Blog Dis
When words speak as loud as actions
2025-10-07
Temperatures this evening will begin to dip, every night a little bit more. When you lay your head down on your pillow, the warm air of the day is replaced by a cool blanket. We've been spoiled in Ottawa with record-warm temperatures for the last four days, hitting the 30 Celsius mark. Wowzers! But when it starts to cool off, this suits me just fine. I love the cold. I think best in bed, under the covers. In fact, my brain never stops thinking, nor does my body stop feeling. I find myself becoming increasingly more randy at night and in the early hours of morning when the coolness is evident. It's during these times that I'm susceptible to suggestion, particularly of the dirty kind.
Such wicked, wicked words, when spoken to me, are like knives to my body, cutting a fissure wide open. I want him to roll over beside me and fill my mind with debased and raunchy notions, that curve my back and make my body parts stand upright. Few are blessed with this ability, to speak with abandon. One of my favorite scientific authors, Charles Panati, released a fabulous book called Sexy Origins and Intimate Things, detailing with great gusto the rites and rituals of every conceivable form of sexuality. He speaks about the percentage of women who engage in r*pe fantasy with a partner, to titillate their mind and body, falling within a range of some 20% of women who have these kinds of fantasies regularly. Honestly, this seems to be a high percentage in reality. In the process of someone speaking dirty into the ear of their partner, the person doing the actual dirty talk must suspend their notions of respect in order to be an effective talker. And this means, with which I concur, that it isn't an easy affair to speak dirty to another person, not just with confidence but with a sense of flair.
The listener, on the other hand, need only lay back in all the glory of their nakedness and let the words flow over them. Clearly, the easier role of the two.
Geoffrey Chaucer, considered the Father of English Poetry (d. in 1400), wrote about the Devil's other hand, with five fingers to catch the people into his slavery. I quote, "The first finger is the foolish interchange of glances between the foolish woman and the foolish man... the second finger is vile touching in wicked manner... the third finger is vile words, which are like fire, which immediately burns the heart... the fourth finger is kissing and truly he were a great fool who would kiss the mouth of a burning oven or of a furnace... and the fifth finger of the Devil's hand is the stinking act of lechery." 😜
What a sumptuous portrait Chaucer depicts of vile wickedness. He missed the invisible digit of the Devil's hand — the tongue; that slippery, wet, short extension of the brain that darts out to hurl obscenities and protestations of love that resemble dirty talk to their object of affection. I've talked dirty to a select group of men, that is one at a time. I've told them that I'll pin them to the carpet floor and roll them over, removing their Jockeys blindfolded, dragging them lower, until their undies pass their bum and I feel the first signs of visible awakenings. I've talked about how my finger, slick with moisture, will slide in between their cheeks and run like a wild demon from their boys upward. And before I insert my finger, into only God knows where, I shall pause and lower my head, and speak more words. I'll tell them that I'll be their strumpet in the coolness of the day, or the night, and that my girls will be dragged across their back as my finger plunges deep into their...
You see what has happened? The reader or listener wants more. Dirty talk is like a bowl of olive oil. Once spilled onto the counter, it takes more than one wipe with a paper towel to clean up the olive oil, and them more towels to clean the surface dry. I recommend you eagerly take that greased finger and slide it into your mouth and suck hard as you look into his eyes, before you open your lips and speak wicked words to him. He will love it. Chaucer, however, will spin in his grave as you do. Tell your partner it's only the beginning.
There is never a wrong time for dirty talk, so long as you have a willing listener.
Such wicked, wicked words, when spoken to me, are like knives to my body, cutting a fissure wide open. I want him to roll over beside me and fill my mind with debased and raunchy notions, that curve my back and make my body parts stand upright. Few are blessed with this ability, to speak with abandon. One of my favorite scientific authors, Charles Panati, released a fabulous book called Sexy Origins and Intimate Things, detailing with great gusto the rites and rituals of every conceivable form of sexuality. He speaks about the percentage of women who engage in r*pe fantasy with a partner, to titillate their mind and body, falling within a range of some 20% of women who have these kinds of fantasies regularly. Honestly, this seems to be a high percentage in reality. In the process of someone speaking dirty into the ear of their partner, the person doing the actual dirty talk must suspend their notions of respect in order to be an effective talker. And this means, with which I concur, that it isn't an easy affair to speak dirty to another person, not just with confidence but with a sense of flair.
The listener, on the other hand, need only lay back in all the glory of their nakedness and let the words flow over them. Clearly, the easier role of the two.
Geoffrey Chaucer, considered the Father of English Poetry (d. in 1400), wrote about the Devil's other hand, with five fingers to catch the people into his slavery. I quote, "The first finger is the foolish interchange of glances between the foolish woman and the foolish man... the second finger is vile touching in wicked manner... the third finger is vile words, which are like fire, which immediately burns the heart... the fourth finger is kissing and truly he were a great fool who would kiss the mouth of a burning oven or of a furnace... and the fifth finger of the Devil's hand is the stinking act of lechery." 😜
What a sumptuous portrait Chaucer depicts of vile wickedness. He missed the invisible digit of the Devil's hand — the tongue; that slippery, wet, short extension of the brain that darts out to hurl obscenities and protestations of love that resemble dirty talk to their object of affection. I've talked dirty to a select group of men, that is one at a time. I've told them that I'll pin them to the carpet floor and roll them over, removing their Jockeys blindfolded, dragging them lower, until their undies pass their bum and I feel the first signs of visible awakenings. I've talked about how my finger, slick with moisture, will slide in between their cheeks and run like a wild demon from their boys upward. And before I insert my finger, into only God knows where, I shall pause and lower my head, and speak more words. I'll tell them that I'll be their strumpet in the coolness of the day, or the night, and that my girls will be dragged across their back as my finger plunges deep into their...
You see what has happened? The reader or listener wants more. Dirty talk is like a bowl of olive oil. Once spilled onto the counter, it takes more than one wipe with a paper towel to clean up the olive oil, and them more towels to clean the surface dry. I recommend you eagerly take that greased finger and slide it into your mouth and suck hard as you look into his eyes, before you open your lips and speak wicked words to him. He will love it. Chaucer, however, will spin in his grave as you do. Tell your partner it's only the beginning.
There is never a wrong time for dirty talk, so long as you have a willing listener.
