Delighting in Dirty Talk
“Why do I like ‘Dirty Talk’?” Well, in the throes of aggressive love-making, cursing your partner with just the right words heightens the sexual experience, sharpens the confrontational aspect to a wild sexual encounter. Have you ever watched animals mating on one of those wildlife documentaries? Ever seen a lion mounting its mate after dominating her? Ever watched the king of the pride making the lioness submissive and supplicant unto him, even as she bites and claws the beast, growling and mewling, and spitting and hissing.
Well, it’s still the same with humans, when sex is at its most ferocious. Beyond all that sophistication and refinement, sex, wild sex is violent and aggressive and only one partner really should dominate. But ‘dirty talk’ kind of equalizes that to and fro of domination and submission. Calling your partner a ‘Dirty Bitch’, or a ‘Dirty Bastard’, or something worse, channels that aggression. Or saying something to her like, ‘you naughty little tart’, or to him, ‘you’ve been a bad, bad bastard,’ creates that sado-masochistic, punishment aspect to sexual intercourse. And we all like that deep down inside us, don’t we? We all want our love-making to be a little bit dirty?
My client’s girlfriend of seven years cheated on him last month. What made matters worse, was the fact that he walked in on his best friend while he was pounding her up against the mirror in the bathroom, in my client and his girlfriend’s private bathroom. This was a place where they’d showered together for seven years, prepared for bed together. It was such a violation. My client told me there was a half-empty bottle of Evian water beside them both, as if they’d been going at it for hours and needed to rehydrate.
I can tell he’s not an aggressive man, and he says he’s forgiven his girlfriend’s infidelity, and even has even said hello to his former best friend at work. But he wants revenge sex. He says I look a little like his girlfriend, only ten years younger. Curvacious body, light brown shoulder length hair, blue eyes, same height, and prettier, he murmurs. He saw my image on Gold Coast Lepenthouse Suite Website, and came to this premiere bordello, to be with me, Mila, high class escort ready to heal this man’s emotional wounds.
He’s got one of his girlfriend’s dresses in the plastic shopping bag he’s brought with him. He wants me to wear it, so he can tear it off me when we make love here at Lepenthouse Suite.
In the boudoir he starts slowly, kissing me, fondling my full and heavy breasts throught his girlfriend’s light blue summer dress. I’ve taken off the lace lingerie brassiere I was wearing before this encounter, so my nipples are accessible through the thin fabric of the dress. I’ve kept the black lace transparent G-string on though, and this now he is pulling aside even as he hikes the dress up to my waist, so he can finger my tight pussy and clit, exposing my voluptuous legs, giving him access to the plump swell of my ass cheeks which he grabs with strong hands, sure to leave bruises. He starts sucking my neck now, hard enough to leave red marks.
And all the while I’m talking dirty to him, “You disgusting pig! Your best friend ate my pussy, licked and sucked my clit!” And this makes him angry. He moves me back a bit, we’re both standing at the moment, beside the king-sized double bed. He curses back at me, “You slut! Did he pound you hard? Did he cum inside you?” He pulls my hair back. “He put more cum inside me than anyone ever has.” I hiss at him. “How could you let him take me in our own bathroom?”
His voice is low and husky now, almost a growl. “You let him inside you, you let him come in you. How could you?” I laugh cruelly, “He’s got a massive, thick erection, it was so tight, so much bigger than yours. And he hit my G-spot every damn time!” It’s then he grabs two handfuls of the top of the summer dress and rips the fabric hard, tearing the dress open, exposing my breasts and nipples. He tears it further down until it is completely ripped open, and then he pushes me onto the bed.
He grabs my thighs and spreads my legs. I manage to fit a condom onto his pulsing, throbbing erection even as he aggressively tries to put his glistening shaft into my tight, wet pussy. And then a bit, because he’s not a strong man, and he fumbles once as he tries to push his manhood into me, then he finds the right point, and rams his shaft in to me. I can feel all the hate he has for his girlfriend in that single thrust. And in every thrust after that as he pounds me in revenge, he is swearing and cursing at me. He pounds me harder and harder, faster, and in three stabbing thrusts like he wants to kill his girlfriend, he orgasms his hatred. “I hate you.” He hisses this breathlessly, and a tear rolls down his cheek, mixes with the sweat on his face.
‘Dirty Talk’ is always part of fantasy sex. And it can hurt so much it feels good …
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