Why Feminist Men Fuck Me Better

First and foremost, there’s the simple fact that feminist men seek enthusiastic consent from a potential partner before engaging in sexual activity.  If a man (or woman) doesn’t seek and acquire consent first, then they’re not a feminist.  No brainer.

The feminist man doesn’t get weird when I bring up contraception.  Even better, he initiates the conversation when it becomes clear that sexual activity is desired.  Why?  Not only because he values the physical health of both partners, but also because he knows that accidental conception leads to the responsibility of fully engaged parenthood for both man and woman, whether in a partnership or not.

The feminist man knows that media beauty ideals are bullshit, and is able to appreciate the true beauty of the diverse shapes and sizes of the female form.

The feminist man knows that sexualized images of women in passive poses can be super sexy, but so can sexualized images of powerful women and sexualized images of both passive and powerful men and gender nonconforming people.  The feminist man can even articulate that the proliferation of one type of sexualized image at the expense of all others reflects a deep problem within our culture.

The feminist man knows how to navigate boundaries and fantasies.  He knows that, just because I sometimes want to play a submissive role during sex and play, I am no less feminist.  He takes the upper hand when it feels good to us both and allows me to let go.

The feminist man likes it when I take the upper hand during sex and play.  He sees sensuality in my masculine side and appreciates the sensuality in his own feminine side.  We can flip it.

The feminist man can enjoy sexual activity without roles, where we meet on equal planes and express our deep respect and desire for each other in a myriad of ways, most of which look nothing like typical pornography.

The feminist man took the time to do some homework and learned how to find my clitoris.

The feminist man got extra credit when he showed me my own g-spot and just how to work it.

The feminist man sees the whole me, and knows that by nurturing the intellectual, emotional, and spiritual components of our relationship he cultivates the sexual component exponentially.

The feminist man knows how to use his words and speak about what brings him pleasure.  He knows that his pleasure doesn’t have to look like the images he has been sold of male sexuality.

The feminist man values my pleasure and encourages me to use my words, then listens carefully when I do so that he can find out what brings me pleasure.

The feminist man is not intimidated by sex toys, and in fact loves them because they make me scream.

By being a rare thoughtful and compassionate ally to women in a rape culture that left my relationship to my sexuality deeply wounded, the feminist man who takes the time to appreciate my humanness and my politics earns the beautiful privilege of witnessing my REAL sexuality.  And my REAL sexuality is hot.  Hotter than I dreamed it could be back when I dated non-feminist men.  He fucks me better because he inspires me to fuck him better.  There is nothing hotter than a feminist man, and I enjoy rewarding him for restoring my faith (over, and over, and over¦)

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