Weird Sex Talk

Bob asks, "What's the weirdest thing anyone has ever said to you during sex?"

What a question, Bob.  It made me think long and hard, because while I've had some weird sex, and weird things said to me during sex, nothing immediately leaped to mind.

I remember once I was fucking Gwen (my college roomie, look her up) with a strapon and she developed orgasm Tourettes.  She just sprayed profanity like a faucet had turned on and was somehow linking her to the Elemental Plane of Swearing (and I didn't see a silver cord either: geek test!).  It wasn't like it slowly turned on either; she went from moaning to swearing in seconds flat, and she was loud about it.  It didn't turn me off at all, but it was a little odd.  I asked her about it after and she said she was just cumming that hard.  I took it as a compliment.

I was with a boy in high school who moaned his mother's name as he came.  And it wasn't like we had similar names either.  And it wasn't like it only happened once.  I gave him head and as he sprayed me with jizz he moaned, "Oh Cindy."  At that point I didn't know his mother's name was Cindy, so I wondered but as far as I knew there was no girl in school named Cindy.  And anyway, I wasn't looking for monogamy from him.

Aside: I've never really cared if people called out the wrong name during sex.  It's happened a few times.  I don't think I've ever done it, although I did moan, "Oh Daddy!" once and that just turned the guy on.  He didn't ask, I didn't tell, and we went about our business.  But if someone has called out a different name than mine in the throes of passion, it's always been with people I wouldn't have been jealous of.  Maybe if Sveta started calling out some other woman's name in bed all the time, I'd ask her about it, but it's a device of drama which I've always found a little strange in movies and TV.  I guess it happens to people who do care.  Me, I pretty much don't.

Back to the story: so I figured, okay, he's calling out some Cindy's name.  Maybe he's imagining that I'm Cindy Crawford or something.  Whatever.  I didn't say anything.

But unlike many of the high school guys I gave head to, I hooked up with him again a day or two later, and sex was definitely on the table for this one.  But it was a date, of sorts, and so I came to learn that his mother's name was Cindy during the awkward small talk during our dinner (at Applebees, I seem to recall, which just goes to show what a cheap date I am).  I didn't put two and two together until we were rounding the bases in his car, and then I was too interested in rounding the bases to really care.

I blew him again in the back seat and again he moaned, "Oh Cindy," and my mind clicked.  He's calling out his mother's name.  Which might have been a turn-off for some people, but it wasn't for me.  I was more curious than anything else.  And I mulled it over on the drive.  We were going to his house, to hopefully do more than awkward car head.  His parents were pretty well off, way richer than my family, and they had a pool and a pool house, and he said we'd be nice and comfortable and private there.  I didn't want to fuck in the car.  I've fucked in plenty of cars, but hey, there was a pool on offer and I like pools.

His parents were home but were nowhere to be seen, so we sneaked back to the pool house, pulled some cushions and blankets together, and got naked.  He wasn't a great fuck by any standards but I got dinner and a pool out of it, and he was eager if not particularly long-lasting.  And he had a nice cock which was wasted on him because he didn't really know how to use it.  Still, he fingerbanged me to orgasm before replacing his fingers with that cock while I was still coming off the O and then fucking away for a minute or so.  And then, "Oh Cindy," and he pulled out and came on my belly.

I had to know.  "Babe, you keep calling me Cindy," I said gently.

"Oh shit, sorry, I didn't mean to..." He was all sorts of apologetic.

"I don't care," I said.  "But Cindy's your mom, right?"

And by reassuring him (and rubbing against him and kissing him and basically making it very clear that he could tell me anything and I would still be ready for round two) I finally got him to admit that he wanted to fuck his mother.  Never going to happen, of course.  That family was uptight like nobody's business, and had they not been Catholic they would have been the prototypical WASPs.  But he spied on her undressing and so forth, jerked off to pictures of her, etc.  It was kind of sick: not that he wanted to fuck his mother, but that he was basically stalking her, and so repressed about it that it was like pulling teeth to get him to admit it.

I told him I wasn't judging and I didn't care, but that maybe he shouldn't call out his mom's name in moments of passion with girls who might be less forgiving.  And then we fucked again, me on top, and he managed to keep from saying his mom's name.  See, I'm a helper.

No idea what happened with him.  I wasn't really interested in dating him, and anyway I wasn't really in his social circle.  I think he only took me out on a date because he thought I'd put out, and he was right.  I think I may have blown him again in a dark corner at some school function, but I'm not even sure.  Old age is tough, kids.

That's still not answering the question though.

I've had a few crying cummers.  That's mostly a girl thing.  I was with one girl who had been raped and thought she was a lesbian now.  I, of course, didn't know that.  I just thought she was another cute girl.  But when I was between her legs and felt her start to cum, she started just shaking and sobbing, and I spent the rest of the evening comforting her and getting the story.  But she wasn't crying because she was reliving the trauma; she was crying because she realized as she came that she wasn't attracted to me and felt like she'd been leading me on.  Which, believe me, made me feel like a total heel for making her feel that way, because I didn't care.  She could have jumped up, said, "Sorry, changed my mind, I don't think I'm a lesbian after all," and I would have been fine with that.

Rape messes people up in odd and terrible ways.  Don't rape people.  That should probably go without saying.

One girl I was with had her first orgasm brought on by another person (she'd made herself cum before but could never get it to work with a partner) and she cried because she said it was so wonderful.  So of course I made it my mission to make her feel that wonderful again, and again, and maybe even a fourth time if I remember correctly.  That was a fun evening.  I don't think she did anything to me at all; I was on a mission to make that girl cum as hard as I possibly could.

And I'm remembering at least one gentleman caller to my lair who cried immediately after cumming, but I don't remember why.  It wasn't anything earth-shattering.  I think he just had an excess of emotions.  I didn't mind, and we snuggled for a while, then I asked him if he was okay and he said yes, did I want to go again?  So we went again.  I know there are people who find fucking crying people sexy.  I find it a little sad, that's all.  Not sad in a pathetic way, just in a sad way, because I don't like it when people cry and I feel like I'm the one causing it if they're crying after fucking me.

But that's still not answering the question.

Okay, I've got one: in mid coitus, a guy turned into a Brony on me.  It was a little off-putting to have him suddenly start talking My Little Pony as he was fucking me.  I'm not judging.  I've looked at some MLP porn.  I don't know the show at all though, so maybe that was part of it; it was like Greek to me.  It was like suddenly someone started talking dirty to me during sex but in a foreign language.  Had he warned me up front, I might have been totally fine with it, although I would have warned him that I couldn't really talk back.

I can't even remember what he was saying, other than that it had to do with ponies.  And Princess Celestia, I think. Maybe Applejack. I don't know the names.

The thing was, it was really good sex.  And after the transition, once I had a moment to get used to the idea, I told him to go for it.  And it was just more dirty talk after that, even if I didn't really understand the context.  He even told me to call him by some pony name which I've forgotten, which I was happy to do, and he seemed to enjoy that.  The benefit for me was that I got to call him some made-up pony name (and probably say something about him pleasing the Princess) while he ate my pussy like a champ.  I came over and over again, and then we fucked some more, and I was pretty blissed out.  If he'd wanted me to call him Queen Poops-Her-Pants, I probably would have done that to keep the joy buzzer buzzing.

So Bob, maybe not a great answer to the question, but it was a good question to muse on, so there you go.

Bob asks questions of Lexi which are specific and invite recollection.  He uses a superlative but does it in a way which is easier to answer than, "What's the best sex you've ever had?"  Be like Bob.

Or don't.  Ask whatever questions you want.  I welcome them all, even if I don't get to all of them.  But Bob gets a gold star.