Wipe me down!
A few years back, I was broing down with some bros and the conversation meandered towards giving girls facials. One of my boys was totally aghast at the idea of crop dusting his special lady friend’s face, and couldn’t understand how a righteous feminizzle bitch such as yours truly would want to get down with something he perceived as being so inherently degrading to women.
I’ve heard others echo this sentiment since then, and it never ceases to amaze me how some people think that one’s world view must also dictate one’s sexual inclinations. There are powerful CEO’s who like getting tied up and whipped by dominatrixes and black militants who enjoy dabbling in a little milk of magnesia–so why wouldn’t there be feminists who like to catch a load to the chin every once in a while? I mean, I understand that the physical act of coitus is more of a cut-and-paste operation for some than others, but come on. It’s a little spilled seed. Are we really gonna split hairs here?
By this point, perhaps you have inferred that I am a pretty big fan of bukkake. Not like crazy group jerk sessions onto my face while my eyelids are held open by clamps. There will be none of that, have you ever gotten jizz in your eye? It feels like someone just punched you directly in the facial. And not in a good way either. No, I’m talking about a good old-fashioned body drenching. There is just something so satisfying about seeing a huge load sittin’ pretty on my boobage after a job well done. A new pearl necklace? For me? Aw shit baby, you shouldn’t have!
To me, a skeet skeeted into a condom is a skeet skeet wasted. I mean, mutual orgasms are cool and all but I’m deathly afraid of getting knocked up before I’m good and goddamned ready, so even when there’s a condom in play, I get easily spooked thinking about what would happen if it broke mid-nut. I’d much rather feel the splooge hit my skin and know instantly that no babies were conceived in the making of this sexual encounter.
It also enables me to really get in there and gauge the intensity of orgasm, based on speed of projection, trajectory arc, and volume. Plus, I am the kind of person who needs closure–the more visceral, the better–and this, to me, is a guy’s way of saying, “Here, take this little present special from me to you for being such a hot ass motherfucking sexual goddess.” And I ain’t mad at that. I’m really not.
However, there is definitely some post-spattering etiquette that I feel needs to be addressed here. Most guys will give you a haphazard dry rub with whatever towel or t-shirt is handy. Some will just leave you to your own devices and wander off to the bathroom to wash their nuts. Some will hand you a crusty sock from up off the floor and laugh sheepishly. Shut up, it has happened to the best of us, or at least to those of us who have fucked with a stoner punk dude…or seven.
What the fuck is up with that shit? I’m sayin’. Feel free to take a minute to look at the map of Hawaii you just spilled on my stomach, but fuck’s sake. I just worked that party puddle out of your body with my body, maing. Wipe me down already! (A-wipe me down.) On that note, I have decided that the day a man lovingly sops up his goo from my chest with a clean, hot, moist towel is the day that I start giving up the buttsex.
Sooo, fellas. Bedside towel-warming station: who’s copping?
Candy Rain Magazine 