Sometimes, when I'm already in a dreamy sort of mood, just the words "he" and "she" can be a thrill. The man I have a crush on, he... and those two letters tell you that this person is a man and therefore has a cock and balls and sometimes that cock gets hard and sometimes a little clear fluid seeps out and when you lick it up and use your tongue to swirl it around the head you will feel that cock pulse just a little in your mouth.
It's things like this that put the lie to the idea of jading. That once you get fucked in the ass with a whip handle in your teeth like a pony's bit you won't still sparkle a little to see someone cute give you the merest smile. That when your sex and your fantasies are harsh and extreme you won't still doodle hearts in your notebook. Sex isn't skiing; you can do the harshest black diamond on the mountain and still feel your heart in your throat going down the kiddy hill.
I get turned on by the words "lick it until it's clean, bitch," and I get turned on by the words "he and she."