So… Here’s the thing.

The current Kink of the Week topic is “risky sex” and I’m kinda like…  Yeah, AND?

I mean the introduction to the topic sort of defines “risky sex” as being any sexy-type thing that makes you a bit nervy and panicky, or sex that is somehow situation-ally precarious.  And while that makes a certain amount of sense, it also leaves me feeling like…  I dunno…  Isn’t that ALL sex?

Because while the heart-thumpy, adrenaline-rush-y, slightly-scary physical bit isn’t exactly ever-present, the ‘risk’ factor is always there — in some shape or form.  Because that’s kinda what sex is about:  Risk.

And I don’t mean that sex is always risky in an OhmyGod, Whatifwegetcaught?!?! kind of way (yes, risk-of-discovery sex is often one of the first things that typically comes to mind for people when the topic of “risky sex” comes up; my own viewpoint on that particular flavor of risky sex has changed quite a bit over the years though, particularly in terms of consent, so while it’s something that definitely turns me on, it’s also something I have – for all practical purposes, at least for now – eliminated from my sexual diet), but that everything about sex entails some kind of risk.

We risk environmental factors:

What if the kids wake up?  Or:  Will we be able to finish before one of us slips on the tile and bashes our skull against the shower wall?

Perhaps the bed is lumpy or the couch cushions will stain or the table will break.  Or:  Woops, here comes the cat!

Visual distractions, interruptive noises, persistent and pesky pets, heat/cold, tension of atmosphere, scents, the presence of other people in the room/house/neighborhood/city…  All these things – these everyday, environmental things – carry with them some element of risk.  Risk of being interrupted, of getting caught, of losing the mood, of inability to finish.  Risk of discomfort, of bad memory triggers, of personal injury.

Etcetera.

There are risks associated with kink:

Equipment can malfunction, negotiations can go awry, safewords can be misunderstood.  Implements can break, skin can react badly, force can be exerted incorrectly.  Roles can shift.  Intentions can be unclear.

What was insanely hot in fantasy can be abhorrent – or emotionally horrific or psychologically damaging – in practice.  (Or, what was hot as fuck five minutes ago becomes a turn-off and instant STOP! factor due to an emotional or environmental trigger.)

A toppy person may not know/understand their own strength — physically, in that they strike too hard during impact play; emotionally/psychologically in terms of their control over another person — or a subby person may get to a point mentally where they tap-out on a dangerous level.  (My opinions on the latter can be found here.)

And yes, there are some everyday-sex physical risk factors that can be mitigated easily.  I mean, condoms are a thing.  Birth control exists.  Lube is your friend.  Hydration is key.

Kink-related somatic risk can be averted through communication and practice.

• You can take time-outs.
• You can NOT stay hog-tied for three hours the very first time you play with rope.
• For impact play, strike-force can be built a little at a time, slowly and incrementally, with lots of “How does it feel?” and “Is that too much?” and green/yellow/red-lighting in between.
• New materials (lube, latex, body wrap, massage oils) can be tested on small, non-vulnerable patches of skin.
• New equipment (masks, floggers, cuffs, rope) can be utilized in slowly-lengthening time segments.

And everything – EVERYTHING – can (and should be!) discussed.

Then discussed some more.

And tried again and discussed some more.

But even with all that:  It’s still a risk.

And, y’know, I *know* some of you reading this right now are like, Geez Feve, you’re going a little overboard here, aren’t you?

And others of you are thinking, Well, at least I know sex with myself is safe from risk.

To which I say:  Nope.  And, nope.

I’m not saying that the risks above are incalculable or that they should be completely avoided.  (Unless you have erotophobia or genophobia.  In which case you are screaming, “Yes, they SHOULD be avoided!  All of the risks should be avoided!  Because, SEX!  Avoid the sex!”)  It’s just that they’re there.  And the presence of risk – the inherent risk – in sexual activity makes sex inherently risky.

Yes, that (can) include sex with one’s self.

Example:  Autoerotic asphyxiation can be done alone.  As a masturbatory kink, I’d say that’s pretty damn risky.  I mean, people die doing it.  (David Carradine, anyone?)

And while that may be an extreme example, there are definitely more mundane physical risks involved where masturbation is concerned.  Anyone with arthritic extremities is well aware of the cramping pain that can assert itself at the most inconvenient of times.  Age can take its toll on both desire and stamina, which can create problems with libido/state-of-arousal and/or shortness of breath, cramping, or exhaustion.

Again:  Etcetera.

Emotional risk?

[. . .]

I could write a novel on that particular topic.

I won’t.  Not today.

But I could.

Because sex — all sex, but perhaps especially emotionally-laden sex, whether partnered or not — is risky.

But some risks are worth taking.

What do you consider to be “risky sex”?

Have the risks you’ve experienced been worth taking?