Here’s a bold truth: I don’t enjoy penetration of any kind unless I’m wet enough to drown a dolphin. And this truth wouldn’t be a problem if sex weren’t always about penetration. One sex therapist put it best when she said, “If most women don’t have orgasms during ‘sex,’ but do have orgasms, perhaps we need to redefine sex.” Amen and Ashé.

With a redefinition that includes pleasurable, intimate touch, kissing and best of all (for me, anyway) cunnilingus, I realize that I had some of my best sex as a teenager. He was Pentecostal and I was a Baptist youth leader. We were both convinced that sex before marriage was wrong and equally convinced that only penetration was sex. It was a sultry, sticky summer full of questions that began with “Do you like?” Sex was a lazy journey without a clear destination.

I was soon to learn all about the danger of clarity in a patriarchal society. Since then, sex for me has been a series of negotiations. I know there will usually be a moment when a male partner is ready for penetration and often, that is before I’m ready/ comfortable/ wet / aroused enough. If sex were not a personal expression of political power, these moments would be no more than awkward. It would be like leaning in for a hug first only to find that the other person was disinterested. The problem is that men in a patriarchy are socialized to “lean in” first– always. And those who are not conscious enough to interrogate this socialization begin to believe that leaning in is their right, their privilege. So awkward moments can become coercion, assault, or rape. Or just horrible sex. But you know that already.

What you may not know is that with time, the right partner, patience and negotiation, it gets wetter. Believe you me.

So I’d like to start with cunnilingus because, well, I like to start with cunnilingus. It’s a beautiful thing. Direct and indirect clitoral stimulation work together to flood sheets and help you ride the waves of multiple orgasms. A recent study found that there are only 29 people in America who sleep with women but don’t perform cunnilingus and only 11 of those expect to receive fellatio or cunnilingus but think cunnilingus should be reserved for “wifey.” Unfortunately, those 11 get around quite often. My girlfriends keep running into them. I believe that we should start a website to identify these people and block them from hookup or relationship radar.

There are a lot of songs about performing cunnilingus . In fact, the subject has been exhausted with various degrees of tact. The point I’d like to make is that the word “perform” is a misnomer that puts undue pressure on a partner. Unless you are into experimental, interactive theater, performance has connotations of independent expertise. In my experience, cunnilingus is best (especially at first) with a little direction. Those who consider themselves experts can suck you silly or lick you dry if what they’re putting down doesn’t work for your particular pubis.

About that pubis: the porn industry, Zane novels and other forms of sex miseducation would have you believe that a woman can be reduced to her orifices- that these are her only sites of pleasure. My dissertation will be about how the soft skin behind the knee is ignored in popular culture. Or the lost art of booty massage. Or the treatment of the vagina as a cavernous hole that brings pleasure to men or children to the world. Most vagina diagrams show the outer vagina only, leaving the inner workings a mystery.

I never had a vaginal orgasm until I read this book and saw a diagram of my beautiful vagina, full of nerve endings I never knew existed.

When I saw how long the clitoris actually was, I was able to imagine the spongy tissue as I engaged in solo or partnered sex acts. Visualization helped me attach sensation to specific body parts. It was a life changer and I was angry about the years I spent not knowing. Imagine if men were taught that the only way they could achieve orgasm was by massaging the very tips of their penises. You’re right. It wouldn’t happen.

I invite you to study your sexual self. She’s beautiful. Draw her. Paint her (Judy Chicago=FAIL). Write poems to her. She deserves some personalized attention in this world that is hell-bent on her exploitation and commoditization.

I write these things and run the risk of being called crass, hypersexual, or just plain strange because I love you. I want you to know that life can and will be wetter for you. I want you to name it and claim it. I want you to receive this word I have for you. With time, your eyes will roll. Your thighs will spasm uncontrollably. Your pupils will dilate. Your very core will shake like the walls of Jericho when you believe. It will get wetter.

From the other side,

Ashaf