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In the wake of a recent-ish breakup, I reached out to a guy I used to hook up with, "Ted," to see what his availability was like for some no-strings sexual healing. And thus began a renewed spark with a former flame that, so far, has allowed me to get my rocks off once or twice a week from afar without (yet) adding another notch to my bedpost, as well as renewed appreciation for having maintained a robust mobile phone plan.I learned that he'd moved out of Boston earlier this year—bummer—but in the meantime, he was curious if I'd tell him what I was wearing… I mentioned my new hobby to a handful of girlfriends and was surprised to hear that not everyone shared—or had even tried—my affinity for dirty talk.One friend said she's always wanted to try it, but didn't know how to start; another mentioned the awkward silence that ensued after she asked a guy to spank her, and, still unspanked, she shelved the idea.I, on the other hand, began having phone sex my junior year of high school—a year before I lost my actual virginity—curled up in my twin bed with my parents' cordless phone nestled between my face and pillow while I breathlessly spoke of activities and bodily fluid I wouldn't try for years to come (no pun intended) with adolescent boys who, too, wouldn't experience a breast in their mouth or a mouth on their nether regions for the foreseeable future, either.How I knew what to say back then remains somewhat of a mystery—likely, stemming partially from my fascination with a stack of Penthouse magazines I'd cruised through in middle school that a friend unearthed when her parents were away, as well as my late-90s tendency to cruise through AOL chat rooms and see what was cooking amongst the (supposedly) sexually-active set—but it's safe to say that dirty talk (and, to an intermittent extent, phone sex) has remained somewhat of a staple in my sexual wheelhouse for the past 16 years.It's a fun way to share fantasies without needing to have the, "So, can we sit down and tell each other over coffee what we want but are scared to ask for in bed?" talk, and can kick things up a notch if the sex is too vanilla.And, if I'm going to be honest here, it's kind of a power trip to know that the words coming out of your mouth are helping to get someone off.
Hell, you don't even need a bed, as evidenced by the times I've gotten the show on the road in the middle of Whole Foods, giving proverbial text message blow jobs in the whole body aisle while deciding between toothpastes, sort of like the way one dutifully bastes a turkey on Thanksgiving Day in preparation for the big reveal—or a warm body, as evidenced by my current romantic arrangement.What you do need, though, is a willingness to have fun—and to step way outside your comfort zone in the name of hotter sex.First things first: Do you actually want to do this?Like any new activity, whether it's dropping F-bomb laced expletives to describe your lady parts or learning how to crochet, you should first ask yourself whether it's something you actually want to do, and isn't just something you're doing to please your partner. If you're a bit gun-shy about pushing verbal boundaries, maybe first try doing other things that scare or excite you, like wearing bright red lipstick (bonus points if you can make it through a night without it smearing on your teeth) or going commando under a dress.I'm all for taking one for the team—sometimes, love is more of a tradeoff than a battlefield—but if the idea of dirty talk skeeves you out or you prefer the silent treatment while getting your own rocks off, then you don't need me to tell you to pass. Almost every piece of sex advice I've come across recommends using masturbation as a way to figure out what you like in bed. Or, do something non-sexual that's a bit frightening, like opening an overdue credit card bill that's been lurking at the back of your desk, or parallel parking in the midst of rush-hour traffic on a one-way street downtown while a group of tourists knocks on the window to see if you know where the closest Starbucks is. " he said, while I cowered under a pillow, humiliated and certain that a scarlet ' S' (for slut, my wanton woman request) would burn through the down feathers.