Fun fact: I once spent an entire week wanking to nothing other than a gif someone had made of a particular moment in a homemade porn film, where the woman squeezed her eyes tight shut and grinned as the guy emptied an astonishingly generous load all over her face. Let’s talk about facials, shall we?
I quite like it when guys come on my face. The sticky hotness of it, the fact that I can feel each spurt precisely as it splatters on my cheeks and eyelids. The unpredictability: one facial can paint neat spurts of jizz in just the right places, while another can be erratic – cum splodged everywhere, messy enough that if I listen closely I can hear it splatter like raindrops on the pillow.
Facials get a pretty bad rep
Nevertheless, facials get a pretty bad rep: and rightly so. They are so often used in porn climaxes that a real-life facial can seem like a cliché. It would be like if you insisted on singing the Eastenders theme tune after dropping a conversational bombshell. I’m sceptical about the claim that whole generations of young men genuinely believe that an as-yet-undiscussed jizz shower is an acceptable way to ‘surprise’ a partner after sex, although I have certainly seen a few people claim it is. But I do accept that if something is regularly shown as ‘the right way to do things’ then unless we contradict it, some kids are going to grow up pretty damn confused. So for what it’s worth: no, I absolutely do not want someone to come on my face without asking. In fact, to my mind, if you remove the element of a hot guy asking ‘where do you want me to come?’ then you remove one of the horniest sex things that anyone could possibly do.
It’s lucky they’re not compulsory because of course not everyone likes facials. Some people feel they’re too degrading. Others don’t like the mess. Still more point out, quite rightly, that getting spaff in your eye is a pretty painful business. I wouldn’t argue with any of this – I’ve spent more than one romantic evening with a cold flannel clamped to my eye socket, howling ‘Jesus, have you been eating jalapeños and SAND, you fucker?!’
But. But. I still like them. And I reckon one of the reasons facials have had such a bad rep isn’t because they’re necessarily bad, it’s because they’ve been presented as a universal good.
Facials are like Christmas pudding
In my family, there are two distinct camps: those who like Christmas pudding (me and my Mum) and those who detest Christmas pudding and also think the people who like it are Agents Of Satan (my siblings, mostly). They hate Christmas pudding because it’s got raisins and other dried fruit in, possibly also because when we were younger you could guarantee that the ‘lucky sixpence’ (a five pence piece wrapped in tin foil for hygiene reasons and also because my Mum’s a bit bizarre) would go to one of the Christmas-pudding-likers. So those who had grudgingly chewed through a slice of the sticky brown stuff, despite hating it, didn’t even get a year’s worth of luck to make it worthwhile. What’s more, the fact that they were frequently urged to eat ‘just a bite, go on’ to display either the requisite Christmas spirit or politeness to the chef meant that what would previously have been ‘a bit gross’ was elevated into status of ‘most hated dessert on the planet.’
See: facials are one of those things that – like everything sexual – is always going to divide opinion. Your idea of a turn on will be someone else’s idea of a nightmare. Facials, like oral sex to a certain extent, have been presented as so de rigeur that their brand has been irreversibly stained. And I think this is a shame. Apart from anything else, your enjoyment of a facial (or a Christmas pudding) does not depend on whether someone unrelated enjoys it to the same extent. All that matters is that you and your partner like it. What’s more, telling other people that they totally have to like something is more likely to turn a dislike into a hatred, as they add ‘nagging twats’ to the list of negative qualities in their mind.
One of my favourite things (I know, I have a lot of favourite things – despite my outward demeanour I’m an irritatingly positive person) is when a guy does that sexy grunting in the back of his throat just before he comes, then asks me in a desperate ‘I’m nearly there’ voice:
“Where do you want it?”
I like it because it gives me an element of choice. Because spunk is so gorgeously tactile – warm and sticky and runny and delivered via the medium of a powerfully squirting dick – that I’d like to choose, depending on my mood, where it should go best. If there’s going to be loads of it, I would like it on my tits. If it’s going to be powerful, like you haven’t had a wank for a couple of days and you just know your dicks going to hurl it out there like a super-soaker at a summer barbecue, then I would like it in either my cunt or my ass. And if it’s going to be accurate? If you reckon you can paint my face neatly with thick lines of white semen? Then please God yes, come hard on my face.
I wrote this post for Kink of the Week, and it was supposed to be about semen in and of itself. Unfortunately, not only have I done to death my love of semen (jizz itself as well as more niche topics like the joy of wallowing in it), I have also recently had a cold so runny that it couldn’t help but remind me of a more fun thing to scrape off your face with baby wipes. So while the quality, consistency, and temperature of someone’s semen can make the difference between an excellent facial and a simply ‘good’ one, I reckon they’re linked enough that this blog post counts. Click below to read other sex bloggers’ thoughts on the delights of semen.