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CALL OF THE DAY: pussy pounding and the subjective nature of “nasty”

Here, here, let me help you with your baggage... No, you won't fall, I promise.

Here, here, let me help you with your baggage... No, you won't fall, I promise.

"He wants a nasty girl,” said the dispatcher. I wrote it down in my notebook, and in my head, I had already started chasing that word down a few different corridors simultaneously.

See, in my experience, things usually go pear-shaped—in the best definition of the word—when a caller wants a "nasty girl." It's either going to be some forced bisexuality or incest or poo/piss, but it's going to be loud and dramatic and possibly messy, and I am going to have to stay articulate and inventive throughout. (Please see my very first infographic for the reality about this.)

So I braced myself, but all this guy said to me, once our brief greetings were through, was, "I'm gonna pound that pussy." That’s it. Over and over, for a 10-minute call, he just kept repeating it. It was even more repetitive than a call with Titty-Fuck Rosary, without the somewhat intriguing racial politics. I tried a few lines of narrative flow, described my alleged physical traits, but he just wasn’t that interested in anything but my porno-like gasping and moaning, and his own repeated use of the words: “I’m gonna pound that pussy.”

It was a nice bold statement of intent, but not nasty, not to me, at least.

This is not the first time that I have marveled at the massively subjective nature of describing one’s sexuality. When asked out on the Smut Stand to explain what I mean when I say “hardcore,” I usually say something like, Well, I have to listen as I go along in this interview, pick up the clues and create from here, because one person’s wild sex romp is another person’s Sunday brunch in bed. The same thing is true in phone sex, even more so.

What is "hardcore"? "Kinky"? "Nasty"? "Slutty"? We can look them up in the dictionary, but the actual, in-the-moment meanings are highly context-specific. Who is the person talking to—friends, lovers, friends of lovers, a swarm of paparazzi? Where are they: a sex-toy store? A leather orgy? A vanilla orgy, the beach at noon, talking in hushed voices at church, outside the bar at midnight? What is the tone of voice: admiring, dismissive, disgusted, frightened, encouraging?

In certain environments, these words are opprobrious. They are praise. In many of my circles, calling someone “kinky” is a way of granting them in-group status, saying that they are different from the mainstream. They like shibari/rough play/gender-bending/clothespins; whatever it is—and the details aren’t always forthcoming—they aren’t a Muggle.

But the most common meaning, I think, of words like “nasty” or “kinky” or at least underlying the use of those words, is to differentiate between things, to clearly demarcate the lines that exist either between oneself and the other, more kinky people—"I'm normal and those freaks clearly aren't"—or between one’s “normal” self and the wild, kinky self that apparently only emerges by the light of the full moon, maybe after chugging six pints of hard liquor. Many of my callers use “nasty” to describe something that they don’t seem to feel comfortable or safe sharing with their partners.

So these words are not an actual measure of the objective nature of the sex desired; instead, they are an indicator of the speaker’s experience and understanding of distance between themselves and that sex. They are a sign, telling me that a gap is coming up, a tiny leap or a terrifying chasm, and the caller needs my help bridging it.

This is not normally who I am. I want a girl who can handle this.

So as much as I wanted to laugh about my over-preparedness or maybe the caller’s over-estimation of his own dirtiness, I couldn’t, because the distance between his “nasty” and mine isn’t the important thing. It’s the distance between his “nasty” and his “normal”. Depending on where his normal is, that distance can be light years. And yeah, that is scary.

*****

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