She’s Got A Dirty Mouth

Share This Post

“I would commit crime for that cock!”

I couldn’t help but enthusiastically exclaim how much I enjoyed the bull who had just finished fucking me so well.  As the words fell out of my mouth I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. While my literal sentiment was certainly hyperbolic, my level of enthusiasm was 100 percent genuine.   My bull sensed that and smiled broadly.  Looking back on that enjoyable encounter, I reflected on how my propensity for dirty talk went from the generic “fuck me baby!” to “I would commit crime for that cock!”

Like most people who I imagine read my blog, a great deal of my fundamental understanding of sexual expression came from viewing porn.  I’ve been an avid watcher of porn all my life although for a long time I was ashamed to admit it.  In porn, dirty talk is pretty generic in most of the standard categories.  It’s full of canned phrases you hear over and over again; I’m sure we could all summon memories of hearing a beautiful actress coo “I love that dick baby!” Or “Fuck me harder daddy!” while she’s performing.  As a young women with a burgeoning sex drive and a desire to please my partners, I took to using these phrases often during sex.  However, for the longest time, I would not identify dirty talk as an element that contributed to my arousal.  I realize now that I likely felt that way because these phrases weren’t genuine at all.  They came from the famously overproduced porn of the early 2000’s and the convincing actresses were likely given those lines from male directors.  In fact, “dirty talk” felt so hollow for me that at one point in my life I had abandoned it completely.  I look back and shutter at my misfortune for those years and the memory of that time makes me all the more grateful for the enthusiasm I have in my sex life now.

When I didn’t have the knowledge of just how hot genuine dirty talk was, I saw it more as a courting necessity than an aphrodisiac to enhance sex.  At this point in my life I had clocked scores of hours of phone sex and I was a very accomplished flirt.  I knew how to subtly change the tone and timbre of my voice to give it a velvety, alluring texture.  What I was missing was the content of dirty talk that would mutually arose both my partner and I.  The advent of texting broke down some barriers in that area for me.  Writing has always been one of my talents.  The ability to craft some truly sexy messages and edit them before I sent them for maximum impact helped me find my voice.  I could fluidly express myself via text, but I couldn’t help but feel as though something was missing from dirty talk during sex.

A revolutionary shift happened this this arena when I started dating my fiancé. He is a wonderfully skilled orator who turned me on immensely by sharing detailed fantasies and raunchy desires.  I have always loved the way he delves deep into my mind during intimate moments, watching attentively to what excites me and what doesn’t.  His enthusiasm weaved a web of trust, one fiber at a time, that allowed me to utter some of my most salacious, deviant cravings.

Non-monogomy opened up so many sexual experiences for me.  I would definitely say my attraction to a man who could “get between my ears” with some nasty words increased dramatically when my fiancé and I began exploring the lifestyle.  I enjoyed the exposure to the variety of ways men and other women talked in bed.  I began to express myself more honestly and fluidly, allowing the barriers between my mouth, brain, and physical sensations to break down.  I found myself saying things that felt like they were part of my regular vernacular dipped in a lustful layer of chocolate.  Finally I had broken through my ideas of what I thought dirty talk needed to sound like and began expressing what I wanted to say in bed.  However, I had no idea how much my proficiency for dirty talk would be tested when my fiancé and I transitioned to cuckolding.

Humiliation definitely falls under the umbrella of dirty talk in my determination.  It is a targeted, highly-specific form of dirty talk, but the essential function is the same.  I want to save my journey with humiliation for a separate blog post, but it’s essential to my development as a dirty-talking cuckoldress.  Humiliating my cuckold fiancé did not initially come naturally to me for a number of reasons.  I felt slightly crestfallen, it seemed that just as I was finding my sexual voice I was presented with an entirely novel and foreign concept.  In the early days of our transition, I found myself once again hosting words that weren’t mine.  I replaced the canned phrasesof my early sexual experiences with the new terms I heard the performers in cuckold porn sharply remark: “Look at that pathetic little dicklet!  I’m going to lock that sad excuse for a dick up and throw away the key!”  My cuck was so ecstatic to finally experience the humiliation he had long craved that it took a while for him to notice how unappealing it was for me.  We engaged in a great deal of communication about humiliation, and I grew more and more willing to go through the same process of owning it.

Cuckolding is beautiful for so many reasons.  There’s a mystical quality to the triad of energy that occurs to between the bull, cuckold, and cuckoldress that is unparalleled in its eroticism.   As I started to meet bulls and have sexual experiences that were far more pleasurable than I could have imagined, I began noticing myself talking more and more in the bedroom.  Spurred on by the enthusiasm of my cuck and the intense sexual prowess of my bulls, I allowed my inner slut to chronicle the narrative of my encounter.  I began referring to my bulls differently, gone were the days when I would call the man who was fucking me baby or daddy.  I began enthusiastically calling my bulls King or Sir, begging them to ruin or destroy my pussy with their beautiful big black cocks.  The words may sound cliche when read, but when uttered from my mouth in the throes of worshiping my bulls any observer would know I genuinely mean every word.  The last vestiges of the barrier that once existed between my mind, body and mouth had collapsed.  Now, my propensity for dirty talk turns me on so much I can hardly keep myself quiet.  I’ve got a filthy mouth and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I would also like to thank my friend Castaway for providing the invaluable service of proofreading my posts.

Listen & subscribe to our Podcast on these platforms

More To Explore

Poetry

Taste

You extendedA rancid and murky brewTo soothe my ills.With intention and careI alchemized itinto a sweet-smelling tonic.Before it could reach my lipsYour face soured into a pleading glareAnd, without a

Abortion

Hell To Pay

When I was 19, I was brutally sexually assaulted while attending a music festival in a tiny town in Illinois. In the days and weeks that followed my rape, I

Join the SlutSister Sanctum

Apply for SlutSisters

Subscribe to our Blog!

Subscribe to The Flaming Yoni & SlutSister Blog and always be the first to hear about new content.