If you had to take a guess, how many times do you think I gave you a facial? People say it’s demeaning, but that’s only for folks who haven’t tried hard enough. Can anyone really call covering your face in cum “demeaning” after I’ve ripped your thong off, shoved it up your ass, pulled it out, and shoved it down your throat? Surely, asking you how your own shit tastes as you gag on a balled-up strand of cheap cloth you used to call underwear is much worse than taking a few squirts of cum on your face. Maybe a facial would be more demeaning than that if I’d just pulled my cock out of your asshole, but I don’t think most people would call that a regular facial. A facial is hot and all, but any attempt to wed the ass to the face is more than that. Marrying a visage and a posterior, as Shakespeare would say, was often the real telos of our carnal union, and that goal sure isn’t within the confines of your average Dan Savage listener. You knew that. Facials are showy, but in a good way, and have an artistic flourish that should be appreciated by all, but facials, as commonly performed, do nothing to bridge the distance between tongue and sphincter.

So if my cock is jammed in your asshole, if it’s serving as a wrench in your plumbing, and is then pulled out to hover and drip above your face, and you give it a quick kiss or a little suckle before it shoots all over you, then we really aren’t talking about a facial, are we? So with that in mind, how many times do you think I gave you a facial? Even excluding every time you let shit smear your face right along with all the cum, it must be hundreds. Sometimes I still think you’re at your most beautiful when you’re drenched in cum. Something about those streams of white slowly falling down your cheekbones and dribbling off your split ends is just really perfect. My mind, clearly, drifts to it even now.


“Faces” is an excerpt from Richard Power’s new memoir, Letters from a Heartbroken Pervert. You can purchase the book from Terror House Press here.