He Comes Next

How can you truly understand what makes a man tick—not just physically, but emotionally, psychologically, and erotically? In He Comes Next, sex therapist and bestselling author Ian Kerner uncovers the inner workings of male desire and turns traditional sex advice on its head. His central argument is bold yet humane: great sex isn’t about performing techniques or chasing orgasm—it’s about emotional intimacy, curiosity, and mutual exploration. For a woman to awaken a man’s deepest pleasure, she must learn to think, act, and feel like a partner in discovery rather than a performer on demand.

Kerner contends that despite cultural myths portraying men as sexually simple creatures ruled by their anatomy, male sexuality is layered with tension, vulnerability, and the need for connection. By contrasting the typical ‘intercourse discourse’—a narrow model fixated on penetration and climax—with his own holistic vision of embodied, mind-linked intimacy, Kerner empowers women to reimagine sex as a field of exploration rather than obligation. This shift requires understanding how men guard their pleasure, how desire builds (and later fades), and how fantasy, emotion, and physiology intertwine in every erotic encounter.

The Shaky Bridge—Desire, Fear, and Excitement

Kerner opens with the legendary Capilano Canyon experiment, where men crossing a perilous bridge felt more attraction to a woman than those crossing a sturdy one. His metaphor—the woman on the shaky bridge—captures the essence of sexual allure: excitement, novelty, danger, and emotional risk all intensify desire. Modern relationships, he argues, often stay on the safe, predictable bridge, losing passion as routine replaces curiosity. Inviting your partner onto the shaky one means introducing surprise, play, and a sense of exploration that feeds dopamine, the brain’s pleasure chemical.

Beyond Techniques—A Philosophy of Sexual Connection

Kerner’s approach transcends mechanics. Like his earlier book She Comes First revolutionized female-centered sex, He Comes Next is a feminist complement, giving women the tools to pleasure men thoughtfully. It’s not a catalog of positions or tricks but a manifesto for meaningful intimacy. The core thesis: pleasure happens when both partners release performance anxiety, communicate openly, and transform sex from a transaction into an act of mutual creativity.

He builds this philosophy across two parts. Part I—‘The Male Body’—examines anatomy, the mind, and the psychology of male arousal. It reveals how cultural pressures around virility lead men to protect their bodies and emotions, often masking anxieties about size, stamina, and performance. Part II—‘Techniques’—translates science and insight into practice, teaching women how to stimulate the full spectrum of a man’s erotic response—from gentle touch to adventurous sexual play—while keeping connection at the center.

Why It Matters in Modern Relationships

Kerner insists that understanding male desire isn’t pandering—it’s partnership. Many relationships stumble not because love fades but because erotic curiosity disappears. Men and women miscommunicate about what turns them on, misinterpret physiological cues, and fall into static sexual scripts. The result? Sex becomes predictable, mechanical, or avoided altogether. By bridging neuroscience, Taoist philosophy, and candid human stories from his counseling practice, Kerner shows that great sex depends on emotional risk, openness to fantasy, and shared exploration—not just technique.

If She Comes First taught men to cherish female pleasure, He Comes Next invites women to lead—to help men rediscover sensuality beyond the penis. The takeaway is revolutionary yet intimate: you don’t please him by mimicking porn or memorizing tricks; you please him by listening to his body, understanding his mind, and daring to play on that shaky bridge where comfort meets adventure.

Kerner begins by decoding the male body as a zone of defense and anxiety rather than unstoppable lust. Men are trained from boyhood to guard their genitals—to “pull in,” both physically and emotionally. From this lifelong habit of protection emerges a crisis of connection: men crave sexual release, yet fear vulnerability. The pelvis, he explains, is the center of this tension, layered with psychological armor erected around pain, fear, and performance pressure.

Layers of Physical and Emotional Defense

A lifetime of self-consciousness—erection worries in adolescence, sexual embarrassment, and cultural myths about performance—leads men to focus sex solely on their penis. The result: overemphasis on penetration and orgasm, underemphasis on sensation and emotional surrender. Kerner calls this “male protection syndrome.” Even touch beyond the genitals feels threatening. Testicles, perineum, and buttocks remain taboo, zones of tension and repression. As R. Louis Schultz wrote in Out in the Open, “To achieve control is not to feel.” Kerner resurrects this insight to show how men’s need to control undermines tenderness.

Pleasure Beyond the Penis

Kerner challenges women to rethink what male pleasure means. To the Typical Lover, his penis is the instrument; to the Thinking Lover, it’s only one instrument in the orchestra. By exploring his perineum, glutes, or inner thighs—areas linked to the male G-spot (prostate)—you awaken nervous systems ignored for years. These zones contain immense potential for global, full-body orgasms versus local, penile ones. (In contrast, Dr. Barbara Keesling’s studies of multiple male orgasms mirror this expanded focus.)

Releasing the Armor

The emotional dimension parallels the physical. A man’s fear of judgment—of being “too quick,” “too small,” or “too soft”—restricts authentic pleasure. Kerner invites partners to dismantle those fears through acceptance and curiosity. Tying him lightly, exploring his body, or encouraging relaxation rather than performance signals safety. When he lets go, the body follows; when his body opens, the heart opens too. Sex ceases to be an audition—it becomes connection. “Men can have sex with their clothes on,” writes Kerner, “but they can only make love with their clothes off.”

Through understanding and deliberate slowness, women can help men expand from defensive sexuality to embodied pleasure—a transformation as healing as it is erotic.

Why do men rush toward orgasm while women linger? Kerner finds the roots in how men learn desire: it’s treated as a mechanical urge—erection equals readiness. Drawing on Masters and Johnson’s research and modern neuroscience, he reconstructs male desire as a fluid, psychological process that begins and ends in the mind, not the genitals.

From Lust to Love: The Biological Arc

Men, like prairie voles studied by anthropologist Helen Fisher, ride waves of dopamine and testosterone in early lust but eventually drift into attachment driven by oxytocin and vasopressin. As these “comfort chemicals” rise, testosterone—and sexual thrill—wanes. Evolution built this chemical switch so couples could bond to raise offspring, but for human partners, it sabotages passion. Kerner urges you to “trick the brain” back into excitement through novelty, fantasy, and the element of surprise.

The Porn Paradox

Modern men internalize a pornographic shorthand—visual stimulation replaces imagination. Over time, porn and Viagra become easy fixes that erode emotional connection. Kerner’s patient Jonathan confesses, “Masturbation was a way of going inside myself; now it’s a way of avoiding life.” The remedy? Rebuild erotic imagination through creative foreplay, fantasy sharing, and daily flirtation. Real desire grows from anticipation, not instant arousal.

Desire as Communication

Kerner emphasizes that wanting sex isn’t the same as wanting someone. Desire between partners should be cultivated through emotional presence—humor, trust, affection, and curiosity. “Sex should be regarded like eating,” he writes. “We crave variety in flavors and experiences, not just a bigger plate.” Your relationship’s erotic health depends on how you feed mutual anticipation well beyond the bedroom.

Desire isn’t a switch—it’s a dialogue. By seeing sex as a conversation rather than an act, couples can rediscover the hunger that led them to each other in the first place.

Kerner calls fantasy the “engine of desire and the lubricant of arousal.” For men, it’s both a road to pleasure and a source of fear. Many repress fantasies out of guilt or insecurity, fearing they’ll be misunderstood or judged. Yet, fantasy sustains passion by changing static relationships into dynamic erotic playgrounds.

The Fear of Fantasy

Men often believe their sexual thoughts—about domination, submission, voyeurism—make them deviant. Kerner assures readers that everyone’s a “pervert” through someone else’s lens. Sexual imagination is normal and healthy. Suppressing fantasies only amplifies their power, much like Daniel Wegner’s famous “white bear” experiment where resisting a thought increased its frequency. Allow yourself and your partner to imagine freely; curiosity dissolves shame.

Love Maps and Erotic Fingerprints

Borrowing from Dr. John Money’s concept of “love maps,” Kerner describes fantasy as a blueprint of our sexual individuality—formed by early experiences, emotional needs, and even childhood associations. A man’s fantasy of being tied up may reflect not powerlessness, but a desire for relief from constant control. Understanding these maps helps couples interpret fantasies as emotional languages, not moral puzzles.

Sharing Fantasies Safely

Kerner encourages playful disclosure through storytelling or dreams rather than confessions. Saying, “I had a sexy dream” opens dialogue without judgment. This method—illustrated by Jenny’s case study in the book—turns fantasy sharing into flirtation and mutual revelation. Most fantasies never need enactment; their purpose is excitement, not execution. (Similar techniques echo David Schnarch’s Passionate Marriage, which turns fantasy into intimacy rather than escape.)

Fantasy, when embraced with honesty and humor, becomes a bridge rather than a barrier—a way to rediscover the erotic imagination that sustains lifelong desire.

Kerner redefines foreplay not as the prelude to sex but as sex itself—the mental and emotional build-up that fuels connection long before physical touch begins. He introduces the concept of “coreplay”: the sensual acts and emotional experiences that make sex multidimensional. This shift helps couples escape tedious routines and rediscover eros, the life instinct Freud described as the drive for vitality and creativity.

Foreplay Happens Outside the Bedroom

According to Kerner, most couples mistakenly reserve erotic energy for scheduled encounters. True foreplay is woven through daily life—flirtation during breakfast, secret glances on the street, playful texts throughout the day. “Sex breeds sex, and desire breeds desire,” he writes. By creating anticipation, you transform the everyday into an erotic narrative.

Escape the Sex Schedule Trap

Kerner’s patients often reduce intimacy to a calendar entry—weekly quickies or ‘date nights.’ That structure kills spontaneity. Instead, he prescribes “play hookie” days devoted to leisure and reconnection, with sex optional but intimacy required. When pleasure isn’t a goal but a possibility, anxiety dissolves and desire returns. This philosophy mirrors Esther Perel’s idea in Mating in Captivity: eroticism thrives in the unknown, not the planned.

Coreplay: Mind Before Mechanics

Coreplay integrates creativity—dirty talk, teasing, surprise acts—with communication. Instead of rushing to penetration, you explore sensual tension. Blow jobs, massages, laughter, and experimentation are complete erotic events, not appetizers. This reframing liberates you from the hierarchy that places intercourse on a pedestal. When everything is sex, nothing feels obligatory.

Foreplay is the art of sustaining desire in ordinary life. When couples make daily moments erotic instead of mechanical, sex resumes its rightful place—not as recreation, but as re-creation.

Kerner argues that for men, sex is their emotional language—their way of saying, “I love you,” even when words fail. Women, by contrast, tend to need emotional connection before sex; men often need sex to feel emotional closeness. Understanding this contrast helps partners meet in the middle and build deeper intimacy.

Sex as Emotional Communication

Many men lack outlets for tenderness or vulnerability. During lovemaking, the physical release serves as their emotional release. Kerner calls this their “head-heart connection.” When sex fades, men may seek substitutes—porn, affairs, or silence—because they’ve lost their primary means of bonding. For couples, maintaining erotic intimacy keeps emotional circuits open.

After Conflict: Making Up Through Making Love

Kerner describes countless marriages where men initiate sex after arguments as an effort to repair emotional rifts. For him, sex is resolution; for her, it may still feel premature. This mismatch creates frustration. By acknowledging that physical intimacy is his way of reconnecting, both partners can align emotional needs with erotic ones. “He screams, then touches,” writes Kerner, not out of insensitivity, but from a yearning for peace through connection.

Parenthood and Desire

After childbirth, hormonal changes like oxytocin surges in women can dampen desire while deepening maternal bonding. Men, sidelined by this biological pivot, often feel invisible. Kerner urges couples to reintroduce sexual touch—even without intercourse—to sustain connection during family transitions. Without that, men lose the intimacy that anchors them emotionally, and the relationship drifts into distance.

Emotional intimacy for men thrives not in talk but in touch. To love a man well means recognizing that sex is not separate from tenderness—it’s how he experiences it.

In later chapters, Kerner returns to his “shaky bridge” metaphor—reminding readers that passion demands risk. His practice exercises, drawn from therapy, turn sex into adventure again. Couples exchange secret desires, play exhibitionist games, and create erotic missions that reawaken thrill. The goal is not shock value but discovery: learning to see each other anew.

The ‘I Want’ Jump Statements

Borrowing imagery from skydiving, Kerner has couples shout their deepest sexual wishes—“I want to tie you up!” or “I want to have sex in public!”—as if diving into the unknown. This exercise mimics adrenaline’s role in attraction, stimulating dopamine through vulnerability. Once fantasies are aired, couples discuss which can be explored safely. Often the mere act of confession reignites intimacy.

Creative Risks in Everyday Life

Kerner’s examples—dress-room exhibitionism, webcam teasing, lingerie missions—aren’t prescriptions but invitations. They demonstrate that sexual novelty needn’t mean new partners; it means new courage. Like Helen Fisher’s dopamine studies, novelty metabolizes desire. A relationship becomes erotic when both partners feel seen and surprised by each other again.

The White Tigress Mindset

Kerner resonates with Taoist teachings of the “White Tigress,” the woman who views sex as rejuvenation through disciplined sensual practice. To think like a Tigress, you must treat sexual play as ritual: attentive, curious, youthful, and adventurous. You recreate the excitement of first love—open, impulsive, fearless. “Be the Tigress on the shaky bridge,” he writes. It’s both metaphor and mantra: stay playful, stay bold, stay alive.

By taking safe risks together, couples can defy routine, reawaken mystery, and rediscover themselves—not through others, but through each other’s evolving desires.

The climax of Kerner’s teaching blends neurochemistry and sensual practice. Arousal, he explains, is not mechanical but musical: a symphony of tension and release across the body. By mastering pacing—alternating stimulation, slowing rhythm, layering emotional cues—you can help your partner reach a “global orgasm,” one that transcends the penis and reverberates through the nervous system, body, and heart.

From Local to Global Pleasure

Most men experience quick, localized climaxes; Kerner teaches how to cultivate deep ones. Through slow foreplay, full-body massage, and delayed gratification, sexual tension diffuses throughout the body. Touching multiple zones—lips, nipples, feet—creates networks of sensation that build toward fuller release. This echoes tantric principles, though Kerner grounds it in physiology and psychology rather than mysticism.

Relaxation as Arousal

Stress redirects blood from genitals to limbs (fight or flight), but relaxation reverses it. Massage, teasing, and playful restraint teach men to surrender control. “When he lets go of pressure to perform,” Kerner writes, “he experiences pleasure instead of managing it.” Relaxation becomes the new form of mastery.

Mindful Sex: The Art of Presence

Throughout, Kerner advocates mindful intimacy—eyes-open lovemaking, frequent hugging, and slow kissing—to align body and heart. Presence dissolves anxiety and enhances oxytocin bonds. Each act of slowing down, touching, and breathing together transforms mechanical sex into meditation.

Ultimately, Kerner’s synthesis of science and soul reframes sex as therapy: a daily practice of attention, empathy, and expansion. When partners commit to slowing down, they not only deepen orgasm—they deepen love.

Kerner closes with a poetic philosophical insight drawn from a patient named Charlie. Comparing relationships to Einstein’s ever-expanding universe, Charlie tells him: “The biggest blunder is assuming things are static.” Passion, Kerner concludes, survives when love keeps expanding through curiosity, secrets, and play.

The Constant Motion of Desire

Relationships die when they stop evolving. We mistake familiarity for stability, yet eroticism thrives in unpredictability. Expansion means asking new questions, exploring new feelings, and renewing the thrill of discovery. Sex becomes not maintenance, but growth—a living dialogue where partners surprise each other endlessly. “Sex reminds me of my wife,” says Charlie. “My wife reminds me of sex.”

Secrets and Intimacy

For Kerner, great relationships hold erotic secrets—shared fantasies, private rituals, whispered words known only to the two of you. These secrets become the gravitational glue of desire, ensuring lifelong expansion. When passion and trust grow together, each sexual act becomes creative renewal. Echoing this theme, Kerner’s final act—a phone call to his wife—symbolizes everyday intimacy reborn through openness.

In the end, He Comes Next isn’t just a sex manual—it’s a meditation on expansion, vulnerability, and ongoing discovery. To stay vibrant, relationships must tremble a bit; the shaky bridge must keep swaying. That’s the paradox Kerner leaves us with: only unstable bridges lead to lasting love.