Guest blog: does sex make music sound better?


As I discovered when writing the intro to this blog, quite a few people google the question ‘does music make sex better?’ I quite like the idea that there are one or two particularly excellent songs which, when played during a hot shag, will instantly make the guy I’m with jizz gold coins or fireworks or something. But what about the other way round?

This week’s guest blogger is Joel, who runs a music blog over at The Album Wall. He wants to flip that question: is any given piece of music guaranteed to sound better if you’ve fucked to it?

Does sex make music sound better?

I recently purchased My Love is Cool, the hotly-anticipated debut album from North London four-piece Wolf Alice. It’s a pretty great listen; the band have a dangerous, ‘don’t fuck with us’ cool that’s kind of irresistible in a rock band, and they cover a thrillingly wide variety of sounds over the course of just twelve tracks.

It’s also the perfect soundtrack for giving head. Most of the music I listen to is consumed in the car or at my desk in work, but over the last few weeks, My Love is Cool has been almost exclusively reserved for those moments when I’m face-first in my girlfriend’s pussy. Wolf Alice’s music is just the right pace for a hot, hard tonguing, and while each song sounds completely different to the one before it, somehow they all sound completely perfect when my face is covered in her juices. From the sensual cool of the opening track to the shrieking, unhinged ecstasy of songs like You’re a Germ and Fluffy, every last note is an excellent match for what my mouth is doing.

Yes, reader, I’m firmly of the belief that sex is all the sexier when you’re fucking (or, indeed, tonguefucking) to music. You can’t just throw anything on, of course – there are rules –  but for me, there’s no sexual activity that can’t be improved with a good melody and a pounding drum line. If nothing else, the presence of an underpinning tempo really helps to intensify the waves of pleasure that accompany a good fuck.

Of course, it’s hardly controversial to suggest that sex is better with music – I’m sure we’ve all had the odd better-than-average orgasm courtesy of Barry White and his taint-tinglingly deep voice. However, I have an additional theory: I would propose that music is actually improved if you’re having sex while you listen to it. Just as sex is better with music, I think that music is better with sex; that you’re more likely to enjoy a song if you hear it while you’re getting down and dirty.

This isn’t something that’s only occurred to me recently. In my previous relationship, it was practically a running gag – if we had sex to music, I would always, always profess to “fuckin’ love this song!” after I had come. It didn’t matter what the song was; pretty much everything sounded amazing to me post-screw. I know very little about the science of sex (or about science in general, really), but it seems reasonably safe to assume that an orgasm, with its accompanying rush of endorphins, affects the brain’s sensory perception in such a way that music genuinely does sound better to eardrums that have recently been shaken by the throes of passion.

Still, I doubt that’s the only way in which shagging improves the sound of music (as opposed to The Sound of Music, although God knows I’d be a lot more eager to watch that film if they’d added a bit a bit of shagging). If you’ve ever been to a gig, chances are you saw people moving along to the music that was being performed: nodding their heads, jumping up and down, and – if you’re not watching the miserable sort of whiteboy indie I always end up seeing – perhaps even dancing.

All of the above are means of physically interacting with sound, and they feel good because they make you an active participant in the music instead of the passive spectator that you would otherwise be. Sex is another way to physically engage with music, and it’s probably the most enjoyable of all: sexual intercourse is when you’re at your most primal, and so those sweaty sessions between the sheets are when you’re most closely in touch with your senses, as well as with how your body is reacting to the information you’re receiving from your ears.

(And you get the enjoyment of having sex, which is obviously a plus.)

Let’s come back to that Wolf Alice album, because it’s a great example of what I’m talking about here. When I’m eating my girlfriend’s cunt, Alice aren’t just providing a suitable sonic backdrop – they’re playing an active part in the head that I’m giving. The drummer is setting the pace at which I move, and the band in front of him are dictating my intensity, conducting the whole dirty symphony. In the quiet parts, I lick gently, but when things get loud, I grab her legs and push her backwards and drive my tongue into her clit like my life depends on it. When the musicians pause, I pause too; when the rhythm changes, I change what I’m doing to match it, to maintain that hot, heart-thumping connection between mouth and music.

There’s one other, final way in which sex makes music better: association. Because now, if I do listen toMy Love is Cool at my desk or in the car, the songs take me right back to my girlfriend’s bedroom – all I have to do is press ‘Play’ and my face is in between her thighs once more, lapping at her wetness.

I doubt Wolf Alice ever imagined that their album would end up serving as some guy’s personal cunnilingus playlist, and if Ellie, Joff, Theo or Joel are reading this, I’d like to offer my apologies for appropriating their hard work in this manner. Frankly, though, it’s working in their advantage – I find it hard to believe that I would be enjoying My Love is Cool quite this much if I didn’t associate it so closely with the taste of my girlfriend’s pussy.

If you liked this (and why on Earth wouldn’t you?) then please do leave a comment below, and follow Joel on Twitter @TheAlbumWall.

Is it wrong for a dad to want to pass on his surname?


A man is sad because he wants his children to have his surname. He wants it so much that he wrote an article in the Telegraph about it. I’m not sure this is the traditional way to solve an argument with a loved one, but if that’s what we’re doing now then I’d love a column in which I can explain to my Mum why she’s wrong about which way the knives go up in the dishwasher.

Anyway. He is sad because traditionally kids take the name of the guy in a relationship (and because traditionally of course relationships consist of one man, one woman, some kids and a dog called ‘Bunty’), yet because of the rapid erosion of patriarchy, and the towering inferno of feminist rage that is currently decimating our society, he has NOTHING LEFT TO CALL HIS OWN NOW. All he’s asking is to give his kids his surname. Please will we just let him have this one little thing that’s really important? Is it too much to ask? IS IT?

Let’s explore.

Continue reading…

Do women like porn?


Imagine a club in which all the doors are five foot six. You’re six foot tall, so you have to duck to enter. On your way to the club, you had to get out at the train station and hop onto a crowded shuttle bus. There was a person standing with a sign directing you to it:

“Shuttle bus for people below five foot six this way!”

When you walked past them to step onto the bus, they didn’t exactly tell you to leave, but a fair few people gave you weird looks.

Continue reading…

Casual femdom, and sex that’s not sex

is there anything more humiliating than a penchant for michael gove?

Image by the genius Stuart F Taylor

Text: For every minute you’re late, I’m going to make you put an ice cube down your trousers.

I was quite proud of that one at the time. He still hasn’t done it though. The pub was a bit exposed and to be honest, it felt like maybe that one was a bit sexual. Ice cubes? Cool. Casual femdom? Fine. Trouser-based activity? Probably pushing it.

I have a friend who is super-sub. The kind of submissive you find in clubs wearing just PVC panties and an expectant grin. The sort of guy I’d playfully ask for a foot rub if my pointy shoes were killing me. A sub who does whatever you ask, then looks at you with those puppy-dog-eyes I’ve heard so much about, eager for you to issue another instruction.

Continue reading…

Guest blog: Paying for pleasure with a male escort

AnthonyByNight - male escort

Pic courtesy of Anthony

Meet Anthony – Anthony is a straight male escort and researcher of intimate desire. Currently he flies between Melbourne and Sydney but he is available wherever you are. Get to know him on his website Male Escort Diaries, and on Twitter @AnthonyByNight.

He’s here to talk to you about shame, pleasure, and sex work. You all know I love a good theory about sex, and I’m fascinated/frustrated by the way we have certain gender-related taboos when it comes to sex. The fact that female sex toys are encouraged while men are often shamed for using them – that kind of thing. Today Anthony’s going to talk about our gendered shaming when it comes to paying for sex.

Continue reading…