Finding Your Fetish.
“You like that?” he whispered into my ear. It was something he — a guy I was seeing — liked saying as we fooled around.
If there’s one thing I’m terrible at in bed, it’s talking dirty (ask me to write dirty, not talk).
But later, over a tray of raw oysters, he asked me if I liked receiving oral sex.
Um, yes. Who doesn’t?
He was silent on the matter, piling on ridiculous amounts of horseradish before he ate each oyster.
“Why, is that your thing?” I asked, now curious. If you’re a woman who loves receiving oral sex, you dream of a man that’s really into it.
“No,” he said. “I enjoy doing it, but it’s not my thing.”
What was his thing? Tossing salad.
Before him, I’d never had anyone travel in that direction. While I didn’t mind it, it wasn’t something I found pleasurable.
Let’s face it, it’s a little awkward — his face was in my ass. There’s no 69-esque position that allows anything to be done to the other person. And all of the sudden, I felt self-conscious about the sitation back there. Should I wax? Was it fresh-enough for this activity?
Most importantly, I was never planning on returning the favor (FYI, it never became an issue).
It got me thinking about fetishes. Sure, there are some I can’t relate to, such as a foot fetish or BDSM (bondage, domination, sadism, and masochism). According to an article on TheRichest.com, BDSM is the number one sexual fetish (Thanks, “50 Shades”).
Honestly, I don’t think I have a fetish. I have a fantasy (going at it against a wall) that’s never become reality, but never a fetish.
I will admit that I do have a thing for guys in baseball hats, and if a guy has any talent with a guitar, I’ll pretty much be his for life. But neither of these tiny obsessions have made their way into my sex life.
After some light Googling, it became clear to me that there’s no real answer as to why people have fetishes, or what causes them.
There are theories, however, about certain fetishes reminding the brain of childhood, such as a spanking fetish (I’m into it) or the “adult baby” thing (not hot).
But if there’s no understood psychological trace to a fetish, then how do people go about discovering them?
Was my guy just simply really obsessed with asses — seemed to be the case — that one day he decided to go ahead and lick one, excessively?
Don’t knock it, ‘til you try it, right?
I don’t need a list of rules or words to get through a session in the sack. There’s no trunk full of goodies (no pun intended) in my bedroom.
Maybe I’m just simple, but so far, sex is pretty fantastic all on its own.
Posted on March 25, 2015, in The Ingredients and tagged Dig Baton Rouge, Dig Magazine, fetish, Holly A. Phillips, Louisiana, relationships, sex, single, The Bitter Lemon, twenty-something, writer life, writing. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.