Image: “Enjoy the View” by S. Butler

I didn’t come from cunnilingus until I was 25 years old.

My pussy spent nine long years partaking in clumsy tongue pokings and proddings and pelvic grindings and inevitable just-stick-it-in-already’s — cue the melancholic strings. Luckily, I orgasm easily from penetrative sex, so I never really knew what I missing. And holy fuck, the things my pussy was missing.

On that fateful New Year’s Eve of 2015, my eyes (and nether lips) opened to a whole new way of fucking. My suitor, “Dollar Bill” Dan, led me to the upstairs bedroom of his halfway remodeled shotgun house. We met earlier…

Young, dumb, and 21 — I walked into the (now defunct) country bar in Boulder, CO slightly tipsy and ready to ride. I watched from the back as bodies glided through thick air over bartenders and frat bros and standards that promptly went missing once the third shot hit. Lucky me, the list was quick, and soon enough I took a seat on my jerky, Taurean sister. She had definitely seen some shit.

Image: “Bareback in Terlingua” by Lili Hickman

Summers in Colorado weren’t sticky like Texas, but the saddle stained with months of stale Coors Light gave home a run for its money. Things started slowly…

A snap, crackle, and pop into the era of millennial addiction.

Steve Heap/Shutterstock

It’s running uncomfortably low now. A cartridge depleting like my patience in front of a bro explaining why Hillary lost the election—fucking quickly.

My throat burns with stale electric vapor as I fumble through my purse, an excavation of three weeks worth of grocery receipts and half-eaten granola bars.

After cupping what feels like four slightly rectangled objects (phone, glasses case, sunscreen bottle, half-eaten granola #2), I land on a clean, white package of millennial’s Plutonium. I shake out what I now find to be an empty promise of…

How I learned to pack my own sexual power.

“Penises,” I whisper to my preschool confidant. I’m just a wee McNasty, five years old, and absolutely enamored with our summer swim day changing times. Little bros run pantless through the classroom, screaming bloody murder as teachers scurry after them with trunks in hand (they really don’t get paid enough for that shit, y’all).

It was in that moment, half-perplexed and half-delighted by this awkward display of Donald Ducking, when my fervent dick envy blossomed. I wanted what they had fucking freedom in a third limb.

Don’t: Treat my vagina like a manhole.

Though dark, moist, and mysterious (and okay, it’s been visited by at least one construction worker), my vagina does not, I repeat, DOES NOT like to be plowed awkwardly and repetitively with the same amount of force as a pneumatic drill. There is nothing sexy or exhilarating about jackhammer sex, only an idea that someone is not fucking you, but an orifice that is attached to you. Call me old fashioned, but when I take my clothes off and enthusiastically consent to your dick inside of me, I’m thinking more along the lines of Nicole Kidman and Jude Law gettin’…

Image Credit: Louise Androlia, @louiseandrolia

Through almost three decades of life, I’ve experienced a couple major heartbreaks, more than a few (hundred) heartaches, and probably two almost-dick-breaks — reverse cowgirl’s a motherfucker, y’all. Some hurt more than others, but what I’ve learned from navigating the turmoil of accidentally liking a photo of an ex’s new girlfriend from five years ago (FUCK), I can — with some amount of experience (and shame) say — it doesn’t get any easier with age.

A friend from college once said that he fell in love with multiple people a day. He fell in love with the girl getting dumplings…

Image Credit: BBGIRLTX, @bbgirltx

After living in the same house for four years — with my own bathroom, my own space, my own carefully crafted reality TV watching schedule (sup Below Deck Mediterranean), and the accumulated dust and beer stick from countless house parties past — I’ve forgone the ritual and stagnancy of comfort to move in with the boyf in a new and exciting adventure I like to call “Millennial Houseplant Co-Parenting: A Love Story.”

In the two and a half years since we’ve been together, I’ve seen an enormous amount of change in myself and in our relationship — mostly for the…

Image credit: Elza Burkart, @elzaburkart

You’re upset. I can tell because you haven’t said a word in the eight minutes that we’ve been grabbing all of the shit from beneath our tent turned puddle. I told you I wasn’t sure about the open tarp layout, but hell, there wasn’t even a cloud in the sky three hours ago. We jam our soaking wet sleeping bags, a travel sized backgammon board, my underwear and your pillow (I forgot mine because duh) into the backseat of your Golf. Up until this point, we enjoyed a dry evening of beer salt and Modelo, pesto pasta from a packet…

Credit: Jennifer Pate,

Getting banged by squishy half-chubs was an old pastime of mine. Why, might you ask, did I allow flaccid penes to wriggle their way into my vagina with not so much a peep out of my otherwise daring 18-year-old persona? I did it for the same reason why I let my vag get chafed and raw and swollen while banging a fling when I was 20 because he hadn’t jizzed yet. Neither had I. I did it for the same reason why I had never orgasmed from getting eating out until I was 24-fucking-years-old. “It’s just not my thing,” they…

Image by Andrew Walker, @designsince86

We met five months ago. We’ve dabbled in butt play, but I’m still too scared to go anywhere near your asshole. I know your friends, some of the high school ones too, and we’ve made it through a rainy and PMS fueled eight-hour-turned-seventeen-hour road trip (thank you busted heater hose). The fucking is great, fantastic even, but I still can’t tell if it’s the slight downward curve of your dick or the slightly familiar twinge of love that makes me come so much. I guess my vagina doesn’t really care as long as she’s happy and wet and tended to.

Laura McNairy

Assistant Editor of Peach Fuzz Magazine. Amateur hand model looking to go pro. McNasty by day — McNasty by night, also.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store