idea of masturbating during partnered sex much easier than solo pleasure. Whether that’s clitoral stimulation during penetrative sex, a hand job during anal sex, or another form of self-touch. Many people find masturbating solo more comfortable and pleasurable, and many individuals enjoy both.

Whatever the struggle is, one of the biggest things I keep coming back to is the importance of bodily and sexual autonomy. Your partner is not the gatekeeper of your pleasure, and you do not need a permission slip to pleasure yourself.

For many people, this becomes part of a much bigger conversation around women, pleasure and the coital imperative, the idea that “real” sex is penetrative sex and that women’s pleasure should naturally come from it. Thankfully we’re slowly moving away from that narrative, but many of us still carry pieces of it.

If you ever notice yourself thinking, I shouldn’t masturbate because I did this morning, or we had sex last night, we can be curious and ask ourselves where these ideas came from, and if they still serve us.

If your behaviour isn’t harming you or anyone else, perhaps there isn’t actually a problem to solve. Sometimes a quickie is simply a quickie, particularly if you’re short on time.

There is now plenty of research exploring the benefits of masturbation, and pleasure alone is valuable enough. I’ve actually written articles exploring the benefits of self-pleasure in much more depth, so feel free to have a read of those if you’re curious.

There are so many benefits of masturbation, from stress reduction to endorphin release, relaxation, to emotional regulation. We can fantasise, connect with ourselves and figure out what feels good for us. Masturbation and specifically regular ejaculation is also good for maintaining prostate health, isn’t that amazing?

Like anything, self-pleasure can become unhelpful if it starts interfering with your wellbeing, relationships or daily functioning. But for most people, it’s simply another healthy expression of aliveness and sexuality.

Self-pleasure doesn’t always have to involve direct genital stimulation either. Sometimes simply slowing down, noticing what feels good in your body, exploring different sensations or enjoying nurturing touch can help strengthen your connection with yourself.

Let’s also talk about the practical side of self-pleasure because this can actually be one of the biggest barriers, and it’s something we don’t talk about nearly enough. Where are you supposed to masturbate if you don’t feel like you have privacy? Is there a time of day that works best for you? What helps you feel relaxed, safe and comfortable? Living with a partner, children, family or housemates can make this challenging.

Something as simple as having lubricant, toys, erotica, music, blankets or comfortable clothing nearby can make a surprising difference. Equally, finding a clean, private space where you can fully relax may help create an environment that’s more conducive to pleasure.

Some people also ask whether it’s okay to masturbate while lying beside a sleeping partner. Honestly… I don’t really see an issue with it, provided it isn’t disturbing your partner and it’s something the two of you are comfortable with. Every relationship is different, so having a conversation beforehand can help avoid awkwardness and ensure everyone’s boundaries are respected.

Another thing to think about is how you can begin taking more ownership of your pleasure during partnered sex. This is something I think is particularly relevant for many women, who have often grown up with the expectation that someone else is responsible for their pleasure.

Self-pleasure and partnered sex don’t have to compete with one another either. Having a healthy relationship with self-pleasure doesn’t mean your relationship is lacking, and it certainly doesn’t mean your partner isn’t enough. More often than not, it simply reflects that you also have a relationship with yourself. If shame comes up, it can also be helpful to compare sexual pleasure with other forms of pleasure.

We don’t usually shame ourselves for enjoying good food, listening to music, having a warm shower, getting a massage or sitting in the sun. Sexual pleasure often carries additional shame because of the messages we’ve inherited throughout our lives. Becoming curious about those messages, rather than automatically believing them, can be a really powerful place to start.

Pornography often comes up in conversations about masturbation, so it’s worth briefly acknowledging. Some people use pornography, while others don’t. Some people choose ethical pornography, while others prefer erotica, fantasy or no external stimulation at all.

Porn itself isn’t necessarily the issue. Like many aspects of sexuality, context matters more than blanket rules. More important is whether your use of pornography supports your sexual wellbeing or begins replacing it. If it starts becoming a barrier to pleasure without it, changes your expectations of sex, or negatively impacts your relationships or overall wellbeing, it’s probably worth becoming curious about that too.

Ultimately, masturbation doesn’t have to exist in opposition to partnered sex. It isn’t a sign that your relationship is failing, that your partner isn’t enough, or that something is missing. More often than not, it simply reflects that you also have a relationship with yourself.

Perhaps that’s the invitation here: to become a little more curious about the stories you’ve inherited around pleasure. Which beliefs genuinely feel like yours, and which have been handed to you by family, culture, religion, education, past relationships or society? If shame shows up, rather than trying to push it away, see if you can meet it with curiosity instead.

Your sexuality belongs to you. Whether you choose to explore pleasure alone, with a partner, or both, you deserve a relationship with your body that is grounded in choice rather than obligation, curiosity rather than shame, and autonomy rather than permission.

Hannah x

I was reading an article recently by Esther Perel, and it got me thinking…

Is sex enough reason to end an otherwise good relationship? Is the relationship good if your sex-life isn’t? These are the questions that can keep us awake at night, and it is only human, and I would argue important, to ponder them.

Leaving for a better sex-life is a question that seems to divide people. Mention that a relationship ended because of sexual incompatibility and you’ll often hear, “How could you throw away a perfectly good relationship for that?” or “Sex isn’t everything, what a waste.”

And they’re right in that sex isn’t everything, but this does not mean that sex doesn’t matter.

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Scheduling sex might not sound sexy, but in the world of sexology, it’s actually one of the most effective ways to nurture intimacy and maintain your sex life.

Many of us grow up believing that great sex should be spontaneous. If it isn’t, we worry that something must be wrong. Here’s the thing: that’s just a story.

Some people experience spontaneous desire; however, the reality is many people experience what’s called responsive (non-spontaneous) desire, where desire develops after the affection, kissing, touch, or emotional connection has already begun. Neither is better or more “normal” than the other; they’re simply different ways of experiencing desire.

If you’re someone with responsive desire, waiting until you magically “feel like it” may mean you rarely initiate sex, not because you don’t enjoy it, but because your desire often comes after you’ve made space for intimacy. I would argue in fact that desire is rarely ever truly spontaneous, because often “sudden sex” is the result of attraction and interactions that have been building for weeks, or months on end, with no release, sometimes more.

When we’re in long-term connections, the reality is, there are so many parts of the relationship and opportunities to connect that sometimes sex gets forgotten about or deprioritised.

One of my favourite texts on the topic of desire in long-term relationships is Esther Perel’s Mating in Captivity. If you haven’t yet, you must. Here, Esther explains the importance of space and autonomy for desire and arousal in long-term relationships: There needs to be another person to fuck.

Take a look at what technology has done to our privacy. There is hardly a shred of mystery left when we’re tracking one another, calling incessantly and texting, insisting on knowing every minute of our partner’s day, and curfews for their return.

The reality is, life gets in the way, and we need to be making a conscious decision to prioritise our sex lives if we want them to improve, because it’s unrealistic to expect the sex, the time, and the conditions to ‘magically' appear.

That’s why scheduling sex can be so helpful. It isn’t about forcing yourself to have sex at a certain time. It’s about intentionally creating an opportunity for connection and allowing desire the chance to show up.

The reality is that we schedule almost everything we value: date nights, exercise, work meetings, and family time. So why wouldn’t we intentionally make space for our sex lives too?

You can put a little symbol on the family calendar; it could be anything you like. The kids don’t have to know what it means, and I actually think it’s really sweet to have a little secret that’s just for the two of you.

And remember, it’s not about rigidly sticking to a schedule. Taking control of your sex life is hot. Life happens, plans change. The goal isn’t perfection, it’s making intimacy a priority and coming back to it when you can.

Sometimes the sexiest thing isn’t spontaneity, it’s simply making time for each other. So go on, pop it on the calendar.

Hannah x

The benefits of embodiment work for me and my sexuality were so profound that they had a ripple effect throughout the rest of my life. I can hardly remember what my sex life was like before somatic work because in comparison to now, it feels so minimal. I was quite numb, and it was very difficult for me to orgasm. I didn’t vocalise what I wanted very much and, to be honest, the main reason was because I didn’t really know what worked for me and what didn’t. So I’d go through the motions and sure, sex was alright, but it never really had that wow factor.

After embodiment work, things shifted quite quickly, and interestingly it wasn’t even partnered sex that changed first. It was my relationship with myself. It wasn’t until a few years later, after a big breakup, when I started having sexual experiences again, that I really noticed the impact it had had on my sexuality. When the conditions were right, something as simple as a kiss and some nipple stimulation was enough to get me off, and it felt like mind-blowing, soul-shattering ecstasy in a way I had never accessed before.

But even beyond that, the most meaningful shift for me has been my relationship with myself and my sexuality. I can lie in bed with no touch whatsoever and my whole body will feel good. Think: arching my back, eyes rolling to the back of my head, deep, long moans kind of good. I love how much pleasure I can access for myself and how empowering this feels. It’s become a reclaiming of my body.

Whilst this level of pleasure feels normal to me now and has been for several years, it does still surprise me at times. It still makes me incredibly happy because I never experienced anything like this before. I used to have to masturbate at top speed just to access a fraction of the pleasure I can now access in seconds without any genital touch. And yes, when I do orgasm, it can be earth-shattering, but that’s not really the point. The point is the reclaiming of your body and your sexuality that can happen through this work. It’s the feeling of being alive, and pleasurable through simply existing, whilst lying in bed, that feels like the real gift.

You’re probably wondering, what on earth happened and why would something as simple as moving my body to music during lockdown have such a dramatic impact on my sexuality years later… that is exactly what I’m going to be sharing with you tonight.

I will talk you through everything I did in this article, from the first six months, where I experienced the most dramatic shift, to the practices I’ve continued over the last few years that have helped me get to where I am now. This is a paid article because it is quite personal, and I tend to make my personal essays paid. If you decide to become a paid subscriber, please remember that you’ll need to subscribe through your mobile web browser or desktop, as the Substack mobile app doesn’t allow paid subscriptions in certain regions, including the land down under (I agree this is extremely annoying). Nevertheless, I’d love to have you join, and it genuinely helps me continue doing what I do as a writer.

I was first introduced to somatic work during Covid in 2021.

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What actually makes someone good in bed?

Sure, curiosity matters more than mastering some imaginary checklist, but what are some of the actionable steps we can take to improve intimacy and sex?

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I was shocked when I first discovered hands-free pleasure could be so powerful.

It was one morning, whilst lying in the bath, that I first realised how much pleasure could exist in my body without any direct genital stimulation. I lay there for 2 hours in what felt like the lead-up to an orgasm but through my entire body… it was the most mind-blowing experience because I didn’t know I could access that level of arousal and pleasure without touching myself.

You can do this too, and in this article I’m going to guide you through it.

At the time I had been researching somatic awareness and sexuality, had read a few books, completed a few courses, but to be honest, it was actually something much simpler that sparked this liberation and subsequent explosion of pleasure.

What sparked this unfolding of pleasure wasn’t a complicated technique. It was simply witnessing other women moving their bodies in ways that looked authentic, embodied, and pleasurable.

I saw women online engaging in somatic practices and looking like they were truly, deeply in their bodies, feeling good. Not performatively, just authentically. So I tried it, and it was incredible.

Honestly, before I saw this online, I didn’t know it even existed. But thanks to these women who were willing to be vulnerable and share their practices, I had the opportunity to learn from them.

For a long time I used to feel very confused about authenticity, like what the fuck does that even mean? I know right. So this again is going to be a personal process so I don’t want to inject my experience here if that’s something you’re in at the moment. What I will share though is something that may help you with this.

If you’re feeling bold, you can film yourself during a pleasure practice. But I would wait until you’re several sessions in and have learned to let go of image first because you don’t want to fall into “performance mode” or end up critiquing yourself after a pleasure practice because that’s not helpful for the healing you have just done.

You could start by completing your exercises in front of a mirror and occasionally opening your eyes to observe yourself.

Notice your expression. Notice what your body is doing and be open to what you see. Try not to judge yourself (I know I sound like a broken record), simply be a witness to yourself. Look into your eyes, follow the curves of your body.

I’m not going to go into why we do this today, but I will put it out there for you to try. You may find it helps with the authenticity piece. It can be surprisingly powerful to witness yourself in this state.

You see, when you let go of needing to look a certain way, and on top of that let go of the genital contact and the need for orgasm you’re allowing yourself to be free. What we’re exercising here is freedom, freedom from performance, from ego, from our thoughts, judgements, criticism, from all of the messages of society that harmed us, we are allowing ourselves to be free and to be who we are. This is when you may notice a significant shift in pleasure. It’s called “feeling good” not “looking good”.

Simply seeing these women move this way, and following their instructions to move in a way that was authentic to me, I was able to experience sensations and emotions I didn’t know were there. Some of them were difficult. Others were heaven. I didn’t judge. Instead, I remained curious and open because I really didn’t know what to expect and had nothing to compare it to.

I’m not telling you this story because it is some goal you must achieve. I am sharing it with you as an example of what is possible.

Sometimes all we need is permission to imagine that there is more available to us. Not because we should be chasing bigger experiences, but because awareness creates possibility. Many of us never explore certain sensations simply because nobody told us they existed.

Many people only know pleasure through one pathway (i.e., touching genitals) because that’s all they’ve ever been taught. I’ve discussed the coital imperative in previous articles (emphasis on penetrative sex specifically involving penile-vaginal penetration). There is also a huge emphasis on genital contact as the main source of sexual pleasure when there are so many more ways to enjoy the body.

Obviously genital pleasure is wonderful for so many reasons, and I encourage masturbation. However, there are many pathways to pleasure. Why not access them?

The reality is that genitals are not the only pathway to orgasm, ecstatic bliss, arousal, and pleasure throughout the body. When you learn to increase proprioception and sensory awareness, you get to experience all your mind and body has to offer, and with that comes much more pleasurable sexual experiences, likely beyond what you even knew was possible for you.

Pleasure is deeply personal. While teachers and guides can be incredibly helpful, most of this journey happens alone.

The point is not to achieve a particular outcome. The point is to connect with yourself.

The Practice

The key is music, a safe space, and an open mind.

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The first time I masturbated after the retreat, I orgasmed in under ten seconds. I remember lying there in complete disbelief, so I tried again. Twenty seconds, and then ten again. The pleasure itself felt amplified, but what shocked me most was realising how absent I had been from my own body before that.

At the time, I had struggled with anorgasmia for years. Whilst orgasm was possible, it took me a long time and a lot of focus to get there. I was fascinated by sex and sexuality, and had already gone down rabbit holes researching tantra, orgasmic meditation, and sexuality studies, and had spent years trying to “solve” orgasm intellectually, and better understand sex. But despite all of that, I still found it difficult to fully let go during sex.

I also had undiagnosed ADD at the time, and during sex, my mind would wander constantly. I’d think about my to-do list, groceries, my friend’s birthday, the artwork on the wall, whether my feet were cold, whether I looked attractive, or whether my partner was enjoying themselves enough. I’d disappear out of my own body. Past sexual trauma absolutely contributed to that disconnection too, but honestly, sometimes it was simply a distraction. My attention was fragmented, and so was my experience of pleasure, which is deeply inconvenient when orgasm often requires presence in the form of sensory awareness.

So when I signed up for the retreat, I had absolutely no idea what I was walking into. I imagined yoga classes, maybe a few guided meditations, some workshops, journalling, peaceful downtime — a little spiritual reset. What I got instead was eight hours of meditation a day.

During the retreat, there were to be no phones, books, talking, music, or distractions. Even long journalling sessions weren’t permitted because the entire point was to maintain a meditative state throughout the retreat.

The retreat focused on shamata meditation — single-pointed focus meditation where you return your attention, over and over again, to one object: the breath, an image, or a mantra. I say return because, naturally, the mind wanders and thoughts arise. It sounds simple until you actually try it. Within seconds, the mind starts bargaining, fantasising, replaying old conversations, and planning the future. You start itching, and fantasising about fidgeting (because moving was also another no-no during practice), you’re wondering how much time is left, if everyone else in the room is suffering as much as you are. And with ADD, sitting still in silence for eight hours a day felt almost impossible.

By day four, the restlessness became so intense that I remember thinking, “I would more readily give birth without pain relief just so I could move, than sit here for another minute in meditation.” That’s how difficult it was. My body started experiencing discomfort everywhere. My knees hurt, then my back, then my shoulders, then my stomach. Random aches would appear out of nowhere as though my body was desperately trying to convince me to escape the stillness.

But underneath all of that, something profound was happening. My attention was changing.

When you remove constant stimulation and distractions, you begin to realise how chaotic the mind actually is. My Buddhist teacher referred to it as “the monkey mind” — the endless stream of thoughts, anxieties, cravings, impulses, insecurities, and noise constantly pulling us away from the present moment. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t obeying it. Thoughts would arise, but I stopped following every single one of them. I realised I could notice a thought without becoming consumed by it, and I had never experienced that kind of internal discipline before.

And the retreat wasn’t only about focus. Alongside the meditation, we also practised compassion and equanimity meditations — guided sessions designed to cultivate compassion for ourselves, for difficult people, for people we loved, and for people we felt indifferent towards.

By the end of the retreat, I felt overwhelmed with joy. I remember people asking me afterwards how I felt, and that was the only phrase I could come up with. Not excitement. Not happiness. Joy. For the first time, I realised the lightness had always been there within me. It had just been buried beneath years of noise — social conditioning, insecurity, comparison, self-criticism, pressure, distraction, and shame. Meditation didn’t magically create worthiness; it revealed it.

And this is where sex comes in.

The retreat itself had absolutely nothing to do with sex. We didn’t discuss sexuality or relationships, and we were in shared dorms, so we weren’t masturbating during the retreat. The effect on my sex life was simply a byproduct.

The first time I masturbated after coming home, I realised just how much mindfulness and presence affect our experience of pleasure. You cannot fully feel what you are barely inhabiting. Before the retreat, I was experiencing sex whilst partially absent from it — monitoring myself instead of feeling myself, thinking about orgasm instead of sensation, spectating myself from the outside instead of living inside my body. But after seven days of training, my attention, my mind had become quieter, and my awareness of sensation sharper. I wasn’t chasing orgasm anymore. I was simply present, and the orgasm happened.

This is also why I think mindfulness can be profoundly beneficial for sex, especially for people who struggle with distraction, anxiety, shame, body image issues, performance anxiety, or dissociation during intimacy. Mindfulness increases interoception — our awareness of internal bodily sensation — and ironically, the discipline cultivated through meditation is what allows us to surrender into pleasure, because distraction is often the enemy of pleasure.

So many of us experience sex while evaluating ourselves, monitoring our bodies, thinking ahead, worrying how we look, sound, taste, or smell, and wondering whether we’re attractive enough, desirable enough, or good enough. Especially women.

Sex isn’t just physiological. It’s political, emotional, relational, and psychological too. Throughout history, women have been taught to prioritise being desirable over actually experiencing desire. Women are taught to disconnect from our bodies while simultaneously being valued for them, and that disconnection impacts pleasure. Sexual self-esteem matters. Feeling safe in your body matters. Believing you are worthy of pleasure matters.

And while education, therapy, communication, and good partners are all incredibly important, there is also something deeply powerful about learning to simply inhabit your own body again.

This isn’t an advertisement for meditation, by the way. There are many ways to cultivate presence. For some people, it’s meditation. For others, it’s movement, somatic work, long walks without their phone, swimming in the ocean, dancing, prayer, art, breathwork, or silence. The point is learning how to come back to yourself.

I still think about that retreat now, at thirty-one. Not because I became enlightened (I absolutely did not), but because it taught me something I return to constantly: pleasure is about presence. Every time I find myself drifting during sex into distraction, performance, insecurity, or self-consciousness, I remember to come back.

Back to sensation, back to the body, back to the breath.

Hannah x

Short and sweet this week, folks.

I won’t be diving down any rabbit holes today because if you have read my work, you will know I prefer to get to the point. I also think when it comes to sexual education/sexology content, the message should be clear, accessible, and easy to understand.

So, sexual fantasy. Let’s talk about it.

I’m going to start this article with a simple statement: fantasy is a completely normal and perfectly healthy aspect of sexuality.

Now, when does it become problematic? When it causes distress to the individual or their relationships, i.e., leads to problematic or unethical behaviours, or when it interrupts your daily life in a way that is detrimental to your wellbeing, health and safety, or to that of others.

The reality is, we cannot control our thoughts. We cannot control what arrives in our minds. It’s what we do with that information that matters. There are certainly fantasies that I would not recommend fostering or encouraging, i.e., ethically problematic fantasies. This is all common sense, but I just wanted to make that clear.

With that being said, let’s kick off with a few examples:

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I wasn’t kidding. The way we nourish ourselves directly impacts our sex life. Sexual wellbeing is deeply connected to our physical, mental, emotional, and even spiritual wellbeing. It all fits together like a puzzle.

One of the things I’m most grateful for from my studies in nutrition and health coaching was learning to view health holistically. Our sex lives are not isolated from the rest of our well-being. The way we eat, move, rest, think, cope with stress, connect with others, and care for ourselves all influence how we experience intimacy, desire, pleasure, connection, and sex.

Nature’s viagra? Exercise. Movement increases blood flow, supports cardiovascular health, regulates stress, and helps us feel more connected to our bodies. Hydration, energy levels, circulation, and nervous system regulation all affect physical arousal and comfort, too. And if you think diet doesn’t impact the way you taste or smell, I’m here to tell you, it absolutely can.

It’s difficult to feel connected to pleasure and intimacy when your mental health has been suffering from chronic stress, poor sleep, isolation, lack of movement, or poor nourishment. Likewise, it’s no secret that cardiovascular disease is one of the leading causes of erectile dysfunction, and excessive marijuana use can contribute to difficulties maintaining erections and achieving ejaculation.

Now, I must preface this article by saying that if you are experiencing sexual difficulties, please visit your general practitioner/ family doctor first and foremost to rule out any physiological causes. Sexologists often work closely with family medicine practitioners and specialists such as urologists, gynaecologists, endocrinologists, cardiologists, and psychologists to support their patients holistically.

Now the point of all of this is to feel better, not look better, not do what you think you should, or what other people are doing. The most important thing here is how you feel. When you’re caring for yourself consistently, eating nourishing food, moving your body, getting fresh air and sunlight, resting properly, and connecting with people you care about, you’re more likely to feel confident, energised, emotionally regulated, and connected to yourself. As a result, your capacity for pleasure increases.

This won’t be a long post because the concept itself is actually quite straightforward, but I do think it’s important to acknowledge. And of course, none of us is immune to periods where life feels messy, and our routines fall apart. Life is not perfect, nor should we expect ourselves to be. But paying attention to these foundational areas can genuinely improve our quality of life, and gently bringing our focus back to these areas is good for us. Like a loving parent would to a child, we must do this for ourselves as adults.

I don’t think people realise just how much our diet and movement influence our sex lives. In the same way that nutrition and exercise allow us to function at our best throughout the day, they also influence our sexual function, confidence, comfort, and pleasure. Not just for the benefits to our bodies, but for the benefit of our minds as well.

Let’s look at a few examples.

1. After a month of intense work hours, Alan’s diet had fallen low on his list of priorities. Each night, he would come home exhausted, with little energy to shop for groceries or prepare proper meals. Over time, he began feeling fatigued, bloated, sluggish, and mentally drained. His body wasn’t receiving the nourishment it needed, and his mental health began suffering, too.

   Then, after a long weekend, Alan was surprised by how good it felt to simply stop and rest. The extra day gave him time to reassess his routine and plan a week of nourishing meals. Cooking became meditative again. He enjoyed shopping for himself, felt more energised after eating, and noticed his confidence slowly returning. Feeling more like himself again, he decided to call the woman he’d been thinking about and ask her out for a drink.

2. Carrie had been struggling with anxiety due to ongoing family issues outside of her control. Although her family dynamics had always been complicated, one particularly difficult phone call left her emotionally overwhelmed. She stopped exercising, even though one of her favourite ways to decompress had always been going for long walks.

   Weeks passed, and Carrie noticed herself withdrawing further. She started driving short distances she would normally walk, because everything suddenly felt exhausting. Without realising it, she had replaced movement with overthinking, and her anxiety only worsened.

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   Then one morning, a support call with her father gave Carrie the motivation to go for a short walk. To her surprise, she began feeling calmer almost immediately. The fresh air, sunlight, movement, and change of environment helped her feel more grounded and alive. By the time she returned home, she noticed she could finally relax enough to enjoy her dinner. She felt lighter, more present, and more confident than she had in weeks. Later that evening, she opened the apps again with a renewed sense of openness.

3. Ben and Hailey were an older couple who had shared an active and fulfilling sex life throughout their 40-year marriage. Over the past few months, they had stopped attending their weekly yoga classes to save money. Previously, the couple would walk to class together each week and rarely experienced much physical discomfort during intimacy.

   Gradually, however, they began noticing increased stiffness, reduced flexibility, and more physical discomfort in daily life. This eventually started affecting their sex life too.

   In response, they decided to make a few small changes. They began walking to the grocery store together once a week instead of driving and incorporated some light stretching into their evenings at home. Even these gentle adjustments made a noticeable difference. They felt more comfortable in their bodies again and more connected to each other as well.

   One afternoon, Hailey joined Ben during their usual stretches, and the moment naturally became intimate. Later that evening, they shared wonderful sex together.

These scenarios are fictional, but they demonstrate how strongly our physical and emotional well-being can influence intimacy, confidence, desire, comfort, and connection. The concepts themselves are simple because they are foundational. Caring for ourselves does not replace medical care, nor should it. But when we support our minds and bodies consistently, we often place ourselves in a much better position to experience wellbeing, sexually and otherwise.

Trust me, you’ll be glad you did it.

Hannah x

Fingering is one of the most underrated skills in our sexual repertoire, and one of the easiest to get wrong. In this article I’m going to share various techniques with you and explain in detail, exactly how to do each one.

Let’s start with some foundations first:

• Nails must be clean and short.

• Lube, in case your partner needs it.

• Verbal consent before penetration for new partners.

• Tease during the lead-up to genital contact by avoiding genitals to begin with.

Now, communication cues really are essential when you’re being physically intimate with someone. It never ceases to amaze me that we were not taught this in school. The lack of comprehensive relationships and sexuality education is such a huge failure of our education system. There are several verbal and non-verbal cues for consent.

Some non-verbal cues when someone is craving penetration to look out for:

• Bucking the hips up toward you

• Tilting/circling the pelvis

• Grinding themselves up against you.

• Placing your hand on their vulva.

Verbal cues are quite self-explanatory. Sometimes people will explicitly ask you to “fuck” them, or you may receive some non-verbal cues whilst your partner says things like “I want you” at the same time. If you’re ever unsure what they mean, you can ask for clarification.

Many people rush into fingering without thinking twice. They assume that simply moving in and out is enough… when in reality, everybody is different, and there are far more effective ways to enhance your skills and increase pleasure for your partner.

Sometimes people aren’t lacking effort; rather, they’re lacking awareness and technique.

So, speaking of techniques… let’s get straight into it.

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We spend so much of our lives focused on image. What if the focus wasn’t appearance, but experience? Not how we look, but how we feel.

Many of us organise our lives around image rather than pleasure. And this habit is particularly entrenched in our sex lives.

We’ve been taught, subtly and constantly, that appearance matters most. So without even noticing, we begin making decisions based on how things look rather than how they feel.

Now, I want to be clear: beauty does matter. The environments we live in, the way we dress, and the way we express ourselves through art and aesthetics can absolutely enhance wellbeing.

But there is a difference between appreciating beauty and being governed by appearance in a way that disconnects us from ourselves.

When life becomes about maintaining an image, it is never enough. There is always a new version of yourself to reach, a new standard to meet, a new way you think you should be.

And I’ve found that when I’m living for image rather than experience, I’m not actually happy in it.

Sex is one of the clearest places this shows up.

We’ve been given so many distorted ideas about sex through media, pornography, and poor sexual education.

We find ourselves questioning how we look, sound, taste, feel, during sex. So much so, that instead of being in the body, we’re observing it from the outside.

And when you’re observing yourself, you’re not fully feeling anything.

There are many reasons people experience difficulty with sex, and self-image is a big one.

When you’re worried about how you look from a certain angle, or how you sound, or whether you’re meeting some invisible standard, those thoughts are not facts. They’re distractions.

And they pull you out of pleasure.

Once you start noticing this, the real question becomes: how do we actually shift out of it and back into feeling?

Personally, if I’m living a life for image and not pleasure, I am not happy. It’s as if I’m always chasing the next version. of myself, the next standard to live up to.

And I want to be clear, beauty does matter. The environments we’re in and the way we express ourselves through fashion and art for example benefit our wellbeing.

However there is a difference between appreciating beauty, and appearance governing our decisions from a need for validation.

When it comes to the way we live our lives, the food we eat, the relationships we have, the careers we choose, the way we spend our time, this does not need to look a certain way. We source these decisions from the heart and honour what is best for us, rather than from an idea of what it should look like.

Sex is another area where appearance isn’t the point. Pleasure is.

Think about how many times during sex you may find yourself thinking about how you look or sound. Whether you’re performing. Whether you’re “taking too long to climax” or “not lasting long enough”. We’ve been given so many false ideas about what sex looks like through media, pornography, society, and poor sexual education.

So instead of being present and enjoying the experience, we’re in our heads about it.

You’re so focused on how you look, you barely feel anything at all.

There are many reasons people experience difficulty with sex, and self-image is a big one.

When you’re worried about how you sound, how your body looks from a certain angle, or feeling self-conscious about your preferences and you have thoughts during sex that limit you, remember that these are thoughts, not facts. And they distract you from the experience, and from pleasure.

Sometimes, we don’t even realise that our sexual self-esteem is being impacted by over-emphasis on our image. For example think about if your partner could not see you during sex, would it make it easier for you?

How about if they couldn’t hear? How uninhibited might you be with sound?

Or if you had the knowledge that they loved how you tasted (ladies I’m talking to you especially), would that change your experience of oral sex and allow you to relax?

These are the kinds of things to reflect on. You might be surprised with the things you discover here that seem simple, but are quite impactful on your experience in the bedroom.

There have been times in the past for me where thoughts have crept in and I had to remind myself that these are insecurities and not fact, and a lot of the time it ended up being body image stuff and self-consciousness about certain areas of my body and expectations I had around how they “should” look based on pornography.

So instead of being in your body, you find yourself observing from the outside.

Change is not easy, and deconditioning ourselves to experience sex in a different way, even if it’s more pleasurable, is not easy. But once we are aware of it, and aware that it can be different, we can start to shift it.

This doesn’t have to be a drastic shift overnight. We’re not trying to become a completely different person. We’re just shifting the focus so there is less distraction and more space for pleasure.

You can ease into this.

If being completely naked feels confronting, keep something on. Maybe the bra stays on, or you keep a t-shirt on, just not the baggiest one you can find. Maybe you dim the lights or use blankets. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing straight away.

If sound is something you struggle with, start small. Let your partner hear your breath first, or a gasp, before you move into anything more. Build from there.

Many people find their partner’s pleasure incredibly arousing, so instead of assuming how you sound is too much, talk to them. Ask what they like. Let that build your confidence as you become more comfortable expressing yourself.

I would also recommend practicing this on your own. So when you’re alone, express yourself vocally. Don’t think about it, just respond to what you feel. Let it be raw, unfiltered, unfamiliar. You will probably surprise yourself. Notice how, when you don’t hold back, the pleasure actually increases.

The same applies to your body.

If body image is a barrier, spend time getting comfortable with yourself first. Stand in front of the mirror naked. Look at your body. Look at your genitals. Speak to yourself differently. What do you like? What has your body done for you?

Our bodies are incredible, and we are lucky to have them, to move, to feel, to experience life inside of them. Shifting your relationship with your body outside of sex will change how you experience it within it.

And when it comes to your experience during sex, advocate for it.

If you want to change position, change it. You may experience thoughts such as: It’s too much effort, I might lose momentum, they’re probably enjoying it as it is. These are assumptions, not facts.

You don’t need to stay uncomfortable because of something that might happen. It doesn’t make sense to act from that place. And while the intention might be to care for the other person, you’re not actually doing them any favours by being uncomfortable yourself.

Sex is about mutual pleasure, and for many people the experience is enhanced when there is more presence, more communication, and less self-monitoring.

This self-consciousness is a huge topic for women. It varies across culture, upbringing, and personal experience, but many women have been conditioned to be quiet, to look good, and to prioritise their partner’s pleasure.

To be desired, rather than to feel.

Men will often ask for what they want during sex, so why can’t women? It takes work to challenge these beliefs, but it matters. You were not born to serve the male gaze. You were born to feel good and to be alive.

Your purpose is not to look a certain way at the expense of your own experience.

So maybe the shift is simpler than we think.

Not fixing yourself. Not becoming someone new. Not trying to get it right.

Just noticing when you’ve drifted into how it looks, and gently bringing yourself back to how it feels.

Again and again.

Because the more you do that, the more available pleasure actually becomes.

And not just in the bedroom.

In your life.

Men, if you want a woman to feel comfortable surrendering during sex… this is for you.

Women want to crave you. We want to experience that level of arousal and desire. We want pleasurable sexual experiences; we want you. We want to feel so turned on by you that our bodies ache for you, that desire builds slowly and then all at once, until holding back doesn’t even feel like an option anymore.

The best news? There is so much you can do to help us get there. In fact… You get to meet us there.

In this article, I’m going to show you how.

Throughout this article, I will use the word “partner” in the context of whoever your sexual partner is. This could be someone you have just started seeing, and therefore does not imply a committed or monogamous relationship unless you have agreed to that.

If you want to experience a woman begging for your cock, understand this first: that response comes from safety. It does not come from pressure, dominance, or rushing. If you expect a woman to surrender and fully let go during sex, you need to create that safety first, because when she feels it, her body responds in ways you cannot force.

It really is not complicated; however, it does require awareness, patience, empathy, and care.

Now, before I begin, you need to understand that surrender is an active process, not a passive one. It takes a significant amount of internal work for a woman to truly surrender to a man in bed, because at its core, surrender is about safety. There is a process a woman moves through within herself to get there. One that involves self-awareness, trust in her own body, and a capacity to stay present in pleasure. This is the part you cannot control.

However, I need to be very clear about something: even when a woman has done that work, surrender will not happen without the right conditions. Many women deeply wish to surrender, who crave a grounded, embodied masculine presence to meet them and even lead in that space, but they do not feel safe enough to do so. That is where your role comes in. Creating safety is not passive; it is something you actively build through your behaviour, your communication, and your responses to her in real time.

And to be clear, whatever work you need to do around your relationship with masculinity is your responsibility. That is something to explore in your own space, whether that’s through therapy, reflection, or personal development. What I’m offering here is the sexological perspective on how to create the conditions that allow a woman’s body to feel safe enough to let go.

I invite you to reflect on why you want a woman to surrender. What does that actually mean to you? Is it about shared pleasure and connection, or is it about control? A woman will feel the difference immediately, and her body will respond to that feeling of safety or threat instantly. She will close when she does not feel safe, and she will soften, relax, and begin to open when she does.

Communication matters here more than most people realise. Talk to your partner and ask her what she likes. Ask her whether she enjoys leading, being led, or moving between both. Never assume what someone’s needs are in the bedroom; create the space for her to show you, and pay attention when she does.

This process begins long before anything physical happens, and in this article, I’m gonna walk you through it step by step.

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This week has been a difficult one, and the most honest thing I can write right now is simply my experience.

Writing this Substack is deeply fulfilling to me. It matters. However, the reality of writing about sex, especially as a young woman, is that it comes with a cost.

Most mornings, I wake up and delete inappropriate messages and comments from my account. Sexual harassment has become part of the routine of doing this work.

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She just sat there looking up at me with the most perplexed/ displeased look on her face as if I’d just announced some bizarre hobby and gave me the most uncomfortable look.

I left her office that day feeling perplexed by her reaction.

I had to inform her that I was taking o…

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I’m writing this from my bedroom when I’m supposed to be asleep. And as per usual, instead of sleeping, I’m thinking about sex.

Only not in the way I usually do.

This is not the post I planned to write this week, but this evening it arrived, and I know there are many others who have had this experience who may need to hear they’re not alone in it.

This …

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But more often, it’s about something much simpler: learning how to listen to your body.

One of the things that is really important in improving and maintaining our relationship with pleasure is honouring our body. But how do we honour our body? What does this look like, and how do we know when we are actually doing it?

And why does it matter so much?

This is especially important for women, many of whom are used to neglecting their needs in order to survive. Cultural expectations, along with various psychological and social factors, have taught us to put ourselves second.

I never assume that people know how to honour their body because, let’s face it, we live in a world that teaches us to listen to everything and everyone outside of ourselves.

So how does this relate to sex?

I’m going to cut straight to the chase here: honouring ourselves and our needs is the gateway to pleasure.

We all have different needs in order to experience pleasurable sex. Honouring ourselves and those needs is how we get there.

So what does this actually look like?

It can be as simple as noticing when your body tells you something isn’t comfortable or doesn’t feel right, and listening to it. I’m all for a bit of healthy discipline in life, but sex is not the place to ignore our needs.

Your body may be communicating something simple: perhaps you need more foreplay, some lube, a change in position, socks on, a blanket or extra cushion, the air conditioner on during a summer night, a break, or even to stop altogether.

Let yourself be comfortable and ready for sex.

Your mind and emotions are also important signals during intimacy. Perhaps you realise at the last minute that you don’t actually want to be physically intimate with someone and decide to end the catch-up there and then. No is a complete answer.

Or perhaps you need more conversation and decide you would feel more comfortable getting to know someone better before becoming physical. There are many forms of intimacy, and emotional intimacy is just as important.

You might also need extra comfort or reassurance (shout out to our words-of-affirmation lovelies, I see you!).

It can be incredibly easy to brush off our needs and push through in the way our culture demands in everyday life. We are literally programmed to do so.

So we need to retrain ourselves to slow down, pause, listen, and honour ourselves in our sexual lives.

Notice, for example, how easily you might ignore how ice-cold your toes are, or that you feel a little dry or tender. In those moments, I want you to pause. Go and find a pair of socks. Put on a blanket. Grab some lube. Slow down and engage in foreplay. Take a break from penetration or, if needed, for the night altogether.

I’d also like to add that if you ever experience pain during sex, please visit your general practitioner (GP), gynaecologist, or sexologist so we can help you.

Pain during sex, at any stage, is not normal.

If your GP is dismissive, a sexologist can help refer you to someone who will take you seriously. We are often connected with wonderful practitioners and frequently refer clients to one another, so you can receive the care you deserve.

We do not need to minimise or dismiss our needs during sex.

I did my yoga teacher training ten years ago, and hands down, the most valuable lesson I learned from that practice was how to honour myself.

In yoga, we do not grit our teeth through our practice. Ever.

We are encouraged to grab extra blankets and cushions, to take a break in downward dog or child’s pose whenever we need, no matter where we are in the flow. There is no sucking in the belly or performing to look good. In yoga, we love big bellies, the breath is our life force.

Women especially, have been taught their entire lives to neglect their needs during sex. We have been taught to be silent. We have been taught to survive.

This culture still exists today, and in many parts of the world, women have no rights whatsoever.

In some ways, the ultimate goal of sexology is that one day we will not be needed anymore. That would mean our culture has healed enough that we no longer have to explain basic human rights and needs to a society that still struggles deeply when it comes to sex.

I know it is not easy in this society to listen to ourselves again. It will take time and practice.

This is not your fault.

I want to say: I am so proud of you for doing this work. I know how many of you out there, women especially, are healing. I see you.

Keep going.

Before I finish, I wanted to offer a few exercises that might help you along the way. These are also practices we often recommend to clients in sexology.

If you are not masturbating, now is the time to start.

Learning what feels good and right for you will strengthen your ability to listen to your body and your needs when you are with a partner.

Practice honouring yourself during self-pleasure. No matter how small or insignificant a need may seem, listen to it and honour it.

Yes, distraction can sometimes be a barrier to pleasure during sex. However, when we are healing, it is important to first learn how to listen to ourselves before worrying about whether our mind is playing tricks on us.

For now, honour every need.

Later, you can revisit this topic with a sexologist (ADD/ADHD folk, I see you).

Body scans can also be a helpful exercise. They allow us to check in with ourselves and notice whether there is any tension, discomfort, or pain that we may be masking—sometimes instinctively.

Yoga is another practice I cannot recommend highly enough when it comes to honouring ourselves. I suggest trying a variety of flows because, just like yoga, sex can vary in intensity. It can be helpful to practice listening to your body in both faster and slower flows.

And finally, practice honouring yourself in everyday life.

Perhaps you need to step away from your desk and go for a walk, stretch, adjust your seat, take that ibuprofen, drink some water, or grab a snack.

You get the gist.

Listen to your body.

This practice translates surprisingly well into the bedroom (I work in a hospital, so I’m speaking from experience here).

We do not need to white-knuckle our way through life.

You’ve got this. I know so many of you are already doing this work, and it really isn’t easy.

Keep going. Keep honouring yourself. And keep me posted because I love hearing from you.

Hannah x

I actually don’t believe that anyone is universally good in bed, contrary to this popular notion.

Here’s the thing: no two bodies, minds, or souls are alike. Everyone has different sexual needs. When we think of ourselves as being “good” in bed, we are essentially saying (most often unconsciously) that we can use a blueprint that applies to everyone, and that we should be able to please everyone with ease.

But sexual compatibility isn’t really about having the right “method.” It’s about communicating and experimenting with one another. We should always have a mindset of curiosity when it comes to sex.

Of course, sexual self-esteem is important. We want to feel confident in ourselves as lovers. But it’s equally important to enter new sexual encounters with a mindset of openness and curiosity.

The reality is, you don’t know what someone likes until you ask and explore together.

And you know the best part? Talking about sex is often foreplay for a lot of people. Sexy talk is hot.

We should be asking each other what we like and dislike in the bedroom. These are simple questions that don’t have to be complicated to answer. They can actually make for really great conversation and intellectual foreplay.

This is intimacy.

If you are doing the same thing with every person and seriously think that will work for every partner, honestly alarm bells are going off for me. Because that tells me either your partners have not been completely honest about their experience, or that you are not taking the time to ask people what they actually like.

The best part of removing the label of being “good in bed” from our shoulders is that the pressure disappears too.

The pressure to perform and intuit someone’s needs like a mind reader is removed.

We’re much less likely to avoid disappointment if we’re communicating with one another.

Sex is not meant to be seamless. It’s not like a movie. It’s messy and real and awkward and pleasure-filled and wonderful and exciting and sometimes a little mundane, and everything in between.

This leads me to another topic I want to touch on: our sexual needs evolve over time.

We need to keep asking one another how we can please each other. Ask your partner: “How can I please you today?” Perhaps not daily, but check in every now and then with your partner and communicate if your needs have changed as well.

We are not robots, and do not need to remain the same throughout our lives. Our bodies will change, our lives and circumstances and stress levels and desires will change.

This is what it means to be human.

It is not your responsibility to automatically know what someone’s needs in bed are.

But it is your responsibility to ask.

Trying to guess what someone wants in bed rarely works. Men especially you need to remember that women have been raised to deny their needs for survival and it is really important to consider cross-cultural contexts here as well.

Even experienced lovers can be continuously learning. The people who have the most fulfilling sexual experiences are those who stay curious, ask questions, and check in with their partner consistently.

And when two people are curious enough to keep asking each other throughout the duration of their connection, that’s where the real magic tends to happen.

When we have the courage and the commitment to stay curious throughout the duration of our relationships, we have this enormous potential for pleasure and connection.

So why miss out?

Hannah x

The superior one (vaginal) and the inferior backup option (clitoral).

For years, I quietly wondered if something was wrong with my body. Why couldn’t I orgasm from penetration alone, like other women seemed to?

Then, during a sexology lecture, I learned something that completely rewired my understanding of orgasms for the better.

There is no “vaginal” vs “clitoral” orgasm.

What if I told you that anatomically speaking… this distinction makes no sense?

Let’s talk about it.

The Moment It Clicked For Me

I was 28 when I began my sexology studies. I remember sitting in a university lecture as my lecturer explained the full anatomy of the clitoris.

I thought I already knew what the clitoris was. Like many people, I knew about the visible external glands/ clitoral hood and how that felt to touch. I also knew the large remaining anatomy of the clitoris that was hidden. But I had absolutely no idea how the clitoris actually functioned during self-pleasure or partnered sex.

The Clitoris Is Much Bigger Than You Think

Most people are taught that the clitoris is a tiny external structure.

The visible tip, the glans, is only a small portion of a much larger internal organ. The clitoris extends internally, branching into structures that wrap around the vaginal canal like wings or petals.

These internal structures (called the crura and vestibular bulbs) become engorged with blood during arousal. During penetration, they can be stimulated indirectly through the vaginal walls and through pressure against the vulva and pelvis.

In other words:

All “vaginal” orgasms are clitoral orgasms too, so what many people call a “vaginal orgasm” is actually internal clitoral stimulation (O’Connell et al., 1998; Lloyd, 2005).

Some People Orgasm From Penetration Alone, but Most Don’t

Research consistently shows that around 70–75% of vulva owners do not orgasm from penetration alone (Herbenick et al., 2017).

This isn’t dysfunction or inexperience. It’s anatomy.

For some people, internal clitoral structures sit close enough to the vaginal wall that penetration provides strong indirect stimulation. Add pelvic pressure, grinding, or external contact, and orgasm becomes possible.

For others, that stimulation is more subtle. Direct contact with hands, bodies, or toys is required to reach their pinnacle (it’s Bridgerton season, I had to).

Neither experience is superior.

They are simply different pathways to stimulating the same organ.

Enter Freud (a.k.a “Absolute Loser”)

Much of the myth comes from early psychoanalytic theory, particularly the work of Sigmund Freud, who proposed that clitoral orgasms were “childish and immature,” whilst “vaginal orgasms” represented psychological maturity and true womanhood (Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality, 1905).

What an absolute (insert desired, preferably not sex-negative, even though those are admittedly my favourite curse words here).

At the time, anatomical understanding of the clitoris was extremely limited. Freud and his contemporaries largely believed pleasure during penetration occurred independently of the clitoris.

The implication was clear: women should derive pleasure primarily from penetration, and therefore from men, otherwise they were pathologised.

Unfortunately, this idea shaped cultural attitudes toward women’s sexuality for generations, and the impacts of these attitudes still linger today.

When Science Finally Caught Up

The first comprehensive modern anatomical mapping of the clitoris was completed in 1998 by Australian urologist Helen O’Connell through MRI studies (O’Connell et al., 1998).

Earlier anatomical descriptions existed in the 19th century, notably by Georg Ludwig Kobelt (1844), whose work was largely ignored or omitted from scientific research, medical education, and practice for over a century.

Yes: medicine effectively sidelined the primary organ of female sexual pleasure.

O’Connell’s research wasn’t just revolutionary for understanding pleasure. It also transformed surgical practice, helping protect clitoral structures during pelvic and gynaecological procedures and preventing accidental damage to the clitoris.

And here’s a remarkable fact:

The clitoris is the only organ in the human body whose sole known function is pleasure.

Unlearning the Myth

After that lecture, something inside me softened.

I realised there was nothing wrong with me or my body because I couldn’t orgasm from penetration alone.

I remember excitedly telling my fiancé at the time, who happened to be a doctor.

His response?

“That can’t be true. My ex could cum from just me.”

Needless to say, the relationship didn’t last much longer.

Because moments like that reveal something deeper: the cultural story that women’s pleasure belongs to men.

And undoing years, sometimes decades, of messaging doesn’t happen overnight.

It happens slowly through education, curiosity and compassion towards ourselves.

So… Is There a Vaginal Orgasm?

Not in the way we’ve been taught.

There are different sensations, different routes, and different preferences. But anatomically, orgasm always involves the clitoral network.

The divide between vaginal and clitoral orgasms isn’t a biological truth.

It’s a historical misunderstanding.

A Love Letter to the Clitoris

Honestly, how cool is the clitoris?

An organ dedicated entirely to pleasure, that has been largely misunderstood for centuries, is doing its incredible work anyway.

If learning this feels relieving, confusing, validating, or even a little overwhelming, know that you’re not alone.

Many of us are meeting our bodies properly for the first time as adults, and you know what?

It’s fucking powerful.

Further Reading & Sources

Freud, S. (1905). Three essays on the theory of sexuality. Basic Books.

Herbenick, D., Fu, T.-C. (Jane), Arter, J., Sanders, S. A., & Dodge, B. (2017). Women’s experiences with genital touching, sexual pleasure, and orgasm: Results from a U.S. probability sample of women ages 18 to 94. Journal of Sex & Marital Therapy, 44(2), 201–212. https://doi.org/10.1080/0092623x.2017.1346530

Kobelt, G. L. (1844). Anatomical studies of female erectile tissue. Wagner’sche Buchhandlung.

Lloyd, E. A. (2005). The case of the female orgasm. Harvard University Press.

O’Connell, H., Hutson, J., Anderson, R., & Foster, D. (1998–2005). MRI studies of clitoral anatomy. The Journal of Urology, 159(3), 964–968.

WMHP. (n.d.). Curious about the clitoris [Diagram]. Retrieved February 27, 2026, from https://www.wmhp.com.au/blogs/curious-about-the-clitoris

A question many have pondered, discussed and quietly allowed to influence their choice in sexual partners: does size really matter?

This won’t be a long article, as the answer to this is not complicated. Nuanced perhaps, however straightforward when we r…

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