Love, Relationships

Talking dirty with a biological scientist

*NOTE: This is a purely fictitious post. If you think you recognise anything familiar about any of the characters in this post it’s purely in your imagination. No-one was harmed in the telling of this story. Except possibly one mammary gland.

Once upon a time there was a couple who lived in a seaside town and were both biological scientists (amongst other things). He was a lot more scientific that her. And proper. He was a lot more proper and spoke with intelligence and forethought. She forgot sometimes to use the correct scientific descriptions for things, and just used the dirty version, and often said the first thing that came to her mind. He would call her “potty mouth” she would say stuff with the f-word in it. A lot.

INSERT David Attenborough-style documentary music and landscape panning here.

One evening the male of the species came over to the female’s territory.

It was getting close to the time in the female’s monthly hormonal cycle when she would experiences menses (fuck I’m sorry I had to write that word, but there isn’t even a better one) and she was experiencing what could only be described as a slight agitation and aggression for no obvious reason. The male of the species thought it would be fun to tease her. This was usually well received, except when her hormones made her want to rip other peoples oesophagus’s (oesophagiii?) out, especially ones who teased her). On a couple of occasions she “playfully” attacked him with her phalanges in the form of fists.

Later they moved from the communal part of the cave to the private sleeping space, at which point the male of the species thought it would be fun to say “You should be nice or I might abstain from having sexual intercourse with you”.

The female was observed to completely lose her shit and ask incredulously “Did you just say sexual intercourse? Did you say that? Because if you even say that again I will never, ever let you do anything to me ever again.” He was observed laughing. He embraced her in an affectionate cuddle, but when she winced he said “Oh sorry did I squash your boob?”. She suspects he may have said “breast” but was grateful at least he didn’t say “mammary gland”. Then he said something about a time she may have squashed one of his “testicles”.

And, because she was so concerned at some point he might say the word “ejaculation” she ended any form of continuation of copulation and told him she might write a blog about it. For someone who would prefer the quiet life, he’s a very good sport.

When they stopped talking all kinds of great stuff happened (about which there really aren’t any words) and although he has no desire to talk dirty and she has no ability to sensor herself, that has no bearing on the end result. She just wants him to say “ass” instead of “bottom” but mostly just loves the way she makes him laugh.

The end.

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