A Guy Gave Me A “Money Shot” And This Is My Gross, Hilarious, Tell-All Tale

“So can I?” My sort-of-boyfriend asked as he gazed eagerly down at me.

I currently had my mouth wrapped around his (impressively sized) penis and was drenched in spit. My own spit. You know what they say, the best blow jobs are the wettest blow jobs, or something like that. I looked up at him. Fuck. What do I say? Can I even say anything? Do I need to take his dick out of my mouth before I respond?

I was about to receive my first (and only) money shot, and I had NO idea what to expect.

In case you’re not a total slore like I am, and don’t know what a money shot is, turn around. Get out now. Save yourself while you still have a chance. Once you learn what it is, your life will never be the same. The first time I saw one of these, my good guy friend had pulled it up on his phone. He typed “money shot” in on some porn website, and there before my eyes, I saw it: a girl’s face getting doused in sperm. Semen. Jizz. Whatever you wanna call it, it’s fucking gross.

You most likely have a lot of questions. First of all, why? Why the hell would a guy want to do this? I’m going to be perfectly honest, I have no fucking idea. But what I do know is that they want to do it. They all want to do it. In the deep, dark, disturbing crevices of their minds, they’re all dying to splooge all over some poor girl’s face.

That’s just biology. And porn. It’s mostly porn.

But the thing is, I’m no porn star. I’m just an innocent, virginal, pure girl who wants to find “the one” and ride horses on the beach while listening to old school TSwift. So how would I end up being asked to take a facial? The same way anyone does. With alcohol. And feelings. And more alcohol.

It all started with the dancing. It always does, doesn’t it? I was in the middle of the floor. My jam was on. My girls were by me. I. was. unstoppable.

“Wanna get a drink?” my slutty friend Alex slurred at me.

Money Shot Tip 1: Don’t Agree To Do One When You’re Drunk
Chances are, you’ll say yes. 

“Sure! I wanna get wassssteddddd tonight.” I responded, like the purebred lady that I am.

We waded our way up to the sticky, pledge-run bar.

“Two sex on the beaches. Hold the beach.” I winked at the nervous, pimply eighteen-year-old who was bound to be dropped any day.

“We only have jungle juice.” His voice cracked at me.

As I half-heartedly nodded that the mixture of vodka, fruit punch, and rubbing alcohol would suffice to get me shitfaced, I noticed my boyfriend (using that term loosely) from across the room. He was sipping on his beer, nodding to something his fraternity brother was saying, and checking out the crowd. Cute. I could see his muscles ripple underneath his It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia shirt, and he had the perfect amount of stubble on his jawbones. His sculpted, Chuck Bass-like jawbone. Mmmm I can think of something else I’d like to do with that face.

Sit on it.

Now I’m not quite sure if it was my pheromones giving off an “in heat” scent, or fate just decided to fuck with me, but as I was admiring this specimen’s very sit-able mouth, so was someone else. It wasn’t until Alex nudged me with her arm, splashing her drug-riddled drink on me that I noticed the perky, brunette girl walking up to my boyfriend.

“Who’s that?” My friend hissed at me, as I tried to mop her drink up off of my already see-through shirt.

I glanced up. Who. The fuck. Is that? Whoever it was, I didn’t like her. Her boobs were too bouncy. Her lips were too blow job-y. And her eyes were too sexual too ignore. I had a few options before my boyfriend left me for this living piece of sex. Walk up to her and rip out her weave. Wait until an appropriate time to fornicate. Or seduce him, right here. Right now.

Monday Shot Tip 2: Just Wait. This Isn’t A “Mid-Party” Thing. 
You can’t just walk back down to the party like it’s NBD that the sperms are still swimming in your pores.

I couldn’t wait.

“Let’s dance.” I shouted as I grabbed Alex’s hand and pulled her onto the makeshift dance floor.

Still in view of my target, I started swinging my hips in an “I’d consider having condom-less sex” way. One glance at him proved that not only was this not doing it for him, but if anything, I was embarrassing him. He avoided my gaze as he leaned forward and whispered something in the she-devil’s ear. Shit. What else could I do? I turned to Alex who was nodding along to the music. With her long blonde hair, large enough breasts, and high BAC, I figured she was just the person to help me out. I tossed back the rest of my drink, threw the cup on the littered floor, and grabbed my best friend’s face. With one hand firmly behind her head I pulled her close to me and started kissing her.

“The fuck…?” She mumbled against my lips.

“Just go with it.” I murmured back.

As I felt her tongue move into my mouth and her hands grab my ass, I knew it would work. I could head an audible intake of breath as the room noticed two hot girls making out in the middle of a makeshift dance floor. Yeah. I was that girl.

“Yo B, is that your girl?” I heard a male voice shout to my boyfriend as he fell into my sexual trap.

See? I told you.

I felt a pair of male hands touch me. I pulled away from my friend and threw on my best surprised face. Oh what? Me? Over here kissing my best friend? Oh my gosh I had no idea anyone was watching.

“Baaaabe. What are you doing?” He slurred as his boner threatened to pop out of his pants.

I glanced behind him and saw the brunette bitch lock eyes with me and angrily chug her drink. Game. fucking. on. I needed to sell this. I needed to get him upstairs, away from the bitch with the sex eyes.

Money Shot Tip 3: If You’re Going To Do It, Try To Be Discrete
Don’t call attention to yourself. Don’t be loud. Try to pretend like you’re classy. Just this once.

We stumbled into his room and slammed the door behind us. He pushed my body against the wall and I felt his hand slide up my shirt. In the heat of the moment and the alcohol fucking with our equilibriums, we crashed against the desk, sending a giant, unsubtle noise to the partiers below. Whatever, now that bitch knows what’s up. As I was thinking about how bad I was, I felt his penis grow even larger against my leg. He unsteadily made eye contact with me and his fingertips grazed my nipples. Fuck. This was good. Sure the room was spinning and sure, I had just made a complete ass of myself downstairs but who cares? I was hot, I was wet, and I was going to have sexual intercourse with his face.

But how? I could push his head down to my lady-clam but the amount of times I’ve bitched about a guy pushing my head down is unfair. No wonder they do that. How else are you supposed to be like “hey, put my genitals in your mouth?” By saying it?

Money Shot Tip 4: Don’t Just Say It
Ever heard of “I scratch your back, you scratch mine?” Yeah. That’s what’s going to happen. But instead of scratching his back, he’ll want something much uh, messier.

“Hey, can you uh… put my.. I mean. Lick. Can I sit on your face?”

Once it was out there there was no getting it back. I drunkenly watched his face shift through a variety of emotions. Confused, startled, offended, pleased, calculating, and then, to the worst one of all, potential.

“You wanna sit on my face, babeee?” He taunted at me.

Ugh. Yes? How many times do I have to fucking say it? I glanced around the room, hoping to find a handle of vodka to chug or a rock to crawl under and kill myself with.

“Yeah. That.” I awkwardly choked out.

“I can do that, but first, what’ll you give me?” He murmured against my collarbone.

Money Shot Tip 5: Don’t Barter
Trust me, it wont be worth it.

“I dunno,” I idiotically slurred at him. “What do you want?”

I’ll give him credit. He sat there for a second with a fake, dumb look on his face like he was actually thinking. But I knew what was coming. We all knew what was coming. Literally.

“Well,” he started. “I’ve always wanted to uh… jizzonyourface.”

He said the last line in one breath, like if it was fast I wouldn’t understand what he was saying and just go with it.

“I’m sorry. What?” I tossed back at him, hoping he’d bitch out and say something else.

“I. want. to. jizz. on. your. face. You know, a money shot? Come on, babe. It’ll be sooo hot. Please?”

Money Shot Tip 6: Just Say No
It won’t be hot for you. At all. It will be sticky and weird. So, “no.” That’s all there is too it. It’s not hard. You just say “ah, no thanks. Semen up my nose wasn’t in my plans today.”

I thought about the bitch down below, who was probably just waiting to offer her flawless skin up to his man-hose. I thought about how much I liked him. I thought about how much I wanted to ride his jaw.

“Okay. Sure thing.” I said. Because yes. I’m the worst.

The next few moment were a mixture of fumbled buttons, stuck zippers, and hasty kissing. Once his shirt was off and his pants were down (in that order), I pushed him onto the twin extra long. I was going to make him extra long, if you know what I mean. Luckily the alcohol in my system was still working its magic, so I chose not to waste any time. I wiggled out of my five for $25 panties and scooted up to his chest.

“I’m going to sit on your face now,” I said. In what had to have been one of the most unsexy lines to ever leave my mouth.

Before he could answer, I rolled my vagina onto his lips. Ahhhhh. This is what I was waiting for. I felt his soft, wet tongue flick against my clit. My back immediately arched in pleasure. He firmly grabbed ahold of my hips and started rocking me back and forth. His teeth grazed my magical little fuck-button and I felt my nipples get erect. Fuck this was it. As the pressure started to build I began grinding my vagina onto his mouth. Was it polite? Maybe not. Did it feel like actual heaven. Hell yeah. I started moving faster, and he began teasing me with ever more pressure from his tongue. Just as I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore…

“HOLY FUCKKKKK.” I yelped, as I grabbed the headboard and road my orgasm.

Before I had a chance to catch my breath, he immediately flipped me over.

“My turn.” He said, in what had to have been an even more unsexy line than the one I gave him earlier.

I swallowed deeply and tried to make my heart calm down. I crawled off of the bed and knelt before him. As I eased his erection into my mouth, I hoped that maybe he forgot about our deal. Maybe he had a really good time being a human mouth vibrator, and like, didn’t even want to jizz on my face. Maybe he was so in the moment, he didn’t even remember our drunken conversation from ten minutes ago.

Money Shot Tip 7: He Remembered
He’ll always remember.

Just as I was massaging his balls, hoping for the first time in my life that a guy would just cum in my mouth, he said it.

“So can I?”

Annnnd here we are. Back to the start. Or the end. I figured I could say no and walk downstairs dejected, or I could say yes, and have a sticky trophy of honor. I know how gross that sounds. I know. Sober me agrees. Drunk me, however…

“Of course!”

And then, like a fucking fountain, it happened. It came. Or he came, I guess I should say. On my cheek. In my hair. Sliding over my eyelid. The next few moments were filled with groping around for a towel, trying not to think about the snotty liquid drying on my skin, and breathing through my mouth. After I washed my face off and searched around for my dignity, I went back into the bedroom. To find it empty. The bastard had left.

Money Shot Tip 8: If You Do It, You Deserve A Medal
Or a puppy. Or an engagement ring. Not a empty bed or a casual “thanks babe.”

It turns out, money shot guy was not for me. After scrubbing his sperm off of me and reentering the party, I noticed him chatting up the bitch. You know, the one who cause me to take a spray to the face. So, I did what any post-money shot girl who might have just gotten dumped by her pretend boyfriend would do.

I blacked out. Because honestly? Sometimes in life, you just need to drink blush wine from the box and forget everything that happened.

Money Shot Tip 9: There’s A Reason It’s Call A Money Shot
Because the only people who should ever consider it are the ones getting paid.

In the end, it was all for the best. My skin was softer than ever (guess that’s why it’s also called a facial), and at least I got to ride his beautiful jaw. Still, sometimes when I feel bad, I just picture him with that brunette girl, and her having to take his money shots every day, and I smile to myself. Karma guys. It’s a messy, sticky bitch..

Written by TSM

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