Made this happen
Feeling Self Conscious In Bed? Here’s Why You Need To Make a Sex Tape Now
The Debrief: It might sounds counterintuitive, but here’s why your sexual confidence might actually be lurking down a camera lens
I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but something’s happened in the last few years that has meant that being in your 20s has suddenly become shorthand for being sexually adventurous. As confident, sexually liberated women born at some point during the mid to late 80s, we’re told from every every media outlet spewing diatribes on ‘millennial' life that these are our Fucking Years - we should be having sex right now, preferably casually, and we should be doing it in as many positions (and holes) as possible. We’re on Tinder and Happn, we’ve got sex toys in our side cabinet and we’re having anal sex as standard. If we’re not, then we’re simply not living up to our 20-something potential and we should probably do something about it immediately lest we turn thirty and our chance to be sexually adventurous slips from our grasp along with our student rail card and the faint possibility of ever making enough money to justify getting global membership of the Soho House group at the discounted rate.
It’s a powerful (and faintly terrifying) rhetoric and it’s one that certainly filtered down into my friendship group, for whom a week night doesn’t seem to be complete without an obligatory dick pic from someone’s latest Happn guy being sent around for approval in our WhatsApp group. For the most part I’ve played along, sharing jokes about deep throating technique and even buying myself a butt plug, but the honest truth is that I’ve always known I was something of an outsider in this, at least outwardly, hyper-sexually confident environment, secretly preferring snuggles to S&M and actual cake to bukake. But whilst I’ve always suspected it to be the case, nothing could have prepared me for how sexually vanilla I actually was until I met someone who was genuinely sexually adventurous, not just for show, but by preference. Especially as that person turned out to be my boyfriend. Who wanted me to make a sex tape.
I met Alex about a year ago at a mutual friend’s club night where he was drunkenly trying to convince a world-renowned house DJ from New York to play Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody while spilling beer all over his record collection. I was instantly attracted to him. Luckily, he felt the same way and after a few half-baked attempts at ‘proper dates’ in restaurants and about six months of label-less shagging, we decided to give it a go For Reals and have been happily exclusive ever since. The sex was instantly pretty amazing because Alex was so eager to please and give me the kind of attention I wasn’t really used to [read: he loves going down on me. A lot. For, like, hours] and he got off on watching me have a good time and come out of my shell sexually. He never pressured me into trying anything I didn’t want to do, but I was having so much fun [read: I was having multiple orgasms] every time we did it that, whenever he suggested something, I felt comfortably enough and excited to give it a go. I tried anal for the first time with him (and wasn’t that fussed), actually used that butt plug I had stashed in my side-cabinet for years and even managed to have sex outdoors (on a park bench and in a pub toilet - not exactly glamorous but both perfectly acceptable editions to my new sexual repertoire).
But despite all the strides I was making developing my sexual confidence, something was still standing in the way of being totally relaxed in bed. I hated certain parts of my body - including, but not limited to, my bum - so I couldn’t ever really do doggy style without feeling self-conscious, would rather do it with the lights off and would avoid walking around naked in front of him as much as possible (and if I did, I’d usually walk with my back to the wall). That’s why, despite all my best efforts, I was completely horrified when Alex suggested it might be hot to film ourselves having sex. At least in my head I could at least try to imagine away all of my body worries and have a good time in bed - how the hell was I supposed to do that with a big fat camera lens pointing at my cellulite?
It’s sounds awful, but what eventually convinced me to give it a go was because it was Alex’s birthday coming up and I knew it would make him really happy. We spoke about it for ages and he was reticent that he didn’t want me to do anything that I didn’t want to do, but I could tell he was gagging for the idea (he got hard whilst we were discussing it) and because I loved and trusted him I agreed to give it a go under a couple of conditions. Firstly, that the lighting was low and flattering (we’re talking lamps here - no one wants to see their lady garden under the full glare of strip lighting); that it would never be shown to anyone other than ourselves; that the camera would never have full-frontal view of my arse and if I didn’t like it when we watched it it would be deleted without any questions asked.
So Alex set up his SLR in his bedroom and I got sufficiently drunk to get my Kim Kardashian on and worse matching underwear for the first time in about seven years. The sex itself was the best we’d had in months, probably because Alex was so turned on by the whole thing that he went to town making sure I was enjoying myself. I came. Several times. And, amazingly, when we stopped and had a look how long we’d been filming for we had actually been shagging for nearly two hours, which is pretty impressive by anyone’s standards.
I was shitting myself when he uploaded the footage and prepared ourself for a screening and started to feel nervous nausea rising in my stomach but, when I turned round to him, I was amazed to see that Alex’s hand was trembling as well and he was just as nervous as I was. It was an incredible relief - my amazing, sexually confident boyfriend might actually be as self-conscious about his sexually prowess as I was. The video itself was at times completely harrowing (at one point I actually mooed like a cow), other times just hilarious (there was a fanny fart involved and Alex nearly came in his own eye) but there were moments - at least three - when both of us looked actually pretty hot. Dare I say it, there were even moments I’d be kind of into other people seeing because I look fucking sexy.
But despite the actual product, what was most liberating about the whole experience was realising that we’re all just as self-conscious about this stuff as each other. I might have seen Alex as this hyper-sexual being who’s potency stopped him from ever feeling ashamed about his sexual performance, but the truth of it is we all have hangups and stuff we’d rather not see in the cold light of a computer screen. It was liberating and made me realise that I needn’t be worry about my arse just in the same way Alex needn’t be worried about how his dick looks when it’s limp - because we love each other and are turned on by each other despite those things. And, of course, that’s what editing is for and we’ve now managed to turn two hours of messy, embarrassing and sometimes sexy sex into a ten minutes of full-on, YouPorn ready bonk fest. It’s so hot, in fact, that we ended up having sex in front of ourselves having sex, which is as meta as it gets. It’s sounds mad, but facing my sexual hangups head on was the best thing I did to get rid of the vast majority of them for good.
Liked this? You might also be interested in:
At work? With your gran?
You might want to think about the fact you're about to read something that wouldn't exactly get a PG rating