Ten Favorite Fetishes
Thanks to Blog Lord and serious beard-fancier Andrew Sullivan I can pass on a link to an article that charmed me: writer and artist Kris Saknussemm on “My Ten Favorite Fetishes“, something that he’s clearly devoted quite a lot of attention to.
It begins:
Having studied sexual fetishes for twenty years (which is itself a kind of fetish), I’m long past the investigation of shoes, pain, vomit and rubbing up against people on the subway. My first real job out of college was working as the circulation manager for the Spectator, a Bay Area adult-entertainment publication, which was fueled by classified advertising — often for very distinctive “services” and interests. While there, I became acquainted with a number of memorable characters: Peg Leg, a one-legged call girl with a very full dance ticket (and some remarkable prosthetic attachments); The Coach (gym shorts, silver whistle, clipboard); and a sexually ambiguous individual who just called him/herself “The Sneezer.” (I’ll let you use your imagination there.)
And only gets better from there. What’s not to love? Read the whole thing.
As an exercise to squeeze a little additional pleasure out of the article, you can ask yourself how many of these you’ve either (1) practiced or (2) thought about enough to try to write down a fantasy or scenario involving them or at least potentially appealing to people interested in them. I did this for myself. I came up with four.
Only four? Must. Work. Harder.
And try to be a little more open-minded, perhaps.
Not sure if I’ll ever really get to the one about peanut butter, though.
Shorter URL for sharing: http://www.erosblog.com/?p=3647
Interesting. I’ve only got direct experience with one of those fetishes, but upon reaching that conclusion, it never would have occurred to me that I was slacking off. ;-)
I have enjoyed a few of these, if only slightly. I can definitely attest to how sex with a partner markedly shorter/smaller or larger/taller than myself seems to intensify the sensations. My smaller partner’s vulva stands out in my memory to this day as the softest thing I have ever touched.
Another standout experience was a six-month affair with a friend who had survived breast cancer. Twice. I experienced a similar sense of worship for her that the amputee devotees feel.
Good link. Lots of good memories there. :)
My best friend in high school was a very nice guy but extremely ‘vanilla’ (although we didn’t know that term back in those days. Hell, we didn’t know a word for cunnilingus back in those days). He had an intense dream in which a mutual female friend screamed in ecstasy “Peanut butter, I’ve been peanut buttered!” it was a running gag for us for years. That’s to the internet we’re all a little less unique.
…
Now, I try never to marginalize anyone in life, but with the Arachibutyrophilia, the idea of one sharing a moment with either a Skillyphile* (Jelly) or a Xocolatophile* (chocolate) amuses me mightily.
Especially if one is named Reese**.
*Both terms extrapolated from their named phobias
**Come on, you know where I’m going with this, and it works in so many ways.
:-D
The best one I heard recently was awhile back on Dan Savage’s podcast. A woman called in about her husband– the pie-fight fetishist. Totally got off on slapstick-style cream pie fights. Not only had Savage heard of it, but he gave the (very understanding and indulgent) wife a number of practical suggestions. A lovely phone call all around.
Yay, now i have a word for why i used to take people to the abandoned house across the street, crawl up the laundry shoot, and have sex on every available surface, it was Eremophilia!
Sadly there is now a young family living there and doing the place up… oh, the stories i could tell them!
Eremophilia, so that’s what it’s called! When much younger, my girlfriend just didn’t get why I HAD to shag her before she moved any furniture into her new flat.
Is it still eremophilia if you like to do it in factory yards at night?
Can’t say any of those fetishes turn me on. Nor the one in the news recently that involves slashing exercise balls!
But speaking of dreams, when I was a teen I had an erotic dream about a man who was half alligator (bottom half), half man. Somehow after swimming through a swamp away from the real alligators, I ended up (and I am not kidding), in a sack hanging from a tree with the king of the alligators, the alligator man. He penetrated me while we were in the vertical position and when I woke up I was so turned on and so pissed off that my dream had come to an end.
Back in the days of widespread phone sex, I sold an automated piece of computer telephony to an operator in the UK. He subdivided his fetish into 52 different categories, of which one, “Smooth and Hairy” for some reason still sticks in my head, but not in a good way.