I’m autistic, and I fuck.

Some people think these facets of my life are inherently incompatible. They’re wrong. But sometimes my autism and my sex life are at odds, and over the years I’ve had to figure out how to balance them.

The abysmal roadmaps put forth by shitty sex education and our ableist, sex negative culture don’t include alternate routes. They don’t have directions for when you struggle to communicate your feelings. They don’t mention backroads for when you’re always emotionally and physically exhausted. The map doesn’t reroute when common, deceptively innocuous sensations manifest as physical pain. So I’ve had to find my own roads, with a partner who’s patient and excited to explore.

What works for me might not work for my fellow autistics. We’re not a monolith, after all. But I wanted to share some of the “hacks” I’ve come up with in my sexual travels.

Sharing something is saying something: Communication Hacks

Incorporate safewords (even for vanilla sex.) Sex can be emotionally and physically overwhelming, and it’s not unusual for me to go mostly nonverbal before, during, or after sex. This means I can’t formulate complete answers to “complicated” questions, especially because – like many autistic folks – it’s often difficult for me to evaluate and summarize how I feel in ways that other people can understand.

But I can use the traffic light code:

• “Green!” means I’m doing great and either enjoy or don’t mind what we’re doing.
• “Yellow!” means that I’m still doing okay but I’m not as comfortable, so we should slow down or change things up.
• “Red!” means we need to stop whatever we’re up to because it’s too much or I’m not enjoying it.
• If I’ve lost my words completely, I can tap once for green, twice for yellow, and three times for red.

I love the traffic light code. Knowing I can communicate simply and not be heckled for a more in-depth justification has allowed me to have sex even when I’m down to single-syllable answers. I don’t have to figure out why I’m which color, or how to explain it to my partner. I can just go with my gut and say it, and they get the gist.

Pick out your tools together. Our pre-sex routine includes picking out what sex toys we’re going to use, what positions we’re both open to, and what kind of mood we want to set. This serves two purposes: it helps reorient my brain (which is often focused on weird shit like beach nourishment or mirrorverse fic) to sex, and it helps initiate a conversation about what we each want.

When my partner picks up the Mel SuperSoft Dildo, I know to ask them if they’re in the mood for rough sex (because the Mel is large and squishy, thus comfortable for vigorous thrusting.) If I grab the “Hitachi” Magic Wand Rechargeable, my partner will ask if I just want a quick, powerful orgasm so I can go to sleep immediately after.

Share feedback, and use “I” statements, not “you” statements. After sex (usually the next day), we’ll ask each other “what was one thing you really liked, and one thing you didn’t enjoy?” This one has taken my partner a long time to get used to. But they’ve come to understand it’s not a secret assessment of anyone’s skills. It’s a way for us to share what we want more of, how our bodies or preferences might be changing, and things we might be curious about or wanting to explore further. To save partners from feeling like they’re being evaluated, I use phrasing like “I didn’t enjoy the firmer licks on my clit.” It sounds less accusatory or judgmental than “you licked too hard.”

Feeling good about feeling good: Sensory Hacks

Get a little kinky. If you’re having a hard time processing a sense such as sight or sound, try obstructing/restricting that sense. I’ve found that using headphones, a blindfold, or a gag (if the pressure to kiss or speak is distressing), can help me maintain focus during sex by removing the distracting sense. The downside is that even mild sensory deprivation can be “too kinky” for some, and it can cause your remaining senses to become more acute.

Position and prioritize things differently. The intensity of all over skin-to-skin contact can sometimes become overstimulating for me. There are a number of ways we handle this when the problem arises. These include sliding a sheet between us, utilizing positions that limit body contact (such as having one partner sit up while the other lays down beside them), or being partially clothed. Similarly, the wiry brush of my partner’s pubic hair can send me into sensory overload while I’m going down on them. When I know I’ll be sensitive about it, I’ll use a dental dam to lessen the face-to-hair contact.

Coming up with workarounds doesn’t make sex less intimate for my partner and I. It allows me to be more comfortable, enthusiastic, and engaged.

Go ahead and be picky. Is your vibrator too buzzy, and it makes you feel itchy? Ditch it and get something more rumbly, like the We-Vibe Tango or Pillowtalk Sassy. Are you very specific about the texture of your lube? I exclusively use Sliquid’s water-based lubes because it feels like my come (a sensation I’m already accustomed to) and doesn’t get gunky or sticky. Autistic people are shamed for being “too picky” about our preferences, but embracing our sensory needs and limitations can be hugely positive for our mental health and self-esteem. That goes for sex, too.

Go ahead and be chill: Low Spoon Hacks

Be honest about feeling low-energy or low-investment. Before I heard about spoon theory and realized there was a reason for my sometimes abrupt crashes into disoriented lethargy, I would sometimes hurt my partner’s feelings by acting uninterested in bed. Now I’ve (mostly) learned to recognize when I’m running out of spoons, and I warn my partner ahead of time. I can be up for sex (enthusiastically so) but I might be spacey, or only loosely engaged in what we get up to physically. Sometimes we just snuggle up and mutually masturbate, moaning into each other’s ear without a word spoken. Being honest about being low on spoons lets my partner decide if they’re interested in “lazy” sex. It saves me from feeling guilty if I’m too tired or listless to be my whole self.

Consider sex toys that make sex “easier”. One of the reasons I love sex toys so much is that they allow me to do things I’m not always physically capable of. The sensations are different, of course, but “different” is not lesser.

I have painfully weak wrists (maybe from hypermobility?), so when my hands are particularly tired and achy, I leave the dildos in the drawer and break out a self-thruster. Sex furniture can make being in certain positions more comfortable, thus not taking up as much of your energy and focus. Toys with remotes or app-control can make sex as physically easy as pressing a button. Need more ideas? See my Peepshow Toys piece Making Sex Accessible.

Take turns. This is perhaps the “weirdest” aspect of my sex life, especially when I mention it to cis straight people. More often than not, my partner and I take turns for sex: only one of us gets off during the romp. This makes things so much easier for me. I can put my energy and focus into what (er, who) I’m doing, and I don’t need to worry that I’ll become too stimulated or spoonless to finish. Contrary to assumptions, taking turns for sex doesn’t take away from the mutual pleasure or shared intimacy. It just makes both of us more attentive lovers. (It also normalizes having sex even when one of us – usually me – isn’t horny. I decline when I’m absolutely not interested, but “interested” has a lot of shades.)

Incorporate your special interest. When I’ve exhausted all my spoons, my special interest is sometimes the only thing that can get me out of bed… or the only thing that can get me into bed. Even at my most listless and lethargic, the chance to engage with my current fixation is a powerful motivator.

Pairing sex and my special interest has been relatively easy for me the past few years, because my main autistic passion has been sex toys. In the past, I’ve been able to include Harry Potter, Halo, and Marvel by role playing. I’ve enthusiastically explained the Youtube algorithm while playing with edging. You can use a fantasy sex toy that suits your latest fandom, or tease each other while watching Star Trek, or try to recite facts while a partner goes down on you. Getting creative about it is half the fun, and can sometimes get your brain and body going even when your spoons are tapped.

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