The Butters Lube Review

butters lube

This lube is one of the best things that’s ever happened to my ass. Seriously, I have never had such a happy butt. A little backstory: The Butters Lube is an oil-based lube that’s handmade by Jerome Stuart Nichols out of all-natural all-body-safe ingredients. (A full list of ingredients can be found through the above link.) I first heard about this lube on JoEllen Notte’s JoEllen’s 2016 Favorite Things! list, and I immediately ordered a jar. I’d been looking for a better anal lube for a while, and based on JoEllen’s description and glowing praise, I knew I had to try it.

I’ve known for a while that I prefer thicker lubes with more cushioning for butt stuff. That’s why I like Sliquid Sassy, which is thick for a water-based lube, and which was designed that way specifically to help with butt stuff. However, even thick water based lubes don’t always feel like enough for my butt, especially when I’m doing long sessions or trying to take big toys. Water based lube can sometimes feel like it just disappears into my ass, leaving me feeling chafed and uncomfortable. This isn’t too surprising, considering that human bodies love water and will soak it right up.

Oil based lubes do not have this problem. You see how it leaves a good layer of lube on the butt plug? It also does that inside my ass. Anal tissue is super delicate and prone to tearing, and this lube creates a lovely layer of softness in between my butt and whatever I’m putting inside of it. Oil also sticks around a lot longer than something water-based. This does mean that I have to make sure to wash all of the oil off of my ass later, but it’s totally worth it.

butters on little flirt.jpg

Consistency wise, The Butters feels a lot like a very thick lotion or body cream, such as shea butter. As can be seen in the picture above, The Butters Lube has a thick, creamy consistency. It can’t drip off of toys, at least not at room temperature. When it is inside one’s anus, the body heat does melt it, so it does get thinner and turns into more of an oil than a cream. It’s like moisturizing cream for my ass. Incidentally, it can totally be used as moisturizing cream, and has several other exciting off label uses, but I’m just in love with it as an anal lube. I like this texture much better than silicone lube, which feels thin, warm, and oily to me in a very unpleasant way. Additionally, while silicone lube is also long-lasting, it can’t be used with silicone toys. That rules out more than half my butt plugs. The Butters Lube is safe with all nonporous materials, including silicone, metal, and glass, which means I don’t have to worry about toy damage or not being able to use the butt toy I want. It also does not have a strong taste or smell, which is lovely in case you wanted to get your mouth involved.

On the vulva, it is not for me. I have a strong preference for lubes that feel closer to my own natural lubrication when I’m using them vaginally.  The same thick, creamy, oily, stays-around-forever texture that I adore anally just feels like it clashes with my thinner natural lubricant. The Butters feels heavy and strange to my vagina, although plenty of other vulva owners swear by it. As always, to each their own.

This lube is super inexpensive. It’s astonishing. You can’t get this much good quality lube for such little money anywhere else. (Good quality, not shitty drugstore stuff that will give you yeast infections.) I’m always a fan of supporting small businesses, and I love it when they make it easy by creating A+ high quality products for fair prices. If you find yourself in need of an oil-based lube, if you’ve ever found water based lube too thin and easily disappearing, or if you just want to try something new from a rad company, do yourself a favor and get some of this lube.

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Thoughts on Pain

paddle flogger

I have a memory from when I was younger that’s always stuck out to me. I was playing with someone and they said “that hurt!” I don’t remember who it was or what I did that hurt them. What I do remember is that I said “no it didn’t!” and what I meant was that it didn’t hurt me. Little kids are like that, they don’t understand that other people have minds and that they have different perspectives. That’s normal, and I grew out of it, which is also normal. Yet I’ve continued to be fascinated by this aspect of pain. I can cause you pain, and not be able to tell, because I can’t feel it.

I don’t know why I’m so intrigued by not being able to experience others’ pain, but it’s always felt like an enormous design flaw to me. When I am consenually causing my partners pain, I can never be exactly sure of how painful it is, how much they can take. I ask them, of course, and check in, and make sure everything stays firmly in the realm of good pain. But still, a session that from my perspective only involves hand motions can be full of pain for my partner. That disparity is bewildering to me. I’ve never considered myself a sadist or a masochist because for me the goal isn’t pain, it’s power exchange, and sometimes pain can be used to facilitate that. Now I’m wondering, though, what it is about pain that captures my attention so strongly.

There’s an amazing quote from The Body in Pain by Elaine Scarry: “To have great pain is to have certainty; to hear that another person has pain is to have doubt.” Our own pain is so overwhelming, so sharply, inescapably real, but the pain of others remains out of our reach, out of our experience. I wonder how different the world would be if we could really truly feel the pain of others, instead of struggling to explain pain with the imperfect tool of language.

When I am giving pain or receiving pain, I am playing with that doubt and certainty. You can never truly escape those things, but you can walk right up to the edge of it. I can see my partner whine with pain while I myself remain unhurt, and know that we can never bridge that gap. There’s a distance there, but also a closeness. There’s an intimacy in this sharing of pain, in trying to get close enough to taste it while knowing that we’ll never be able to.

I don’t know if I’m a sadist, but I do love this aspect of causing pain.