How much dirty talk is too much?

The Overly Dirty Talker at The Frisky

That’s a question, alone with when you should embark on dirty talk, that Chloe Does Yale author Natalie Krinsky takes on at The Frisky. I commented there as did many others. Personally, I love dirty talk, but it has to be genuine. I hate when someone tries to say something they think they should say or they heard in porn or whatever. I think “dirty talk” can be non-x-rated as long as it’s sexy and heartfelt. Usually, for me, I’m the one with a stream of dirty words coming out of my mouth, and I don’t mind being the main talker as long as the other person isn’t offended, but is into it.

Harry led me through his house, pointing out important monuments, like the bedroom and the bed.

Harry slid me onto said bed and make out we did. I commended myself on what a good idea this was. I wanted to make out with him in a seventeen-year-old kind of way, until the scruff on his face left a bit of a rash on my chin. I was in it for some good wholesome fun. You know, a little heavy petting on a Tuesday.

Suddenly, Harry pulled back and looked me in the eye. And then he said: “Let me taste that pussy juice.”

Even though I’m a screenwriter, even I cannot conjure dialogue that amusing. I looked at him as if he was speaking Mandarin. “Excuse me?”

He repeated himself. As if I didn’t hear him the first time. Did I look like a Jamba Juice? Am I an Elixir? I’ve got a wide array of tantalizing things on my menu, Harry, but “Pussy Juice” is not one of them.

After a few uncomfortable and awkward moments I got out of there—unjuiced.


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