_I have always been fascinated by fetishes. Perhaps, because I’ve never really had one. I’ve always had an affinity for armpit hair, but I don’t need to bury my face in it to have a satisfying sexual experience. Recently, much to my surprise, I’ve discovered body hair in general turns me on. I get aroused just by stroking Frank’s chest. And it worries me a little because I have a rather extremist and addictive personality, and if this went a couple of steps further it might morph into full-blown trichophilia where nothing short of a werewolf would get me going. But, currently, hair is not necessary for my arousal, so it is not an actual fetish…YET. But, this new found turn-on caused me to consider other fetishes to which I may be prone.
The following is a list fetishes which may find their way into my bedroom, and beyond:
Macrophilia refers to a fascination with or a sexual fantasy involving giants. This one is worrisome, because of my frequent desire to “be little.” See blog: If Wishes Were Wombats.
Frotteurism involves rubbing against a non-consenting person. This just seems like it could be a fun party game. “Hey Frank, I dare you to run over and rub your elbow on Matt’s butt.”
Feederism is a fat fetish involving a feeder and a feedee where the former gets sexual gratification from stuffing their partner full of food. The more weight the feedee gains, the happier both are. Can you see the appeal? Oftentimes, the goal is to make the feedee so large that they become immobile, and thus completely dependent on the feeder. Perhaps, I could get a liquid version of this going where Frank finds it completely stimulating to pour bourbon down my throat until I become immobile because I’m too snockered to move. We shall deem it Whiskeyphilia.
Stigmatophilia means one who is attracted to body piercings and tattoos. Duh…tats are just sexy.
Sadomasochism broadly refers to the receiving of pleasure—often sexual—from acts involving the infliction or reception of pain or humiliation. I used to think I’d make a kick-ass (pardon the pun) Dominatrix until I realized I dislike most people too much to give them any pleasure, even if it does come from flogging and degrading them.
Plymouthophilia is a pilgrim fetish. This one does not exist in the textbooks, but I made it up because I think Frank may have it. Once, I wore my hair in a bun and an outfit consisting of a long black skirt, high-collared white shirt, and vest, and he couldn’t keep his hands off of me. I could just imagine the role-playing session where I straddle a churn, and he says, “Yeah, that’s it Prudence, work that cream. Faster, Faster, make daddy some butter.”
Now, I must stop writing and go wash my hands. Just typing that made me feel dirty.
the bourbonistA, Promoting Debauchery and stamping out political-correctness one blog at a time.