Phone sex, to me, is far superior to sexting. Because of the mechanics. Typing with one hand while stimulating yourself with the other can cause muscle cramps, and the only muscles I want cramping during this time are my vaginal walls when I orgasm. I used to have a lot of phone sex. Jacek, my husband, and I started off long distance. We used words to get each other off. Filthy words. The filthier, the better. None of this, “You’re so beautiful, and you feel so good.” No. I want to hear about specific body parts. I want those body parts to be described in the horniest, dirtiest way possible. And I want the horniest, dirtiest promises to be made about what will happen to those body parts.
During those early days of our relationship, Jacek and I would be on the phone for hours, always at night. It was easy to start speaking intimately to each other when it was dark out, when we could pretend the world had stopped paying attention. In those moments it felt as if the distance between us had closed, and with fewer boundaries, we got bolder with what we’d say. I don’t remember exactly who initiated it. But I can tell you that our language wasn’t unique. There’s a start-up code to phone sex, and probably doesn’t vary much from couple to couple: “What are you doing right now?” “What are you wearing?”
Most people know the suggestion behind those questions. And yet they’re innocuous enough that if the invitation isn’t welcome, no one has to feel like they’ve been compromised. From there, once the standard password has been accepted, that’s when you can and should start to throw out some flair. For the most part, it was Jacek who was the explicit one between us. But once in a while, I’d go five-star filthy, surpassing him on the level of indecency, and it made him crazy, in a good way—in the best way.
Not everyone is good at talking dirty though. Amy Schumer illustrated this point perfectly in a scene from Trainwreck. Amy’s character is dating a bodybuilding-obsessed beefcake who spends more time during sex admiring his own angles than giving her pleasure. In an attempt to improve the experience, Amy asks the guy to talk dirty to her. He ends up telling her he’s going to use his “pecker” to fill her up with his “protein.” Needless to say, she doesn’t come.
Talking dirty is a skill. When Jacek talks dirty to me, it doesn’t make me feel dirty. Rather, it makes me feel desired. He’s verbalizing to me that I turn him on so much that he’s become raw, stripped of all formality, freely communicating on instinct. He’s also selective about his dirty talk. It doesn’t happen every time we have sex, and he’s never explained why, but I suspect it’s because he doesn’t want the dirty talk to lose its power, its potency. That way, when he does drop a really sexy lyric, and by sexy I mean totally obscene, it stimulates me even further. To put it bluntly, I come so hard. By the way, telling him that I’m going to come so hard? It’s a simple statement of fact. With a HUGE payoff. If you’ve never tried talking dirty before, that’s a good one to start with. Think of it as a play-by-play call. You’re just describing what’s happening.
Talking dirty should never feel forced, unnatural. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be learned. As with any sexual experience, you can’t enjoy it until you’ve tried it—in a safe, consensual situation and more than once. Every time I mention talking dirty on The Social or write about it on my blog, I hear from women asking how to do it, or sharing that they’re definitely into it and wondering how they can convince their partners to participate. My first suggestion, always, is to get down with a dirty book.
I love dirty talk in dirty books. These are stories predominantly written by women for women to enhance sexual pleasure, encourage fantasies, explore desires and, most important, to give them permission to have those desires. All of my favourite horny novels feature characters who talk dirty real good. Sometimes I read a few of the hottest passages to Jacek while we’re in bed. The e-reader usually gets put away pretty quickly when that happens.
One of my favourites is Dirty Rowdy Thing by Christina Lauren. Finn is a fisherman from Canada. Harlow grew up in sunny California and has never been handled by a man who can handle her—until Finn, that is, with his attitude and his filthy mouth and, occasionally, a length of soft, silky red rope. I picture him like Henry Cavill in Man of Steel, only with a lot more personality. It’s almost embarrassing how many times I’ve read and reread this book. It delivers every time.
I mostly enjoy dirty books featuring straight couples in their 20s who like it just a little rough, without going full-on Christian Grey (for more of my faves, see below). Occasionally I’ll be in the mood for some male-on-male locker-room action. Erotic fiction is accommodating like that. If it turns you on, chances are someone’s already thought of it and written it down. Whatever your flavour, whatever your kink, there’s a dirty book with dirty talk that will hit your spot. Now it’s your turn to speak up.
Hot Topics: Four More Book Reccos to School You in Talkin’ Dirty
The Hook Up by Kristen Callihan
Anna Jones shares a class with star quarterback Drew Baylor. The first time they get it on he ends up with his face between her legs, telling her to “ride my mouth.” Um. Yes, please. I can’t resist a college romance. Maybe because none of the people I slept with in college ever talked to me like that.
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