Talk Dirty To Me


Moaning during sex is a bit of a cliché, very porny and a bit “When Harry met Sally”. This is unfortunate for those of us who do it without even realising. I’ve got a massive gob in general and when I’m aroused I turn into some kind of Pornhub wannabe. Sex with me is a vocal experience. I want to talk dirty, I will coach, encourage and when he’s making me cum the world is gonna know about it. Sometimes this has come as a shock to my previous partners. I’ve never really thought of myself as particularly loud till someone told me he actually stopped to shut me up. I hated him for trying to shame me for something I didn’t even realise I was doing. Take it as a compliment for fucks sake!  My man has told me I’ve been known to scream and beg him to never stop fucking me during sex. Amusingly I often don’t recall what I do in the height of passion, I just react, lost in the heat of the moment and my own pleasure. Sometimes after I cum I’m like “how did I get here?.” Or “when did I undress??” Do I care if I growl or moan or suddenly become religious and start thanking God for his cock? No I don’t. Does he? Nope, it turns him on.


It’s not a choice. I’m even loud when I wank. When I hit that moment of orgasm and I’m filled with that white-hot pleasure my body just responds by creating noise. This ranges from all kinds of guttural moans to expletives, as I swear to every deity known to man. I’ve never been embarrassed by my sexual outbursts because it’s never occurred to me that they were exceptional. Isn’t it normal to express pleasure vocally? I’ve been known to make pornographic noises after a good sneeze or stretch, or when eating a ripe peach, or sipping a strong drink. It’s a natural urge.


Talking dirty during sex is like the sugar on an already particularly jammy doughnut. When my man tells me what he’s going to do to me my insides dissolve with anticipation. A large part of any D/s relationship is language. Hearing what a good girl you are… or telling him what a bad boy he’s been. Dirty talk is a big part of foreplay for me. I’m happy as a kid in a candy store when my man sexts me telling me what he wants. I love the way he’s unafraid of the graphic language I want to hear. Don’t pretty it up for me, tell me you want to taste my cunt. We are all grown ups here. The raw uncensored nature of dirty talk makes me want to fuck the living daylights out of him. Some of the best sex sessions we have had have started life in dirty talk. It’s the ideal way to find out what turns your partner on and then you can convert that into reality. He even has a specific tone that just reduces me to a puddle. That hard, strict “I’m gonna fuck you into next week” voice when he asks if I’ve been a good girl and I know what’s coming. So much of good sex is the anticipation, and a whispered threatening promise directly into your ear, soft lips grazing sensitive skin and dripping harsh words is as good as a barked demand. Even better if this is whispered in a public place leaving me wet and needy while he smirks at my struggle.


During sex I find hearing him moan and growl as I play with him unleashes my inner sexual goddess. When he moans my name I literally almost cum on the spot and I call his name even when I’m wanking. I love to know that I’m pressing his buttons in the right way and a little vocal appreciation is like a sexual round of applause when I’ve got my face buried in his lap and his cock deep in my throat. I’d much rather he told me “faster or deeper” than suffer a below par blow job and less than enjoyable sex and equally I’m not afraid to let him know what kind of mood I’m in and request harder or more. That’s the beauty of a relationship with excellent communication.


It’s important you’re comfortable talking about sex with your partner. At the end of the day if you can’t tell them what you want or need then truthfully you’re probably in the wrong relationship. This is as true for vanilla relationships as it is for kinky ones. Long term great sex starts with great communication. Anyone can have a red-hot one night stand but maintaining that degree of passion in day-to-day life requires an effort.

It’s such a British thing to be embarrassed about language. Naughty words making us feel exposed. Language can’t hurt you. It’s delicious. The more graphic the better. I don’t want to touch a euphemism. I want to stroke his cock. I love how it’s a hard, blunt almost cruel word reminding me so much of the solid length I’m describing. I don’t want to ask him to go down on me, I want to demand that he licks my cunt. I want to feel like I’m in control and mealy-mouthed requests won’t do that for me. And nothing in the world makes my inner Domme purr like asking him who owns his cock and hearing him breathlessly reply that I do, damn right I do. I reclaimed the word slut years ago anyway but my God it’s so sexy when it’s used during sex. I don’t want him to fuck me like I’m his princess. I want him to fuck me like I’m his filthy little slut. Which of course I am.





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