#where the foot fetishists at? Will it help me?

[lokisgoodgirl]

I don't wanna be the man. I hate the man. Unless the man is 6"8 with a British accent.

Thank YOU for bringing her into my life 🤣🤣

You’re charming as 💕shit💕✨✨it’s an aura

😍 You...have a face that people write songs about. Thank you❣️

Thank you.

[iwritebigbellies-blog]

What do you think "caused" your stuffing kink? I'm curious because I can't find any research as to why, biologically, the stuffing kink is a thing. I've had mine since I was old enough to remember, i.e., a toddler - watching cartoon characters eat a lot for a gag and feeling weird about it. I've got no idea what caused it or why my brain is apparently wired this way, especially since (like you, and apparently unlike the majority of the feedism community) it is *just* the stuffing and not wg/etc that turns me on. Just curious about other peoples' (and especially those who, like me, are primarily into the stuffing and not the wg aspect) experiences, I guess.

This got out of hand. Sorry.

TL:DR - I was born this way

Deeper thoughts:

So, when I was very distraught about why I had developed this incredibly inconvenient kink, I did a little bit of looking into paraphilias.

Unlike some other "kinks", this isn't a lifestyle choice (in my case, this is something I need to be sexually satisfied. I do not get aroused without it, I definitely do not cum without it.) It isn't something that is going to "spice up the bedroom" for someone looking for a new kind of fun. It is a flatly non-sexual thing that my brain has decided is hyper sexual. I think a good analogy is a foot fetish. Nobody decides to get into feet for fun. You either sexualize them, or you don't.

I think stuffing falls under fetishistic paraphilia, like the foot thing. There's a prevelent theory that foot fetishism is actually rooted in neurology. The foot section and the genitals sections of the brain are literally just super close together, so a little divergent wiring and boom, the foot is a sexual organ.

This kind of thinking rings the most true to me. Because I can't think of an "inciting incident" or single media that really made an impression on me: I wasn't even allowed to watch tv when I was a kid, so I mostly got my weird feelings from books and comics, and it felt more like recognizing a feeling that was already there than a single jarring experience. Also, because it doesn't feel confusing or traumatic or naughty to me: it's not like I got sex=forbidden, fat =forbidden, ergo fat=sex all jumbled up. There's no feeling of shame in my kink. Just the usual feelings one has about sex things: pleasure, intimacy, indulgence.

I feel like I am just wired different. I truly don't think I could, for example, therapize this away. It feels more like being straight: it is just foundational to my sexuality. It is my sexuality. Nothing made me like this. I just am.

Two tangental things about that:

Look at the people who try to run away from this kink. They always come back. It doesn't change or go away for them. There are a lot of really miserable people in this kink because a) we've pathologized it and b) there has been no real effort to make a welcoming community around paraphilias or fetishes in general. There is no safe space for fetishists. This kind of kills me, because I have talked to a lot of men in this kink and each of them has come at it in a totally different way. They could be helping each other understand this. They should be sharing coping or lifestyle tips. They could be more open about healthy ways to live it or showing success stories with partners and lives. We could all be more welcoming and understanding of the people who wander in here, because this thing isn't going away and we are all we have. We shouldn't be treating it like a disorder or social contagion.

I think being more community-minded would also help with the thing where some of us have "rare" versions of this kink. Cuz, yah, my sexuality is stuffing, not wg. There genuinely don't seem to be many of us. And it isn't cuz I am fatphobic and just want conventionally-hot guys to temporarily fatten up or whatever shit I am being accused of this week...I actually really prefer fat guys in a strictly aesthetic sense. But it isn't foundational to my sexuality. That is a whole different universe.

But because we're treating all of this like a den of iniquity, we're only engaging with each other on a horny level. And if you come at someone horny and they are not equally horny for you (such as when somebody comes at me asking how much weight I'd like them to gain), the conversation ends instantly, often in disgust, and leaves one or the other person feeling shame or guilt.

Those of us with more "rare" fetishes are gonna feel this bounce more than someone with a more conventional fetish. But, dammit, I still need a place, I still need a platform. I need to stand somewhere while I am waiting for the rare person who is actualy on my wavelength. I want to feel accepted and safe as a fetishist, not just horny. I am more than my libido, even as a fetishist.

Gonna throw some numbers out there.

The prevelence of true fetishism in the population is pretty unknown, but some studies have suggested like 11-17% of the male population have fetishistic fantasies, with women reporting in way lower, like 0-10%. But most of those are sort of conventionally sexual people who think it might be hot to have sex in public or with someone wearing cute gloves. The ones who are all-in on being fully fetishy (like me) are more like 0.00125% of the population. Of those, the vast majority are men.

Within the fetishist population, only about 15% are into specific body parts. (0.000002% of everyone, in our back-of-napkin math.) Almost half of those are into feet. There are other groupings: I have never seen "bellies" divided out on its own (though one did single out navels) so we're gonna say we are "other body parts", which is about 13% of body-part fetishists. (Math fails me here... what are we at, like, 0.000000026% or something?) It doesn't even matter at this point, it basically means that, statistically, every person on the planet who is as obsessed with full bellies as I am could fit in a small-town auditorium, and most of them would be men.

(Yah, I know, actual numbers probably much higher because all these studies require people to self-report, and shame/embarassment cuts that way down.)

If this was based on some kind of early conditioning, my feeling is the numbers would be waaaay the fuck higher.

Anyway, I am still mildly obsessed with Jughead Jones. >.>

[fredwkong]

Virgo Season: Harold

There was no way in hell that Harold was going to do his presentations on the lawn. This conference was supposed to be prestigious, and all that he had seen so far was every so-called “real man” in the Astra Hotel running in terror from a group of deviants.

Harold had been a police officer in Detroit for decades, and even retired he knew he cut an imposing figure. Where the inimitable Pastor Blanco had failed, Harold had succeeded, forcing the staff to clean up the conference hall in the early hours of the morning, after the nightly freak party ended. The day’s discussions and meetings had been held in their rightful place again, and now it was Harold’s turn.

If only he could get the damn projector working properly.

While Harold had been on the force, everything had been microfilm and slides, even into the 2000s. The Astra’s conference hall contained such newfangled gadgets as an “HDMI port,” an “audio jack,” and the horrifically misnamed “Smart Board” that Harold had no hope of interacting with. Harold had been expecting that some of the young professionals attending the conference would be able to help him with setting up.

Alas, all the young cowards seemed to have fled the conference over the last few weeks, and so Harold had spent 15 minutes struggling with the technology before he turned to Blanco, his face purple with rage. “Get… me… the concierge,” Harold gritted out.

Blanco seemed about to protest at being ordered around like one of his lackeys, but then clearly thought better of it. Without a word, he fled the hall.

The door closed with an echoing bang. Without meaning to, Harold jumped as if he had been touched by a small electric shock. The small audience—not more than twenty, and yet more than half the people still at the conference—all jumped too.

Harold turned back to the podium where the mess of wires surrounded his ancient brick of a laptop, only to see that one cable was neatly plugged into a port on his device. Behind him, the large screen flickered to life, displaying his desktop background.

“Ah, that’s fine then,” Harold said gruffly. “Let’s begin, we’re behind enough as it is.” He launched PowerPoint exactly as the man at the tech support desk had shown him once and began the slideshow.

The screen went black, then flashed bright before the first slide came up. Harold could have sworn it had shown a picture of a smooth-skinned man in a rubber bodysuit, lying at the foot of someone in high heels. But there was no such image on his device, so he must have imagined it.

“The police and their policies are an important part of America and make ordinary life possible,” Harold began, following the notes he had written in his notebook. He went through the first few slides, on the glorious history of the American police force and how essential they were to the protection of real Americans, like him and the other attendees.

As he did, Harold felt himself beginning to get warm in his suit. He wasn’t the type for nervous sweating, but he found himself tugging at his collar, feeling beads of sweat run down his grey, buzzed temples. After the third slide, he took a moment to take a drink of water, and saw several of the conference attendees doing the same, or fanning themselves with paper and notebooks. Maybe it had been a mistake to close the doors.

“Please pay close attention,” Harold said, clicking to the next slide.

The slide was meant to show an image of Harold during his glory days on the force. Instead, for an instant, Harold was sure the picture was of some deviant in a rubber bodysuit, long socks, aviators, and a leather cap. Like a horrible fetishistic parody of his younger self.

He blinked, horrified, and the picture he was was as it was supposed to be, a younger Harold in his perfect police uniform. Somehow, he had imagined such a horrific image. Harold coughed awkwardly. “In my time on the force, my district…” he continued, rattled.

The statistics and policy changes relevant to Harold’s presentation seemed to swim before his eyes. He was sweating like a pig in this suit. It felt like there was something under the cotton and silk, something pliant and sticky against his skin. The audience seemed to be moving uncomfortably. Some were tugging on their dress shirts, trying to force air into the humid interiors.

Harold continued reading his notes. “Police put great attention on stepping on—I mean, stamping out—less desirable elements in the city,” he said, stumbling over his words. “Employee satisfaction reached an all time high when police were given free rein to fu—no, that’s pluck—potential criminals from their hiding places preemptively.” Why had he written that word?

But the idea was somehow enticing. That would have changed things in Detroit, Harold thought, as he kept on reading and clicking through slides. Walking into a raid lubed up and hard in a rubber—rubber? Yes, rubber—jockstrap, fucking sense into those deviant criminals’ asses… He tried to resist getting hard in his dress pants.

When he clicked to the next slide, it showed an example of exactly the kind of criminal Harold was thinking of. Tight rubber pants, his chest bare, giving fuck-me eyes to the camera.

“The criminal element—” Harold’s voice was hoarse for some reason. He coughed and continued talking about the inherent criminality of non-white men in America.

The men in the audience were leaning forward in their seats as Harold went through the next few slides. He knew that look. The attractiveness of the hedonistic lifestyle of a deviant criminal was getting to them. It was getting to him, too. He could barely remember where his discussion was leading.

No one in the hall heard the main doors stick as someone attempted to open them from the outside, but found them held fast by some force other than the lock.

The atmosphere had become close and humid. Harold could see some of the men palming their bulging groins through their pants. He wanted a taste of that. Pictures of men in rubber continued to flash on the screen, even though Harold wasn’t clicking on it to continue. Harold couldn’t tell if they were criminals or civilians anymore. Maybe they were just ordinary people. The images came faster and faster until the screen was a blur of rubber men.

Suddenly, the onslaught stopped. A video started to play. Two men, of very different skin tones, furiously kissing. Harold heard moaning from the audience as they started to imitate what they were seeing on screen.

Harold felt overwhelmingly warm, and started to unbutton his shirt. Had his hands always been so tan? As he worked, he tried to continue speaking. “In-in short, the police force… Oh god, the police force should totally fuck more, can you imagine? In uniform?” The pitch of his voice rose as his grey hair darkened to black. Graceful hands stripped away his shirt to reveal a translucent rubber tank top underneath. “Can you imagine if they put on some rubber booty shorts instead of those boring pants?” he continued.

The audience started to strip each other, following Harold’s example. The squeak of rubber on rubber sang out in harmony with smooth moans and gasps. Skin darkened and youthened everywhere as everyone let go of everything that had been holding them back for decades all at once.

Harold clicked to the next slide, knowing what was coming now. A man in boots and a rubber shirt, sniffing a black sneaker. “You gotta show your partner you appreciate all that sweat he’s been building up under his rubber!” Harold told the audience, hearing the licks and snuffles begin as men enthusiastically dove into each others’ armpits, groins, and abandoned shoes.

Hadn’t Harold had a water bottle? No, just the spare sneaker his husband had sent with him to the Astra Hotel this year. Giving the audience a moment to put his command into action, Harold gave the shoe a sniff, feeling as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders as his body tightened up into a tan, muscular physique.

He wanted to stretch out his long tongue into the shoe’s interior, but Harold knew that would spoil the musk, plus he needed to keep focussed on his presentation. Instead, he imagined giving his husband’s feet a nice tongue bath once he got home, giving his cock a squeeze through his sweat-soaked pants. Still sniffing, he wriggled out of the pants, revealing his black rubber shorts, rivulets of sweat still running down his sturdy legs.

Harold clicked to the next slide, the final moment of his presentation. A guy in a full bodysuit, his rubber toes extended to the camera. “Remember, it’s all about playing with power,” Harold called out, feeling his mouth slip around the English consonants. His mixed heritage, raised in a house where he spoke Lebanese, left him with a faint accent that came out specifically when he was horny. “You do what another man says because you trust him, and it feels so fucking good, right?”

There was a roar of assent from the crowd, drunk on their own lust. “Good boys,” Harold said firmly, and drank in the responding chorus of submissive groans. Leaving the slide up, Harold stepped down from the presenter’s dais back into the seating. He pulled his long rubber gloves back on as he went. Best to be prepared in case someone wanted to feel his arm up inside them.

One couple, a Chinese man and his little Black boy, had actually started fucking, the Black guy’s rubber pantseat unzipped so his tight ass could take his dom’s cock. An older Arabic man had his hands tied behind his back as he sat on the floor in a circle of men, all taking turns using his mouth. As he walked past, Harold tugged on the long ponytail of a Brazilian in a rubber shirt, enjoying the man’s groan as he kept bouncing on what must be a plug on the inside of his pants. They were all gonna have a good time until the non-rubber guys joined them for the night’s party.

The conference hall door burst open, and Harold turned to see some old white man standing there, surrounded by terrified hotel staff. Harold raised himself to his full height and crossed his gloved arms, showing off the bulge in his rubber shorts and the muscles in his translucent shirt. This was his place, and he was gonna protect it.

The hotel staff fled, and the old prude wasn’t far behind. Harold rolled his eyes and turned back to his fun.

Click here to see all of Virgo Season.

If you feel inspired, write a story set at the Astra Hotel and post it @ me to join in. Help me celebrate my birthday by turning more conference attendees into geared up gay kinksters.

[zaidshair]

Zaid bit back his urge to say, 'I'm on youtube too' like some pathetic troll. It was true - he'd been filmed both formally and informally before, for TV spots, local competition or educational shows, and by foodie diners who wanted the full Mango behind-the-scenes experience, etc. But Zaid had always maintained a false modesty about it, and he wasn't going to start bragging to the actual celebrity capable of building his own fitness empire. Especially not now.

Instead, Zaid gave a weak, brief smile at Alex's casual familiarity. "I'm a fan," he said instead, to curb his own latent jealousy.

He winced at the cutesy names of more products that Alex Panganiban lectured Kayleigh about; if anything, Zaid admired a good marketer. And Alex seemed to do it effortlessly, like breathing. Shutting Kay-Kay up as effectively as the hornet's loud buzzing did.

And then Alex Panganiban did something even more spectacular. He...duplicated himself. Zaid came to a full stop, mouth dropping open in shock at the sight of two Alexes. It looked like one was consigned to assist the other (Zaid lost track of which came first) so Zaid ran quickly ahead of the hornet, ignoring Kay-Kay's grimace at the sight of him. The hornet's TV head flickered, displaying a shot of Lindi weeping, weeping hard.

Zaid tried to ignore it, and just jumped up and down in front of the hornet. "Oi! Hey! Where d'you think you're going, you robotic pillock!" The hornet did slow slightly at Zaid's distraction, buying Alex enough time to...leap onto the fucking hornet's back.

Again, Zaid stared in shock as the other Alex popped up beside him. He motioned to the rider-Alex, and gave ground-Alex a disapproving look. "You're gonna kill yourself! Why would you do that?"

And yet, the hornet was forced to fly lower, under rider-Alex's added weight. Zaid ran forward, beckoning grounded-Alex. "Help me," he said, hopping up to grab a hold of one of Kay-Kay's ankles. "Grab her other ankle and pull!"

"Oweeeeeee you're hurting meeeeeee," Kayleigh whined, and started to kick.

"Stay still, you daft twat! We're trying to save you!" Zaid grunted with effort as the hornet kept trying to fly on, half-dragging both Zaid and ground-Alex along with them, as Zaid hugged Kayleigh's bare foot like some fetishist. They were nearly at the water; it would be too dangerous to hold onto Kayleigh once they hit the ocean tides. He yelled at the rider-Alex, in some awe. "We're not gonna fail. We're not gonna fucking fail. Can you...dunno...break a wing or summat?"

"Well I hope it's airing on the Panganex official channel or at least on Peacock, otherwise they're gonna be getting Youtube cease and desist notifications!" Alex laughed, aiming a light cuff at Zaid's angular shoulder and not quite connecting since they were in the middle of a run. "Nawwww, I'm joking. Anybody who wants to repost the Cliffs 'n' Caves workout especially, since it was an early one. Mazel and Namaste be with them, mashallah."

The minor mishap at Lindi's meeting had stuck in Zaid's head, apparently, and Alex was touched by that and about to answer when they were distracted by more immediate hornet-related activities. Zaid was interactive in his fascinating accent, although the hornet put him in an awkward situation when its sound dropped out and left the guy shouting like he was calling people to mosque. Alex gave a sympathetic grimace and eyeroll when Kayleigh called him by some ridiculous perversion of his name, and compulsively explained, "We did all kinds of products, not just Christmas. Eid Al Fitter keto-friendly sweets, Fire Freeya Deeya for a less flammable Diwali, Gung Hey Boy Toy red envelopes, that kind of thing."

But his multicultural marketing ventures weren't really the point right now, and Alex nodded, frowning in redirected concentration as the hornet began to dip lower, slower, the freight of Kayleigh starting to weigh on it. "I think I got this," he said, and pressed his lips together and rubbed his hands as he stomped one foot. It didn't do much, so Alex growled and stomped again, and with the other foot, harder, until he felt that god-awful stretchy-taffy feeling and a rush of nausea, and there it was. Another Alex standing in front of him, looking a little put-out.

"No time for that," Alex said irritably to AlexB. "Just gimme a boost, would you?"

The fortunate thing about these other Alexes was that they understood what he wanted without much explanation, and AlexB nodded, crouching to lace his fingers together. "Here goes," Original Recipe Alex said to Zaid without much fanfare, hopping into that cradle of hands and being tossed unceremoniously onto the hornet as it passed by.

"And now we wait for the inevitable failure of a harebrained plan," AlexB said, turning to look at Zaid. "Come here often, cutie?"

[ninewhiskers]

not the other anon (and also not native so i might be sticking my foot in my mouth) but the tribe redesign painting them as "peaceful nature lovers" (i apologize if i've misinterpreted anything this opinion is formed off of a brief read) and the clan cats as "violent warlords" does come across as filling both the fetishistic and barbaric view of native peoples. your enthusiasm and research is admirable, and i do like the naming scheme! rushing brook sounds very pleasing to me.

thank you for bringing this up to me! in the case of the mountain cats, i could make the groups more hostile to each other during seasons where the normally-abundant food is scarcer, and they can be hostile toward those not born on the mountain. if it helps, their religion is based around tigers, lions, and leopards, and they all have different beliefs regarding that.

as for the clan cats being violent warlords, i am honestly at a loss at what to do. the clan cats are violent—a pawstep over the border could mean bloodshed. addressing this would entail me having to also rewrite the clans, which isn't what i set out to do. warriors has a huge issue regarding its portrayal of native culture (see this doc) and i've set out only to address a single part of it.

any suggestions?

[undoundue]

caliban iv: glass and scissors / giantess / heaven

1. there's a new cult around town that holds glass and scissors as sacred. glass, scissors, locks, walls, and white paint. glass, scissors, locks, walls, white paint, ghosts, chasms, oceans, and space. their sacredness is in approximately that order. whatever separates. whatever mitigates. whatever promotes distance from the immiserating world of people and things.

well, i won't pretend to understand "youth culture," but i can't say i approve. for one, they are virulently anti-semitic, which i am not. for another, they reject any skin-on-skin contact that breaks the five second rule, which i do not. and furthermore, i don't like how they look at me. their evangelist grins run thick as cough syrup, and their eyes, shadowed by cowls, still gleam like a scarab's back. they preach outside cvs pharmacy in the bad part of town, thocking cowbells and chanting, offering pamphlets called HELPING THE HYLICS while their leader calls out to passerby: "hey brother, hey brother, the rules have betrayed you. hey brother, hey brother, because of your vagueness, the rules have betrayed you, now the ogre of shadows has caught you in his evil eye. hey brother, hey brother, lock your doors and smash your idols, wash your hands and shave your head. beat your breast, kill your darlings, put a glass window in an empty field, yes brother, a glass window, to promote distance—"

their smiles betray poor dental hygiene, for in their cosmology dental hygiene belongs to the world of things. when i pass by, there are three of them. one does the preaching. one holds the pamphlets. the third hits the cowbell and chants. they have a donation box, lined with aluminum, but i never give. instead i check my cellphone and smile bitterly, thinking: "well, i wouldn't want to immiserate them in the world of things!"

when i sneak a corner-eye glance, i find them smiling back, as if they expected this.

2. well, on the bus the other day i heard an argument between two giantess fetishists about how tall giantesses should be.

one guy said they should be between 100 and 120 feet tall. any shorter and you're leaving eternal feminine on the table, any taller and they might not feel it when you put it in.

this guy argued for giantesses between 30 and 50 feet tall. his argument was that giantesses over a hundred feet tall are so strongly associated with vore, diaper/scat, and unbirthing, that humble lovers of gentle femdom need a separate height to clear the libidinal palate ("my dick has locked me in a cell with three types of fetishes that i absolutely hate, and thrown away the key.")

well, that sounds rough, but i get where the first guy was coming from too. if i might paraphrase robert frost:

Some say the world will end in vore giantesses (100-120 ft) Some say in gentle femdom giantesses (30-50 ft) From what I’ve tasted of human boredom I hold with those who favor vore (dom) But if I had to die again, I think I know enough of tender closeness, To say that kindness I would commend, Is no less potent To the same end.

this is all conjecture, of course. my personal experience extends only to a 5000 foot giantess, Gnathaena Moedecker—and at such a scale the rules of everyday giantesses simply do not apply.

it was a few months after college and i was desperate for a job. the margrave of zebulon, that damned miser, only offered two grand for disposing (by any means necessary) of the giantess who had wrecked zebulon's economy; for every unmarried man, and some married men, and some women, had emigrated to Gnathaena's armpits, kneepits, or pubis, as she passed zebulon, north carolina, heading north to who knows where; maybe pittsburgh; and now, the scarcity of local labor was intolerable.

it took a day to climb her knee-high stockings, for her legs shook like earthquakes with each county stride, and besides i had to go around the men who were clinging like limpets and sniffing. the smell, to be fair, was quite nice—like potpourri, but sweatier. in a virginian corn field she lay down for a nap and i made progress more quickly, though there were still obstacles. the ass-cultists who lived in the pockets of her jean shorts tried to wicker man me in a denim effigy. the slow respirations of her tanned abdomen tumbled me towards her umbilicus, from which it was said no one could return. dozens emerged from her rose-gold gucci handbag and explored her snoring corpus, playing guitar, composing sonnets, painting portraits that were also landscapes, masturbating, looking for meaning i suppose, and it wasn't hard to find, because everything you do on a 5000 foot giantess feels meaningful, and the way the moonlight fell on the surrounding corn stalks was pristine.

well, in the early morning i reached Gnathaena's mouth. i tried to pour in the potion, but her lips were slippery with lip balm, and too heavy to part an inch. i pored through my textbooks and ruined them with my balm-stained hands. could the potion be administered aurally, as well as orally? i did not recall. but in a compendium of fairy tales another solution presented itself: i kissed her. her eyelids made a sound like waves crashing as she blinked awake.

"sup, pervert," she said.

"i am not a pervert," i said defensively, hiding the potion behind my back.

"sure ya are." she yawned. "did you like kissing me?"

"well, they're softer than i expected...given their size..."

"anyone who likes kissing is a pervert. anyone who likes parts of things is a pervert. you're supposed to like everything or nothing at all. anything else, that's what being a pervert is."

i started to object, but well, she was obviously right. the moonlit corn stalks had indeed been beautiful, and while watching their sway there was a moment when, a little high from the estrogen fumes, i accepted existence in its entirety, as a transcendent calm flowed through me and i felt like crying at nothing at all. but it only lasted a second, and then i glared at the crescent moon and moved on. for i didn't know what to do with moonlit corn stalks or transcendent calm, any more than i knew what to do with a 5000 foot giantess, and something very old and never satisfied, not with the kernel that preceded the big bang, not now, turned the machinery within me and crunched transcendence into its parts.

well, but now i felt a little bit sorry for Gnathaena Moedecker, who after all was not really existence but merely synecdoche for it. so i said: "well, perversity aside, around your sternum i really started to wonder: where are you going?"

"new york city," she said, and exhaled a slow twister. "i started working right out of high school, but ever since i saw Lady Bird, i've been obsessed with the idea of going to NYU. so i've decided to pull together a personal statement and apply." she bit her lip. "do you want to read it? i don't know if it's very good..."

well, it now became apparent to me that Gnathaena, if she was synecdoche for existence, was not very smart, or at least she was younger than i had expected. i mean, Lady Bird is not a very good movie, and i was sorry to learn that her personal statement was equally saccharine. she had an uphill battle, to be sure: most admissions officers can't relate (and not in a "good" way) to the experience of being a 5000 foot giantess hiding out in the appalachian mountains, emerging only at night to devour the sheep of terrified farmers, all while harboring a secret, lifelong dream to work on sustainability in high-end fashion.

so i told her that a few edits might help, and together we came up with a statement that de-emphasized her size and instead focused on a formative trip to Madrid and her volunteer work for the ASPCA. but it wasn't enough, and we both knew it. and, softly, though even her regular voice was softer than i had expected, she told me to "just do it."

"do what?" i said dumbly.

"give me the potion you've been hiding behind your back for the past three hours."

and since it was going to happen eventually, i did.

so it happened that Gnathaena Moedecker shrank to five foot eight inches, which is taller than average but by no means bestiary-worthy. sudden whumps, painful yelps, and angry shouts accompanied this rapid shrinkage. since i doubted the mob of recently giantess-deprived individuals would understand the inverse relationship between the abstract and the individuated, i took gnathaena's hand and read my scroll of return.

in zebulon, north carolina, the weather was warm but cloudy. we rented a room at the motel 6 and spent a few lazy days drinking and eating mexican-asian fusion. it was strange to get to know her, strange to get to know her until it felt like there was not much more to know; for she was young, and we didn't have much in common. her freckles were smaller than i had remembered. i saw her off at the airport, and we promised to get coffee if i was ever in new york, or she in zebulon.

the margrave cried and gave me a $500 bonus when i told him the news. i was stunned—i guess his interest in the local economy was more sincere than i gave him credit for. i bought takeout sushi and ate it crosslegged on my hotel bed. i flipped through the channels. sports. news. rocky iii (1982), pay-per-view. scooby-doo. news. ghost world (2001), pay-per-view—

whoa, what are the odds? ghost world was my favorite movie as a teenager. maybe this is just nostalgia speaking, but enid seems a tier above any cinematic art girl this side of anna karina. her jokes are weirder, her worldview is firmer and yet less legible. you can't quite identify with her, so you get the feeling she might still exist when you turn off the screen. plus, steve buscemi—i mean, steve buscemi's always great. it's a great movie. every time it gives me a feeling sort of like transcendence, but while transcendence happens in my skin and spine this feeling happens mostly in my chest. it's sharper too, less like a flow and more like an arrow emerging. i'm still not sure what to do with it. but, since it's a movie, i guess there's only one thing to do. i hit play.

3. the divine offers strange incentives. if you're angry, god grants you nothing, but hate yourself and he descends. blessed are the meek and masochistic; cursed be the paranoid pugilists. well, i'm no atheist, i've met the big man himself once or twice, but i can't stand him getting up in my business. "jesus takes the wheel," says the sucker. what—and i suppose you play videogames on easy mode, too?

that's why, whenever i feel i'm becoming too sympathetic, i go to my walk-in closet and whisper hateful words. last monday, for instance, i meticulously insulted the irish, the choctaw, the norwegians, and the balinese. i could practically feel the freedom as omniscience looked away. kind of a nausea, but kind of a pleasant dizziness too. if you've ever walked on a hardwood floor in fresh socks, you've felt something like it.

so i don't swing too far, i keep it fair. it's not like when comedians claim to "offend everyone equally." nice try, buddy—ever heard of the availability heuristic? no, what i've done is write each entry of https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_contemporary_ethnic_groups on a flashcard, with the harmful and unjust stereotypes on the flip side. then i use a random number generator to pick the cards.

it's not a perfect solution—even 4chan can't provide stereotypes for the more obscure peoples. still, up until now it's worked.

but now a beam of golden light enters my living room, not even bothering to knock. a holy refridgerator humming fills the air. and, despite my best efforts, the archangel michael descents, cherubim fluttering around him, and the room is perfumed with frankincense and myrrh.

the archangel michael tells me the gig is up.

"the gig is up," the archangel michael says, "too many people are exploiting the 'good intentions' loophole—thinking of the reduced carbon footprint when committing arson, or whatever—and on occasion there are 'bad intentions' exploiters, like you—so we're closing them in the next moral patch. it's good works or GTFO."

"this is bullshit, mike," i tell him, "matthew 5:27-28, for instance."

Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery:

But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.

"i commit adultery in my heart constantly. depriving me of purgatory is unjust."

"you're single," michael says.

"i have a tulpa," i retort.

"tulpa tulpa!" motte says indignantly, setting a cheese plate on the table.

"that's masturbation," michael says. "it's not great, but it's definitely a venial sin."

motte shrugs. we eat the brie. the cherubim flutter nervously, deck us in laurels, make kissy lips, send stylized hearts through the air which i puncture with carefully aimed magic missiles.

"so the nerds won, eh?" i lean in confidentially. "you can be real with me, mike. a bunch of heaven's eggheads got together and decided that silicon valley guys deserve a shot at passing through the eye of a needle? probably for the best, really—presuming that manna is vegan. i hope you enjoy your donated benches. hell, even tolstoy said that goodness was fungible. but villainy, now that takes courage. to not do what everyone else is doing, even when what you're doing is obviously and horribly wrong—"

"don't blame the nerds," michael says angrily. "if it weren't for people wanting so desperately to be something they're not—!"

michael's golden, pupil-less eyes glow with an impossibly compassionate and righteous light. i blink away tears.

"heaven could use you, bill. you belong there. everyone does, if they would only let themselves be."

"nope," i tell him. "nope! for i am no sorry do-gooder. i am bill caliban: the graye wizard of new canaan! and not in the next life, but in this one, my name shall be known! mwa—mmmph. sorry." i finish chewing and swallow. "mwahahaha! ahahahah!"

the archangel grumbles inaudibly, then pops a mouthful of gouda. the cherubim give up their visual antics and instead launch into a surprisingly capable harp rendition of the first eight minutes of st. matthew's passion. we listen.

"it's beautiful," michael says. "you have to admit."

it is.

then michael stands, thanks motte for hosting him, says "bill" in a neutral and vaguely paternal voice, and teleports away with the cherubim.

nothing is left behind but a faint scent, a mix of baby powder and incense, and a few silvery-white feathers from angel wings.

i bite my nails. "you don't think i'm a good person, do you motte?"

"tulpa tulpa tulpa tulpa tulpa tulpa tulpa," motte says.

and i know what she means: that i am vile. that everything about me disgusts her. my face, my body, my odor, my habits, my personality, my spells, my staff, my tattered grey robes. that if it weren't for my explosive sexual charisma, she would never dream of choosing to spend time with me, and the fact that she does proves that something has gone deeply and profoundly wrong in her astral life.

i hug her. i love her very much.

[sooibian]

The Spy Who Loved Me

gif credits @byunvoyage​

Pairing: Spy!Baekhyun x Assassin!Reader ft. Chen, Chanyeol

Description: It’s an obsessive cat and mouse chase

Themes: Dark comedy, angst, heavily inspired by season one of Killing Eve

Warnings: Violence, strong language

Word Count: ~2.8k

A/N: This one-shot comes during a very busy season for me so if you can make time for feedback, I’d be very grateful. Thanks :)

———————————————————————–

It’s the way light escapes their eyes.

Fear. Despair. Hope. Then…nothing.

They hope to be spared. I have a family…what about my children…please…why are you doing this to me…. The utterly foolish ones even offer you money. This imbecility makes the corners of your mouth curl upwards - especially when they’re out of breath from running or begging or whatever it is that gets their heart rate up. Eh. Factor in some cardio before dissolving into a permanent state of slumber, maybe? Poor things always mistake the twitch of your lips for impending clemency…what they don’t know is that it’s always been the breathy ones that peak your excitement.

There’s not a single hit you’ve regretted.

Mostly because you don’t bother with the futility of why. They give you a name and you jet off. To you, it’s really a fun job involving travel, costumes, languages, a hefty allowance, sticking pointy objects in the right places and theatrics. You’re not one to just do your job and slip away quietly. No arterial air embolisms, no unidentifiable fumes or poisons. No boring and discreet.  Where’s the fun in that? Flamboyant is your middle name. Every assassination is a heroi-comical poem for you - killing an asthamatic nez with a fatal concoction of perfume or a feeble-hearted fetishist with clamps that turned out to be a wee bit too intense for him.

You’re good at this. No, infact, you’re the best there is, the best there was, the best there ever  will be.

“The NIS has deployed a team of four to hunt you down because of the mess you left in Beijing. So you’ll be working with a team now. No more flying solo.” Your handler Chen says nonchalantly. 

Shit.

Beijing. “Make it look like a suicide”, had been the directive. The assignment Kasia had been put under witness protection after you’d murdered her mafia boyfriend. She was in a hospital - injured and deranged from the shock of it all, watched over by armed men. Things obviously didn’t go as planned and the security detail bloodbath was, well, collateral damage.

You saunter towards Chen with an intentional swing in your hips, a pout on your lips. You sit a little too close to the astute man, almost purring with seduction, “NIS, you say. Give me a name." 

“Byun Baekhyun.” His lips curl into a cat-like smile as he stealthily adds a foot long distance between the both of you.

“Never heard of him”, you say neutrally, gliding closer to his stoic form.

“He was a security officer before this. A nobody. In fact, he was fired right after the Kasia debacle in Beijing. She was his responsibility.” Letting out an exasperated sigh, he gets up on the pretext of fetching a glass of water.

“Why the sudden promotion, then?”

“A change of jobs. He’s heading a team…Operation Jinseong, they call themselves. Apparently, he’s the only one who believed that the murders have all been executed by a woman. If they can get to you, they can get to them. The organization. This conjecture has seemed to have impressed a higher up. After firing him, they swept his computer and found hoards of theories and all the intelligence he could gather about the faceless demon that’s actually…you. An insider thinks he’s fascinated. And a little cuckoo.” Chen’s laughter is throaty and taunting. 

He takes a sip of water and places the glass carefully on the counter, eyeing you the entire time. Chen. It’s a nom de plume. He’s a ghost - a shadow of a shadow, if you will. You know nothing about Chen but you know better than to snoop around. He’s always been affable yet distant, but he has this maddening habit of scrutinizing people. The changes in the expression, the dilation of the pupils. The man doesn’t miss a beat. And he stares unapologetically. You wonder what he thinks when he looks at you. You wonder how he feels. Disgusted? Lustful? Terrified?

He wants to know everything that’s behind those vacant eyes. With him, you feel disrobed.

“You’re only as good as your last”, he says finally, in his threateningly soft voice, thrusting a thumb drive into your hand. But you don’t feel threatened. The truth is, you feel nothing at all.

He’s at the door when you exclaim, “You never have sex with me!” Feigning annoyance.

He laughs and states matter -of-factly, “I’m married”, before closing the door behind him.

Like that’s ever stopped a man before.

***

Byun Baekhyun.

You search the thumb drive and a fresh faced man with luminous eyes smiles at you from the screen. His arm is wrapped around a slender, honey-skinned woman with big hair and big teeth. They look like an advertisement for home buyers.

A wave of recognition floods your mind.

He was there. 

He was there at the Beijing scene. The beautiful man who helped you with the coffee maker in the hospital. The very same coffee you doused barista Kasia with. 

There’s an inexplicable swell in your chest.

.

.

.

You’re no team player.

The undertaking with your ex and her boyfriend didn’t go as planned. Chen should’ve known. 

After a disagreement, you instigated her to off him, your shin getting injured in the scuffle. Then you ran her over with the jeep - once, twice. The third time was just to be sure. This commotion affected the escape of the NIS Agent you were after.

The mole that ratted out Baekhyun’s Operation Jinseong. 

The murders of your “colleagues” you could manage to explain - you’d tailored them to look like accidents. However, the assignment’s escape was sure to reflect poorly on you.

You’re only as good as your last.

The Agent scurries across a field of dead grass towards the feeder road, putting considerable distance between him and an injured you, where someone sat waiting anxiously in the driver’s seat.

Oh, Baekhyun…

It’s the first time you look into each other’s eyes, the moment stretching between you. It is like standing on the ledge of a skyscraper. With the wind in your hair, the world at your feet but in this space exists trepidation. A fear of falling.

Your gun wielding arm suddenly feels too heavy and your legs threaten to give up on you. Your heart rate escalates as the hot embers of his gaze gloss over the stretch of your skin. 

The mole slips into the backseat of Baekhyun’s compact Kia Morning as you continue to take aimless shots at his vitals - eyes still intertwined with Baekhyun’s. 

What good was a mole to the NIS?, you wanted to ask. Especially one that looked like a sewer rat.

You were only doing them a favour.

Aiming the gun at Baekhyun, you fire, only to realize he isn’t fearful or panicky. On the contrary, there is a sense of purpose in his eyes as well as something you could only identify as a glimmer. A spark. 

Even from a twenty foot distance you can tell Byun Baekhyun is in awe of you.

This…thing…this electricity surges through your veins and you sprint towards your jeep - as fast as your good leg could carry you. 

Oops. You didn’t mean to run over her for the fourth time.

***

Reverse. Acceleration. A few well thought out turns and your jeep is hardly a hundred meters behind Baekhyun’s car. You continue to fire and he continues to dart, swerve, sidestep. A good driver.

Suddenly, his car comes to a screeching halt.

He steps out of his vehicle amidst shrill cries of protest from the mole in the backseat and you follow suit.

Weaponless, crouched, he inches towards the gun pointed at him. 

“I mean no harm”, despite his scared posture, his voice is confrontational. “Leave the man alone. He has a little girl.”

Oh, Baekhyun…

You smile at him. He smiles back.

A genuine smile. Like the one your father used to give you when he saw you relishing ice-cream as…a little girl.

In a flash, you aim the nozzle at your temple and Baekhyun cries out a loud, pained, “NO!”

Laughing, you lower the gun and fire at his feet. He ducks. 

You vanish.

.

.

.

It was exhilarating to use the alias ``Mrs. Byun ” for your next job especially since the man and his giant partner have been on your tail for three months now. 

But, maybe, you shouldn’t’ve stolen Baekhyun’s luggage as soon as he landed in Tokyo to investigate the mysterious death of a Chinese colonel. He and his team knew perfectly well whodunnit. But one can’t bring faceless demons to book now, can they?

Who knows how this easily distracted giant of a man is supposed to protect Baekhyun if it should ever come to it. He couldn’t even watch his luggage for a measly five minutes.

***

You watch Baekhyun and the giant from your apartment overlooking the crime scene. He looks frazzled and the giant slightly apologetic. ‘You’ll have your bag back soon, baby’, you whisper, sucking on a bubblegum flavoured lollipop.

Thirty minutes roll by and the investigation seems to be heading nowhere. Bored out of your wits, you slump into your bed and toy with the contents of Baekhyun’s bag - shirts, slacks, underwear, toiletries.

Dull, tedious, and soul-destroyingly unimaginative. 

Save for one green scarf. 

In a sea of monotones, the scarf stands out. Demanding attention. Fluttering your eyes shut, you slowly bury your face in it - your senses entirely enveloped in his heady scent. 

***

“Excuse me, if you don’t mind me asking, where did you get that scarf from?”

Day two in Tokyo. You’ve been following Baekhyun (and, by extension, Chanyeol). Studying him. It was like adopting Chen’s personality. Apart from the occasional loud laughter, his demeanour, you learn, is self-effacing, gracious, and polite. He’s a picky eater who only eats to live and not the other way round. He’s also very observant and intuitive. But not enough to know that he’s being watched. 

Also, he’s thinking. Constantly. He’s thinking about you. 

“Excuse me?”

Chanyeol asks again - large, deep brown eyes focused on your neck trying to stop you from getting onto the same train as Baekhyun. 

Very subtle.

“It’s from my mother’s store. I could give you the address if you like”, smiling, you crane your neck to look into his disturbed eyes as you both pretend not to know each other amidst a swarm of dog-tired people on the platform at six in the evening.

You slip into the crowd but the oaf chooses to follow.

What does he think he’s doing following an assassin through a strange city! Unarmed.

Forty minutes elapse and he continues to chase you through the streets of Tokyo, keeping up with your brisk pace. With your easy charm, you breeze into the club called Camelot and wave Chanyeol goodbye as he’s stopped by the bouncer and sent to the back of the line. His eyes are dark with a murderous rage.

The club is loud, dark…stuffy - the air thick with over-the-counter happiness. Definitely not to your taste but you stay to give Chanyeol a head start. He’s pissed you off and he’ll pay for it later. Not today. 

You really didn’t want to upset a tired Baekhyun. At least not until you feel a beefy hand weigh down your shoulder.

“I didn’t want to do this”, you rise on your tippy toes and whisper into his ear before sticking a short blade into the side of his stomach. He’s heaving as you stare into his round, childlike, startled eyes while supporting his stumbling weight and stabbing him repeatedly until he finally collapses.

You leave him to bleed out on the dance floor and on your way out, you grab the arm of a medium-built man, your blood-dipped, glistening lips stretched into a lascivious smile.

“Let’s put you in a costume first”, you say to the unassuming moron, excitably thinking of Baekhyun’s dull shirts.

.

.

.

Grief draws people closer, your grandmother used to say, every time someone died of sickness in that impoverished little village of yours.

Baekhyun’s grieving the oaf who was slowing him down. He’s looking for company. So..he’s snooping. 

He’s in your apartment.

The “trusting old lady” - your next door neighbour, who actually works for the same organization as you handed him the key exactly as instructed. You’d been expecting him, this meeting was long overdue. But you wait in the cute little French cafe just around the corner - watching him scout out your apartment through your phone, while devouring a Charlotte Russe cake - dressed pretty in a flouncy pink dress.

He’s careful not to make a squeak. Walking on tippy toes, running his beautifully slender fingers along the drapes, the furniture, the walls as he goes. Your skin tingles all over. Oh, how you wish to be a piece of furniture in the moment. Only Baekhyun could make you want to be something muted and inanimate. Furniture, mattress, drapes.

He saunters slowly to your blackwood Georgian cupboard. The one you use for your wigs, costumes, weapons, and his own green scarf. He wears the scarf around his neck, ruffles the costumes but he’s gentle with the wigs. Stroking and caressing. 

From the drawer he picks out a .38 and shoves it in his waistband. Right behind his hip bone.

Oh, Baekhyun…

Pretty boys and their dangerous toys.

He finds himself in the kitchen. The revolver seems to have straightened his spine and suffused his step with a very welcome spring. Mi casa es su casa. 

In the fridge he finds exactly what he’s supposed to. No food. Only a dozen bottles of celebratory champagne of the best kind. What comes next from him is a scornful snicker which fills your mouth with a bitter taste. The Charlotte Russe doesn’t look very appetizing anymore. He draws a bottle out of the fridge, studies it and smashes it onto the floor. Then another, then another until all the bottles are reduced to shattered glass dripping in gold strewn across your kitchen floor.

Playtime is over, Baekhyun.

You make a run for your apartment.

***

He’s exhausted. 

Breathless, air tousled, shirt crumpled, eyes droopy, beads of sweat lined across his forehead and upper lip - standing clueless, smack-dab in the middle of the mess he’s made - clothes torn off their hangers, furniture overturned. You can’t recognize your upscale Seoul apartment anymore. Careful around the glass, you make your way towards his still frame, withdraw the weapon from his light, jaded grasp. 

You take his hand in yours and lead him to your bedroom - which is entirely ransacked just like the rest of your house. Save for the bed.

He lies down on his back and his first words are, “God, I’m tired.”

“Me too”, you say, as you lie facing him, “Are you wearing the cologne I gave you?”

You’d sent him a bottle of cologne along with the bag you had nicked in Tokyo, as a token of appreciation. It was handcrafted to smell like power.

He hums, turning to the side to face you, nestling into the depths of your irises.

“Are you going to kill me?” He asks, eyeing the revolver in your hand.

Your heart falls to pieces at the ache in his voice.

“No”, you say simply, tossing it to the side.

“Really?”

“I promise.”

Relief ripples across his soft, boyish features smoothing the lines of worry as it goes.

“You’re all I think about”, he says, studying your face. And you’re left wondering yet again, about his thoughts. His feelings.

“So you trash my apartment?” You sound as gentle as you can. But if you’re honest, you don’t even have to try that hard.

“I lost my job, my partner, my wife left me, and I even lost my sanity because of you.”

With his dulcet touch, he traces along the edge of your lips.

“Fair enough. I think about you too. I mean, I to you masturbate a lot.” You say as your thumb rubs his cheek lightly.

He lets out a loud, embarrassed giggle that makes him look a decade younger.

“Too much?” You ask, apprehensively.

“No, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

And with that you’re both inching closer to each other, like magnets.

Baekhyun’s soft gaze darkens and simultaneously you feel something sharp poking at your stomach.

“You can’t do it”, you wrap your hand around the blade, almost mocking him. He’s too nice for something this abominable.

“I can”, he whispers, his eyes still nestled in yours, as he plunges the blade deeper, tearing you apart. 

He places a chaste, soft kiss on your forehead.

Fear. Despair. Hope.

“Sorry, baby.” 

Continuation - My Lovable Curse

[formulabi]

Shower sex | Paulo Dybala

You were in the bathroom taking off the most intimate garment you were wearing, which was also the last one you were wearing when you heard a noise coming from the living room. You immediately got scared. You weren’t sure exactly what time it was, but what you definitely were sure of was that Paulo couldn’t have caused it. He must have been in training at that time, so a stranger had just come into your house.

The idea of a burglar breaking into your house had crossed your mind several times but it always ended up going away when you said to yourself «that’s enough, that’s not going to happen». But, oh God, it was happening.

You didn’t have much time to think. You were alone and unarmed. The first thing you thought was to call your boyfriend, but again, he wouldn’t pick up. So that left the second option: the police.

You left your phone charging in the room that was just a step away. When you were about to go and pick it up the image of your naked body appeared in the mirror in front of you. Damn it, you had no clothes. But you didn’t have time to waste either. You took a towel and wrapped it around your chest. It was the little one, it was supposed to be for your hair, but again, you just needed to get your cell phone.

You opened the door and ran out at lightning speed in search of the smartphone. You jumped on the bed, stretching out to reach it and felt the towel fall off your body because of the action. Well, tying it in a hurry helped too. As soon as you tried to stand up, you heard a voice speak.

“Holy shit!” someone said and you could just scream with surprise. You rolled down to the foot of the bed. The towel was still lying on it.

You looked up to find your boyfriend standing in front of you. He wore his shorts with the Juventus shield, which he used in training. You watched as he looked at you kneeling in front of him and all you could do was scream. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Me? This is my house, isn’t it?” he declared, as he took off his boots and threw them somewhere in the room.

“I thought you were in training,” you said, feeling your breathing regularize after the overwhelming shock. There was no thief, just stupid Paulo.

“Yes, but apparently I’m not anymore, right?” he explained, in a tone you didn’t like at all. “I didn’t want to waste time bathing there so I preferred to come to bathe here”

“You can’t do that,” you explained, putting the towel back on to cover your body. You didn’t want to fight him naked. “I was about to take a bath before you interrupted me.”

The boy didn’t laugh at your words, as he used to. “Well I’m sorry but I’ve come to bathe to save time so you’ll have to bathe after me”

Not a chance. Did he think you were gonna let him come in here just to take your hot shower? He was definitely crazy. “That’s not going to happen,” you said then, ending the fight.

“Really, I’m not in the mood,” he replied, ignoring your threat and taking off the last of his clothes.

He left you there, alone, and went to the bathroom, determined to bathe once and for all. You had already prepared the tub before when you opened the tap and threw away your favourite scent to perfume the water. You also poured the liquid that would generate the bubbles. There was nothing you loved more in the world than a bath like that. But he didn’t care about that because he decided to steal it from you without asking. After all, he was a thief.

When he was inside, you decided it was your time to go in too.

“So you didn’t even wait for me...” you said. “I thought you were going to ask me to take a bath together.”

You saw him snorting, closing his eyes, pretending you weren’t there. “I’m not in the mood, I’m serious. Today wasn’t the best day and I need you to leave me alone.”

You didn’t heed his words. Angry Paulo? It was your favourite Paulo.

You decided to bother him some more. “Weren’t you taught to share when you were a kid?” you scoffed. Damn it. He didn’t answer, he didn’t even smile. You approached and let both your legs get wet first, then the rest of your body. You couldn’t stop a moan escape your lips with such relaxation. Your boyfriend opened his eyes, surprised at the intruder who was stretching her legs over his.

“I’m not going to touch you,” he said angrily, letting you know that you could step into the tub with him but you wouldn’t get anything out of it. Not this time.

“It’s okay. We will only bathe together to save time” your words sounded innocent as they came out of your mouth but you both knew that there was nothing innocent about you. As soon as you stretched out your legs next to him in the tub, even though the tub was bigger than any other normal tub, their legs inevitably brushed against each other. The man didn’t complain because it wasn’t your fault, but he didn’t say anything either.

You stood there doing nothing for a few minutes. Paulo was trying to relax with his eyes closed, but you knew he was just doing that so he wouldn’t see your breasts hiding behind the bubbles. Suddenly na idea came to you.

“Oh damn it” you complained out loud. You put one of your hands under the water and moved it around, creating small waves that caught the boy’s attention.

“What are you doing?” he asked, annoyed.

“I forgot to take my ring off before I came in and it fell off,” you said. Meryl Streep, watch your next Oscar because you could take it away from you.

Your hand continued to move until it reached the centre of Paulo’s legs, where it touched his limb. He moved, surprised, but said nothing because you took it off right away. “I think it’s over here” you mumbled to touch his sex again, this time wrapping your fingers around its width. Since he didn’t complain, you kept your hand there, starting to move it from the tip to the end. You weren’t surprised that it was already hard. Paulo could never resist you.

“You’re touching me,” he clarified, his voice sounding deeper than usual.

“I never said I wouldn’t” you clarified too, touching with your fingertips his balls. He moved a little more in his place. You brought your right hand to the rest of his dick, purely touching its entire length while your left hand took care of the lower part of his sex. You saw how he furrowed his eyebrows and for a moment you were afraid that he would shout at you to leave him alone until he spoke again, causing your body to become hot and not precisely because of the hot water around you.

“I think I felt your ring down here,” he said, letting out a smile that you knew he had been holding back for so long. You smiled too. He had held out less than you thought.

“Really?”

“Yes, you should go down and inspect.”.

He didn’t have to ask you again because you were already doing it. You took all the air your lungs could hold before you put your head underwater. You put your head where your hand used to be and tried to get most of Paulo’s dick in your mouth at once. As soon as the tip of it touch the back of you heard him let out a groan that made you wet, but unfortunately you had to go out and breathe again.

“Have you found it?” he asked, as soon as you were up.

Once you’d breathed again, you answered him. “No, do you think I should go back and get it?” you asked, in that tone you knew it drove him completely mad.

“Oh, yeah. I don’t think you’ve been looking hard enough,” he said. You repeated the same thing as before and went back down there. Your mouth met his dick again, this time you only concentrated on the tip you loved so much, running your tongue all over his head, licking it gently. But then you felt Paulo’s hand appear behind your head and force you to take the rest of him. The rest of its length was pushed down your throat and although your lungs were asking for air, you could not breathe until he allowed you to climb back up. You laughed when you were in front of him again. Fucking fetishist.

“You know what?” you said. Seeing his face of pleasure made you happy. He wasn’t angry anymore. “I think I did take it off before I came in.”

You left him there for a while, without touching him, just hair. You knew he was impatient, especially when he subtly made his dick hit your leg. Oh, little Jessie.

“Could you pass me the liquid soap over there?” you asked him very calmly. He turned around to take it and then laid it to you. You grabbed it, opened its lid, but instead of putting a considerable amount in your hands as you were supposed to do, you stood up a little from the water, threw your head back and dropped a few lines of soap on your breasts. You took both hands to them and started massaging them.

“Oh God” you heard him say as he let out a sigh.

You didn’t want to be judged but you loved touching your tits. You saw the look on your boyfriend’s face and you knew he was dying to help you. You felt your nipples getting hard under your touch and decided to play with them a little, still under the watchful eye of the boy who hadn’t missed a second of what was happening. Your tits weren’t too big or too small, but Paulo loved them. They were the perfect size to occupy his hands. He loved playing with them and he even loved watching you do it. The soap made your hands easier to move them and your touch on yourself kinder. You couldn’t stop a few groans from escaping your lips.

You cleared that section and decided it was time to move on to the next one. You grabbed the liquid soap one more time, ready to put some in your hand, but Paulo got one over on you, snatching it from you.

“I thought you weren’t going to touch me,” you said. He denied fervently, smiling.

“I just want to help you with what you’re doing there,” he excused himself. The role of the innocent fit him too. “I could even go down and get the ring if you want.”

“The ring isn’t there,” you replied, gloating inside that he’d given up so quickly. “But it wouldn’t be right to say no to na offer of help, would it?”

He immediately poured some liquid into his hand. “Oh, of course not,” he yelled. He put his hand underwater until it reached the centre of your legs. He didn’t keep you waiting. He went straight to that point that he knew you loved him to touch. “I think I should clean this place up real good. I do not doubt that it is very dirty” he told you before you started moaning.

His index finger played mercilessly with your clitoris, moving it over it quickly, without hurting you. He kept it there, caressing you in different ways and giving you different levels of pleasure. “I have a feeling it’s not quite clean,” he said then, not waiting for you to answer to stick a finger in you. You let out a cry of pleasure again, this time louder. He’s been in and out a couple of times, driving you crazy. “It still needs something else, don’t you think?” he looked at you, hoping you would respond, but you couldn’t do it with words so you just nodded.

He added one more and you felt you were going to explode with pleasure. He knew how you liked it, especially when he curved his fingers on the way out. Your whole lower hips were warm. Feeling both fingers going in and out of you faster and faster was driving you crazy. As you could, clouded by so much satisfaction, open your mouth to confess something.

“Paulo,” you said. “I think I need something else inside.”

You saw a smile of joy appear on his lips. It seemed like he’d been praying for you to ask him that. He took his fingers out of you. “Turn around and put this ass up, babygirl” you heard him say, making you tremble with his words. You did what he asked, turning around and leaning on your knees. Your hands stretched out and you grabbed the edge of the tub. You felt him spank you stealing a whimper from you. “Whose ass is this, baby?” he asked.

“Yours” you whispered, about to ask him to fuck you wildly.

He hit you again, this time on the other cheek. “I didn’t hear you right.”

“It’s yours, God, my whole body’s yours, Paulo!” you said to him, out of your mind. “Now put your dick in this wet pussy before I...”

He took both your arms and folded them over your back, pulling you back, forcing you to rest on his chest. You felt na intruder slip between your legs without asking permission. Paulo didn’t waste any time.

“Before what, baby?” he asked, mocking you. “Tell me, hun”

But you didn’t answer. You didn’t want to, and even if you did, you couldn’t. Paulo’s dick went in and out at high speed. You felt his thick piece breaking your tight little pussy. He wasn’t even taking pity on you. And you loved it when he fucked you like that.

You felt your legs start to shake to the rhythm of his. Both of you approaching orgasm. “Paulo...” you moaned.

“I know, baby, let’s do it together.”

“I can’t take it, baby,” you said.

“Well, try it,” he said, somehow making it stronger. “We’ll get there together. I’m about to fill this pussy up with all my milk.”

Hearing him talk like that made you feel even hotter and you did exactly what he asked. You kept the orgasm until Paulo shouted that he was about to come and your walls contracted around his member indicating that you had done it too. When you finished, he asked you to stand up. “I want to see my cum come out of you,” he said. You listened to him until he wrapped his arms around your waist to bring his lips close to yours. “Someday you will drive me crazy,” he whispered in your ear, making you laugh.

[strangekryptonitefire]

Old (true) Tickling Story M/F

I'll start by giving you a bit of background. First of all, their names are not real - I've changed them to keep some privacy. First of all, there's my best friend, who I've known since Junior Kindergarden. I'll call him Collin. Next is my ex-girlfriend, who I'm still really tight with. She was my girlfriend of two years, and she of course knows my fetish inside-out. She even "caught", if you will the fetish from me, and loves to tickle people (and be tickled)! She's a relatively tall blonde, with blue eyes and a thin build, and is very attractive. I'll call her Stacey. Finally, there is my other good friend, a little shortier and pudgy girl, still pretty attractive, with blue-green eyes and dirty blonde hair - who I'd just recently confessed my tickling fetish to. I'll call her Carol.

This story starts on a cool, windy saturday in April. My buddy Collin, decided that we get together and have a fun do-nothing day. We cleared out his huge living room with a hardwood floor, stole his little brother's hockey nets (his family was out for the day) and played ministicks! Yes, immature, but fun nonetheless. After a couple hours of shootouts, and going outside on the trampoline, we decided to call up some people to enjoy the day with us. So, we called up Stacey and Carol to come down, and about 45 minutes later, they arrived, dragging down Stacey's younger brother.

The tickling started when we went outside shortly after their arrival, but it was nothing too amazing. We were on the trampoline and Stacey decided to tickle-attack Carol (who is SUPER ticklish) by squeezing her knee for about 10 seconds. After a while, we decided to go inside, as the cold was really getting to us.

Once inside, we got a big game of hockey going, complete with goalie gloves and street hockey sticks as well as ministicks. After a while, Collin decided to make pancakes, and he went off into the kitchen, followed by Stacey's brother. Stacey, Carol and I just sat on the floor talking and chilling, when suddenly, we both got the sudden urge to tickle-attack Carol. We squeezed her knee for a while, and she just dropped onto the floor not even fighting, just laughing her head off. Once we were done, she went to hang out with Collin and Stacey's brother in the kitchen. While alone with Stacey, I suggested that we really get Carol good, and being a tickle-fetishist as well, she agreed

So, when Carol came back in, Stacey just stayed on the ground while I went up and began faking poking at her sides. I'd feint, but not actually touch her. A couple seconds later, Stacey joined in and she kept backing up farther and farther. After a minute or two, we had her cornerred by Collin's sliding glass door. Stacey then jumped in and started tickling the crap out of Carol's sides. There was no room for me, so I just stood back and watched for a good minute or two. I finally decided to do something, and Stacey suggested that I help her take Carol onto the ground. I obliged, and gently tripped her onto the ground, where Stacey jumped on Carol's stomach and began tickling her knee. I joined in, squeezing the other knee with both hands. After a bit, Stacey moved on up to Carol's sides, while I took on both knees. Carol fought back by laughing (of course) and even tickled Stacey back. Stacey kept flinching and stuttering out (while holding back laughter), "don't you dare do that!" and tickling harder. Finally, I got fed up with the knees, and moved on to the best part - the feet. I took Carol's left foot and locked it in my arms, and began spider-tickling her socked foot (the socks were cute little black ankle socks with colourful stripes on them). Her left foot was moving all over the place. I wasn't really sure if my foot tickling was actually working, so I stopped for a bit and let Stacey have it. Stacey had to stop, as Carol was tickling her side, so I resumed tickling Carol. She screamed and let loose of her hold on Stacey's side, whereupon Stacey kept the attack going. I was really enjoying this foot tickling, But Carol's right foot kept coming up and trying to stop the tickle assault on her left. After a few failed attempts, I managed to grab her right foot and tickle both socked feet at the same time.

At this point, I was getting the urge to see some real foot action, so I looked over my shoulder and shouted to Stacey, "Should I get her foot bare?". Stacey shrugged, and I removed her right sock and began really tickling her bare right foot. Carol screamed and kicked that right foot around, but I had a really tight grip, and kept the assault up for a while. After about a total of... 5 minutes or so? ( I lose track of time when tickling occurs) we finally let up, and the tickle torture was over. But the end of the tickling of that day was far from over...

Later on, maybe half an hour later, I convinced Carol to help me attack Stacey. The attack went on for maybe a minute before Carol got tired, and gave up. This was actually really annoying to me, because I was about to move down to Stacey's feet.

Stacey and I were left alone in the room once again, and since she was still lying on her back, I decided to give her a good tickle. So, I reached over (I was on my knees beside her) and began to squeeze her sides. She freaked out and was writhing all over the floor, when her shirt came up (not too far though) and I was squezzing her bare tummy, sides and hip bone. I stopped after a couple minutes though, as my hand was getting a bit tired from all of the squeezing. We just sat infront of each other cross legged for a minute or two, before I decided to start spider-ticking her socked feet. Then, she said to me, "Let's see how long I can stand it for" and I spider-tickled both feet. She had the cutest look on her face, trying to hold back a full-out smile, and was giggling a little bit before she gave up.

Overall, I'd say it was a very good day. Lots of tickling action. The day after that, I actually confessed everything about my fetish to Carol. Before that day, she knew that I liked tickling, but didn't know anything about what I liked about it, or my preferences. But now, she knows. Let's hope that I get a few more days like that soon!

[kasialovesfeet]

Teen twins with the same fetishes

This started back when we were 5,13 years ago at church.  I was sitting next to my mother and she slipped her shoes off to reveal these very beautiful nylon feet. I thought I had pantyhose too so I took mine off. My sister saw me and slipped hers off as well. I look at my moms feet and I played  a kids version of footsies. My mother is so affectionate and loving she stroked my hair and put her foot on mine. Lydia leaned in and brought her foot over and I began to stroke her. Mom and dad took us for pancakes and I heard her heels drop on the floor I looked and her feet were bare. I said can Lydia and I take our shoes off too? she said certainly, my dad said just don’t loose them, I don’t want to be all your shoe wranglers. He said mom lost her shoes under a theater seat in college and I had to go find them. Lydia kicked her shoes across under dads feet and laughed so I kicked mine. He said now they are mine and we are going to the mall after this. Mom and dad are psychiatrists and they are funny people. we were barefoot in the mall and mom said we made her jealous and she was going to take her shoes off too. My mother teaches part time at the university and saw one off her students in a store, she had her shoes off and quickly put them on. My mom said don’t be shy keep your shoes off and help us. Mom drug her all over the store in her bare feet and we followed. mom said to sit here and be very good she had to see something in the back. This year at 18 my mother said she was bisexual like us and loved nylon feet, incredible how she hid it. We said mom tell us some stories Lydia passed out pantyhose freely knowing now mom was a fetishist. Mom was telling she only works teaching so she can kick her shoes off. This made Lydia and I hot, my mom taught us how to masturbate so we did this freely in front of her just rubbing our clits. Mom said was that my stories or my feet? We have to be honest mom you have been our object of affection and masturbation since we started she said then join me. This may seem odd but it felt right. Seeing our mother wrench and spasm in front of us sent us over the top. My sister and I took off our night gowns  and made out my mother laughed and said I would joke to your dad  saying they were doing it again. We went to my mom and took her gown off and she stopped laughing, she said this is going to change the dynamics are you sure? We said we have never been more sure in our lives. We made such love to our mother and she kept cumming. We all walked to the kitchen to get waters nude in our hose. My dad has always been great letting Lydia and I wear practically nothing as long as we wore our hose over our vaginas yet our pantyhose were torn out in our crotches. Dad said is this the new look now and went to his den. My mom said he went to beat off. Mom said follow her, mom said the girls know let us in, know what? Dad is a voyeur  my mom took her shoes off that time when we were 5 to make him hot. We said dad how did you survive this long without telling us we would have helped you. Lydia said get some heels.  so we  sat on his desk and dangled for him as mom jerked him off. My shoe fell off and he came I said now I know what you like. We had a family meeting the next morning and  my parents set new ground rules and that was to be open about our sexuality. I said I want to fuck my dad and Lydia said yes, dad said seriously where do you get your pot?  we don’t smoke you know that. and grabbed my dad He said decorum!! My dad is very handsome and we always fantasized about him. we got his pants off struggling and we used our nylon feet on his dick. I lowered my vagina down on his dick and said do you think we are white trash? My dad loves to be teased LOL

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Kill Bill (Tarantino, 2004)

This review contains spoilers.

I recently watched a Taiwanese exploitation movie called The Lady Avenger. It’s a rape revenge movie that isn’t overtly artful by any means, but plays with a real urgency (likely helped by the production circumstances, which I’m guessing were pretty marginal). But in between the punchier moments we associate with exploitation, it finds room for notes that catch us off guard, lingering on images and emotional beats that seem at odds with the uglier content that preceded it. It’s a dynamic not entirely impossible in respectable cinema but seems endemic to exploitation, where the exploitative, outrageous content that gets asses in seats creates the contrast necessary for the moments of depth to land. I bring this movie up because seeing it so soon after a rewatch of Kill Bill brought my thoughts on that film into focus. Kill Bill seems more clearly now than ever to me an exploration of that very idea, founded by a belief that the movies it’s pulling from are in fact good movies and not just sources of cheap thrills.

Of course, thrills are in ample supply, particularly in the first half, which threatens to overwhelm us with the surface pleasures of genre cinema. We get the glimpse of the inciting incident, the heroine’s (Uma Thurman) wedding shot up by her former comrades, and then a lightning fast two hours of high style and splatter (the movie doesn’t even slow down enough to give her a name; she’s known only as the Bride), culminating in an epically violent fight scene in which the heroine takes on dozens of henchmen, systematically chopping them to pieces, and then facing their leader (Lucy Liu) in a one-on-one showdown in a snowy garden. The reference points are numerous and on full display: Shaw Brothers, Lady Snowblood, the Lone Wolf and Cub series, but Tarantino treats this set piece like a plaything, scoping out the location as if it were a dollhouse with roving overhead shots that move to the rhythm of the music of the 5.6.7.8′s. The music changes to Morricone, and soon he begins gleefully smashing his toys together to wreak havoc. (I assume Tarantino had a few Kung Fu Grip G.I. Joes, or at least a Snake Eyes.) His love for these influences doesn’t overwhelm the sheer thrill of the combat itself, which he depicts in a mix of lush colour, black-and-white and silhouettes, shifting from one technique to another as if the heroine is leveling up through a video game and keeping the audience guessing as to both what flourish and what giddily violent act he’ll serve up next. The film on the whole isn’t the most authentic exercise in grindhouse style he’s made (that would be Death Proof), but this sequence does offer his most full-bodied interpretation of said pleasures.

The second half decelerates from this manic pace and begins to unpack what transpired. We revisit the opening massacre and learn that the heroine actually has a name. She’s moved from archetype into actual character, and we get a sense of the wounds that led to and came out of that fateful event. There’s a training sequence, where Gordon Liu (who previously appeared as a commander of the henchmen the heroine slaughtered in the first half) plays the Pai Mei character he once battled in Executioners of Shaolin, and aside from being enjoyably stylish, this scene really buys into Lau Kar-Leung’s idea of kung fu as self improvement, marrying martial arts with character development. Throughout this, Tarantino challenges us to identify with the characters’ motivations, both the heroine and her nemeses, and to question the extent to which we derive mindless enjoyment from the proceedings. The Bride’s killing of the Vivica A. Fox character in the first half is juxtaposed uneasily with that character’s daughter walking in on them. Yes, Fox wronged her, but she too has loved ones and a life not without value. She meets a smooth-talking pimp (Michael Parks, in another neat bit of double-casting), but his capacity for cruelty quickly comes into focus when we glimpse the mutilated face of one of his prostitutes.

In probably the most affecting passage of the film, we spend time with Bud (Michael Madsen), Bill’s brother who has now retired as an assassin and works a demeaning job as a bouncer for a strip club. This formidable killer is now reduced to haggling for shifts and cleaning up overflowing toilets. There’s something poignant seeing him so defeated, even when Tarantino makes no excuses for his failings (he’s the only one in the film to use a racial slur, which like in Reservoir Dogs is used as shorthand for a character’s flawed nature), and his confrontation with the Bride finds him re-energized, if not necessarily more likable. There’s little warmth however in the character of Elle Driver (Darryl Hannah), the eyepatch-wearing assassin who may be most unapologetically cruel of the film’s characters. (Lucy Liu’s character in the first half is similarly vicious, but the film shows it to be at least in part out of necessity.) Yet her disgust at Bud’s unceremonious method of trying to kill the Bride rings true to the movie’s heart. These characters may hate each other, but there is a twisted sense of honour between them and a respect for each other’s true natures. The confrontation between the Bride and Elle Driver also features a gruesome shot of a bare foot squashing an eyeball, which suggests Tarantino, a notable foot fetishist, challenging even himself on his mindless enjoyment of this kind of thing. (Either that it’s doing a lot for him.)

When the Bride finally reunites with the eponymous Bill (David Carradine, bringing his entire history in genre movies to imbue his character with a certain depth), she finds him to be loving father to her daughter, who survived the opening massacre, and to be full of remorse. How much should we really cheering for her to kill him? This movie doesn’t have the political conviction of Tarantino’s subsequent films, but it does share with them a sense of morality so severe that it can’t help but draw out the discomfort in carrying out a quest for revenge. Tarantino has frequently mined pop culture to add meaning (my favourite example is a fairly succinct one: Bruce Willis finding courage and honour through a samurai sword in Pulp Fiction), and here he has the Bride bond with her daughter over Shogun Assassin, another film about a parent-child relationship in a world of great violence and cruelty. Bill gives a speech about Superman that summarizes the themes of the film in one monologue.

“Superman didn’t become Superman. Superman was born Superman....You would’ve worn the costume of Arlene Plympton, but you were born Beatrix Kiddo, and every morning when you woke up, you’d still be Beatrix Kiddo. I’m calling you a killer.  A natural born killer.  Always have been, and always will be.”

Ultimately Kill Bill is about grappling with one’s true nature, both the characters, ruthless killers despite how they rationalize it, and the film, an exhilarating exercise in and shrewd deconstruction of exploitation.

[rainbow-spiral]

Always in the Last Place You Look

Lissandra kissed Janae’s thumb and felt a swell of arousal wash through her.

“That’s where I put it last time,” Janae said, sounding amused.  “No way am I doing the same thing twice.”

“Mmf.”  Lissandra kissed Janae’s fingers, one at a time, and then her palm, and then the back of her hand.  She was beginning to drip a little.  Not that it mattered, of course, she wasn’t wearing anything.  “Think this is worth repeating.”

“Oh, so do I.”  Janae breathed out in a shiver as Lissandra nibbled her way up her forearm.

The arousal was building.  Building every time Lissandra’s mouth touched Janae’s skin.  Lissandra was more than familiar with this sort of growing heat.

She never knew exactly what she was going to get.  Sometimes, Janae hypnotized her to get more aroused from sucking Janae’s cock.  Sometimes, Janae hypnotized her to get more aroused from moaning.  Sometimes, Janae hypnotized Lissandra to get more aroused from moaning, and then used her mute trigger off and on during sex, letting Lissandra writhe with frustration.  Because—as Lissandra was happy to remind her—Janae was a bit of a bitch.

Not that Lissandra objected.  Quite the opposite.

This time, Lissandra had been programmed to get more aroused every time her mouth touched Janae’s skin.

She still couldn’t resist spending extra time on Janae’s breasts.  The tiny noises her lover made were worth it.  And then on down to Janae’s stomach, to her navel.

Not there.  “Where did you put it?” Lissandra demanded.  It came out husky and desperate sounding.  She hadn’t realized she was that desperate yet.

“Keep looking,” Janae said.  She hadn’t stopped sounding amused.

“And you’re sure you aren’t keeping it in the small of your back?  Or somewhere else I can’t get while you’re lying like this?”

“I swear.  Would I mess with you like that?”

“In,” Lissandra mumbled, licking her, “a heartbeat.  Nnngh.”

“You have a point.  But, no.  No, your orgasm is somewhere on the skin you can reach.  You just have to find it.”

Lissandra licked a long stroke over Janae’s cock, and then moved on to her balls.  Janae made a noise of her own.  “Just for being so good at that,” she said, “Code Happy Rabbit.”

“Oh, fuck you.”  Lissandra could feel her favorite rabbit vibrator now, inside her and outside on her clit.  The fact that it wasn’t there didn’t make any difference.  Except that it allowed her to finger herself at the same time, which she did for an instant before snatching her hand away again.  The object was to find her orgasm before she was a shuddering, begging mess.

To be fair, she frequently enjoyed losing a game to Janae.  But it was the principle of the thing.

It wasn’t along the inside of Janae’s thigh.  It wasn’t along the outside, either, and Lissandra was beginning to whimper.

“You could always give up and pay a forfeit,” Janae said idly.

“Nggghh . . . don’t give up . . .”  Her cunt was throbbing.  Shuddering.  She longed to plunge fingers into it.  But it wouldn’t do any good; her orgasm was well and truly locked away until she found it on Janae’s skin.

“Really?  I wouldn’t let you come for a long time.  But I’d turn your nipple into another clit and suck on it until my jaw is sore.  I know how much you like that.”

“Fuck you,” Lissandra moaned.  She could imagine, all too well, what she would be like after that sort of attention.  A mouth on her hypnotically clit-ified breast, and several fingers deep in her cunt, no doubt, and not being allowed to come—she would spend the night fucking nonverbal after Janae was done with her.  Not that she wasn’t close to nonverbal now.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, where is it—“

Her hand had crept back to her clit again, and she couldn’t help it.  She moaned and swore interchangeably, feeling the arousal build well beyond what it felt like she could contain, as she licked each of Janae’s toes in turn.  Of course, she had learned since meeting Janae that she could be far more aroused than she ever thought possible.

She kissed the sole of Janae’s foot, and then screamed and convulsed as the orgasm blazed through her.  She noticed, dimly, falling over, her head lolling off the edge of the bed, her fingers still pumping as she came and came and came—but most of it was just lost in sensation.

She was still panting, still collecting the scattered pieces of herself, when Janae pulled her back onto the bed.  “Good?”

“Amazing,” Lissandra said, and snuggled close.

A few minutes later—it could have been one, it could have been ten, Lissandra was in no shape to keep track—she mumbled, “Make me into a foot fetishist if you keep that up.”

Janae chuckled.  “I think,” she said, “I can think of more interesting parts of my body to make you obsess over.”

My buymeacoffee link!

A reminder: if you go to my Pencils in the Margin  page and donate any amount of money to Black Lives Matter or similar  charities (there’s a long list) I will either write you a new story or read out a fic that I’ve already written.  If  you donate a larger amount of money, I will write you a new fic and post an audio file.  Here is an example of my voice.

[skinks]

Hi! I follow you here and on twitter (found you through ITHOTS) and I just wanted to express how much I love your writing. Seriously, reading ITHOTS got me through level 4 lockdown here in NZ , I lowkey want to wipe it from my memory so I can go back and read it for the first time all over again. It’s just so lushly written and sexy and emotionally rooted, it’s the best, you’re the best (1/2)

The 2nd part of this is completely self indulgent hc but I just had a vision of Richie and Eddie sitting on the couch together with Eddie’s legs draped over Richie’s lap, and then Richie picks up one of Eddie’s feet and holds it to his ear and answers it like it’s a phone and then when Eddie goes Hey Jackass what are you doing- Richie’s like “would you MIND I’m on a call,” I love that my brain has fixated on these particular middle aged men, and I hope you enjoyed this weird lil message 🤗

I loved this message, thank you! You’re very kind, and my brain is obviously fixated on these particular middle aged men too, i am here 👏for 👏 this 👏

Thank you very much for what you say about the fic, that makes me so happy. I was in NZ for lockdown too and it was a weird time, I’m glad anything I wrote could help you get through! I’ve felt that exact way before about fics, wanting to read them for the first time all over again, so it’s rly nice to hear you felt that about ithots.

as for ur headcanon I LOVE IT aaaaaa I’m always a fan of them just hanging out and dicking around on the couch, all comfy and tangled up together. Like, it’s a big couch, there are OTHER CHAIRS but no they’ve gotta shove their feet in each other’s faces and I love to see it. I do have an idea for a little tiny scene where they’re in this exact position and Richie just absently picks up Eddie’s foot to gnaw on his ankle. Going ang-ang-ang-ang

Richie does Voices down the “phone” and then an extended bit where he’s like, doing Al Pacino as a sex hotline operator for foot fetishists or something, and eventually Eddie’s laughing so hard he chokes when Richie licks the phone and he shoves his toes under Richie’s ass to escape

“What the—fuck are you doing—!”

“I’m butt dialling, numbnuts!”

“Oh, a booty call? Is this a booty call, Edward?”

“Sure is, get over here.”

[supergenial]

[translation+lyrics] 聖戀ファムファタール by Ariabl’eyeS

Well look under the tree, it's time for the latest Ariabl'eyeS release, this time it's about a siren, truly the arch nemesis species for foot fetishists. Rena and Luna skipped this one, but we have Kokomi from Misliar on the vocals instead and she does a pretty killer job, lyrics down below and happy holidays.

----------------------------------- Vocals for the entire album: KOKOMI

Composer for the entire album: リゼ

聖戀ファムファタール

(Seiren Femme Fatale, Siren Femme Fatale)

adeyaka na utagoe de anata wo izanai yukou ka

a bewitching voice calls out to you

kuroki tsubasa ni arashi wo matotta miwaku no utagoe ni mi wo makasete madou hitobito wa gen'ei no soko he to

the charming singing voice calls with black wings clad in storm winds the dazzled ones who heed the call will meet the depths of this mirage

mabayuku hikaru kohaku no mado kara nozoita aoki sekai sumiwatatta yureru shikai kara yozora wo miage

a captivating amber light peeks through the window to a blue world once the scenery clears up, you can't help but admire the night sky

arekuruu ashioto kanjite semarikuru kyofu ni maiodoru sora kakeru kumo no kage ni kirei na koe de utau

raging footsteps can be heard bringing certain panic below the shade of the clouds racing through the sky, the beautiful voice sung

kagayaku gunjou no yami wa anata wo yasashiku tsutsumi saki hokoru iro toridori no hanatachi ga te wo tori tomo ni odoru no demo na fukai yami no soko ni ochite mo kowagaranai de adeyaka ni yoishireru koe de utau nano ni mada todokazu ni

the shining ultramarine darkness gently embraces you as the blooming flowers colored in myriad colors dance there's no need to fear falling to the depths of darkness for this bewitching voice sings even if it can't reach you

machiwabita toki saigo no watashi ga habataku shiroki sekai yureru minamo mabayui machinami kokoro odorase

at the fated time I finally leapt into the white world the townscapes visible from the surface made my heart race

ukabu hako no naka ni kirameku aoi hitomi mitsume konna suteki na yoru wo odoreta nara... miwaku no koe de utau

from a floating ark those shining blue eyes were seen if only we danced on this beautiful night... the charming voice sung

kagayaku kegarenaki suhada ga minikui watashi ni areba saki hokoru iro toridori no hana no you ni karen ni mai odoruwa sono mama fukai yami no naka de koyoi wa anata ni idakare adeyaka ni yoishireru koe de utau nano ni mada todokazu ni

the glistening untainted bare skin contains my ugly self like blooming flowers colored in myriad colors we gently danced and so I held you on this evening amidst the deep darkness as this bewitching song continued even if it won't reach you at all

arekuruu nami no kyousei ni aragaezu tadayou shizumiyuku anata daite itsumademo... 「kore de zutto issho ne」

the raging waves abate unopposed but I'll forever hold onto you as you sink 「We'll now be together, forever」

kono koe tsutawaranu toshite mo te wo hiki anata to yukuwa saki hokoru iro toridori no hanatachi ga futari wo shukufuku suru no demo na fukai yami no soko de koyoi mo asu mo kono saki mo eien ni dakiatta mama de odoru nano ni mou todokazu ni

even if this voice won't reach you, I won't let go of this hand the blooming flowers colored in myriad colors bless the two of us and so we'll be at the depths of darkness this evening, tomorrow and from here on joined for eternity in this dance even if I can't reach you

Dearest You

kono yoru wo koete

make it through this night

miageta aoi sora yureru sora mabayui hikari ni sasou you ni kanaderu hanatachi ga irotsukeru

I look up to the dazzling lights in this wavering blue sky it carries an alluring melody and it colors the flowers below

tomadoi mezameru shikai ni utsuru karen na yokogao adeyaka ni gin'iro no Shiruku nabikaseta shoujo no me ni toikakeru

I wake up dazzled by the world around, and the kind face lying next to me a gentle girl with puzzled eyes covered in radiant silver hair

Dearest You ochiyuku yami ni sashi noberareta shiroku kagayaku hosoi hane wa Dearest You anata no ai deshou ka? saa watashi to odorou kono yoru wo koete

Dearest you while I sunk through darkness you extended those white, radiant and slender wings Dearest you Is this your love? If so, dance with me and we'll make it through this night

arekuruutta nami ni nomikomare muryoku na shitai wo yasashiku dakiyosete michibiita rakuen he

as my body was swallowed up by the raging waves your gentle embrace guided me to paradise

kogoeru anata no me ni kuchitsukete sotto inotta semete watashi no mune no naka de nemutteite mou kurushimanai you ni

I planted a kiss on your freezing gaze and prayed softly so at least lie on my chest and stop suffering for now

Dearest You isekai ni orita saisho no yoru kara unmei ni kokoro ubawarete Dearest You anata no ai to tomo ni saa watashi to odorou kono yo no hate made

Dearest you from the first night I descended on this otherworld, fate had stolen my heart Dearest you let us dance together so I can be accompanied by your love until my life runs out

Dearest You futari te wo tori odori tsutsuketa yureru tomoshibi wo tayasazu ni Dearest You anata no ai to tomo ni owaranu yoru wo

Dearest you as we keep dancing holding hands, this flickering light fades out Dearest you but as long as I can feel your love, this night is eternal

Dearest You mitsumeau hitomi ni furisosogu hoshizora no kagayaki matoi Dearest You kono yoru ga eien ni akenu you ni inori wo kono yo no hate made

Dearest You I stare at your eyes overflowing with the radiance of a starlit sky Dearest You I pray for dawn to never break, let this night be eternal until my life runs out

Reverie

「ai」wa kuzureyuku kibou sae aiseru no? chikara wo nakushita ayatsuri ningyou hakanaku

Can you still love when all hope has been lost? as a fading puppet who's lost all will

soko de kakikesareru koe wa mune wo sasu itami to naru hibikiai kasaneta omoi wa mou todokanai no?

a voice drowned by the depths painfully pierces that chest these resonating feelings, will they never reach each other?

awai yume wa futari no sekai asa mo yoru mo odotteta no ni itsuka mou ichido mezameru toki wo shinjiteiru kara zutto kanjiteta nukumori ga ima wa watashi ni tsutawarazu ni soredemo motto aishiaeru anata to issho ne

this faint dream is our world, where we danced through night and days we'll awaken there once again someday as long as you believe I may no longer feel the warmth you gave me but even so let's keep loving each other, both of us

「ai」wa katachinai mirai sae aiseru no? kotoba wo nakushita ayatsuri ningyou hakanaku

Can you still love when the love has no future? as a fleeting puppet who can't even talk

koko wa sukitoori yurameku watashitachi no rakuen de hito wa ikirarenu sadame dato shitteta hazu nano ni

this here is our transparent paradise known to those who couldn't live out their fates

awai yume wa futari no sekai kyoou dato wa mitomerarezu ni itsuka mou ichido mezameru toki wo shinjiteiru kara afuredashita watashi no omoi dorehodo anata ni sosoide mo kitsuiteita itsukara darou hitoriasobi to

this fleeting dream is our world, I won't acknowledge it as fiction we'll awaken there once again someday as long as you believe just let my overflowing feelings fill you up how long will it take you to realize I'm waiting all alone by myself?

mou todokanai negai wa shishite nukegara to nattemo kono hiroi umi wo samayoi towa ni iki tsutsukeru

this unfulfilled wish has turned into a dead husk as I wander through this vast sea, living on for eternity

awai yume ni tadayoi nagara anata no koto dakishimeru kara korekara mo zutto aishiaeru anata to issho ne afuredashita watashi no omoi katachi naku tomo todoiteru yone? nemuru karada wo dakishime futari kuchizuke kawashita zutto issho ne

as long as I'm in this dream, I can still hold you and be forevermore with you, loving each other can this overflowing love ever reach someone who's no longer? I lay a kiss on that sleeping body we'll be together forever

--------------------------------------------------------

Alright so what the hell happened here? Well, sirens are traditionally known to lure fishermen to their deaths at sea by entrancing them with their singing, so (and this is just wild guessing on my behalf) it would seem this siren really took a liking to one person in particular. Instead of letting them sink on their own she took a hold of them and didn't let go. The sea however is unforgivable once you swallow enough seawater so their demise was inevitable, but for a brief moment I guess they were quite infatuated. And so unable to let go, she guards the corpse, hoping it'll respond some day. Yikes! amirite. What’s with ariabl’eyes girls getting these megacrushes on randos they just met (I’m looking at you girl from Akaki Akuma!) there’s plenty of other fish in the sea! no pun intended.

Anyway, as usual I'll add that maybe I'm just wildly off the mark and invite you to correct me and stuff. One interesting kanji usage off the top of my head is in Reverie, where hitoriasobi (playing by oneself) is written down as 妄想 (delusion), implying they've entirely gone unhinged with this whole thing and truly believe (in vain) that the person will wake up. Also siren in japanese is just seiren, but in this title it's written as 聖戀, with the characters for Holy/Divine and Love/Yearning.

Also Reverie fucking slaps?? Like big time??? And I love what they did with Dearest You, they took the sound from Uragiri no Bara and made it actually great this time, maybe even my favorite track out of this release. Pretty nice entry overall if you ask me, now I’ll go back to waiting for Rena and Luna’s triumphant return on the next one.

Are we still doing this? Well, I guess I am.

[little-logurt]

Not mine obviously, but I found it on reddit and it seems like it was very well put.

Not into DD/LG myself, but I've always been confused on the negative views on it, since the origin seems obvious to me... but considering my mother is a bisexual dominatrix who handmakes leather bondage gear, I suppose I am lucky to better understand these sorts of things better than most.

First off, I don't think I'll be able to change your mind as to why it's creepy -- in kink culture there is something known as "squick", aka, something you don't find attractive, and rather are repulsed by, might even find it creepy, -- not because you necessarily think it's evil, but because it's just not something you're in to. Like some people just Aren't Into Anal, etc. Or they might be grossed out by feet so they might find foot fetishists creepy. And that's perfectly fine.

So maybe I can at least give you a different perspective into DD/LG that might help you conceptualize it in a more meaningful way.

Another term for the this dynamic, which in my opinion is a better name for it since it better describes the dynamic itself, rather than the aesthetic theme, is caregiver / little (CGL). DD/LG and CGL are a type of trust kink. What's a trust kink? Well, the most famous (infamous?) and well known trust kink is BDSM -- Bondage, domination, sadism and masochism. When you think of BDSM, you probably think of leather and ballgags and whips and chains, right? That is what you can describe the aesthetic of BDSM, but it's not what BDSM is actually about.

BDSM is about having a level of trust with the person you are doing BDSM with. Without trust, BDSM is just abuse. And there's something you'll hear anti-kink folks scream their heads off. "THIS IS THINLY VEILED ABUSE!" Well... with actual abuse, you don't have a safe word. With actual abuse, you cannot trust your partner to stop when you tell them to stop, with said safe word. In BDSM, you are with someone you overwhelmingly trust to hurt you -- but not so much that it will actually hurt you mentally. You enter an extremely vulnerable role as a submissive, you are allowing someone to cause you bodily harm. This isn't an easy thing to do, you need to be able to genuinely trust the other person to harm you but not THAT much. BDSM doesn't need leather whips and chains to be BDSM. BDSM can be pretty mild, as long as it based around surrender of control based on extreme trust.

So, I feel like DD/LG and CGL is a form of BDSM, or better put, it's a form of trust kink. Instead of the little submitting their control in a BDSM way and being tied up and while they're whipped, they are instead surrendering control in a very different kind of power dynamic -- one often seen only between a caregiver and someone who needs care. Now, the most obvious aesthetic for this is the submissive being a little kid. The submissive is fully trusting their caregiver/daddy to take care of them, and to not harm them mentally. And this takes the form of pampering them like a child would be pampered, and punishing them like a child would be punished.

Now, one of the things even some BDSM people don't realize: BDSM isn't inherently sexual, and neither is CGL/DDLG. You can surrender power without it revolving around sex. In BDSM there are some genres that involve people basically being turned info human furniture, like acting like a coffee table, or being forced to do humilating servant tasks. No sex involved. But that trust required to submit like that is really enjoyable for folks -- even theraputic at times, if they had trouble trusting people in the past.

Same goes for CGL/DDLG. There's actually a LOT of the cgl community that is nonsexual about it. A lot of littles use it to reclaim childhood abuse or neglect and get to experience the "ideal" childhood they missed out on in a safe environment with people they can trust. This is actually really good for childhood-abuse PTSD. And some people get into normal old BDSM for the same reason as well.

Both BDSM and CGL need something known as aftercare, where the dom/caregiver helps the submissive back into the realspace, because if they are just ignored after a session, that can really hurt mentally. There's some interesting psychology behind it.

So yeah I hope that even if it's still creepy to you you at least understand its inner workings better now.

[jamesmoore]

What is a kink? 

We can generally define kink as a “specific taste in sexual behavior.” This could be anything from a foot fetish to full-on whipping and spanking. There is a slight difference between kinks and fetishes- we’re talking about kinks here. A kink is something that arouses us that's not considered sexually vanilla. A fetish is a sexual act or an object that is nearly always necessary for the person to become aroused and enjoy sex.

This list is split into 3 sections: 

Vanilla Kinks – “mild” sexual kinks that most partners are happy to try

BDSM Kinks – “moderate” or more extreme sex acts that incorporate aspects of BDSM

Extreme Kinks – “extreme” kinks and risky sexual practices

Here is our list of vanilla kinks which aren’t too extreme:

1. Traditional Roleplay

This refers to roleplay scenarios that are commonly used in the bedroom – the kind of scenarios you get in cliché ‘70s porn films! A plumber comes to “fix the plumbing”, a sexy French Maid seduces a houseguest, etc.

Thought Catalog has a list of 50 roleplaying ideas you could try.

2. Lingerie and Sexy Outfits

Whether it’s lacy panties or a sweaty jockstrap, revealing outfits can help to build sexual arousal and get one’s kinky juices flowing. Men and women are often aroused by outfits related to certain types of professions, such as a sexy nurse or firefighter.

3. Rimming

Rimming, also known as anilingus, is the sexual act of licking a person’s (clean) anus. The butthole has many sensitive nerve endings, so rimming feels really good whether you’re male or female.

4. Fingering

Fingering refers to any sexual act where fingers are inserted into the body – usually into the anus or vagina of yourself or another person. Be sure to go slow and use lots of lubrication – our lube guide can help.

5. Food Play

Incorporating food into the bedroom is incredibly common, whether you’re seductively sucking strawberries or melting chocolate onto your partner’s body. There are also many aphrodisiac foods that can help get you in the mood.

6. Filming Yourself

A more vanilla version of exhibitionism, filming yourself having sex is a very common sexual fetish. Even if you never share the video with anyone else, just knowing that you’re being filmed can be a turn-on.

I feel like a porn star when I film me and my partner having sex. I feel like others are watching and getting off on it. It’s really hot.

7. Striptease

The art of the striptease is nuanced, but sexy stripping is a huge turn-on for plenty of kinky men and women. The anticipation of the reveal coupled with the sexiness of the dancing can really build sexual arousal for both parties.

There are many online tutorials showing how to striptease for women and stripping tips for men.

8. Oral Sex

Blowjobs, pussy licking, 69ing… oral sex is commonly enjoyed by many. Lots of men, for example, enjoy watching a partner perform oral sex on them while making eye contact.

9. Armpit Fetish

Some have a fetish for armpits, meaning that they find armpits inherently sexy. They might like to sniff them, lick them, or just look at them during sex.

Armpit fetishes are one of the many kinks covered in the gay hanky code – the code of colored handkerchiefs used by gay men and kink fans in the 1970s to indicate interest in different sexual acts when cruising.

10. Tickling

Known scientifically as Knismolagnia, tickling your partner (or enjoying being tickled) is a fun and enjoyable kink that is a real turn-on for some.

11. Sex in Different Locations

Get out of the bedroom! Have you tried having sex in the shower? Doing it on the stairs? Getting busy on the washing machine? Take the repetitiveness out of sex by switching up the setting.

12. Edging

“Edging”, also known as orgasm denial, involves bringing your partner to the edge of climax, but stopping before they orgasm. It’s often combined with bondage, but you can do it in a more vanilla way too.

13. Mirror Sex

Have you ever had sex in front of a mirror? It’s fun to watch yourself. It’s a bit like watching porn, but it’s you and your partner in real-time. Some kinksters like to put mirrors on the ceiling above their bed so they can watch while they shag… a bit like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, but with less murder.

14. Erotic Massage

Erotic massage usually involves massaging your partner while naked. Sensual massage oils and lotions add to the mood, with your naughty hands slowly but surely gliding to private areas of the body.

15. Dirty Talk

People love dirty talk – it’s a very common kink. You know what I’m talking about: “Yeah, you like that don’t you” “I’m gonna fuck you so hard” “Yeah I love your dick inside me” You get the picture.

16. Foot Fetish

According to a Men's Health study, 1 in 7 people fantasize about feet in some way. Feet are the most commonly fetishized non-sexual body part, whether you like to sniff them, lick them, suck them, or just look at them.

Film director Quentin Tarantino’s foot fetish is very well known – he often includes lingering shots of women’s feet in his movies. He famously sucked Selma Hayek's toes in From Dusk till Dawn.

17. Watching Porn Together

Watching porn with your partner is pretty kinky, especially if you’re both masturbating or pleasuring each other at the same time.

18. Unusual Sex Positions

Some men and women have kinks for sex positions like the Reverse Cowgirl or the Amazon sex position. Our guide to the best sex pillows should help to make these positions more comfortable.

19. Sex Swing

Sex swings and harnesses are commonly fantasized about. They make sex more comfortable, they give the active partner more power, and they have connotations of submissive/dominant sex.

The Fetish Fantasy 360-Degree Sex Swing is a cheap and versatile sex swing that I’d strongly recommend.

20. Anal Sex

Many have a fetish for anal sex, whether they’re gay, straight, or anything in between. Before attempting anal sex, I’d suggest that you learn how to anal douche and use plenty of longlasting lube.

21. Pegging & Strap-ons

Pegging is a sexual practice where a woman uses a strap-on dildo to anally penetrate her male partner – many see it as a form of gender role reversal. Lesbian women might also enjoy using strap-ons with one another.

22. Sex Toys

Have you tried using sex toys in the bedroom? Many women love using clitoral vibrators like the Lovense Ambi while their partner penetrates them. Bringing sex toys into the bedroom opens up a whole new world of possibilities.

23. Prostate MassageThe prostate is the male G-spot found 2-3 inches inside a man’s rectum. Many men love getting their prostate massaged due to the intense prostate orgasms that can occur. It’s possible for some men to ejaculate hands-free due to prostate stimulation.

You might enjoy our guide to the best prostate massagers.

24. Cum Fetish

Put simply, a cum fetish is a love of cum. You might like ejaculating, covering someone in cum, getting cum on your face, swallowing cum… the list goes on.

25. Crossdressing

Crossdressing (in a sexual context) usually describes a man who derives sexual pleasure from dressing up as a woman. Some also have an attraction towards men (and women) who crossdress.

Here is our list of BDSM kinks which incorporate moderate BDSM:

BDSM, which stands for Bondage, Dominance, Sadism, Masochism. Some also interpret it as standing for Bondage, Discipline, Submission, Masochism. These sex acts usually revolve around the idea of power exchange, where one person (the “top” or “dom”) has dominance over another (the “bottom” or “sub”) in a consensual sexual manner. Acts of BDSM might also involve pain, unusual sensations, and aesthetic turn-ons like leather and latex.

1. Power Exchange

This refers to a dominant-submissive relationship between 2 partners. It might just apply to the bedroom, or it could apply to other areas of your life too. It often includes intensive slave training where the bottom has to obey the top’s commands.

When practicing BDSM, you should always have a “safe word” to indicate that you want to stop. If your mouth is gagged, consider a “safe signal” such as rhythmic grunting or a hand movement.

2. Chastity

Chastity involves locking away a man’s penis or a woman’s vagina with a special chastity device like the Holy Trainer. The chaste person can only orgasm when their master allows them to.

3. Tickle Torture

Combine tickling with bondage and you end up with tickle torture. It’s a fun kinky thing to try as you watch someone laugh and wriggle around helplessly while tied to a bed!

4. Sadomasochism

One of the main tenets of BDSM, sadomasochism refers to enjoying pain being inflicted upon you and/or enjoying pain being inflicted upon others. Pain can be inflicted in many ways, such as pinching, slapping, spanking, whipping, flogging, etc.

The opening scene of Kill Bill famously features a speech about sadism and masochism from the titular character. Obviously, he takes it to the extreme. Don’t go shooting anyone.

5. Latex

Latex fetishists (sometimes called "rubberists") find latex outfits to be sexually arousing, whether they’re wearing latex themselves or observing a partner in latex.

6. Bondage

Whether you’re tied to the bed, put into medieval stocks, or stuck in leather ankle cuffs – restricting someone’s freedom of movement and instilling a sense of helplessness is a very common fetish that many people experiment with.

Bondage experts might want to try the art of Japanese rope bondage. Crystal from Rupaul’s Drag Race UK recently used Japanese rope bondage to create this amazing look.

7. Rough Sex

Slapping, pounding, hair-pulling… rough animalistic sex enhances sexual arousal for lots of people. Just keep it relatively safe!

8. Nipple Clamping

Nipples are powerful erogenous zones for both men and women – nipple clamping is just a more extreme version of nipple stimulation. Nipple suckers are great for amateurs, while Japanese clover clamps are favored by pros.

9. Taboo Roleplay

Are you a POC who enjoys being called racist names in bed? Perhaps you’re a gay man who enjoys being taunted with homophobic slurs? Experimenting with taboos is a fun fetish, just be careful to avoid trauma and triggers.

10. Rape Fantasies

Up to 66% of women have rape fantasies at least occasionally, though fantasies of being raped can be experienced by both men and women. This form of “consensual non-consent” allows you to give permission for a partner to “rape” you at any time under certain conditions, though this kink remains controversial in the fetish community.

11. Sensory Deprivation

Sensory deprivation is all about taking away your senses to heighten sexual arousal – it’s commonly explored with blindfolds and earplugs.

12. Candle Wax Play

Melting hot candle wax onto someone’s body is thrilling, feels interesting, and carries a sense of danger. You’ll often see this in S&M scenes.

I’d recommend a guide on how to do wax play before trying this kink. Not all candles are safe for melting onto the skin!

13. Sensation Play

Sensation play is all about experimenting with different sensations in the bedroom. Common tools for this kink include ice cubes, feather dusters, and claw scratchers.

14. Age Roleplay

Age play is about playing an age different from your own. It’s usually a mixture of older/younger partners.

DDLG (Daddy Dom Little Girl) is a form of age roleplay where women pretend to be submissive little girls and men pretend to be their dominant daddies. The r/ddlg subreddit is great for DDLG fans.

15. Rubber

Rubber fetishists are sexually aroused by wearing/seeing sexy rubber outfits. This often has some crossover with the latex fetish and sometimes the terms are used interchangeably.  

16. Impact Play

Impact play is a common kink where one person hits another for pleasure. This could be in the form of spanking, flogging, whipping, caning, etc.

17. Imprisonment

In a sexual kink context, imprisonment is about being locked up in a cage (or locking someone else up) until a top allows you to be released. Some enjoy a sexual thrill from this loss of control and freedom.

It’s a little pricey, but this Jail Cell Cage from The Stockroom is great for imprisonment.

18. Spanking

Spanking is a form of punishment and sadomasochism that is often incorporated into roleplay and dirty talk scenes. OTK Spanking (over-the-knee spanking) is when the spanker puts the spankee over their knee like a naughty child.

19. Whipping

Whipping is a form of impact play – the sexual arousal comes from the pain, fear, and anticipation of the next strike. Whipping can be very dangerous and only certain "safe zones" on your body can be whipped safely without excess pain or damage. This kink is not for amateurs!

20. Ball Gags

Ball gags reduce someone’s ability to speak and breathe normally. They are usually incorporated into power exchange and bondage scenes. Some men and women also have a kink for gagging on penises, fingers, and other body parts.

21. Leather Kink

Lots of kinksters simply get turned on by wearing and seeing leather! In BDSM stores, you’ll often find leather boots, harnesses, hats, dresses, and more.

Rob Halford, the openly gay vocalist of Heavy Metal band Judas Priest, popularized the leather daddy look in the Heavy Metal community before anyone knew he was gay. They literally had a song called Hell Bent for Leather.

22. Queening

Queening, also known as “facesitting”, is a sexual act whereby a woman sits on a partner’s face while they perform oral sex on her. You can even get BDSM queening chairs designed to make this kink more comfortable.

23. Puppy Play

Common in the LGBTQ+ community, puppy play is when a submissive partner dresses in puppy-like fetish gear, yaps like a dog, and crawls around on all fours at the whim of their human “master”. Pups often wear dog tail buttplugs and leather harnesses.

To me, puppy play combines kinky power exchange with the inherent cuteness of puppies.

24. Electrostimulation

As you may have guessed, electrostimulation is an extreme kink where special electrical equipment is used to zap the body for sexual excitement!

25. Piercing

Piercing is a BDSM fetish where kinksters enjoy being pierced with special hypodermic needles. It’s often combined with bondage, and should only be attempted by experts.

Here is our list of extreme kinks that are not to be taken lightly:

Extreme kinks usually involve an element of danger. Most of these sex acts should be carried out by professional fetishists or very experienced kinky people who take all the necessary safety precautions. Many of these could also be classed as extreme BDSM, and some of them may disturb more sensitive readers.

1. Cock and Ball Torture (CBT)

Cock and ball torture is about torturing a man’s penis and testicles for sexual pleasure. This could involve biting, scratching, clothes-pegging, and a variety of special CBT toys like the spiked crusher. CBT is one of the most common fetishes discussed on forums like FetLife.

Fet Life is a fetish-themed social media site where kinksters can talk about their weirdest fetishes without judgment.

2. Medical Play

Regular doctor-patient roleplays are harmless enough, but more extreme medical play can involve specialized equipment like skin staplers and speculums.

3. Cuckolding

Cuckolding is a type of kink where a man enjoys watching his wife have sex with other men. The man is usually present when his wife is fucking the other man – he might masturbate while watching. Cuckholding porn has become very popular in recent years.

4. Pussy Pumping

Pussy pumps are sexual devices used to pump up a woman’s vagina and/or clitoris, giving her vagina a swollen, engorged look, as well as increasing sensitivity. Many women enjoy the feeling of blood rushing to their pussy, while some find the look of an engorged pussy to be sexy.

5. Penis Pumping

Penis pumps like the Bathmate Hydromax 7 are used to increase the size of a man’s penis over time, but they can also temporarily give the penis an engorged look and increased size. Some people have a fetish for a freshly-pumped penis!

6. Golden Showers

Also known as piss play or watersports, “golden showers” are a fairly common kink where people enjoy urinating on other people or being urinated on themselves. Some people might have someone pee in their mouth and then swallow it, which can carry health risks.

Despite what you might have heard, urine isn't actually sterile. Be safe and sensible when playing with piss.

7. Group Sex

Group sex, swinging, and orgies are a common kink for many people, though you should obviously be careful to practice safe sex with strangers. There are tons of great hookup sites to help you find multiple sexual partners and swingers.

8. Scatophilia

Scatophilia is an extreme fetish for human feces. Scat fans may enjoy many sexual activities involving poop, such as tarmacking.

Scat sex should not be confused with scat singing, which is very, very different.

9. Breath Control

A form of extreme power exchange, breath control involves things such as choking and covering the mouth/nose of a submissive partner to control their breath. Obviously, this fetish is extremely dangerous and should only be practiced by experienced professionals.

10. Exhibitionism

Exhibitionism is enjoying people viewing (or potentially viewing) you having sex or masturbating. It could refer to public sex, having sex in the window, or having sex on live webcam for internet viewers. Exhibitionism is inherently risky, but it’s incredibly thrilling for many fetishists!

11. Blood Play

Blood play is an extreme blood fetish where people may drink or “suck” the blood of others for sexual pleasure. It’s often tied in with vampire roleplay and (safe) biting.

12. Fisting

Fisting is a sexual act where a top inserts their fist (and sometimes their wrist or lower arm) into a bottom’s anus or vagina. Fisting is extremely dangerous and requires serious trust between the two partners. Special equipment like long-lasting fisting cream lube and fisting gloves is essential for this kink.

13. Urethral Sounding

Urethral sounding is a very extreme kink that involves putting sterilized sounds (thin metal rods) down the urethra of a man’s penis or woman’s vagina. If the rod goes far enough, it can directly touch a man’s prostate, creating intense sexual pleasure. Obviously, this is extremely dangerous and requires tons of special preparation from an expert.

"Hegar" urethral sounding rods are the standard tools that are often recommended for urethral sounding. Not to be confused with Sammy Hagar of Van Halen fame.