I'm in the mood for some cheap thrills.

[nicoleoneil]

And I know we have plenty of it on this board. Let's throw out a basic question. Why does everyone like to talk trash? What are the trashy things that people die for? Don't hold back...fess up to you deep dark secrets with pride.

[Ezrlove]

Trash talk, like on the basketball court trash talk? Or the shit you say while doing the nasty?

[ramstein]

No, I find silence during intercourse only heightens the sense of pleasure and pain. You should try it sometimes, without any music, in a dark room with blindfolds on. So that all of your concentration can go to the sense of touch. The Japense people are like that. They won't moan or anything. At least traditional Japanese people.....

[Hotpuppy]

ram,
yes, pleasure and pain, and the thin line between.
take care
HP

[Cheater]

Originally posted by nicoleoneil
And I know we have plenty of it on this board. Let's throw out a basic question. Why does everyone like to talk trash? What are the trashy things that people die for? Don't hold back...fess up to you deep dark secrets with pride.

(Homer voice) mmmmm, trash.

[Geezy Muldoon]

Nicole:

Actually, we are all expressing our thoughts and impressions of Diamanda Galas with whom we are all quite taken. (Well, at least the men anyway.) We never grow tired of talking about her. Every man sees exactly what he wants in her. That's her real beauty, I suppose, if beauty can be said to exist.

BTW, was forced, nay compelled (for lack of anything better to do on short notice) to visit with a young impecunious German girl last night due to your lack of an available appointment. I needed to verify my latest thoughts on Diamanda and was hoping to do so by personally verifying your reported physical information as a sort of doppelganger for Ms. Galas.

Did an impression for this German girl of the reactions of her dear mother and father upon being informed over Easter Dinner by her that their daughter had begun work as a prostitute on December 19, 2001 at 11 a.m.

("Dad, Please pass the ham. Oh, I forgot to tell you, I'm a prostitute now. Mom, Did you know that the average blow-job of a man in his mid-40s takes somewhere between 10 and 15 minutes to complete. Think about that. All those minutes add up after awhile in the scheme of things.") (Father flopping on the floor, choking, turning red and then blue) (Mother moaning, "We'll take you to a priest. Everything will be alright. You'll see. Don't worry.")

She belly laughed for quite awhile. One of my better recent performances. All fresh material made up on the spot. Assured her that she would be the same person she was that morning when she woke up tomorrow (meaning today). Made it easy for her, you see. I am a gentlemen, after all, when all is said and done.

See what you made me do? So do tell whether you are the same person you were before you started out in the skin trade, who that person was, and advise as to your similarities to Ms. Galas. Spare no detail. The truth is in the telling. We are all ears.

[occasionalhobbyist]

Nicole:

Have been informed that I talk trash far too frequently. Yet, nothing is quite as thrilling as having a nice conversation with a friend of the opposite sex about, say, baseball or the weather or the family or the way we were and quickly and unexpectedly saying, "I want to fuck." And having said reparte met with, "what time?" Something thrilling, exotic, erotic and arousing about the conjoinment of nastiness and the moral, don't you think?

Great huge bursts of nasty chatter get old quite quickly. Fucking, sucking, bitching, whoring, taking it up the ass and all that is fine, but the immersion in this world of words callouses the mind. It is only fun insofar as it is a break from the plodding, odourless and mindless daily lives we all lead.

In a word then, to answer your question, repression. That's the thing. Into the deep soul of repressed thoughts, anger at mother, envy of father's penis in the shower when 6 (strange misshapen why the hair will mine ever be so) The things not said, cannot be said, cannot be thought for too long without paining the brain and yet we hold this up in Lady Chatterly's Lover and Ulysses as the deep and bountiful and beautiful expressiveness of the masters.

How shocking, we say, with our merry widows cinched tight 'round the waist and our bullets small discreet batteries dead, sitting beneath papers beside hairclips rubber bands pennies at bottom of nightstands.

Is there anything as thrilling as the hearing or reading of the dirty word phrase narrative and the pulse of the swelling prick or the trickle of moisture between the legs as the thought crosses her mind... would it pain me take it slowly he too big or I too small would i let him cum there no risk of new life and still such a risk all at stake thrilling would it drool out the crack would i rise in haste or stay lying let dry curled as snail in his arms his form warm next to mine so many thoughts sweat smell sweet did there i shave will small hairs i suppose wet warm washcloth will suffice did not know this would happen nothing like this in mind he walked through door all planned out undressing him pulling from his place sliding on cover and pushing him pushing back to the bed likes that always has hands so strong squeezing groping and suddenly gentle gliding over my breast onto belly no one ever touches there pattern is broken says nothing once told never does this with others with wet tongue on me he is my point sucking nice so good touch of chaos everything changes digits round ridges sidling into my god is he is this real i would not have thought can i even say no say no no say yes was i pulling legs over body control ankles to shoulders contort deeper slower shallow oh so slow so fast god into tongue back and hand jesus is there more to feel to fuck yes is there yes can i yes oh fuck yes he is hard i will do my job but there is more so much pleasure contain release ... how does it end?

[un4given]

I for one do not talk trash, I really dont enjoy hearing myself talk that much:) And the gals usually find that very intense... with the exception of one who commented that I was the quietest one she had ever had. I am not sure if that was a compliment or.......

[fallenwoman]

OH:

Jesus!!!! you totally ROCK!!! now that is talent, not trash.... what can I even say to that!!! Send help, my pants are on FIRE!!!!

fw

[occasionalhobbyist]

Wait, I think I have an extinguisher... Or is it, a bucket of water? Maybe, I dunno, a hose of some sort???

Talent, trash... let's just call it inspired.