Self-fellatio as an art form?

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Robbie the Robot? Is that you?

OK, now, since we've already explored the fetishists who like dolls and mannequins, the whole robot fetsh was not lost on me, (if you're new to this blog, go on and read through the archives. I promise you'll be amused. And don't try to pretend you've done it if you haven't. I can look at the stats and tell you're lying. Don't give me those looks. If I have to come over there, you'll be sorry.) I must say though that I've never before spoken to a man who actually wanted to be a robot.

It was, to be frank, rather distracting. He spoke in a flat, monotone voice, kind of like the robot from the old Lost In Space episodes. (I saw them in reruns.. don't go thinking I've dated myself) At first I wasn't sure if he was just a bit.. off. But when asked him "do you like that baby? Does that feel good?" He responded with "I am programmed only to perform, I do not feel."

Oh boy.

You know, if he would allow me, I could think of a whole bunch of material for robot fantasies. Rutger Hauer in Blade Runner, Brent Spiner in Star Trek The Next Generation, (what can I say, I'm attracted to older artificial gentlemen) but with that ridiculous voice, all I could picture was the robot Asimo with a strap on.

And for all the people reading this right now saying to me "only Asimo is really a bot, the others are androids." Why don't you just leave me alone? I don't come over to your blog and point out what you're doing wrong with all those women you don't have sex with do I?

Oh Say Can You See Fetish Friday

How can I still be surprised? What part of researching Plushies could have possibly left me with any shred of my soul unweathered? How can anything raise my eyebrows after I saw seven thousand dollar love dolls that were selling like hotcakes. (And how well do hotcakes sell by the way, can anyone tell me that? Anyone?)

But somehow, some way, surprised I am, to learn a new word, invisiphile. An Invisiphile is one who has a sexual attraction to men or women who are invisible.

Perhaps what surprised me most is not the respectable number of internet groups and websites devoted to Le Femmes Invisible but that they each have a photo gallery. Of invisible women.

Let me say that again. They have photos gallerys of invisible women.

To be fair, not all the girls are fully invisible. Some are just fading. Of the fading women, some are just sort of translucent all over and others start out solid at one end and fade to invisible at the other. All the sub-species, the transparents, translucents and the fade-outs have their own fans.

From the guys who were willing to write about their attraction, it seems the fantasy has something of a playful dominance element. Being invisible puts the woman in a powerful position for obvious reasons. At anytime during the day, the invisiphile can imagine himself to be unkowingly observed by his invisible lover. The invisiphile can have no secrets from the object of his affection. Conversely, if she has observed him to the point of knowing him better than he knows himself, it's reassuring the imagine she lusts for him anyway.

The invisiphiles seem to be a fun lot with a sense of humor about their admittedly unusual interests. I guess if you were going to fall for an imaginary girl you couldn't see, you'd have to have a sense of humor about it. Of course, it's better than falling for an imaginary girl you *can* see... that'd be just crazy.

Did I mentions they have photos of invisible women?

Fetish Friday: Brace Yourself

Maybe it's the image of fresh faced guilessness associated with the age at which most young women get braces, but dental appliances have garnered a following of their own.

Brace faces beware, the orthophiles are on the loose.

I assume the allure is similar to that of the lusty innocence of the school girl uniform. Braces and short skirts are the accessories of that time in life when youth blossoms into voluptuous beauty and eager curiosity about all things grown up.

I never really know what to say to the orthodontic fetishists. My own experiences have been limited to mild discomfort a few times when I had my wires tightened and one traumatic day when I first saw a childhood crush in braces and headgear. Before he explained what they were, I was sure he'd been in some horrible accident and the straps around his head were all that kept his head upright.

So the glamour and glitter of the mouth jewelry has eluded me. Fortunately for me, there are websites to refer to.

Fetish Friday, Oh You Doll, You.

Robots and dolls, mannequins and androids, however you like em, imitation humans are hot stuff for some people.

Going back to childhood, (since that is, after all, where our sexuality takes shape) I can easily remember times when faux humans have tripped my trigger. The Tin Man seemed to me the sweetest of Dorothy's travel mates. At age six I felt a special bond with Pinnochio after playing him in my dance recital. And the day I sat on the floor in the den watching a rerun of Star Trek where Spock's brain had been removed and his body was being walked about by remote control, I distinctly remember thinking "that could be handy." I was fascinated by the possibilities for a long time after.

As far as I remember though, I didn't consider doing anything more scandalous with Spock than having him clean my room and do my homework. Now admittedly, I was young, but as I grew older, my titillated interest in Spock may have evolved into a taste for tall, dark haired and emotionally reserved men but certainly not into a passion for robots.

It's clear from my research however, that many men and women saw their first robot on TV or mannequin in a mall and saw limitless possibilities for a luxuriously compliant lover. And many of them are willing to put their money where their fantasies are. If you've heard of The Real Doll you know people are willing to spend upward of seven thousand dollars on what is in effect, an anatomically correct mannequin.

It would seem Jude Law's character of the android Gigolo Joe was more than just idle speculation about what people would do if they were given such attractive appliances.

Further evidence of the mainstream attraction to mechanical men and women comes from Star Trek again, where the actor playing the android Data received by far the highest volume of lust filled fan mail of the relatively attractive Next Generation cast.

I'm going to stop now before I make any more science fiction references and make myself out to be even more of a geek.

But I leave you with one more thing to consider. You may be tempted to believe that a fetish for robots or mannequins is recent only to the past century or so, as they weren't exactly found in earlier periods. I hate to get all literary on your ass, but it seems this fetish goes back as far as ancient Greece, where we find the myth of Pygmalion, who fell passionately in love with a statue of his own creation.

Now look at that... What other Blog is gonna offer you sex dolls and Greek literature in the same entry? I may be a geek, but I'm a damned fun geek!

Fetish Friday Featuring Fancy Footwork

I was twenty, waiting in line at a movie theater. A lovely tall man introduced himself to me as the boy I used to play with at our bus stop back in middle school. We chatted briefly as our respective friends waited awkwardly for us to enter the building before agreeing to exchange numbers.

I wrote on the back of a grocery receipt as he called out the digits and from the corner of my eye, I thought I saw him checking out the long, bare expanse of leg between my denim mini and my strappy sandals. As I tucked the number in my purse, his voice next to my ear gave me goosebumps. "You have the sexist feet."

I scanned his face for the teasing expression I remembered from grade school. Was he playing with me by saying my feet were my most attractive feature? Was this his retribution for the time in sixth grade(before his growth spurt)when I clipped his pen to the top of the stop sign and laughed as he jumped and jumped, trying to reach it?

No, the sincerity was plainly written in his dilated pupils and parted lips. He was turned on by a high arch and slender ankle. And he was not alone.

Foot fancy is arguably the most common attraction categorized as a fetish. Sensual foot massage and toe sucking (also known as shrimping for you literacy lovers) has become as accepted a part of sex play as digital penetration and oral stimulation. And rubbing feet, kissing feet, even humping feet seems to be a down right favorite pastime for many men and women.

I've heard sex researchers theorize that it all comes down to pheromones. The feet, like the underarms and crotch, produce pheromones in the sweat. Though the precise method is unproven, mainstream science is inclined to believe that pheremones are a chemical signal to our brains encouraging reproductive behavior.

And if you'd heard the calls I have, you'd believe it. The smell is always a huge factor for foot fetishists. Whether they like the feet bare or in shoes, clean or dirty, with siren red nail polish or plain, natural toes, they all want to sniff and kiss as they worship a gal's feet.

And if a guy gets off by giving me a pedicure... hey! I'll sit patiently while he talks about licking and kissing, rubbing lotion on my heels, filing, and polishing my nails.

Although I'm inclined to believe it would ruin the wet polish when he ejaculates on it.

A Sniffly, Snuffly, Sneezy Fetish Friday

"Oh dear Operator," I hear you whisper, and I'm touched by the concern in your voice. "You're not sick, are you?"

Save your chicken soup for another day darlings, I'm not sick. Though as much cannot always be said for my callers. Now gather round lovies, and you shall have a story.

Once upon a Fetish Friday, there was a man who called a phone sex line. With charm and skill, The Operator was able to draw from the man, his most secret and treasured sexual fantasy.

"Operator15," said the man, his tone heavy with anticipation "could you, if you can't I understand, but I'd really love if you could manage, possibly, to sneeze for me? I have a sneezing fetish."

Despite her usually implacable demeanor there was a noticeable moment's delay in The Operator's response.

"I'm sorry, did you say sneezing?"

"It's OK if you can't, I know it's weird."

"No! No, no, no, no no dear," The Operator protested a bit too emphatically. "No, I was just thinking it's fortunate you called now, because I've been feeling a bit, um, sneezy today." The Operator grimaced.

"You don't think it's weird?"

"Not at all, as a matter of fact I have one coming on now.. ah.. ahh.. ACHOO!"

There was an awkward silence as both The Operator and the caller realized how bad the faux sneeze sounded.

The Operator was in trouble and she knew it.

Franticly, her eyes scanned the desk before her. There, silently mocking her, were all her Foley props. There were two glasses of water, for keeping her throat moist, and also to simulate a golden showers for those callers who enjoyed them. There was a bottle of lotion to help her simulate sloppy wet sex sounds with her hands and standing next to it, The Operator's electric toothbrush patiently waited to mimic a vibrator.

There was absolutely nothing that could tickle her healthy nostrils to a sneeze. To her dismay, the tops of her door and window frame had been recently dusted and even the hundreds of books lining her office wall, usually a haven for dust bunnies, had just been given "the proper cleaning." 'Damn my mother and her visits' she bitched to herself.

The Operator realize she needed to buy herself some time. Thinking quickly, she asked the question calculated to bring the longest response.

"So tell me, how did you first learn that sneezing turns you on."

Like a man recounting his first time with a woman, he began the story of his sexual sneezing history. As he talked, The Operator did something she'd never done before, she put the phone down as quietly as she could on the padding of her office chair, and quickly slipped out of the room.

The race was on. She only had to make it through the dining room and across the kitchen to get to the pepper mill. She was there within seconds but as she turned back, the bizarre thought occurred to that her that her mother's New York City apartment could probably fit in the space between herself and her office chair. She wondered if she'd taken too long already. With all the speed she could muster (without crashing into things) The Operator dashed back to her office, grabbing a linen napkin from the dining table along the way. As she grabbed the phone, The Operator heard the man still speaking.

Unfortunately, for her, he was asking "are you still there?"

"I'm right here baby."

"You were so quiet, I thought you'd put down the phone or something."

'Oh shit' thought The Operator, 'I need to get him off this topic.'

"Oh, baby, I was just listening to you" she lied, "and touching myself."

There was a gratifying hiss from the other end of the line and The Operator knew she was home free.

"I was just thinking of how my whole torso sort of twitches when I sneeze" she told him as she ground some pepper into the palm of her hand and sniffed it.

"I thought it might feel kind of good to sneeze while I was... while I.... ppffftCHSSSSH!"

The caller moaned loudly in response to an unmistakably genuine sneeze.

The caller spent the next few minutes in orgasmic delight as The Operator repeatedly sniffed, snuffled, snorted, sneezed, and blew her nose into the linen napkin. When at last it was over, he murmured sleepy sweet nothings to his new playmate, promising to call again often.

From the day forward, the little pepper mill proudly took his place between the lotion and the toothbrush, where he lived happily ever after.

Just another Manic Mon.. er, Fetish Friday

Ok, here we go...

Plushies.

Not to be confused with Furries. Plushies, or Plushophiles, are people who love and lust after stuffed animals.

Sigh..

I'm trying to be open minded here people.

Look, it's not you, it's me. I just have a headache today. After all, it's no weirder than having a thing for Tony the Tiger is it? And I made it through the Friday about Furries ok, didn't I?

Did you know there's stuffed animal porn on the internet? There are pictures out there of spunk covered Teddy bears posted

Maybe I could see it, you're sleeping with the Teddy bear anyway, you're in bed, it's in bed... I've had a couple opf sleep-overs that when that way. But some days buddy... it's really hard not to laugh *at* you instead of with you.

A Fetish Friday ago, in galaxy far far away....

Words can be such wonderfully morphemic things. They grow and evolve over the years until their spelling, their pronunciation, sometimes even their meanings adapt to their environment.

"Furry" is one of those words that has morphed in recent years. No longer simply an adjective describing the tactile surface of a creature or material, Furry is now a noun in the fetish world.

Furries are people who are attracted to and like to imagine themselves as animals who exhibit human features and traits. This can mean anything from cartoon animals with the ability to speak and walk upright to the mascot at your favorite ball game or even the half-man half-beast creatures from Greek mythology. All are prime targets of Furry fascination.

To show what a truly diverse group I'm talking about here, a Furry need not actually be furry. Some fly, some swim, some hop, some are furry, some are not. Some Furries have fins, feathers or scales. Mermaids for example, or Hawk men, or the dolphin from Seaquest DSV.

Furries tend to be big fans of science fiction and fantasy shows and books. Like others in such fandoms, the most diehard fans sometimes get together for conventions where they mingle and on occasion, dress as their favorite furry creature.

I've not spoken with many Furries and I'm not entirely sure what attracts them to the fetish. Perhaps it's the way the fantasy creatures often blend only the best of human intelligence and animal power. Perhaps its the mingling of the wild and the civilized. Or maybe it just began with a crush on Peter Criss that got out of hand. I dunno.

I do know I once thought the dancer who played Mungojerrie in Cats must be really cute under all that make-up... but I don't think that quite qualifies me as a Furry.

One question does pop into mind though. If your thinking about a man who's half horse, does that make it half-beastiality?

Fetish Concerto in Fri. No. VI

For today, I thought I'd play with what at first I saw as a variation on a freaky f***ing theme.

Todays fetish takes us into the realm of uncontrolled growth, a type of size morphing.

Unlike macrophilia, another size morphing fantasy, where the man has an attraction to giants or giantesses and often fantasizes himself shrinking to become the play thing of his fantasy lover, with growth fantasies, the caller fantasizes about enhanced virility and control through the growth of his penis.

A trait typical of all size morphing fantasies a detail that is perhaps signifigant, that the men almost always seem to put themselves in the roll of the person changing. They place themselves in the role of changling as opposed to having their lust interests change in shape or size.

There may be multiple reasons for this. For one thing, size is perceived in relative terms. Whetever attracts a caller to giantesses may conceivably be enhanced whent his surroundings, as well as his lady, are all larger than normal. As he puts his lover in the role of demi-goddess, he is also literally lessening himself as opposed to turning the lover into an abnormal creature.

In the case of the man who wants his penis to grow to an unnatural size, again, perspective is everything, and a large penis against a normal size body could seem even bigger. In addition, he may want the focus to remain on the size of his penis, by shrunkinig his partner, the focus would be transferred to her small size. Shrinking his partner may also bring unwanted images of pedophilia. This man doesn't want to dominate children with his virility, he wants to be larger than life, able to leap tall blondes with a single jerk.

As an operator, the problems with this type of fantasy can be the narrow focus od it all. With a macrophilac, there us usually a whole set up and scenario leading up to his capture and torment. There is a story arc with a beginning, a middle, and an end.

With the morphing penises, it's usually just "oh, my gosh, it's getting bigger." What is normally just the beginning of the fantasy, an engorged and growing penis, is now turned into the goal and the journey all rolled into one.

In their own way, these calls become even more ridiculous than the giantess calls. You start off with a penis getting bigger, then it gets bigger, and finally, it gets bigger. If the guy as been drinking and is having a bit of trouble acheiving his *ahem* goal, the penis has to get bigger still. It's not unheard of for these calls to continue until the caller has a schlong as long as his leg and the woman is being stretched to bursting. Here I can't help but point out the contrast from the macrophilacs, in that the violent end comes not to himself but to the woman. Where the macrophiliac seems to desire become a part of all things feminine, the man with the morphing penis wants to become little more than the essence of masculine virility.

On a personal note, all I can say is, thank goodness most companie have time limits on calls so that he caller is eventually cut off, otherwise, there could be no end to the fantasy for a man who has a buzz on.

Think of it, first, he just has to walk with a limp until the schmeckle hits the floor, then he has to wear platform shoes. If it keeps groing, he has to dress it up in order to go out. He has to buy two seats at the movie theater. Left unchecked, he'll have to move in a loft apartment just to let it have room to dangle.

T.G.I. Fetish Friday

Panties, knickers, drawers, undies, smalls, dainties, panties, PANTIES, PANTIES!!!

You might be surprised to hear (or, you might be if you weren't so worldly and experienced, you dashing young sophisticate you) that some of the most common calls I get are from men who have pilfered their girlfriend's underpants and are ready to play.

Some men and women just love em. Mostly men. They love to see them, they love to feel them, they love to smell them and on occasion, the love to wear them. From Butch-boys to Nancy-men, the panties hold special fascination.

I used to know some guys in Special Forces who would cut out the crotch of their girlfriends' or wives' panties and tuck them into the hem of their caps for use on those long lonely nights out in the field. Every time they came home and left again, they'd take with them a freshly soiled panty crotch in their hats.

I've quizzed countless men on what attracts them to ladies' delicates. After all, women don't exactly hold men's dirty underpants in the same regard do they? I could be wrong, I do tend to talk more often with men so my survey is no doubt as skewed as Kinsey's original data. (Have I mentioned, I think Kinsey was an ass?) But I do believe the idea of inhaling a little "Eau de Tighty-whitey" is more likely to evoke a gag than a flush of lust from a woman.

Most of the time, the response to my questioning is little more than incoherent moaning. But on occasion, I've been enlightened. One of the more eloquent answers went something along the lines of "I love women. I worship them. I want to envelope myself in all things feminine." Bravo, Mr. Pany-Man! Bravo!

I found a fascinating Blog by a guy who is less inclined to wear women's underwear himself, but is obsessed with them on their owners. His "Panty Story"seems at times to be just that, a story. But whether the story is a fantasy, a true recollection, or a little of both, it certainly lends some insight into what goes through the mind of a man who wants nothing more than to see a girl flash her briefs.

It all comes back to those childhood impressions. How boring. Every Friday it boils down to the same old thing, childhood imprinting. I wish, just for a change, some guy would go through life without a single kink and then WHAM! Suddenly he's a freak for golden showers. Now I bet THAT would be an interesting story. Of course, by now, I wouldn't believe any man who told me he only *just* started thinking of latex in an erotic way. Oh well.

As for the panty-men, I just can't I stop thinking of Buck Henry on those original SNL sketches where he played the old perv who would get young girls in short dresses to "play horsey" and then sneak behind them to take pictures of their panties. Oh the life lessons that were to be learned from the Not Ready For Prime-Time Players, if only I'd known to pay attention at the time. My hat, and panties, off you you ladies and gentlemen.

Return of Fetish Friday

Sssssssmokin!

That's right. Smoking is this Friday's Fetish of the Week. Cigarette smoking, cigar smoking, pipe smoking, even bong smoking. If you smoke it, they will come.

After years of being told about cancer and bad breath, smokers are finding their place in the hazy sun. Sites like Kandy's Smoking Fetish are popping up all over the place to celebrate sexy smokers.

What would cause a person to take pleasure from the sight of someone inhaling carcinogens like a cowardly suicide? Probably the same things that lure people into smoking to begin with. The impression that smokers are cool and popular. The youthful idea that people seem more mature with a cigarette dangling from the fingertips or lips. A notion that a cigar adds an element of masculinity or a that pipe lends sophistication to it's smoker.

True, the reality would be laughable in it's irony if the consequences weren't so serious. There's nothing mature about trading your health for an image, there's nothing masculine about a man with a constant wheeze, and there's no sophistication in nicotine stained hair and teeth.

Please don't misunderstand. I don't mean to bash smokers. I still consider myself to be one, though I haven't lit up in seven years. Even now I am known to occasionally stand downwind of another smoker, breathing deeply the tainted air as if to enjoy the nicotine without the cancer. So no, I'm not implying smokers are inherently foolish. But let's face it. It wasn't the smartest thing we did when we took that first drag.

In our defense, and by way of further explanation, we did have some powerful early images directing our perceptions. Our first heroes and heroines of cool have often been associated with cigarettes, from Humphrey Boggart to James Dean and from Bette Davis to Madonna, the cigarette has been an important prop to convey a worldly persona. In Grease, sweet, virginal Sandy's transformation into the hot little vixen who "would" is made complete with the flick of a cigarette. How better could I emphasize the correlation between sex and cigarettes.

It can hardly be surprising to find some men and women might have been hardwired to associate smoke and sex appeal. And let's not forget, we have a very phallic symbol being brought to the lips in mock fellatio. It wouldn't take Freud to figure this one out.

So to those of you who still light up after dinner (at home), or skip the coffee for a smoke break (outside the building), enjoy it while you can and take pictures while you're still young and beautiful enough to sell them. There's a market out there for you baby!

Fetish Friday III: Son of Fetish

Psychology Today writes " Psychoanalysts theorize that an individual with a paraphilia is repeating or reverting to a sexual habit that arose early in life. " Perhaps that explains this Friday's fetish.

Virophilia: A sexual attraction to Super-heroes.

OK, so, to the best of my knowledge, it wasn't really a word before now. I just made it up. But it should have been a word. It's a good word. It has flair.

Super-hero attraction is an actual fetish though, and it falls under the psychological heading of Paraphilias Not Otherwise Specified.

There are a LOT of unspecified paraphilias. In fact, most of them are unspecified. For the most part, the only *specified* paraphilias are the ones that are either criminal or harmful to oneself. Oh, and transvestitism.

Some people have debated whether generally harmless fetishes deserve to be considered paraphilias. The argument is that people with innocuous fetishes, such as an attraction to foreigners (xenophilia), shouldn't be lumped into the same category as rapists (biastophilia).

The problem is, it's impossible to altogether avoid being categorized in a way which associates you with someone or something you don't like. For instance, I don't wish to be categorized with my ex-husband. So instead of calling him human, shall I re-categorize him as homo-assholian? I'd like to, but then we'd both still be primates anyway. Words by themselves are neutral things. It's only how you use them that make them good or bad. Kind of like The Force. Though admittedly, some words are mighty difficult to use in a pleasant context. The word ex-husband, for instance.

So, breaking the word down to it's purest form: para, meaning "other" and philia meaning "love," paraphilia refers simply to the love of something other. Other than what? Well, the inference is, other than the norm. And when it all comes down to it, a fetish for a man in a cape may be harmless and even understandable when we're talking Christopher Reeve, but it's not exactly the norm. And in a society that prides itself on it's sense of freedom and individuality, that is a blessed, blessed thing.

So here's to all you lovers of capes, spandex, enormous breasts, and the American Way. I hope you have a really lovely Saturday morning stroke-fest tomorrow.

Fetish Friday: Parte Deux

Macrophilia: sexual attraction to giants or giantesses.

Many men with macrophiliac tendencies develop surprisingly similar fantasies to explain how they come to be in the presence of a giantess. Despite what you might think, I've yet to come across a Jack and the Beanstalk type scenario.

Almost without fail, men will set out the fantasy to play as such:

They are on a date. The woman brings them back to her home for a nightcap. As they chat and flirt, she speaks seductively, with a knowing gleam in her eye. At this point, she either slips a potion or drug in his drink, or she speaks soothingly to him, hypnotizing him. He begins to notice he's shrinking.

As he shrinks, his voice gets smaller and higher. The woman laughs and begins to play with him like a cat with a mouse. She lets him run for a bit, only to catch him easily in her giant, manicured hands. She may put him in a cage, or she may just pick him up, letting him dangle helplessly from her fingertips. He is powerless to fight her.

Sometimes, but by no means always, he is used as a sex toy. Forced to burrow into her womanly cavern like a hamster through a well known actor's rectum.

As unorthodox as this all is, the disturbing part of these scenarios is the often violent end. Whether the man is lost forever, suffocating as a human benwa ball, or swallowed, or whether he is stomped beneath a story tall stiletto heel, it's disturbing to know someone might envision their own death as part of a sexual fantasy.

Once again, I find myself wondering what circumstances led to this type of fantasy. Did The Attack Of The Fifty Foot Woman really spark their starters? Was their first crush very tall? Did they want to be Stuaat Little when they were kids?

The prevailing aspects of the fantasies are the man's diminutive size and relative helplessness. Could this be somehow reminiscent of childhood? If so, you might expect to find an element of nurturing and protection coming from the character of the giantess. While the protection can certainly be illustrated by his utter dependence on her for his very life, the murderous end would seem to cancel that theory out.

With the fantasies of being swallowed, or otherwise being taken internally, there could be a desire to of become a literal part of the woman.

He's clearly turning his entire body into a Phallus, maybe he's just been equated to one so many times he's taken it to heart? Or maybe he's just trying to imagine his whole body feeling as good as his penis does during orgasm.

I have to admit, I'm completely stumped on this one. Any armchair therapists want to try explaining this one? I'd love to read your comments.

Fetish Friday

Sotophilia: sexual arousal by the sight of certain foods. As in, "he asked me to describe the sight of him putting his penis in the potato salad. "

Potato salad! How did it come to be potato salad? What sort of deranged picnics has he been to?

I mean, without personally finding a practice appealing, I can understand how some fetishes form. As unsanitary as it seems to me, a paraphilia for golden showers is wholly understandable. Those original sexual images from childhood can leave us with a powerful imprint. When a child first begins to notice the differences between genders, they are likely be titillated without quite being sure why. If they haven't yet been taught the basic principles of intercourse, the only use they know of for genitalia is urination. Given this, it's not surprising that the fondest wish of many little boys is simply to see a little girl pee. When a desire is set so firmly in childhood, it can easily last through to maturity. What's more, warm liquid sluicing down the body feels damned good. Put it all together, and a fetish is born.

Keeping this in mind though, and putting all judgments aside in the name of scientific query.. what twisted series of events had to come together, what freakish planets had to align, what perverted karma had to accumulate, for me to find myself discussing the merits of German versus Classic potato salad for lubrication, texture and plain old fashioned sex appeal?