My sexual stomach is tolerably strong. There’s a lot I want to try, and there’s even more I’m willing to try. And even if it’s not my kink, I try to be accepting. You like to make your partner bleed? If your partner likes to bleed, that’s beautiful, my friend. Want to have sex with your sibling? If you’re both over the age of consent and into it, I’m certainly not going to try to stop you. If you’re into the whole scat thing I really don’t want to know about it, but I wish you joy. From way over here at the other end of the internet, I wish you joy. And I know I’ve made it clear that I’ve had severe aesthetic issues with anthropomorphizing animals, but I’m even working on my furry acceptance. I hugged a high school mascot last week and only had to take one panicked shower afterward.
I believe I’m within limping distance of sex positivity, inching slowly from “I’m scared to put a penis in my mouth” ten years ago toward the Platonic ideal of open, loving acceptance of all safe, sane, and consensual human pleasure.
But for some reason kissing grosses me out.
It’s everywhere: people gently brushing lips, tongues crawling into one another’s mouths like great, glutted worms. It’s disgusting to look at. I know they’re having fun, and it’s just about the most socially acceptable form of romantic/sexual interaction. Still, my entire body revolts just seeing it.
Try finding a movie where they show tits but skip that moment of body horror. It simply doesn’t exist. Every sex scene has a nauseous distraction. To me, PDA at the mall is more obscene than porn. Clearly I missed my calling as an old-school, by-the-rules prostitute. Well, by one of the rules, anyway: No kissing, lots of coming.
The human mouth is a cesspool. Simple fact. We all know this, right? Is it unreasonable to not want to cross-pollinate my filth with yours, no matter how fond of you I might be?
I’ll put my mouth lots of places. Oral sex is fine (it’s amazing how much cleaner genitals are than pie holes), as is mutual kissing from the neck down. Maybe even the cheek if I really, really trust you. But mouth-to-mouth? Save it for when you have to resuscitate me, and then hand me a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.
As you might imagine, this quirk isn’t an easy sell for most people. I realize that kissing doesn’t squick most people out; quite the opposite. It’s a lot to ask, wanting someone to forgo their primary avenue for expressing affection in favor of, what? Hugs? Nuzzles? Conversation hearts?
Still. I just can’t. I can be sex positive, but kissing positive? That just isn’t me.