The Heavy Burden of my DDs

Writer: Ashmitaa Thiruselvam
Artist: Gabrielle Poh

The big titty committee. A term that I am all too familiar and have a bittersweet relationship with. Growing up, bra shopping was and still is an absolute nightmare for me. I try to put it off for as long as I can, to be honest. Just the idea of having to stand in the changing room, half naked while a slightly older woman wraps her measuring tape around all areas of my chest, gives me second-hand embarrassment. I know that this is just a fragment of my already-existing insecurities and that the bra lady literally does not care, but that whole ordeal makes me uncomfortable. By the time it’s over, I am directed to a tiny rack of nude or black bras tailored to my DDs, looking like they have come straight from my grandmother’s wardrobe. Comfortable, sure, but not sexy in the slightest. 

The Heavy Burden of my DDs

Fake It ’Til You Make It 

Writer: Surbhi
Artist: Mon Ouk

My first experience with a fake orgasm was watching a moaning Meg Ryan, aka Sally, throwing her head back in a New York deli and chanting “yes, yes, yes!”. The first time I pulled a Sally myself was a few years back, under the expectant gaze of a partner who asked if I had finished after a few minutes of rock ‘n’ roll, and I giggled awkwardly and nodded. 

Fake It ’Til You Make It 

Anatomy Class

Writer: Alice Wright
Artist: Emilia Bajer

When it comes to sex, we all know what feels good. What belongs where for things to *happen*, however we want it done. But is that all we know when it comes to our sexual organs, or our bodies in general? 

Australia is finally playing catch-up on sex education in schools, and we’re starting to learn the ins and outs of our bodies and minds. But I’ve finished school, and a while ago now. I definitely wasn’t taught a lot about my anatomy then — so how and why should I learn it now?

Anatomy Class

The Four Horsemen of the Sexpocalypse

Writer: Lydia Strohfeldt
Artist: Naiya Sornratanachai

I’ve always envisioned the end of the world to be incredibly sexy: me, smoky-eyed and sweaty against an incandescent background, wrapped in the arms of someone resembling Adam Driver. This rugged lover uses their last moments of life to finally admit the clitoris is, in fact, the powerhouse of the orgasmic cell, and not something they saw on PornHub that “worked for their ex”. As I whimsically exhale a super-profound quote from Audre Lorde, an array of erotic catastrophes sprawl across the land: volcanic eruptions, earth-shattering trembles — the whole world collapses into an exhausted abyss. 

The Four Horsemen of the Sexpocalypse

Lights Off, Please

Writer: Angel Tully
Artist: Stephanie Wong

Imagine this: you and your partner are in the moment, you’re kissing, hands are all over the place, the mood is intensifying, you’re both getting hot and sweaty, they pull you on top of them and suddenly a switch flicks… do I look like I have a double chin from this angle? We have all been there, whether it’s a double chin, stomach rolls, an embarrassing sex noise or maybe even the classic case of feeling a bit unco. Feeling self-conscious is natural, but we don’t have to let it get into our heads or stop us from getting and giving head. Here are my top tips for feeling hot in the bedroom, and leaving those insecurities on the floor with the clothes you just took off. 

Lights Off, Please

When Kink Becomes Kinkless

Writer: Victoria Loizides
Artist: Griffin McGrath

It’s about to get saucy. 

So, you’ve made it back to your place, and staggering behind you is your date, so close that even the jimmying of the key in the lock of your front door won’t blur the sound of their heavy breath. You’ve just come back from a pool bar (the universal symbol that almost promises a sexy time). They won twice, and you, once. Sparks fly. 

When Kink Becomes Kinkless

Picking Up the Pieces

Writer: Gabriela Fannia
Artist: Fletcher Aldous

If you’d ask anyone what ‘love’ is, you’ll mostly get positive, cute-yet-cringy definitions of it. But ask someone who just went through a major breakup, and they would give you a whole new set of gut-wrenching definitions of ‘love’. No matter how long, how serious, or how intimate the relationship is, a heartbreak is still a heartbreak. The level of ‘pain’ is (arguably) relative, but that’s not the point here. The point is, it is something we would choose not to go through if we had an option at all. In extreme cases, many don’t believe in love anymore, just as darkness is the absence of light, that solitary feeling after a breakup is the absence of love. 

Picking Up the Pieces