Someone else's
I once went out with a man whose all-consuming fetish was to have sex with women who were asleep or drugged (pretending to be drugged; as far as I know, he never went the rohypnol route). He particularly enjoyed manipulating hands and arms when his "victim" was "asleep/unconcious". He really had no interest in anything else, sex-wise.

In my long, varied - and in spots, depraved - sexual career, I've never encountered an odder fetish.
(BlackArmadillo Avoided writing that article on, Sat 24 Oct 2009, 4:40, 3 replies)

i do understand the theory of the whole endorphins thing but...
honestly - i dont get masochism. i was just snacking on a bowl of rice crispies when a dry un-snapped, crackled or popped one just latched itself under my tongue and started to pinch the flesh. ouch!

watchstrap pinched a wrist hair? OUCH! that's enough for me.

why the fuck anyone would want stuff clamped onto their bits to or be battered on the buttocks is well beyond me. you stumble upon sites like kink.com and its like - surely that really really hurts!

touch me, stroke me, caress me. yes i will spank you a little, yes you may rake your nails over my nuts - ok but go easy woman!

but even mild pain - no thanks

and why the shuddering fuck can a woman not give you a bit of a massage without seeking a pimple to squeeze.

FUCK OFF!!!
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sat 24 Oct 2009, 3:41, 7 replies)

Pearoast? Why not.
I posted this one some months back, but it does fit in here as my worst encounter with a fetish.

Some years back I was very young, very thin and very broke. I was living in what might be most charitably described as a hovel- we lacked money for heat, so most of the winter was spent shivering under layers of clothing. Food was similarly scarce- my roommate worked as a waiter, so he at least got one good meal a day- but I was not so lucky. I was living on the cheapest food I could get from the grocery store, and not exactly thriving.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

At the time I was my current just-short-of-six-feet height, but weighed maybe ten stone. The winter had made me very thin indeed. My cheeks were hollow, my clothes hung off of me, and I looked quite pitiable indeed. However, with blond hair and grey eyes and a waifish face I apparently appealed to women on a certain motherly level that quickly moved to a wholly different level. I looked a lot like the kid that played Anthony the sailor in Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd.

I knew the location of a strip club that catered to women and had male strippers. I had encountered women leaving there before and noted the looks I got from them. The quality of their gaze was one of hungry lionesses sizing up a gazelle.

So one night I decided to take the next logical step.

I wasn't exactly raking in huge money, but I was suddenly able to afford better food and was often fed well. Looking like a starved innocent was paying off nicely indeed. I quickly learned my new trade, and in fact became very talented in the bedroom, judging from their reactions. Sounds heavenly, doesn't it?

Trust me, it was not. I didn't have the luxury of being overly choosy about who I was going home with. I wasn't pulling the beauties, really. I was getting older women who liked being somewhat predatory. This led to some... interesting times.

One woman in particular took me home several times. She was very much into being dominant. She delighted in having me go down on her until she orgasmed, and insisted on doing this while sitting in a chair while I was on my knees between her thighs. This progressed to her binding my hands behind me, then to being tied to her bed. She especially loved paddling my arse until it was quite tender. She also delighted in sticking her fingers inside me. This also progressed until she was inserting toys in me while I was tied. I enjoyed that, truth be known... as long as it was done with plenty of lube and done gently.

Only thing is, she kept taking it a bit further each time.

There are people whose brains are wired such that pain feels quite sexual to them. A bit of pain during sex is a kick, a bit of spice that gives it an edge. Well, I'm not one of them- to me pain is pain, and I don't like it.

The last night she had me tied quite tightly in a submissive pose, with my arse in the air and unable to do more than wriggle. She had never done so thorough a job of restraining me before. She gave me a couple of slaps, then she produced a riding crop.

A note on using one of those: you use a sort of flicking motion with it so that the little flap on the end is moving quickly and delivers a light stinging slap. Done that way it delivers a nice little sting, but doesn't do any real injury. But if you follow through like you're beating a carpet...

I can still hear the whistle of it as she swung, and can feel the line of fire it laid across my thighs. I yelped, but couldn't move. She did it several more times across my thighs and arse, my cries turning her on even more. Then her hands caressed the welts lovingly for a couple of minutes as I gasped for breath through gritted teeth.

Then she applied some lube and I felt her fingers working it into me for a moment. I heard her putting something on, then felt her hands grab my hips as something entered me- something quite a bit larger than anything she had inserted into me before.

This I can tell you- the pain from being raped like that is far more intense than anything I've felt since.

Again my cries got her very hot, and I could hear her gasping with orgasms as she rammed me again and again. Finally she pulled it out of me and collapsed on the bed, spent, and pulled me over onto my side. She snuggled close, holding me as I sobbed, her fingers tracing the welts...

I left there with rope burns, welts and a large chunk of cash to ease my pains as I walked home. It was a warm night in June, and I took a long route back to the flat. I thought long and hard about what had just been done to me, and about the bundle of money in my pocket.

The next day I started applying for jobs as a waiter, and eventually landed one. I quit my old job and started hustling for money in a more legitimate way.
(Shimrod, Sat 24 Oct 2009, 3:05, 8 replies)

Fetishes, I've seen a few.
Let me start out by saying that I don't have any fetishes of my own. I just plain like to fuck. But over the past ten or so years I've encountered more than a few women who had them.

The most common, of course, is domination. Mostly women prefer to be dominated rather than the other way around. I had one woman, a very smart professional type, scream out in mid-orgasm that she wanted to be my five pound whore. It startled me, but I kept going regardless- slapping her ass as hard as I could, until I was sure that my hand would be bruised from it. For a fact her arse was turning purple by the time I left. Apparently that was her hottest orgasm ever.

Whatever floats your boat, I suppose.

I've told the story elsewhere of my first real encounter with a woman wanting to be dominant. I may repost that one later, though it's a rather grim tale.

There are those fetishes that I'll never understand, such as those involving poo or piss. How the fuck does someone sexualize that? Or, for that matter, how does one get a kink for something like felching? And those people who like to put on diapers and act like infants are just plain scary.

But the one that still makes me giggle whenever I think about it? The girl who asked me to, during the vinegar strokes, growl in her ear "Ahhh, Mish Moneypenneh..."

I suppose I should be grateful that she didn't have a William Shatner fetish.
(Shimrod, Sat 24 Oct 2009, 3:01, 3 replies)

Not me (REALLY not me)
But an aquaintance of a friend. His name is Duck's foot Dan.

He is so called because his bedroom is full (shelves up the walls all packed full) of stuffed duck's feet. Not the whole duck, just the feet.

In all the time (believe me, it wasn't long) that he was going out with my friend's friend, he was unable to have sex anywhere else.
( MatJ LOOK, Sat 24 Oct 2009, 2:17, 1 reply)

French might be the language of love
but German is the language of porn.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 24 Oct 2009, 1:22, 3 replies)

i want you to . ..
My first proper relationship involved sex that would go on for hours, probably because I couldn't come because I didn't find the girl attractive and she was a bit nutty. She would say, after having her second orgasm - probably getting quite bored by now, 'I want you to come'. So do I bitch I would think.
Anyway, a few years after we split up I was out on the piss and after a while of no action pulled a slightly short and chubby bird. She was my age and had nice eyes, so why not I thought. Getting her back to my place, I proceeded to shag the life out of the girl, and with the alcohol and not being attracted to her I suffered from not being able to 'finish'. She asked me to fist her and I did, then she said those words 'I want you to come'. Thing was her birthday was the same as my first girlfriend, day, month and year. She was a teacher, same as first gf.

Think I will be stuck with having to get permission to ejaculate and fisting on first dates now.

An old welsh bloke in my local pub now greets me with 'eh fist, how ya doing?'
(mutherhubard michael jackson in the cupboard blowing bubbles, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 23:48, 1 reply)

mine are.....
No real order (and some have been covered already):- men in power, (suits ooh yes please), doctors, men's arms (esp tanned, with a couple of little moles and a nice watch), PVC, accents especially New York ones.... oooh yes please!!!!!!, the thought of men in power wanting me....
(Pumba Look for the red flashing light again... no!!!!!, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 22:51, Reply)

hairy men
Men with lots of body hair do it for me. Facial hair is optional but if they have little to no body hair I feel a little ill at the thought of doing anything physical with them.

I actually made excuses and fled a guy's house in the night because he didn't have enough body hair and I found myself unable to do anything with him.

Once I was with a bloke from Aberdeen. He was like a damn yeti. Best night I've ever had :D
(panda_sam, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 22:38, 5 replies)

sadomasochism
Specifically the masochism part, that's what I'm in to. I've been doing this for around 4 years and it's been a real blast. Some of the things I've done recently:

A sub hunt - me and a bunch of other guys running naked through the woods while women with paintball guns hunted us. Paintballs on bare skin really hurts :-)

School Roleplay - I dressed up as a schoolgirl for this (cross-dressing is another of my kinks). Us pupils had proper lessons, and did our best to get up to a fair amount of mischief. Bad behaviour was punished the old-fashioned way. I got quite a heavy caning from the headmistress. I also learned quite a lot about Florence Nightingale.

Wrestling with a topless girl in a paddling pool full of gunge. Technically it's not really sadomasochism, but it was a hell of a lot of fun.
(pfy, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 21:42, 3 replies)

It's true!
Stuff that happens when you're young bends and shapes your "tastes for the bizzare" for when you're a grown up. For instance..

When I was a young and tender Sparklet, I had a bit older (18 to my 14) boyfriend. Who even then seemed a bit, well, "normal" but not in any way I could put my finger on.
But he had a friend. Who was funny, witty, and as much of a music anorak as I was. We used to sit and natter about life, the universe, and Led Zeppelin's back catalogue.
And much to my despair, I watched him form liasons with a couple of friends of mine, and I lent a shoulder for him to cry on,when it went tits up, as I always knew it would.

And he had dark brown eyes, and red hair. And he got away, apart from a secret, secret snog on his 19th birthday. When I seriously felt the universe drop away from me and my (sensible white) knickers melt with sheer, unspoken desire.

He's now very happily married to a lovely nurse with two beautiful sons, so I'm not going there. But the whole thing left me with an abiding desire for red haired men.. the way they look, their smiles, their freckles, they are just beautiful..
And it's all his fault..
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 21:30, Reply)

Older men
Maddy.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 21:13, 5 replies)

I've mentioned this on OT before,
I am addicted to guitarists. I can't remember the last time I really liked someone who wasn't an accomplished guitar player. I just can't help myself. I don't necessarily have to see/hear them play, just the knowledge that they can makes me weak at the knees.

And my odd one: Metal. The feeling of cold metal being stroked gently against my skin gives me such delightful shivers. Probably why Iron Man and Wolverine are my favourite superheroes.
(Applebite Uh! A cow!, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 20:27, 8 replies)

After sex I like to cuddle my partner in a maternal fashion......
...kissing their forehead and stroking their hair whilst softly whispering in their ear, 'there there, there there', as they gently fall asleep.


But only if they've been a good little boy.
( girlinthehole, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 20:13, 8 replies)

Patricia.
A good few years back, I was acquainted with a girl called Patricia. We were good friends, nothing more, but enjoyed each other's company and often used to go off on long weekends together and explore the countryside.

Now, poor old Tish was pretty innocent in the way of the world. The closest she had come to viewing pornography was accidently dropping a copy of the Sun at the newsagents. Due to the importance of that day's news (Take That were splitting up, I believe), the tits were shunted from page three and onto page seven, and the pages fluttered open on the floor to reveal Melinda Messenger in all her horse-toothed, fake-titted glory wearing a pair of glasses, perched on the end of an office desk taking dictation and sucking the end of a Bic. Probably wondering about sentence structure and punctuation, I would imagine.

So one weekend we headed off to some remote spot, where, we discovered, the local village was having a fair day. What the hell; might be a laugh, we decided, and headed off to sample the delights. It soon transpired that this was no ordinary village fair, though. There was a bit of a sporty theme to it, but with a twist.

The "tossing the caber" event was not what I expected, for example. Well, the last thing I expected was being faced with a bunch of hairy arsed, kilt wearing blokes kneeling in a circle and masturbating furiously over a biscuit shaped like Ben Nevis.

The ladies "downhill skiing event" didn't involve any snow whatsover, and certainly no hills or skis, but did result in lots of blokes blowing their horns in appreciation of the stirling work of the ladies. Which was deserved, frankly, they worked their arms off bless them.

We wandered around the site taking in other events. I was quite taken by the clam jousting; less so by the meat spinning. I think it was the music playing in the background; Pete Burns kind of puts me of my stroke - it's the lips. Patricia, though, was feeling a bit tired, and demanded to go home.

On the way back, she confessed that she didn't really "get" the whole set up. "What was that all about, DG?" she asked me, genuinely.

"What, that?" I replied. "Oh, that was just a sexual fete, Tish".







Can I go now?
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 23 Oct 2009, 20:10, 10 replies)

Well east coast girls are hip
I really dig those styles they wear
And the southern girls with the way they talk
They knock me out when I'm down there

The mid-west farmers daughters really make you feel alright
And the northern girls with the way they kiss
They keep their boyfriends warm at night

I wish they all could be california....
(Rich T has a clever and witty sig, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 20:04, 1 reply)

Not mine. Wetsuits and knee high boots.
Yeah, both together.
I thought I was broadminded, but struggling along the beach in full-body neoprene and leather to my patellas is not what floats my boat. He, however, came in record time (which is saying something, as he was no slouch usually, except for that time he was off his face on MDMA and got friction burns from the polycotton sheets).
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 19:53, 1 reply)

My First Wet Dream, by Tourette's, aged 40 and two thirds
Those of you who know me are aware of how inept/shy/cack-handed I am in the bedroom department (other than sleeping - I excel at that). Our very own Wookiee kindly explained felching to me last Easter - the same weekend that Ethelred showed me meat-spin (on his trendy clever phone, not in the flesh, thank Cheezes). So I really didn't think I'd have anything to contribute to this week's question - until this afternoon.....

Having watched Twilight for the umpteenth time, I dozed off on the couch. Before I knew it, I was dreaming of Edward Cullen.
*Insert swoon*
He had entirely replaced my husband (set in the future, as the kitchen cupboards were looking really tatty and chipped). Much to my chagrin, my dream was only certified 12A. Hence there was no shagging or gropage, but plenty of snogging :o)

I awoke with a veritably fizzing clopper, my feelings a mixture of guilt and elation. Had I contravened my wedding vows? Heart still in erotic tachycardia, butterflies and moths in my stomach, I had the quickest ham shank (result in under a minute) then slunk off to the shower. As I shaved, I hoped that the guilt of my ellicit encounter would wash away down the plughole along with the love juice I'd generated with Edward.

DG knew something was up when he came home from work. My demeanor was more sheepish than my Graany's knitting bag. He knew I hadn't been anywhere, yet there I was, showered, shaved (even waxed me 'tache) hair & face done, perfume on, breathing in; the works.
"What have you done?", asks he, in the resigned yet patient tone he uses when it's obvious I've done something clungetastic. So, I poured him a glass of wine, waited 'til he was sat comfortably and confessed my sin. To which his response was, "Pfft! I thought you'd done something really serious, like broken one of my daleks!" He then proceeded to call me a "silly arse" and "gonk". Cracking husband, he is, I'm lucky to have him.
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 19:15, 7 replies)

I can only get off using the following.
The classic Spiderman - shag her from behind, make the appropriate noises and spit on her back. "Great!" she thinks, now I won't have spunk dribbling out my bucket all night. That's right love because I've just jizzed in my hand and now I'm going to flick it in your face a lá Tobey Maguire. "With great power comes great responsibility"

The Angry Pirate - get her to give you a blow job, when you get to the strokes be a gentleman and pull out. Blast her in the eye instead. Then kick her in the shin. Hopping about with a man battar eyepatch going "arrrrgh arrgh". Bliss.

My personal favourite is the Charizard - make love in the missionary position, then as you approach the yohgurt spill. Reach to the bedside cabinet take the lighter and set her pubes on fire. Extinguish the flames with your drippings whilst flicking the lighter and and shouting "YOU DONT HAVE ENOUGH BADGES TO TRAIN ME!"

Trust me guys they love it.
( rgordon00, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 19:08, 5 replies)

Fatto once again.
Fatto, my crazy housemate from uni, even detailing her enjoyment of porn involving cactuses going up people's bums. So yeah, she liked that. And she also, evidently enjoyed shitting under rugs.

Of course the horrors didn't end there. Her bedroom was right next to the living room, so her very vocal sexual activities would often drown out the sound of Neighbours. Each time it was a different man. Well, almost each time. She also had a boyfriend who was the spitting image of Tory Boy, and now I come to think about it might have actually been David Cameron. I digress.

Fatto had a thing for fancy dress. We sane housemates used to dread the nights when she would leave the house, in a size 16 French maid outfit (or thereabouts), as we knew our ears would be assaulted later by the shrieking strains of a whale getting it in the bum. It was always in the bum, she preferred it. She told us that once.

Sometimes her room would smell of poo after she entertained.

In my mind, though, the worst thing I ever heard about her sex life was that she thorougly enjoyed the concept of Noel Edmonds.
( Queen of Cheesecake, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 18:49, 3 replies)

your nan
ooeer...
( zulu eh?, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 18:48, Reply)

Horses (NWS)
My weird sexual fetish?

I love the "Deagostini I love horses" tune:

I Love Horses (NSFW)

(what?)
( SeasonTicketless is too often the statue, and rarely the pigeon., Fri 23 Oct 2009, 18:45, 2 replies)

Probably missing the point of this question...
...as my answer really hinges on NOT having a certain fetish.

Anyway, count the clock back to August and I'm en France visiting the family. It's getting late, and all us young 'uns have shuffled off to do that congregating thing that we do. Beer is drunk, cigarettes are smoked (yes they may even have been gauloises) and much merriment is had.

Due to my lack of French-ability, most of the translating was being done by my increasingly drunk cousins from Lyon. The conversation usually entailed someone saying something, me looking a bit blank and them filling in what I'd missed.

And so it was that somebody said something hilarious, and the whole group burst into laughter. Not wanting to be left out I enquired as to the source of the mirth, and was informed that our grandmother (whilst drunk) had once told the assembled crew of cousins that if any of them wanted to sleep together, that was all fine.

The shocked silence and confusion that played across my features was further worsened by the information that my dear old granny had practiced exactly what she preached in the past.

And so that's why I'm very, very glad that neither I nor any of my cousins have the slightest interest in incest. And also why I'm a little worried about my dear old gran.
(chuckle_h0und You furnish the pictures, I'll furnish the war, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 18:38, Reply)

I was at Oktoberfest
last year, and noticed that the barmaids wore these wrist support things to help them carry the massive beer glasses.

There was one particular girl who was working our section who had on one that gave me the right horn.

I now have a kind of wrist support / arm in a cast fetish. Sort of.
(OneForTheRoad man under glass, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 18:26, Reply)

Billy Joel's other song
Salty Spume, Facial spray, Rag week, Queerfag Gay
Golden Shower, Dirty Flower, Joe DiMaggio

Angry Dragon, Richard Nixon, table ending, transvestism
titty fucking, titty sucking, marrying your bro

Donky punch, felching, faecel play, squelching
Branding, "The King and I" and then jizzing in her eye...

Doggy style, docking, London has a gay scene.
Cunnilingus, fishy fingers, Cincinatti Bowtie

CHORUS:
It all sets my loins afire
I get a burning
When I jizz at gurning
It all sets my loins afire
I do like wanking
At two men spanking...


I may expand if I am bored/perverse enough
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Fri 23 Oct 2009, 18:24, 3 replies)

Vikki...
Was hot. I mean she was fucking hot. And, as I found out, somewhat deranged. Maybe.

There I was, looking after her, me virtually clothed, her not, which isn't weird, but I know that the neck is a sensitive spot, so sometimes whilst doing what I need to do with my mouth, you find those zones that the ladies like...

So as my hand stroked her neck gently, she took my hand, enclosed it around her neck and I thought she said lustily "squeeze"...To which I paused, "sorry?" I asked in a most seductive way trying not to lose any romantic moment, and she repeated what she'd said.

"squeeze"...

Well, bugger me gently with a chainsaw, I must say it freaked me out a little, but, hell, I went with it, and she came. And came. And came. And came. And the more I squeezed, the more she came...

But...whilst she made my bed in to a water bed, which was not altogether unpleasing, it started to dawn on me that she liked this a little too much...

And...thankfully for me I believe that I stopped when I should, lest I find myself with not only a wet bed, but a dead body to get rid of discretely...

I called it off shortly afterwards...autoeroticasphyxiation is a step too far for me.
(beatpig understands subliminalesbianmessagaying., Fri 23 Oct 2009, 18:13, 3 replies)

Knives
The feeling of a cold blade running across my skin whilst blindfolded really really does it for me, takes a bit of persuasion to get some girls to do it though, it's more entertaining tying them up and blindfolding them and then just slowly tracing the blade across their body, especially if you haven't warned them what you're planning on.

Flipped out a 19yr old doing that a few months ago when I was on a Girlfriend gap, I mean, I'd known her all of 3hrs so she should have trusted me! You should have seen her face when she took off the blindfold and saw the knife in my hand....Still fun though.

That and Watersports.



Ooooo..... It's my 6th B3ta Birthday to. Woo Yay hoopla!
(Kip, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 17:57, 7 replies)

Putting lipstick/lipgloss on men.
I think it may have originated when my boyfriend (now husband) was in a school play as a woman - the Pyramus and Thysbe bit from "A Midsummer Nights Dream", to be specific - and I was doing his make-up. We hadn't even slept together at that point, but it was the first time I felt myself get aroused near him. And we couldn't do anything about it due to many teachers around and no way of escape!

A few years later, we'd broken up for a bit and I was messing around with a male friend making stupid videos, when I got the bright idea of putting makeup on each other (we were really that bored/drunk). As I was doing his make-up, yet again my underwear became slightly soaked. One more video was made that night, now safely in my possession and stored under the bed.

Cut to early last year. I was back with the now-husband, planning our wedding, when he slipped into the conversation that sometimes, just sometimes, he likes wearing women's clothes and make-up. Taken aback though I was, I was quite supportive of this - we still go shopping together for decent clothes for him. It's just something he does, and good on him for telling me and not bottling it up. It seems to be more for comfort, because we don't go out if he's dressed up, we usually just put on a DVD. I'm not turned on by the clothes whatsoever.

Except when I do his make-up. I swear, when he's having a "girl night" (which only happens maybe once a month at best), I *beg* him to let me do his lips. Occasionally I'll suggest putting just the lipstick on without a girl night, but he finds it a little strange sitting in mens clothes with lipstick being applied. Go figure.

I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the way his full lips get pulled a little when I drag the lipstick across them, then bounce back as I finish? Maybe it's being that close and not actually touching him with any part of myself, just that little tube of gloss? Who knows? But each and every time I do it, I end up dragging him off into the bedroom for at least an hour... Off comes the miniskirt, which has suddenly become one of the sexiest pieces of clothing I've ever seen on a man. Off with the halterneck top, borrowed from me but looking better on him...

I think I may have just wet my pants thinking about it...
(EasilyRecognisable I’m back baby, Fri 23 Oct 2009, 17:53, 4 replies)