We have so many questions about life in general.
Who are we? Why are we here? What’s our purpose?
During seven years as a sex worker, my main question was always: ‘How the hell did you discover that turned you on?’
Of course, asking that while you’re sticking a steel rod down someone’s urethra can kill the mood somewhat, so it was never something we went into.
But in a fit of genuine curiosity, I took to the fetish sites and asked the question I never dared before to discover just how fetish fans discovered their favourite fantasies.
We know there are plenty of foot fetishists out there.
We also know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, and – in fact – should be celebrated.
When a man puts his hands on my tootsies for a relaxing massage, I know he is doing the lord’s work.
But just what leads some people to their size seven heaven?
As a teen, I was full of vim, vigour and puberty.
My mum would have her friends round for coffee, and at first I obviously noticed the high heels – that felt like a ‘normal’ thing to be into. But when one of my mum’s friends took her heels off, she started to rub her feet.
I just knew than that I wanted to be doing the rubbing!
Maybe it was something about an older, more experienced woman making me do it, but the sexiest feet for me are attached to confident, teasing women.
I’m pretty convinced I was just born this way.
I remember looking at girls’ feet and trying to hold them before I even went to school!
Sneaker via Twitter:
Five words – Selma Hayek, Dusk Till Dawn.
I’d never given them much thought until I saw her make Quentin Tarantino drink wine as she poured it down her legs, but that image has been with me ever since!
My first experience with sounding was when a burly Glaswegian asked me to stick cotton wool buds down his pee-pee hole.
(Pee-pee hole – his words, not mine. He was in his 50s.)
I duly obliged, not knowing that a) this was a ‘thing’ or b) there are better ways to do it than cotton wool buds.
In fact, don’t ever do it with cotton wool buds.
Slave Z, Yorkshire:
I didn’t know it was going to happen.
Mistress had me tied to the bed, and blindfolded me when suddenly felt this intense sensation. It felt like I needed to urinate, but if I did then I’d have the biggest climax, ever.
She ordered me not to cum, so I had to hold it in – the urine and the orgasm – but I’ve been ‘experimenting’ on myself with urethral sounds ever since. I’m aiming to stretch the hole wider each time
Anon…OK, OK, it was a friend in the pub:
Personally, I don’t understand why everyone isn’t curious about sounding!
Maybe I’ve just spent too much time trying to get the best out of every orifice.
Life in plastic, it’s fantastic?
Ken, via Fetlife, proving just how annoying it is to hear some dude shout ‘Come on Barbie..’ when that’s exactly what you’re trying to do.
I want to start by saying I know this sounds odd. I had a phase where I did some fairly crazy things with this fetish, so I’m kind of pleased it’s over, but also really pissed off at how the love affair ended.
I grew up with two big sisters, and they always played with various Barbie dolls – they would be littered around the house, so as a curious boy who was constantly shooed away from their games, I would occasionally ‘steal’ an abandoned doll if it was left lying around.
I enjoyed dressing them up, and – yes – undressing them. I hid them (even though I’m fairly certain my parents knew) so maybe it was the illicit nature of having something secret that started something?
As I got older, they fell by the wayside a bit.
But when I was 14 or so, I found my secret stash again, and late at night, when everyone had gone to bed, I’d start putting them into various positions and making them ‘play’ with each other.
It wasn’t even the body shape that was the turn-on, it was a bit of everything; the secrecy, the power, even the size. I loved that they were so small.
It carried on through my late teens. I’d buy my own, pose them, my favourite thing was to tie them as if they were in bondage against my… totem pole.
At 21, I was beginning to worry that nothing would please me as much as a Barbie did, and then the song happened.
Aqua killed my fetish!
It was in my head, every time. And being the ear worm that it is, it stayed there.
Let me tell you, nothing kills a w*nk quicker than some godawful Scandi pop in your head.
And in final place…
It was the end of college awards. As a bit of a class clown, I won the ‘booby’ prize – a wooden spoon.
We were students, all aged about 18 and about to go off to University, so at the awards do/leaving party, I thought it was finally my time to ask my secret crush out for a date.
To my shame, it was only a secret because I was worried about what my mates would think. She was this amazonian, confident, bolshy woman who had come as a mature student in her 30s.
When I, rather drunkenly, told her of my feelings, she thought I was taking the mick, and ripped the spoon from my hand. In front of the whole table, she bent me over (OK, I bent over) and she started hitting my arse with it.
She kept it throughout the night, and I’d occasionally feel another swat on my arse, which would set me right off.
We never made it to the date, but she definitely made my end of term dreams come true. And I’ve never looked at a wooden spoon in the same way again.