My Boyfriend Wanted to Finish on My Face and I Said No

There are women whose ass gets complimented and women whose tits get complimented, and among men there’s a kind of friendly rivalry over which of the two matters more. You find out about that by interacting with them: sooner or later someone asks, “Ass or tits?” and a cheerful debate breaks out where they go over the attributes of every woman they know.

In those chats there’s always one guy who says, “I prefer her to be pretty-faced.” And that’s where I come in, right there.

I don’t have tits, or I have small ones. I have a nice ass that stands out much more in a thong or a swimsuit than with clothes on. I’m not one of those girls who put on tight jeans and turn heads in the street, but at the beach my round ass does get some attention. I’m five foot four, just enough not to be considered short, but not enough to look like a model.

What I’ve always been told, since I was little and now that I’m twenty-three, is that I’m gorgeous-faced. I’ll try to describe it as objectively as I can. It’s oval, soft, with defined cheekbones. Fair skin with a natural glow, unshaped eyebrows, almond-shaped light-brown eyes. A straight, well-proportioned nose that more than one person called “perfect.” Cheeks that flush when I’m happy. A medium-sized mouth, with slightly full lips, and when I smile I look shy.

I have dark brown hair down to my waist, though every now and then I cut it to shoulder length. I used to wear thick-rimmed glasses that gave me an intellectual air; now I wear contact lenses, but I’m sure in a few months I’ll go back to glasses. I take religious care of my skin, drink liters of water, and that keeps it always immaculate. An harmonious, sweet, very photogenic face. That’s me.

***

Several years ago, when my group of friends was just starting their sex lives, my friend Sol told me she’d had her first blowjob. She had an older boyfriend, and apparently they’d gotten the urge to try new things.

“Oh my God, girl, you have no idea, I blew him,” she blurted out.

“Whaaat? Oh my God, tell me, how did it happen?”

“We were in his room making out on the bed. And well, you know how it is, we started with that little game of slipping our hands under each other’s clothes. He was touching my tits, I was sliding my hand into his pants.”

“No way, you’re so wild.”

“You have no idea. I started jerking him off, he took his pants down, he was left in his boxers, and I kept going while we were kissing.”

I was left with my mouth open, unable to say anything.

“Then he goes, ‘Will you suck it, Sol?’”

“And did you?”

“Yeah. I lowered my head, got the tip in my mouth, and started like I’d seen in movies.”

“And? What happened?”

“While I was sucking him off he was caressing my tits and moaning, so I figured I was doing it right. It’s really fun, you feel so powerful with a dick in your mouth.”

“Oh my God, I’d die of embarrassment if he ever asked me.”

“He’ll ask you any time now. Go for it, it’s fun.”

“I don’t know, it freaks me out a bit. How long were you at it?”

“Ten minutes, I guess. Until he told me he was about to come.”

“DID YOU SWALLOW?”

“No, I told him I didn’t want to. So he asked to finish on my face. He stood next to me, pointed here”—she indicated the upper part of her mouth—“and started jerking off. Did you know cum is warm?”

“On your face? Oh, gross.”

“It’s not that bad, it’s easy to clean up, hahaha.”

We kept talking a while longer, laughing about it. Inside, I was thinking: what a disgusting thing, sucking a dick, and how degrading it is to have cum sprayed on your face. But I kept it to myself; I didn’t want to make her feel bad.

***

Not long after, I gave my boyfriend my first blowjob, and a little bit of semen slipped out of my mouth onto my chin. An involuntary mini facial I gave myself, without meaning to.

The whole blowjob thing was complicated for me. I felt it was something only whores, easy girls, did, but at the same time I enjoyed it immensely. That contradiction made me uneasy. It’s not like I couldn’t sleep at night, but to make myself understood: it was like laughing at someone who falls down, something that was wrong in my head. In my scale of values, sucking my boyfriend’s dick was bad.

I didn’t have a repressive upbringing, quite the opposite. But doing something that was supposedly not supposed to give me pleasure, something that put me in a submissive position, made me feel worth less. Over time I made peace with the idea. I even became fascinated by the taste of his semen.

There was, however, one thing I still didn’t dare do. And he had only asked me once; after I said no, he never insisted again: to finish on my face.

One night I was going down on him and he warned me he was about to finish. Usually I swallow or let him come on my tits, but that time he said something that stuck in my head.

“Love, can I come on your face?”

“Mmm, no. I’d rather have it on my boobs.”

That time he came on my tits and the subject never came up again. We kept doing our usual oral sex, though I almost always swallowed. The excuse I gave was that swallowing is “more practical.” The truth is I love the taste, smell, and texture of his semen.

I always thought facials were inherently degrading, something that only existed in porn to show that the man is in charge, regardless of the woman’s pleasure. The woman reduced to an object, a semen receptacle, smeared in the face, which is precisely what defines a person’s identity.

One day, talking to him, I asked:

“Why did you want to come on my face that time?”

“Mmm, I didn’t really think about it much. I like your pretty little face, and I thought you might look sexy with my cum on it.”

The conversation ended there, but it made me think I was overanalyzing everything. Just like I overanalyzed oral sex before I fell in love with blowjobs, maybe I should give it a chance. The worst-case scenario was that it would disgust me; in that case I’d clean up and cross it off the list.

***

A few weeks later, my boyfriend’s parents went away on a trip alone, to unwind, and left him the house for three days: Friday, Saturday, and until Sunday night. With their parents’ blessing, mine let me stay with him. We could be relaxed and have fun. Fun at our age was eating pizza, drinking soda, and having lots of oral sex, and maybe vaginal sex.

On Friday I brought a little bag with a couple of changes of clothes, my toothbrush, and some toiletries. That first evening and night we spent watching videos online, kissing, and little else. We ate a pizza and a half between the two of us, drank two liters of soda, and honestly we weren’t up for anything else.

On Saturday we took advantage of the beautiful day to go to the river. We brought a blanket, had a picnic, and stayed there all afternoon, laughing. On the way back, with the sun still soaked into our skin, we started making out passionately in the living room, and he asked me to go down on him right there.

“I can’t take it anymore, babe. I want to suck you off.”

“I’m dying to too. Shall we go to the bedroom?”

“No, right here. Sit on the sofa and take off your skirt and panties.”

In the living room they have a three-seater sofa where we like to stay cuddled up, him sitting and me draped over him, kissing him. Sometimes I blow him there; for some magical reason, in that place sucking him seems like a more romantic and intimate act. But this time it was my turn. I sat down, lifted my legs as much as I could so my ass wouldn’t touch the sofa—I didn’t want to dirty it with my fluids—and he knelt in front of the couch.

“You smell so good, Mari,” he said while I was sucking him.

“So good, baby, I love it, ahhh.”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Yes, yes, keep going like that.”

I rested my legs on his shoulders. Until recently I was very insecure about my smells, but experience taught me that he likes them. And to be clear: it was a hot day, we’d been outside for hours, so I had plenty of smell. He ran his tongue over my clit, gently, because mine is hypersensitive, and then pushed it into me as far as he could.

On one of those passes I grabbed his head hard, pressed it down against me, and had a huge orgasm in his mouth.

What a delight. I adjusted myself to return the favor. I knelt in front of him, pulled down his pants, and there it was: his erect penis in all its glory, thick, with a pink, shiny glans. My mouth watered; I needed it immediately.

I took it into my mouth and started sucking. The smell and taste were wonderful; the heat of the day had left it with a masculine flavor that made me shiver. I took him all the way in, pulled him out, licked him, kissed the glans. I grabbed him with my hand, pointed him upward, and took the opportunity to suck his balls, licked his whole shaft. Then I took him back into my mouth and kept going, happy to do it.

“Love, I can’t take it anymore, I want to come.”

Those were the magic words. I kept sucking as if nothing were happening until I felt his cock throbbing in my mouth and him filling me with warm, thick cum. I swallowed it all. He likes that, but I like it more.

We showered together and went to sleep in his parents’ marriage bed. It’s a beautiful bed, in a room with antique furniture and a wall mirror. I love looking at myself in that mirror; it makes me feel beautiful and elegant. Sometimes I watch myself naked: my slender body, almost no tits, my round little ass, the pubis with a strip of hair that gives me the air of an eighties magazine model. I feel gorgeous.

***

The next day we woke up early, had breakfast, and went out to buy something for midday. It was oppressively hot and we sweated a little. When we came back, it wasn’t even noon yet and we were already both horny.

“I want to make love to you,” he told me.

We went back to the marriage bed. We stripped and I lay on my back, head on the pillow, legs slightly apart. He gave me a romantic kiss, went down, sucked on my little tits the way I like, traced my belly with kisses, and finished by giving me a masterful blowjob. He knows me perfectly by now.

I was about to come again, but I didn’t want to.

“Baby, I want you to fuck me.”

“Sure?”

“Very sure. I want to feel you inside.”

He sat up, grabbed a condom, pinched the tip with his index finger and thumb, and rolled it down over his erect penis. He gave me a tongue kiss and started to enter me missionary-style. Years go by and it’s still my favorite position: there’s nothing, however pornographic, that beats seeing the person you love getting off next to you.

“Slowly, baby,” I asked as he entered. I’m pretty tight and need to be very turned on for it not to hurt. But once aroused, sex is wonderful.

“Oh yes, oh yes, ah, ah, ahhh,” I moaned in time with his thrusts until I came.

When I finish I get so sensitive that it’s hard to keep going with penetration, so I decided to please him another way.

“Baby, come here.”

“Are you going to suck me off?”

“Obviously. I want you to get off too.”

There’s a position for oral sex we had been trying: me lying normally on the bed and him bringing his body close to my mouth. In porn they call it “fucking her face,” but ours was much more loving, with no violence at all. I blew him resting on the pillow while he made gentle pelvic movements to help.

He took off the condom, came close, and I started sucking him while he rocked his hips. In that position, since I hardly move my neck, I get to play more with my tongue, which is incredibly fun. I love licking his glans and watching him shudder.

While I was sucking him I remembered that until recently oral sex seemed degrading to me, and now I loved it. I had just understood why: giving a blowjob was—and still is—emotionally more intimate for me than penetration. That’s why I approach it the same way he does with me, trying to blow his mind every time and giving him a little surprise now and then.

“I want to come, Mari.”

“Baby, come on my face.”

“Sure?”

“Yes, very sure.”

With those words I was giving him exactly the surprise I like to give him. He started jerking off inches from my face while I stuck out my tongue so he could admire one of my favorite parts of my body. When I could tell he was close to the end, I closed my mouth and eyes, touched him with my hands, until I felt the spurts of semen hit me, several of them, warm, thick.

I opened my eyes and saw him with a look of total ecstasy and a huge smile. I looked at him, he looked at me, we laughed. He wanted to kiss me, but I moved away: I didn’t want him touching his own semen with his lips.

I sat up to look for something to clean myself with and ran into the antique mirror.

***

I looked beautiful. My harmonious, sweet face, covered in four splashes of white, warm, thick semen. My pretty face dirtied by the semen of the person I love most. I felt like it was degrading and at the same time I didn’t feel like it was something bad. That was exactly what made it hotter, and seeing myself so pretty at the same time made me like it.

There’s nothing more arousing than breaking some kind of taboo. You’re there doing something you’re supposed not to do, just because you can, and on top of that with someone who takes care of you and loves you.

Over time we added facial ejaculation to our regular practices. It’s not my favorite, but I don’t dislike it in the slightest, and honestly seeing my face covered in semen seems like a super sexy image to me.

I always feel tenderness for the Mariana of the past, the one who was averse to certain practices and ended up enjoying them all. But there’s nothing I enjoy more than feeling my boyfriend’s penis grow in my mouth, making him come with my lips and tongue, and ending up fed by his semen.