How to Do It is Slate’s sex advice column. Have a question? Send it to Stoya and Rich here. It’s anonymous!
Dear How to Do It,
I’m a 28-year-old cis woman who has never been pregnant and never wants to become pregnant. That detail is relevant because I’ve been lactating for over two years. It started out of the blue back in August 2020. I noticed this when I was washing my breasts in the shower. Nothing has made it stop. I even went off birth control three times for one month each time just to see if that had any effect but my tits kept leaking. I hadn’t had any changes in my diet. The only life change was I experienced a significant and ongoing stressor about six weeks before this started.
I had an MRI of my pituitary gland taken, a breast exam, and full blood work done, and everything is coming up normal. My doctor said it’s possible it could be due to stress. It’s only a little milk (a few drops per squeeze) so it’s not terribly inconvenient, but I still absolutely hate it. I feel repulsed by my breasts and don’t want my boyfriend to play with them because if he squeezed some out, or even worse, got some in his mouth, I would be mortified. He’s been with me for almost a decade, so he probably would just grab a tissue and get over it in like three seconds, so his reaction isn’t the issue. I just want to be able to stand my stupid body and feel even slightly sexy again. I already battle many of the typical insecurities women (especially women of color!) in America have about their bodies. I REALLY did not need one more thing to hate about myself.
So my questions are: What else can I do to get to the bottom of this medical mystery? If I’m stuck like this, how do I stop hating it? I’ve joked about dipping into the niche fetish market for tiny-breasted, ethnically ambiguous, non-pregnant lactating skinny chicks to help defray some of my crushing grad school debt. That would obviously carry very significant personal and professional risks, so it’s not a serious option, but sometimes I feel like the only way I can stop hating this part of myself is if I could at least make it good for something, and I don’t produce enough to donate to parents and babies in need (truly the worst of both worlds). If this were part of a natural course of pregnancy and breastfeeding, I wouldn’t think it was gross, but under these conditions, it feels freakish. Is it…even possible to develop a fetish for this and eroticize it? Currently, I hate the lactation, but if I can’t get rid of it, and can’t stop hating it by making it useful and/or profitable, then the only remaining option seems to be erotically embracing it. How would I do that? I’m imagining a very A Clockwork Orange setup, except with lactation porn and instructions to masturbate until you like it, so ideas for something that isn’t a literal method of torture would be great.
—When Life Hands You Milky Tits
Dear When Life Hands You Milky Tits,
I can’t help with the medical mystery aspect of your letter. Doctors really aren’t into giving medical advice through advice columns. Explain to your doctor all of the emotional turmoil this is causing you that you’ve explained here. Tell them how distanced you’re feeling from your body and how this is interfering with your sex life and your relationship with yourself. Ask for a referral to a specialist. Grovel if you have to. You’ll also want to get some information on how your particular health coverage is set up as far as whose permission you need to see what kind of doctor. The latter might look like simply asking for a second opinion from a different doctor at a different practice. To manage your expectations, I asked for second, third, and fifteenth opinions, and saw specialists, for over 20 years before my hormone issues were diagnosed—and have yet to see results with treatment. My experience with the U.S. medical system is tragically common when we’re talking about “women’s health.” How much you persevere will probably depend on how much this bothers you, and how long it takes will be partially informed by luck.
I think your attempts to make meaning out of milky mammaries might be a counterproductive quest. I hear that you “did not need one more thing to hate about” yourself, and I’m hoping you can find at least one thing about your body that you don’t hate. Right now, anything you even feel neutral about is a starting point. Once you’ve got something in mind, consider how you can appreciate that. For instance, I appreciate my fingers for the ability they give me to type out my thoughts, which keeps me gainfully employed and also allows me to express myself. I stretch out my fingers between paragraphs because it feels nice, sometimes massage my hands, and use an effective hand cream. I love my feet because of what they do to people who are into feet, sexually, so I use them to tease and give pleasure. Focusing on function works for some people while highlighting form works for others. And acts of use, care, decoration, and documentation are all ways people sometimes enjoy appreciating their bodies. If you’re coming up with absolutely nothing, it’s worth seeking out a therapist who is culturally competent (meaning, who gets the basics of your experiences as a woman of color in the U.S.) to get some help. Sometimes working through intense body issues can be overwhelming as we confront them, and having trained backup can be reassuring.
As for sexualizing the milk, definitely don’t go the A Clockwork Orange route. Here’s one idea. About 14 months ago, I ran my big toenail into something and busted the whole nail. For over a year, I had this gnarly lumpy thing growing out of it. During that time, I refused to take my sock off except to bathe. I would have sex with one sock on. I would sleep with one sock on. I could not bear to look at this toe. And a dear friend and occasional lover of mine, who loves feet, was very curious about it. Eventually, I showed him the toe. He asked if he could kiss it. I felt weird, but the kind of weird that felt safe to lean into, so I let him kiss my toe. The sensation was interesting, but, more importantly, his unconditional love for this part of my body helped me feel better about what had felt like a temporary deformity. It became just a toe again. I could relax about it. I can’t promise that you’ll have the same experience with your boyfriend and your milk, but I do want you to know that it’s possible. You might have an easier time if you strive for a stance of “This milk is a mediocre mishap” than “How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Lactation.” Good luck. I think you’re going to be OK.
Dear How to Do It,
My partner and I just got a sex swing after mutually fantasizing over it for months. Despite it sounding super fun, I’m having trouble enjoying it. When in the swing, I feel very separated and disconnected from my partner because it doesn’t support two people’s weight, so there’s little touching. But more importantly, when I put my feet in the stirrups, it feels too…medical. How do I get past gynecological exam trauma in order to enjoy sex?
—Not the Doctor
Dear Not the Doctor,
I imagine that the habit of how you put your feet in the stirrups is tied to experiences at the gynecologist—aside from the gyno and the podiatrist, we don’t often find ourselves on our backs with our feet in stirrups. So the first thing I would do is get creative with that. Can the stirrups be closer to your body, or further away? How about higher or lower? Can you alter the arrangement of your legs—leaning the knees closer together or spreading them further apart than you would in a medical setting?
You can apply this same creativity when looking for ways to increase physical contact. Are you dangling there while your partner penetrates you? If so, no wonder you feel separated and disconnected. Some people like that feeling. But you don’t. Ask your partner to hold you close. Ask them to splay their hands on your thighs, your back, your chest, anywhere you like to be touched.
I expect once the gyno reminders are out of the way and you’re touching each other more, you’ll feel more connected. You can also work on ways to heighten mental and emotional connection. Remind each other why you were each fantasizing about the swing in the first place. Talk about how you’re feeling—even if that’s, “I’m actually feeling really awkward because I wanted this and it isn’t like I imagined at all.” Or “Wow, I yearn for you even while you’re inside me and I’m wondering if we can figure out a way to feel closer.” You’ve got this.
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Dear How to Do It,
Could you please recommend some good erotic authors and/or films, maybe an online sex toy store or two, as well as some tips for a middle-aged, masturbatory novice? My (male) spouse’s sex drive is basically non-existent. If I (female) explicitly ask for sex, he usually obliges me, which is great for informed consent but leaves me feeling about as sexually desirable as a defrosting pork loin in the fridge. We’ve talked about it, fought about it, and he’s been to the doctor to make sure there isn’t an underlying health issue. We’re both seeing a counselor together and separately, but things haven’t improved; he’d rather play video games instead. I’m not interested in sleeping with anybody else, or in getting a divorce. I just want to get off!
—Hot, Bothered, and Very Frustrated
Dear Very Frustrated,
“Good” is incredibly subjective when we’re talking about sexual props and media. It’s hard to know what you like when you’re a novice, and without knowing what you like, I can’t match you with media that are likely to push your buttons. What I can do is give you a bit of a sampler. (Editor’s note: I should disclose up front that I have professional or social ties to almost everyone mentioned and have been given comped links or advance review copies of several of the resources suggested here. Sex-positive erotic work is a pretty small community and we’re usually happy to share our stuff with each other.)
For authors, start with Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Best Women’s Erotica of the Year anthologies. Or, for humor, Joanna Angel’s choose your own adventure erotic novels Night Shift and Club 42. Nicholson Baker’s House of Holes is one of my personal favorites—dripping with patriarchy but bizarre, exceptionally well-written, and very hot. Confessions of a Sheba Queen by Autumn Bardot is a romp through mythology starring a half-demon sex pot who gets what she wants in the end. If BDSM is appealing, Laura Antoniou’s The Marketplace is an all-time classic, though do be warned that the series uses master/slave language. For graphic novels, Sunstone by Stjepan Sejić, Yes, Roya by C. Spike Trotman, Trotman’s whole Smut Peddler series (I wrote the intro to the tenth-anniversary edition of the first volume), Tina Horn’s SFSX, and Dean Haspiel’s Fear, My Dear.
As far as films, Four Chambers has some really gorgeous, experimental explicit films and a business model that is entirely consent driven. You also might enjoy Erika Lust or Bellesa, if you’re partial to aesthetics and their feminist-porn brand of authenticity. And friend of the column Cindy Gallop’s Make Love Not Porn has a ton of user-generated videos that show self-recorded sexual interactions between people who are compensated through profit sharing but encouraged to film and deliver exactly what they want, on a time schedule that works for them. For more mainstream fare depicting light to medium BDSM that’s mostly driven by examinations of power, you might enjoy Kayden Kross’s Deeper and the rest of the Vixen network’s more vanilla but very aesthetically driven sites. And for an immense library of independently produced porn, specifically highlighting queer and feminist videos, check out PinkLabel. You’ll see some of my own work, along with hundreds of other films spanning decades. And the Golden Era stuff—Behind the Green Door, The Opening of Misty Beethoven, and The Devil in Miss Jones—is still discussed for a reason.
Toys are, again, very personal. I’d say start with a dildo that’s a bit shorter and thinner than the dick you’re used to, and try a few kinds of vibrators. My favorites are the Womanizer style clit-suckers, but some people love something slim with a precision tip, and others are complete devotees of the legendary Magic Wand. Friends of the column Epiphora and Kate Sloan each have massive review sites. Do some reading, try a couple of toys, and get an idea of what you prefer and dislike. Links abound on both of their websites, so you’ll have an easy time finding places to purchase anything you’re interested in.
Enjoy the process of exploration. Make notes if you feel motivated, on what you like and what you like about it. When you’ve got some sense of what you’re into, feel free to write back in, please! I live for this kind of work. Lastly, two more books I recommend all the time: Annie Sprinkle’s The Explorer’s Guide to Planet Orgasm, and Barbara Carrellas’ Urban Tantra. Both contain wisdom on body mapping, pleasure, and masturbation. Either one is a great place to start.
Dear How to Do It,
I (19M) have just become sexually active with my girlfriend (19F). She’s amazing and even though I lacked any experience in this area before, she has been nothing but patient and understanding. That being said, there is one thing. Because of the medication she’s on, she says she is unable to have an orgasm. She says she still enjoys sex and the intimacy that comes with it. I guess my question is since I am inexperienced and don’t know otherwise, is there something I can do to get her there? Am I missing something? Is there a tried and true method? I just want her to feel the same amazing end to sex that she gives me.
—New Student
Dear New Student,
Your heart is completely in a great place, and the golden rule really trips people up when we try to apply it to sex. Think it through—she’s a different person, with different parts, and different capacities to orgasm at this time. Equality is not equity. When you’re saying “she says,” I have this question of whether you’re doubting your girlfriend. Believe her when she tells you that she doesn’t orgasm right now and that she’s enjoying the intimacy the two of you share during sex. Ask her for specifics about that intimacy—what gives her those feelings?—and give her more of that. Make the amazing sex you’re trying to give her less about replicating what she does for you, and more about making her feel just as amazing as she makes you feel—whatever that looks like for her.
To spare you both from living through this, let me tell you what often happens when people put pressure on their partners to orgasm. First, the goal-oriented nature often makes the possibility of orgasm that much slimmer. Then, female partners often begin to feel like a game to be won or a computer to be hacked. They feel like their not orgasming is somehow a failure. Then what follows? Shame. Distress. Resentment. It’s awful, and you can take a different road.
Communicate to your girlfriend that the moment she wants to try for an orgasm you are 100 percent here for it, and remind her of this fact every few months—not weeks, and definitely not days. Otherwise, respect her wishes and ask for her desires, and then do your best to engage with her accordingly.
—Stoya
More Advice From Slate
I am a 33-year-old married woman, and I have been on birth control since I was 16 years old. My sex drive was always pretty moderate. Once or twice a week was plenty for me, and my husband was the same way. We’ve always had very satisfying and exciting sex, but we could also go two or three weeks without having sex if we were tired, busy, or just not feeling it. About four months ago, I stopped taking birth control for health reasons and boy, things have changed. My sex drive is HIGH. The good news is, I find my husband sexier and more desirable than ever.
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