It will come as no surprise to readers of this sex blog (given some of the pictures and links that get posted here) that there are as many startling fetishes in the world as (it sometimes seems) there are people. Nor is ErosBlog the place to come to find condemnation of any of them (fetishes or people), although as to some (fetishes) this blog remains silent for the sake of my own undisturbed digestion. The next story, from Rebel With A Clue of the Anarchobabes, caught my eye because it involves a fetish I’d never heard of, and a stunningly dickish approach to satisfying it:

When I was just out of high school, I hitched a ride with this older guy in a nice car and a suit. Okay, so tell me I’m crazy, but he seemed okay. And he was, I guess. He was a lawyer, very respectable. We ended up going out a couple of times and old mom really liked him. I got the finally you’re going out with the RIGHT kind of guy rant. I could just see her planning my wedding to a fuckin lawyer. And he seemed okay, except for being that sort of guy who tells you you shouldn’t order steak well done and who tries to make you feel bad if you don’t listen to La Boheme instead of Rage Against the Machine.

So the first couple of times we go out, he’s everything mom thinks he is. But then one night we go to his house and we start getting hot. And it’s okay. I admit it, it’s more than okay, I’m getting ready to jump out of my skin, not only my clothes. And he starts peeling me. Then he gets to my bra. And he takes it off. And he STOPS AND TURNS THE LIGHT UP AND READS THE FUCKIN LABLE!

I have these breasts, you know. Pretty good ones. But he read that lable and got this big dum grin and says, “That’s exactly the size I thought you were!” And then sort of rubs the bra together in his palms and smiles in this weird way. Then he tells me to get dressed and sends me home! That’s all he wanted, to find out my bra size. I never saw the guy again and you bet that was OK with me.

You know, now that I think about it, I have heard of that fetish before. Who among us hasn’t known someone with a fetish for being right, at all costs?