Monthly Archives: October 2014

Kinky Boots

Not content to enjoy the promising messages I’ve been getting in response to my newly-reactivated OKCupid profile (this week’s winner: “The ghost in me wants to have a foursome with the ghost in you”), I crawled on over to FetLife, which claims to be “the world’s most popular FREE social network for the BDSM, Fetish & Kinky communities.” I’m certainly kink-friendly, and I figure I’ll get less of the boring vanilla bro-tripe that OKC is vomiting at me hourly. (“Are you into younger guys?” “I’m going to be in town for a conference…” “Your [sic] gorgeous.”)

Irritatingly enough, however, all of the choices to define my “Role” on FetLife are bondage/submission or otherwise master/slave-y type personas except “Other.” Other? It seems like “Good Giving & Game individual who seeks same” would merit more than a choice of “Other” … is “equal partner in whatever kink you’ve got” such a rarely-sought role? I suspect this forum might not really be a good fit for me. (Thank god my “Gender” is completely straightforward, or that barrage of choices would have overwhelmed me…although now that it’s given me a few dozen choices, I’m starting to wonder if an inspection and re-evaluation is in order, just to make sure? Perhaps I’ve just assumed “female” since I clearly don’t have external genitalia?! …A question for another day.)

I do know some incredibly nice blokes who are into seriously hard-core pain infliction and receipt, which I can tolerate to a point (about the point that the bruising on my neck finally makes my friends suspect that my story about taking a CSI-style stage-makeup class might not be the truth), but it’s just not a thing that usually does much for me, and I’ve given it more than the ol’ college try. (Sidenote: if you ARE going to give this the ol’ college try, pay attention to your surrounding ambiance carefully… while Nick Cave’s “Murder Ballads” is a top-notch CD, it heads the list of Top 10 Worst CDs to Put on While Exploring BDSM for the First Time…trust me.)

Finding it impossible to navigate FetLife away from submissive role-play (seriously, you try it), I call it a night. But I find myself, over the next few weeks, wondering: 1) are there that many people whose controlling sexual desires are governed by power play? 2) is it still a “fetish” if so many people have this obsession that it is damn near mainstream? and 3) where the hell do all the people into things I actually think are kinky go to meet other like-minded (or at least, accepting) partners?

I’ve started to disappointedly expect that when someone tells me that they are “kinky” it means they like some fuzzy-cuff bondage, or garden-variety vanilla voyeurism (yes, absolutely everyone who has been to Vegas has been railed against the  hotel windows or balcony, or munched popcorn in their own hotel room while watching  the free peepshows in the neighboring towers). Unless you like to sneak into people’s apartments and hide in their closets to watch them scream for Jesus, your “voyeurism” is actually just a harmless fondness for watching public sex. And having “public places” sex is, of course, titillating, but I suspect it isn’t so much “fetish” for many people as “convenience.” (Although it is occasionally embarrassing, more for others than for the sex participants, to wit:  While occupying the breezeway of Portland’s best hostel at 1:30 a.m., Fuckee’s hands planted on the ground and bare ass in the air, an enthusiastic Fucker thrusting happily in the evening breeze, a gentleman’s head pops around the corner, obviously struggling to tamp down his mortification… “Um, folks? Are you staying here?” Fucker: “Yes, I am.” Fuckee: “MMMMMMMPH!” Gentleman, uncomfortably: “Um, okay? Could you, like, finish up?” Fucker: “Certainly, sir!” (In best Craftmatic-adjustable-bed infomercial operator voice.))

Every now and then I am pleasantly surprised. Finding a stranger sucking on my toe in a crowded Vegas hot tub, I learned a great deal about foot fetishes (leading to a fascinating subsequent discussion about whether a shoe thief with a foot fetish should be charged with a sex crime, based on what — to him, but not the general population — would be the prurient nature of his offense). And a random conversation on the deliciousness of breastmilk (and the udderly unfair banning of commercially-prepared ice cream made from same) led to this observation: “Every boy loves [breast]milk, but won’t admit it in public. And often not even in private! But we all do. It’s deeply hardwired. Kinda like dogs chasing cars. Actually, no: exactly like that. And, just like a dog, most wouldn’t know what to do with a functioning human udder if they got a hold of it: ‘This is uh…hot? Sweet? I’m not sure what–[BONER].'” There is also a thriving market on the internet for sweaty/stained/stinky women’s panties. This all somewhat restores my faith in the varied tapestry that is human sexuality…it isn’t all 50 shades of beige!

However, each and every one of these wannabe-kinksters has a high bar to hurdle before I I award any Michelin stars in the annals of kink, because…

At a party once, I find myself admiring a certain gentleman’s panties — a pink, ruffled bit of lace that is surprisingly flattering to his assets. We’re in the kitchen of a friend’s bungalow, a few hours into a very comfortable evening with close friends and friends-of-friends. He’s leaned up against the doorframe, wearing a flounced pirate shirt and said panties, sipping something appropriately spritzer-like. He’s in his late 50s, maybe; his female partner appears to be similar, perhaps slightly younger, and they are both pleasant, easygoing, and funny. Somehow, we get to comparing britches (mine aren’t nearly as memorable, but I remember he was fond of them) and attempting to exchange them. As he removes his pink fluff, I am captivated at the sight of the largest ring I have ever seen perforating a penis. It’s easily an inch in diameter, probably 4 mm thick, punctured vertically through the ridge. I am staring impolitely, and apologize, but then I figure, fuck it: “Can I touch it?” Graciously, he accedes. Finally, I have to ask: “What made you decide to do that?”

“I like to hang nautical things from it.”

Wait, what?

Like anchors? Buoys? Crab traps?


Everyone else? Your panty fetishes, love of cream pies, hand obsessions, addiction to anime schoolgirl porn, tendency to spit in my mouth during sex, desire to be blown in public, and repressed obsession with being eaten out through your panties? You’ve got NOTHING on Sailor Jerry here, one of the nicest please-and-thank-you-weirdos I have ever met. Now THAT, my friends, is kinky done right:  exactly the way he damn well pleases.  My admiration for a person that can OWN that kind of kink has no boundaries…and certainly is no comparison to anything the dude-bros are lobbing in my direction. Where can I meet that guy’s friends?