Revenge of the Mystery Sex Chair (Everyone Loves a Sequel)

Dear readers, take a seat

No need to panic, I promise! It’s just– we need to talk.

When I started writing for, I expected most emails I’d receive would be questions on trans issues. In my mind, my future inbox was full of “how do I know if I’m trans” and “am I gay if I like cis women and trans women?” and “what’s the best toy for trans men?”.

Instead, readers, you’ve wanted to know about the chair. Yes! That chair! 

Never in my lifetime would I have expected a glorious sex throne would reign supreme, but you all wanted to know more about it. I tried to answer as many questions as I could on the chair in the first article (check it out here), but there was one glaring question I never got to.

How did it feel to fuck on that monstrosity?

Ahh! I never got a chance to fuck in the cheap motel with the funky vintage sex chair. There, I said it! My secret is out. You know how it is! You make plans to spend four hours at a cheap motel to fuck like Olympians, but life gets in the way.

The curiosity was becoming a bit of a siren’s song, though. My partner, a man who’s up for anything, was enlisted to help me test out the infamous sex chair.


Step Right Up

The motel is a liminal space. It feels almost anachronistic, removed out of space and time. As we pull into the icy parking lot, I notice how many cars there were already. The motel is somehow full of people, but the people I pass look faceless. I walk into the small reception room and specifically request that “one room with the funky chair”.

“Oh yeah, you mean room 27!” he says casually while sliding the key toward me. 

We pull into the parking spot, and we see a man pop his head out his front door. Clearly expecting someone else, he looks at us and closes the door. I’m holding a massive Ziploc bag bursting with sex toys and I start to feel embarrassed. What if the man saw my toy stash? Did he know that my partner and I were about to rattle the shared walls? Should I put music on?

My nerves are soothed. From the other side of the wall, I hear loud dramatic moans and the type of background music you can only find in vintage porn. Phew, at least we weren’t the only perverts here tonight!

I hadn’t been back to the motel in years, and yet it hardly changed. The main difference was that it smelled better, with less cigarette smoke clinging to the firmly shut curtains. That was reassuring!

My partner takes his socks off. I’m still nervous and choose to keep my platform boots on (equally for the aesthetic). I see his bare foot touch the carpet, and I wonder if he also feels grossed out. He sees the horror on my face, shrugs, and says it’s fine.

(He later admitted that the carpet was “sticky as though a thousand beers had soaked into it”.)


The Bitch Is Back

“Wow,” he said, stepping delicately into the room, “So this is it, huh?”

Bruh, have some respect! This is her.

All jokes aside, the chair was timeless. Though the muted red leather was faded and cracked, the overall chair looked quite in shape despite its age. The metal was thick and sturdy, limbs and legs all rounded and white. It felt comforting, and I realize it’s because it reminds me of my childhood bunk bed. 

My partner quickly gets undressed while I pitter around the room, eager to have fun but afraid of saying the wrong thing. How is it that I’m more anxious around a partner of five years than I was of a complete stranger? (Note: The complete stranger turned out to be a chaser and even asked me to stop taking testosterone, yikes! I blocked him immediately after.)

My partner jumps around on the sex chair, brainstorming all the different positions and ways it could be used.

He’s like a gymnast, hopping around in his nicest pair of black briefs. He’s like a perverted acrobat, a man who would enjoy being on the bottom of the human pyramid (if you get what I mean).  Clearly, his fantasies around the chair involved us training for the Cirque du Soleil.

Since it’s a smoking room, I pull out a joint and turn the TV on. There’s a non-stop porn channel, and I feel transported by how retro everything is. Maybe it was the cannabis, but the whole room was starting to feel thrilling and fun. In spite of the hetero porn on the TV, the entire experience felt extremely campy and silly, and queer. 

I walked to the door, made sure it was locked so no neighbors walked in, and turned to my partner ready for our first rodeo with the infamous sex chair.


My Verdict: The Sex Chair is a Lambo

“Cool story Zack,” I hear you say, “But what about the SEX? Tell us about the BOINKING.”

Many of you emailed me to express your deep devotion and love to the mighty sex chair. For some of you, the chair was almost like a fantasy lover who left, never to be seen again. And readers? I get it.

No really, I get it! 

Was it my favorite way to fuck? No, not really. Was it thrilling? Yes. Would I do it again? Absolutely!

Right off the top, this is a chair for vigorous sex. It’s for the thrill seeker, those of us who can’t seem to fuck fast enough. It’s a chair for a prince of pounding if you know one! It feels like every part of this chair is made to basically accelerate body movements with as little effort as possible. It is a Lamborghini, ready to make you go fast-fast-fast… but careful you don’t hurt yourself.

The sex chair made specific sex positions god-tier, essentially. My partner and I are exactly the same height, and we don’t have any issues with mobility.  We’re not sure if the intended ideal pairing would be two people of different heights or not, but we figured it could be important to mention! 

So we particularly enjoyed having one person lay on their belly, with the other person penetrating them from behind. imagine one partner laying down on the phallic bench (a), and then another partner penetrating them while standing up. The bench is angled in a way where the bottom’s pelvis is tilted in an ideal way for deep penetration. There are even handles (b) in every conceivable direction, which helps add a lot more “oomph” than usual! 

Also, if you’re someone blessed with a lack of gag reflex or enjoy diving straight into cunnilingus, this is also a fantastic aid. The bottom bench (c) (sadly not shaped like a giant dick) props the person’s head just right. Personally, it seems much better suited to blow jobs than eating out, but my partner didn’t seem uncomfortable! 


The Dark Side of the Throne

The sex chair definitely wasn’t all good. Like many things from the mid-20th century, there were some problematic aspects.

I definitely don’t recommend this particular sex throne for folks with mobility issues anymore. It’s kind of difficult to squeeze yourself into the bottom bench (c) or hop onto the main dick-shaped (a) one without bonking a knee or forehead on a part of the chair (b).

Sadly, I don’t think the designers were considering disabled folks at all in the construction (especially at the time).

The sex throne also actually makes slower sex kind of unenjoyable. It’s as padded as a well-used doctor’s table, so it made me acutely aware of how sore I was when I was laying on my stomach. When my partner and I were facing each other, he said it was much more difficult to maintain a slow pace than if we were in bed because each person’s center of gravity is so off. Basically, if you want to press your torso against your partner’s, you have to curve into this really awkward C-shape or risk popping out of whatever hole you’re in.

It’s something to consider if you’re planning on slower, more intimate sex.


What’s the Verdict?

After thoroughly testing the chair (wink), I feel confident in saying the sex chair is worth the hype but only for specific types of sex.

This isn’t meant to make sex comfier, but actually more utilitarian. I can see how awesome it would be at a sex party, or in a dungeon. (Like imagine if had one in black and red? Delicious!).

For the moment, I’ve had my fill of the game of sex thrones. Even though I’m tempted to make it a yearly pilgrimage, life always finds a way to foil plans. So, who knows when I’ll see the sex throne next!

Maybe it comes into our lives whenever we need it, and hey, maybe you’ll get a chance to sit on the sex throne that launched a thousand emails.