International Language of Love? Pfffft.
I've never been an overly talkative gal in the sack. It just never seemed to come naturally (pardon the pun). Nor was I overly turned on by someone whispering nasty sweet nothings in my ear. It just made me want to giggle.
That changed when I came to Italy. And apparently, I've been here long enough that I now shag in Italian. I'm still not overly talkative in bed, but the occasional phrase slips out, mainly 'O Dio' or its variant 'Cristo di Dio'. Must be the leftover Catholicism.
But.....Ooooo baby. As far as I'm concerned, there is only one way to make me cream my panties with slutty talk and that's in Italian. Maybe it's an offshoot of my love for the language, or even a type of psychological inhibitions breaker, or simply something like Jamie Lee Curtis' language fetish in 'A Fish Called Wanda'. I don't know and I ain't going to analyse it. It rolls off the tongue and into the ear, fucking your mind, sibilant and sexier than a nude Johnny Depp begging to lick your pussy. Dammilo, maddona mia, voglio sbatterti fina l'alba, la tua figa mi fa impazzire, il tuo cazzo mi fa impazzire, più forte, più veloce, fammi una leccatina, dammi un pompino, baciami, O Dio Santo, amore, fottami, sto godendo, non ti fermare, ancora...
Oof, I think I need a cold shower now. Yup, definitely need a cold shower.
Cristo...
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