In fact, my vocabulary seems inversely proportional to my level of arousal. I consider myself lucky if by third base I still have access to the basics like "fuck", "yeah", "slower", "faster", "harder", "oops sorry about that" and "get off my balls". Beyond that my ability to vocalize devolves into a random series of grunts, moans, gasps, snorts and clicks. (Although I'm pretty sure that last one is my trick knee acting up.)
I could be cheeky and say it has to do with blood redistribution, but I'm not Tony. I guess talking dirty just isn't my thing. Now JB on the other hand... JB is a talker.
But I have to admit that once I started reading these stories, I was hooked. And as I continued to explore JB's trashy library, I began to experience déjà vu. That's when I realized where JB was picking up his distinctive coital commentary. Unless you're going to tell me "let daddy do the driving" is just a coincidence?
Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy filthy, nasty sex talk from my partner. Just as long as he doesn't make me feel obliged to reciprocate. In general I tend toward being a man of action rather than words.
That sounds more heroic than saying I'm ADD and not good at multitasking.
Or I can just hand the keys to my animal hindbrain, cross my eyes and howl like a gorilla who got his bananas locked in a Samsonite. (Oh yeah, I had to reach way back for that one.)
At a bar a few years ago I hooked up with a hot guy who took me back to his place. Things got pretty intense and just as we hit the short strokes, he caught me completely off guard by shouting "SAY SOMETHING DIRTY!"
Sadly the moment was lost when the only thing that came to mind was, "You've got dust bunnies the size of cantaloupes under your bed?" No, I didn't say that.
I didn't say anything.