What Not to Say During Sex: 11 Words and Phrases That Kill the Mood

I've been engaging in regular sexual activity for a number of years, and I've heard everything imaginable before, after, and even during the act:  laughing, screaming, crying, yelling an ex-lover's name, Bible verses, dirty talk, French, German, Klingon.

I can ignore almost anything.

But some words and phrases are too grating and asinine to ignore.  They make me much less likely to invite you home in the first place, and they ruin the mood once we get there.  They're likely to elicit laughter or a groan of disapproval.  You'd be better off quoting Monty Python ("My nipples explode with delight), or just giving your vocal cords a rest.

Here are 11 sex words and phrases that will kill the mood:

1. Fit

Oh, aren't you fit!

 Physical fitness is a measure of your cardiovascular endurance,  muscle strength and endurance, flexibility, agility, and fat-to-muscle ratio, not your physical attractiveness.  Saying that someone is fit makes you sound like a leering, groping Creepy Old Guy.

2. Delicious/Mouth Watering.

 Your kisses are delicious!  Your cock is mouth-watering!

You use your mouth for both eating and sex, but otherwise the two activities are not at all related.  Sex has nothing to do with your taste buds; a hamburger can't be sexy, and a person cannot be delicious.

3. Breed.

I need a man to breed me.

Breed means encouraging animals to have sex so they will reproduce.  It's demeaning when you're talking about human beings, and completely inaccurate when you're talking about anal sex.  If you're an anal bottom, just say so.

4. Fuck

Oh, fuck me, fuck me.

The word fuck is used for many things besides sexual acts, mostly bad things.  It's vulgar, coarse, and low-class.  Besides, it's vague.  Exactly what act are you proposing?  Do you want to be an anal top, an oral bottom?  Do you want to do interfemoral?  Be specific!





5. Cock sucker/sucking cock

I want you to suck my cock!

Cock sucker is a long-standing derogatory term for gay men.  It's demeaning to oral bottom, and completely inaccurate.  You only suck at the end of the act.  Say "go down on me" instead.

6. It feels good/great

The success of oral sex is dependent on how attractive you find your partner, how erotic you find the situation, how comfortable you are in the room, and a host of other conditions, some seemingly trivial (whether or not you are hungry).  "It feels good/great" reduces the act to a pure sensation.

7. Fag

There will be a fag at the party to service you.

Fag is another derogatory term for gay men, implying that that they are objects rather than people, far inferior to heterosexual men.  And why would you refer to just one of the gay men at a party as a fag?  They're all gay.

8. Dom/Sub

I'm a sub into getting whipped and spanked, looking for a dom.

Dom (dominant) and sub (submissive) are terms taken from heterosexual master-slave scenes, infused with the heteronormative depiction of sex as always involving a "boy" and a "girl."  It brands you as a newcomer to gay communities: we say top and bottom.

9.  Big cock

Suck that big cock!  Do you like that big cock?

I'm a big fan of extra-large equipment, but it's annoying to be asked "Do you like that big cock?" in the middle of a sexual encounter. Especially when they ask you over and over.

Um...of course I like that big cock.  Why else would I be here?

The irony is that guys who ask that are usually average-sized.

10. Yeah

Yeah, do that. Yeah...yeah.

In porn, it's guys watching the act who say "yeah...yeah" every thirty seconds.  In real life, it's the guy you're having sex with, whether or not you've asked him a question.

11. Cum

I'm gonna cum....

Why bother to announce it?  It's usually obvious, unless you're one of those guys who produces no semen, so nothing comes out.  And if you do want to announce it, why use that unelegant phrase?  Try:

Russian: Ya zankochen (I am finished).
German: Ich spritze (I squirt).
Spanish: Yo rocio (I splatter).
French: Je jouis (I am glad).

See also: 6000 Ways to Say Penis; What is the Difference Between a Pizza and a Penis?

The Estonian Wrestling Brothers

There are only about 25,000 people of Estonian ancestry in the United States, as opposed to 1.2 million of Swedish ancestry.  But when I was growing up in Rock Island, Estonia appeared in my life nearly as often as Sweden, giving me an early impression that it was a "good place," where same-sex desire was open and free.

1. In 4th grade at Denkmann Elementary School, Bill's parents took us to a performance by the Estonian National Ballet at Augustana College. I don't remember the piece (this is from Modigliani, the Cursed Artist in the 2012-13 season).

2. Our 4th grade teacher considered Estonia part of Scandinavia for some reason, and told us Estonian folktales and the story of Kalevipoeg.

3. At a garage sale in 5th or 6th grade, I bought a book written in Finnish. I couldn't read it, of course -- the lady at sale told me that the title meant Come to Estonia-- but there were some nice pictures of Estonian houses, monuments, and the naked statue of Kalevipoeg by Kristjan Raud, plus some shirtless Estonian men (not this photo).


4. In 9th grade at Washington Junior High, I was playing the violin and coveting the position of first chair, when one day in the spring, a slim, sandy-haired 7th grader named George (top photo, left) appeared out of nowhere and easily won the audition.




A few weeks later, I entered a chess tournament, and George was my first opponent.  A 7th grader -- an easy win! I thought.  Nope, he trounced me in five moves!

It was annoying to be beaten in everything, but George was cute, and my boyfriend Dan was becoming more and more distant, so I thought of making "the switch."  I told George that I was on the wrestling team, and offered to show him some moves.  "I'll show you Estonian wrestling!" he offered.

It turned out to be Graeco-Roman wrestling.  He pinned me easily.  

George's parents were refugees from Communist Estonia.  His father worked in the factory, but he had been an athlete of some sort back home.  There was a picture of him and his muscular, shirtless teammates on the mantle (not this one).


George had a older brother, a 11th grader named Kristjan, who was just as accomplished.  One day all three of us practiced Estonian wrestling in their basement rec room.

We never became close friends, but I still have warm memories of two muscular bodies pressed against me.

(Photo from Alo Paistik, an Estonian artist living in Paris, whose Applied Art for a Gay Club is on display at gay clubs around Europe.)

5. At Augustana College, the professor who taught my first-year music theory class was Estonian (no doubt he was the one who arranged to have the Estonian National Ballet visit a few years before).  He gave me a B- on my paper on Peer Gynt.  He wore jeans to class -- a remarkable feat of daring for a professor in the 1970s, and one which offered proof of why Kristjan Raud always depicted his models nude.

Spring 1965: Chasing the Boy with the Guitar

Garrett, Indiana, Spring 1965

One of my earliest memories:

It's a warm night in the springtime.  We're  living on Randolph Street in Garrett, Indiana, so I must be about four years old.  My bedroom window looks out on the alley and then the back yard of the house in the next block, where there's a little grey-stone patio.

It's late, long after bedtime, but I'm still awake.  I go to the window.  Across the alley, some teenagers are sitting in green-striped lawn chairs on the patio, in kind of a circle, listening to a boy play the guitar and sing.

Mrs. Brown, you've got a lovely daughter.
Girls as sharp as her are something rare.

He is facing my direction.  Maybe he is singing to me!

I know I'm not anybody's daughter, but he said "lovely."  That means he loves me!

I push against the wire screen.  It must be broken -- it comes off easily.  I push myself out of the window, and land on the hard, warm grass.  The teenage boy keeps singing, looking in my direction. 

Our house on Randolph Street

Walkin' about, even in a crowd, well
You'll pick her out, makes a bloke feel so proud

He's seen me walking around!

I walk across the back yard.  My new boyfriend is cute!   He is wearing a pale orange shirt and short pants, and sandals.

Don't let on, don't say she's broke my heart
I'd go down on my knees but it's no good to pine

Next comes the alley, all gravel, hard and sharp against my bare feet.  But I'm willing to endure it to let him know that it's ok, I won't break his heart again. .

Then suddenly the music stops.  The teenagers are all staring at me.  I hear murmuring "Look, it's a kid!" "Where'd he come from?"  "Is he lost?"

They are interrogating me, accusing me.  Scared, embarrassed, I start to cry.

Herman's Hermits

 A teenage girl wearing sandals crosses the alley and sweeps me into her arms.  My boyfriend follows her. I get a glimpse of his smooth tanned chest, smell his Aqua Velva cologne.  They take me around to the front of the house, knock on the door, and deliver me to my parents, who yell a lot.

The screen in the window is fixed the next day.

I don't remember ever seeing my "boyfriend" again.

I've always thought of  "Mrs. Brown, You've Got a Lovely Daughter" as a gay song, though I can't really find any gay subtexts in it, and Herman's Hermits is my least favorite boy band.