The Weekly Mindfuck: The Facial

The facial. The money shot. One of the most controversial, most lusted after, and most elusive sexual acts around. To some extent, it seems to live within the confines of our computer screens, paired with pigtails or lipstick or an elaborate set of lingerie. This is certainly true: Porn has left it's marked on production of the facial, creating a borderline obsession with an aesthetic act that's considered degrading by some and overwhelming sexy by others. Facials aren't satisfying in terms of sensation—it's how they look, hot cum strewn across women's face in a way that slightly suggests submission or a genuine taste for spunk. But that doesn't exist in real life, right? Wrong.

"I want to come on your face, baby"

I'm not the first or the last woman to have heard these words uttered in the middle of a blow job, hands tangled in my hair. I had the same experience with them as many others, too: At first, the idea repulsed me. Wasn't letting a man come on your face a blatant act of disrespect? How could someone who valued you as an equal push you down to your knees and blow his load all over your face, getting it in your eyes and your nose, spewing the last bits haphazardly in your hair? It seemed like the devolvement of an act that could already be degrading with the wrong person. I'd shake my head firmly, indicating it as a hard line. "No." 

Then again, I didn't realize how inexperienced I was when I felt that way. Not "inexperienced" in the sense that I hadn't had many sexual encounters; I'd lost my virginity years before and had given enough blow jobs to feel good about them at that point. I was "inexperienced" in the sense that I'd never had a sexual relationship with someone that didn't made feel debased when we talked about our dirtiest fantasies. I'm slow to warm up—push me too quickly and fail to notice the warning signs, and it's unlikely I'll ever lose myself to you sexually.

Eventually, I found myself with a sexual partner that discussed them with me in a way that was intriguing. At first, I was resistant and skeptical—as I usually am. Soon enough, though, with slow coaxing—a gentle pry, if you will—I felt a sense of mutual respect that pushed my sexual boundaries. "No" was followed by "no" and then "maybe." Before I knew it, I was begging for a facial. Somehow, at some point in time, it had turned from repulsive to sexy as hell. I craved it.

Don't get me wrong—some women do enjoy the idea of being debased or debasing someone else, and I think that's fantastic. It's a different kind of facial entirely. But the rest of us? I think we love this money shot because it's messy and primal and raw. A little bit taboo and just the right amount of subversive. Dirty things, when experienced with someone else, are intimate and erotic in a way that transcends something we grew up watching on TV when our parents were out of town. And as for porn? I'm sure it did bring about our society's obsession with the money shot, but I'll take it. There's something thrilling about putting on a show.