I love lip balm that smells of sweet food things like vanilla ice cream, chai spice, or watermelon Chupa Chups. I love the moment of applying it, a slightly glossy glaze that brings my awareness to my mouth.
I love hyperreal, oversaturated Marilyn Minter oil paintings. Waxy red lipstick and glittering sweat framed open mouths containing pornographically placed costume jewellery. Long tongues lapping at multichromatic goo and metallic dragées of the sort that decorate cupcakes and chip teeth.
I love pushing toothpicks into my gums just a little too hard to create a mild and unique sort of pain that has a taste to it which isn’t blood except when it is.
I love in porn when he fucks her from behind and has his hands gripping either side of her face, pulling her mouth open, almost ugly. Her teeth are exposed and, unable to swallow, saliva pours from her mouth in that embarrassing and exciting way of sex revealing the wet mess that we usually keep concealed and internal.
I love when he pushes his fingers down into the back of my throat, testing my gag reflex.
I love the pliability of lips and the aggression of teeth.