Let’s All Stop Pretending We Aren’t Kinky Too.
33% of the population are fetishists but we still think they’re crazy.
“Of all the so-called sexual perversions, joyless sex is the most perverse.” ― Marty Rubin
At the dawn of time, there were all sorts of pleasures and interests that, no matter how unusual, weren’t considered a disorder.
The idea of sexual inclinations, preferences, and kinks being “icky” is a relatively recent social construct determining which appetites are healthy and which are looked down upon or even strictly forbidden.
The fact is that 1 in every three persons you’ve dated has an unusual sex preference they might choose to keep to themselves.
Probably that number is even higher, but being a “fetishist” is seen as a sexual disorder, so who’s to blame? Nobody can feel comfortable sitting across from a “sex deviant,” right?
Take porn, for example. In adult movies, men are mostly a prop. By contrast, the industry fetishized semen as the male orgasm becomes the real main character of the whole piece.
So, how can we know what we like when there’s so much about sex that’s still out of the picture?
So how are we supposed to satisfy our curiosity?
Traditionally, fetishists have resorted to putting their fantasies into practice in the shadows. Some are scared to death to lose their relationships for good if their partner accidentally finds them kinked up.
That’s why the first step in the erotic life of a fetishist is to overcome the guilt entangled with experiencing sexual pleasure from something not considered normal.
So if you’re a “normal” woman, your boldest move would be wearing a silk negligé, or if you want to be really naughty, black or red lace g-string. Yawn…
But, if you can’t reach an orgasm like “everyone else,” accepting there’s no such thing as “everyone else” is the first step to sexual empowerment.
In sex, almost everyone has a kink… Well, at least the ones worth having sex with:
Having a particular sexual interest could be a reason to feel unique and special. Yet, it ends up becoming a shameful burden to carry in a world that condemns anyone living out of the box.
Sex isn’t dirty per se; we’re the ones cataloging the limits of what is socially acceptable and what is sinful.
That structural contradiction hinders the birth of new visions regarding more inclusive, exploratory, and innovative sexuality.
This argument is not my original thinking; it’s Foucault’s. But, you don’t have to be a French sociology eminence to relate.
This is too much:
This info hit me so hard that I almost screamed my safe word.
There’s a study that links having complicated medical experiences during childhood — characterized by pain, surgeries, and difficult recovering periods — with developing an urge for masochism during adulthood.
The logic behind it is that to cope with physical trauma masochists create fantasies to control the pain inflicted during a session.
In a way, that sounds a lot like healing:
Yet, it also entails a bit of hopelessness in how our erotic personas are born. We are the result of our decisions, and how we deal with the circumstances we’ve faced.
I guess you could always say any person can elaborate and process their trauma in therapy. But, therapy only works when the person feels the need to “solve” an issue.
In this case, a masochist’s sexual arousal comes from a pattern of pain, consented humiliation, and ritualized torment. So why would anyone in their right mind work in therapy to change how they feel pleasure?
Take a walk on the wild side:
I don’t know about you, but for me, saying a person who feels exclusively aroused by smaller-sized breasts with prominent nipples is “a person with a sexual disorder” sounds extreme.
For example, being attracted to overweight women is considered a perversion because we stigmatize whoever wears sizes beyond 6.
That’s often after scientists, professional RRSS commenters, and fitness people from all over the world argue about “what’s normal, what’s healthy, what’s desirable.”
Yet, if you ask one of my oldest friends, let’s call him Tod, who is an unrepentant admirer of BBWs, he’ll declare:
“Caressing, touching, and feeling a BBW’s curves, not only their huge breasts or buttocks, but their thighs, or their bellies, give me a form of peace I can only find in the softness of their skin. It’s a sensation that floods me with pleasure in every possible way.”
Tod sounds pretty happy to me.
So, does sex have to be about something other than pleasure?
We’re witnessing that our sexual desires are categorized as healthy or unhealthy by a bunch of people who could also be repressing their own desires.
Or maybe they desire to control others’ pleasure. Who knows?
Hold my whip:
In the end, the sexual labeling process creates even more insecurities for everyone. For example, when Plus size girls develop objectification aversion as soon as we begin to “understand” that if someone is attracted to our voluptuous bodies, there’s something wrong with them.
Although there is little or nothing we can do to define our sexual desires -they arise in the early development stage of our personality- does a person have to be a “freak” for enjoying licking their spouse’s toes?
Why is it that some part of our bodies can’t be considered sexual or desirable, but we roam the world looking for love, an abstract and nonsensical concept?
“If you can’t reach an orgasm like “everyone else” accepting there’s no such thing as “everyone” is the first step to sexual empowerment.”
Opening your legs feels better after you open your mind:
Which body part would you consider to be asexual?
A neck? An ear? A foot? In my case, I’m attracted to hands.
Manly, thick fingers, shiny, full, square-shaped nails, and the balanced ratio between palm and fingers shouldn’t be too thick or too thin.
Such hands always make me think about the fun we could have together behind a closed door.
Does that make me a sex maniac? So be it.
I find it perfectly natural to feel an erotic inclination to hands. After all, they play an essential role in genital stimulation, sometimes even more transcendent than penises.
I accept I have trouble focusing while talking with a man, any man, with remarkably attractive hands.
However, it’s super uncool when your desire makes you look at people like targets. For example, “I’m not with you because I like the whole you. I’m only attracted to this one aspect of you.”
“Chastity is the most unnatural of the sexual perversions.” ― Remy de Gourmont
It’s a kind of boudoir magic:
In fetishism, there is a magical component that captivates the attention and desire of the fetishist to such an extent that said object, or body part, is essential for orgasm.
The worship of the fetishized object becomes a ritual that accommodates the maximum potential for pleasure that you can get from a night of worship.
Conceiving sex that way can increase the quality of sex we could be enjoying. But, again, building anticipation and minding the little things only makes us wish that the rite extends more and without the penetration becoming the show’s main act.
Risks? Yes, there are some.
But, depending on the type of fetish and the person you practice it with, you can reach a level of depersonalization in which you get to be treated just like a beautiful pair of breasts.
Nonetheless, if you happen to meet someone with a fetish, don’t shut them down. Instead, sit there and listen to what they say and how they experience arousal.
And, if you feel up for it, try it at least once.
Such a unique experience could help you rethink how you experience your sexuality.
That doesn’t mean you have to be into everything:
Sure, maybe putting up a show for a loonie isn’t your cup of tea.
I get that.
The arousal of worshiping a fetish can become so high that the person enacting the fantasy becomes just an accident, a happening, an interchangeable object.
Sure, it doesn’t sound romantic, but it sounds exciting A.F.
It sounds like the right amount of fun and kinkiness we all need to squirm, squeeze, and squirt.
That sounds a bit crazy to me:
Do you have to push the brakes when enjoying a highly detailed night full of tentacle hentai? I seriously don’t think so.
On the contrary, I believe that sharing and talking about your kinks can get you faster to where you belong: a hentai lovers book club.
Can you build a sea-like habitat in your backyard and engage in sexual practices with a real octopus? Definitely not. That’s animal cruelty.
But you can have your habitat built inside your house and bring a Kraken glow-in-the-dark dildo with you. Actually, you can meet other people with the same interests and have some good ol’ cephalopod splish splash together.
Imagine all the time we could save if we could be clear about our expectations and sexual preferences.
Better yet, imagine how many romantic disappointments we could prevent if we could be honest from the get-go.
Our sex life could be so much better…
To each their own:
Not all of us want the same cookie-cutter sexual experience, some of us have a peculiar taste, and that’s what makes life an incredible adventure full of new opportunities to enjoy our naked selves.
An important fetishistic lesson that we can all apply:
Engaging in erotic fantasies not focused on our genitals can free our minds to see what’s behind the metaphorical curtains of pleasure.
What if instead of watching pornographic films centered on the male orgasm as the main course of the whole sexual act while using female bodies as recipients of cum, we could draw attention to worshiping our sex partner’s bodies and kinks?
How about liking your partner so much that you ended up worshipping them? Get lost in kissing, tasting, and appreciating even the tiniest details of their anatomy, including those considered “defective” by society.
Couldn’t that mindset shift potentially make sex better for everyone?