I want you to spit in my mouth. And crucially, I also think it’s gross when you spit in my mouth. There aren’t many sexual acts about which I have this knife-edge ambivalence. Some things (extreme belting) are hot to me in fantasy but not reality. Others (making out) are incredible in practice but rarely have the power to be wankable when I’m alone. It’s not often I find something that is both desired and disgusting simultaneously but for what it’s worth, spit in my mouth is one of them.
Let’s start with why it’s gross. A risky strategy, for sure, because what I’m aiming to do is give you the same squicky discomfort I feel about mouth spit, until a level of repulsion penetrates your mind and wraps round your bones… then flip that entirely and see if I can turn you on. Come with me on this journey, if you’re willing, and let’s get grubby together.
Spit is gross
Very rarely is any fluid delicious when served at body temperature. Generally I like my drinks hot (coffee) or cold (vodka coke), and anything in between will only be gagged down reluctantly.
The one notable exception to this is spunk, which can only be consumed at body temperature – pumped directly into my mouth, at exactly the same temp as the dick I’ve just been sucking. If spunk is flung onto a person’s body or spends any time whatsoever cooling on skin or in the air it immediately becomes inedible to me. Your mileage may vary, but I personally believe spunk should only be consumed when it’s sucked fresh from the source.
All other fluids should be significantly hotter or colder than my own tongue. If you disagree, that’s fine: enjoy your cup of lukewarm soup, room temperature white wine or ice-cold jizz, you absolute horror.
Spit is body temperature. Or only slightly lower than body temperature if you’re spitting into my mouth from a distance. Looming over me while we fuck, holding my face so my jaw is open nice and wide, then hocking it directly onto my tongue. Not only is it body temperature, the actual substance is sticky, viscous. Spitting both sparks disgust – people who spit in the street are grotesque, no? – and indicates it – the things people spit out or spit onto are usually horrible too. Pretty much everything we know about spit is disgust-coded.
And that is why it is hot.
Spit is filth, and so am I
I’ve never been into humiliation from a looks perspective. The idea of someone trying to turn me on by calling me ugly (or anything societally coded as ‘ugly’) makes me want to curl into a ball of shame and hide under the bed. I shudder at the idea of shaming a partner for anything related to their body or looks either. I know that people sometimes get off on being treated like shit in these ways, but they are 100% not for me.
Being told I’m a disgusting slut, though? That one’s fucking magic. A guy who calls me filthy, treats me like a cheap sex toy only suitable for having cum dumped into or onto me? That’s humiliation that I can really get behind. Or under – with my mouth open waiting for him to rain down more upon me.
I suspect it’s because in this case I am not ashamed. I don’t actually think that what I do is disgusting or gross, so it’s safe for me to play inside this space. My body is a frequent source of shame, so I don’t want critiques of it being hauled into the bedroom like the latest launch from Doxy. But my sluttery? Pretty proud of that, actually. I’ve found a lot of happiness in sex, and used my enthusiasm for it to dispense joy to a few awesome people in turn. So if you call me a disgusting slut, the horror of that insult will be tempered significantly by a kick of pride. I’m a proud slut, and in that moment I did must have done something deliciously, abjectly sleazy to deserve the title.
There’s a neat and easy shorthand for ‘you’re a disgusting slut’. A non-verbal one. One which zings with extra power and kick because it’s almost like you think so little of me, you can’t be bothered to form the words to tell me just how filthy you think I am:
Spit.
In my mouth.
Put your hand around my jaw and make me open wide, then spit directly inside. Look into my eyes while you do it and you’ll see a flash of temporary horror – this is gross! – but keep looking. That flash will likely be followed by a flicker of pride and satisfaction. This is gross, for sure, but I took it. I held my mouth open and I accepted this trash you wanted to fling into me. I swallowed it too, didn’t I?
How degrading. How awful. How cheap and indecent and squalid of me.
What a filthy slut I am.
What a good fucking girl.
Spit on my body
Here’s something that doesn’t happen enough, in my opinion: people spitting onto my body. I don’t know if this is an opinion I’ve articulated before, or even really understood in detail until I started writing this post. I love when that happens! Diving into the detail of why I find a particular thing hot can often open up new avenues of horn that – as yet – I’ve neglected to explore. But now I come to think of it, I have this opinion so strongly that the second I hit ‘publish’ on this post I’m going to send it to somebody and detail the following scenarios, so he can wrap the concept into potential future activities, knowing just how horny it will make me if he spits onto my body.
Picture the scene: you’re fucking my face. Hard. I’m choking down on your dick like I can barely breathe, drool pouring out the sides of my mouth and down my chin. You’re slamming into the back of my throat so swiftly that I’ve had to tap out and pause more than five times so far, drinking deep breaths into my lungs before grabbing your arse and tugging you back for the next round.
You’re close to coming but you’re not gonna make it just yet and besides – you only get to come once before you need a break, so you want to take time to ponder exactly where to dump that spunk. Maybe you don’t want to pour it into my mouth, but fire it in thick ropes across my face instead. Or my tits. Perhaps this cum is destined for my cunt where you can shove it deep inside to get me really pregnant. Whatever. You want to pause the fucking for a while, so you can tease me with ideas and get me tingling with anticipation of where you’ll shoot your hot, fat load. What’s the best way to let me know we’re taking a break?
You could tell me, sure. Use words and be gentle. Alternatively – if we know each other well enough and our kinks happen to align – you could pull your dick out of my gasping, wet mouth, look down at me on my knees and opine:
“You’re a disgusting fucking slut, you know that? I’m not gonna come just yet. I will save you for later.”
And then, to punctuate this dismissal, spit.
On me.
On my face, my tits, my body.
In my mouth if you like, but now I’m writing this in detail the ‘in my mouth’ part feels superfluous. The spitting is what’s hot.
Picture this, too: you’ve bent me over the kitchen counter. This isn’t a fuck that’s built up slowly, it’s one that began with your whim. You saw my arse, you wanted to touch it, so you came up behind me and pounced like you’d been hungering after this for weeks. Yanking down my jeans and knickers, spitting on your cock, you slipped it in and started brutally railing me. Not because you want to connect or give me pleasure (though, perhaps obviously, this will give me a lot of pleasure) but simply because you know that my cunt feels nice around your cock. You order me to squeeze it nice and tight, because you want your money’s worth. This makes me groan with need, and I do as I’m told. Suddenly locked on to the knowledge that you might come soon – might fill me up and make me pull my knickers back on so I can sit beside you on the sofa watching a film and knowing that your spunk is still inside me.
Then, almost as abruptly as you started, you stop. Pull out. Smack me on the arse and tell me: “that’s all for now, you filthy bitch.”
And then spit.
On my back, on my arse, on the back of my neck just between the shoulder blades. Don’t pay too much attention to where your spit lands, the point is not to hit a target, the point is just to make me feel used and worthless and disgusting.
It’s gross, for sure. It’s viscous and disgusting and disrespectful and utter, utter filth.
And – once more, with feeling – that is why it’s hot.