I have been seeing a really dashing young lady for nigh on four months now, and our relationship is proceeding just splendidly. We have a truly remarkable compatibility - enjoyment of food and libation, bicycling the environs of Denver, and imbibing the best of that black gold known as coffee. We even, as the common parlance would have it, have fucking awesome sex. There is, however, in spite of this otherwise overwhelming good fortune, one small hitch: my woeful inability to talk dirty. It's true that I have a vast and expansive vocabulary, and that one of my greatest thrills is the discovery and subsequent usage of more complex syntax and sentence structure. Yet despite my garrulous nature, I can't seem to pull out a few mundane four letter words whilst in the throes of passion. What's worse, with just a few short phrases of inappropriate sexiness from her, I am thrilled through and through. I'd really like to be more of a participant when it comes to verbal ecstasy, but I can't quite seem to break free of my puritanical chains. What's a cunning linguist like me to do?
Laughably Loquacious Lover
Greetings, ugh, L word.
Somewhere along the line you people seem to have gotten the idea that the Erotic Neurotic actually provides advice. However did you come to that conclusion? The Erotic Neurotic passes along nothing but sass.
Well, okay. We'll make an exception, lest LLL should turn into LBD by summertime. For you, sass and secondary sources. Lucky for you, here at Erotic Neurotic HQ, we have valuable research materials at hand for just these situations. I should warn you that this may cause offense to prudes, conservatives, and/or the federal government, so continue at your own risk. Ahem.
"Ariel talked quietly into Mari's ear, a filthy stream of gutter talk that Yvette and I heard only snatches of. You could always count on Ariel for that. 'Fucking open pussyhole of an ass, take it up your slutty...' we heard. 'Fuck you like the whore bitch that you are, fucking...' It was a good thing Margy could handle trash talk. I'd met some lesbians who'd run crying from the likes of what came out of Ariel's mouth when she got turned on."
Carol Queen
Miranda's Wildest Time: Club Clitosaurus
1. Don't End Sentences With Prepositions.
2. Be Careful What You Wish For (uh, see rule 1); You Might Run Crying.
Or perhaps, a third,
3. You Should Read More Porn. Seriously. Aloud, with a tape recorder. Then, in those "throes of passion" so to speak, you can just 'hit play,' so to speak. You know you think obsolete technology is kinky. You probably wrote a draft of your letter on a vintage typewriter before you e-mailed it.
Phew. Done and done. The Erotic Neurotic washes his hands of this whole affair, you nasty nasty girl.
No comments:
Post a Comment