We should not be allowed out in public.

While reviewing the items has been fun (if a little difficult to explain to the parental units), I personally think that the voyage to Westfield in Stratford to actually procure them was far more interesting.

When I left the house on that fateful day, I had no idea of the insanity that awaited me. I honestly expected it to be a normal day for me - friends, sweets and titillation.

Pictured: all three above ideas.

I was wrong. Very wrong. The madness started before I'd even left my home town (which I won't name, for fear of lunati-I mean, our lovely readers visiting unannounced). You see, me and Eli live quite near to each other, so I agreed to wait for her at the train station. I assumed I could wait there in peace, unharried by the weirder members of the community, but no sooner had I set up camp by an inviting looking wall, than I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whirled round, let out a manly yelp, and prepared myself to face the unholy terror that had surely crept up on me with malicious intent.

I found myself facing this:

Look at her, just waiting for a chance to strike.

It was a charming old lady, asking for directions to the hospital, and now very perturbed by the apparently insane young man loitering outside the train station. I gave her directions and she waddled off. Eli arrived shortly after, and I boarded the train with her before any further geriatric muggers could arrive. 

I just wish to clarify something: Westfield is big. Not slightly big, nor big with an asterisk next to it, denoting a hidden qualifier, just plain big. So when me and Eli arrived there, we had no idea where to wait for the others. At the entrance? In the centre? In the Gent's toilets? We had no idea, so we set upon the safest option being directly outside Ann Summers. It was only once Todostrieb and Mel arrived that we realised how we looked. 

Totally innocent?

Here we were, two shifty-looking teenagers loitering outside a sex-shop, and now we'd been joined by two more shifty-looking teenagers. The only consolation was that, as the only male, I must have appeared to others as either the gayest or the luckiest guy in the world, and I'm fine with either of those. Mel rightly pointed out the fact that the staff in Ann Summers were actively staring at us, and that we couldn't go in now, so we skulked off to Pink Berry for fro-yo.

Mine was larger than everyone else's, but also quite significantly not-straight. Fitting.

Over our cold confectionery, we discussed tactics: which shape should we take to enter the shop? Diamond formation? Single file? Had the staff of Ann Summers already called security? Should we abscond with our yoghurt while we were still free to do so? There was much confusion, until, as a group, we collectively went "Fuck it.", and marched straight into the shop.

Choosing the sweets was also an interesting occurrence. The White Chocolate Sperm was unanimously reviled, and Rory had already claimed the Giant Chocolate Willy, but apart from that I think we all wanted to try everything. We'd each point to something, go "Ooh" or "Ah", then point to something else and repeat the process. The actual sweets we ended up with were the result of us beginning to feel like we were overstaying our welcome in the shop.

"Seriously, just set up a tent and be done with it."

Purchases made, we set about the arduous task of waiting for Rory, who was trekking his way down from wherever he lives. Norfolk, Southend, Ganymede, somewhere like that. Meanwhile, I invited Amber (our lady of the lovely guest post) down, for fun and socialisation. While also waiting for her, we came across two gloriously camp people in funny hats:

Identities hidden to protect the insane.

A semi-naked man:

Such a shame, Rory and Miu missed this...

And Mel was cursed by the girl from The Ring:

But it's alright, they're dating anyway.

Then we marched off to Lakelands at Todostrieb's request to look at pots, pans and banana cases. While waiting there for Amber to arrive, Todostrieb tried to take a photo of me, Mel and Eli. Disappointed with the first try, she scolded us and told us to "look gayer":

That's me on the left, standing next to a lesbian couple kissing and being told off for somehow not being camp enough.

Once Amber arrived (sporting a fetching new haircut), we set off to the toy store, because we could:

One is small, fierce-looking and not suitable for children under 3. The other is a Lego character.

Then, once Rory arrived, we headed back into Ann Summers, which by this point was probably filing a group restraining order against us. This, combined with Amber's presence, led to Rory buying his fated chocolate member, Amber buying a lacy dress to wear to an upcoming Fetish Evening, and me buying a lacy mask to wear to the same event:

They didn't have a dress in a colour that suited me. 

Once we'd done that, I think we were unanimous in our belief that the outing should be drawn to a close. We were tired, fraught, and in danger of being exorcised by Ann Summers employees, under the mistaken assumption that we were ghosts haunting the place, so we headed back to our respective homes.

Going out with us is always exciting.

As always, we're available for sexy chats at homojournal@gmail.com.

Until next time (read: tomorrow), dear readers,

James

I think you'll agree, I look rather fetching in my lace blindfold. Amber said it reminded her of a garter. Does that mean my face reminds her of a thigh? If so, what do I say to that? Thank you?

The Perks of Being LBT/BLT

When asked to write about the perks of being a lettuce, bacon and tomato chunk of hunky deliciousness I was initially surprised as sandwiches are sidelined, ignored at the bottom of bags, and devoured. We are ostracised. Left at the back of fridges half eaten. This is my story.

I was a mistake. My parents told me from an early age. A drunken mistake. I was born from the dark depths of the caverns of leftovers in the fridge. They never wanted me, a strange mixture of health food and calorific bacon.  After maturing for a few long hours, they came to finally appreciate my subtle mix of flavours, the juxtaposition between the crunchy freshness of the lettuce and the smokey undertones of bacon.

nomnomnom

In fact my popularity has spread, slowly but surely, I am now considered one of the most prestigious sandwiches around, you might even call me a celebrity of sorts.  The whole country knows my name; I have met the lips of the very queen herself.  I can keep for a few days in the icy expanses of the refrigerator, an unusually long life time in comparison with those inferior, soggy, sandwiches.

My celebrity status had brought me unwanted attention, sure, but it carried with it a few perks; the prestige, I can part seas of plain bread with but a look. The quality, only the best ingredients are used, smoked bacon, crisp lettuce, organic butter and sun ripened tomatoes. Purpose in life, how many people can really be certain what the point to existence is, mine is simple and easy to fulfil. Be delicious.

Todostrieb,

Please send all death threats to homojounal@gmail.com

Big thanks to Mel who came up with this idea.

Guest Slave Sam...

Good afternoon all. I’m Sam, and I have decided, against all odds, to contribute my thoughts this week on the subject of fetish. I ought to first make clear that my affiliation with LGBT issues is purely “political”; much to my mother’s displeasure, I’m straight (or at least, so I tell my girlfriend) but I have long sympathized with and supported LGBT rights movements. Which brings me neatly to my chosen topic. When I first thought about what I might write about fetishes I found myself at a loss, while not exactly ignorant of the world of sexual deviance, I’m sad to say I’ve hardly participated myself. Now, I’ve dabbled in some mildly adventurous sexual practices, from light bondage to semi-public, but I’d be hard pushed to identify any “fetish” I can call my own. I mean… I have a deeply unhealthy devotion to pianos and my brother and I enjoy making highly inappropriate incest jokes (“’Sup bro, looking fit today- I would” again, much to my mother’s displeasure, most especially when she’s the subject), but I don’t think either of those really counts.

But then I got it; I do have a fetish, you might not have heard of it, it’s not talked about often but I have a feeling it’s actually fairly common. I am completely mad about vaginal sex. You heard. If you’re not sure what it is I wouldn’t worry, there are some very informative articles and even some video footage on the Internet. It’s quite disgusting, it almost always involves a fair quantity of mucus and sweating; most girls I know completely refuse to indulge it (at least with me at any rate). But what can I say, I just can’t get off without it (ok, that might not be true, but suspend your disbelief so I can make my point), one way or another it has to be involved. Now, I know, I know, you don’t want to hear about my sex life, but that’s sorta my point- no one wants to hear about anyone’s sex life (again, not true, there many people who love hearing about other people’s sex lives, might even qualify as a fetish for some of them, but again bear with me- I’m getting to a point of sorts) because sex lives are almost invariably disgusting (that is, at least, if they’re any good).

In the course of the LGBT rights movement a great many “arguments” have been made by the bigoted masses as to why this group of people are and that this kind of love is unacceptable, immoral and, most importantly, gay. But, however clever, theological or morally authoritarian these arguments appear to some, ultimately they all boil down to a simple and pathetic truth- bigots find gay sex, gay love and most importantly, gays, disgusting (oh and don’t forget transvestites and transsexuals, those guys/gals clearly give ‘em the creeps too). Because of this, they sought to ostracize and oppress gays at every turn. In truth, the same thing happens (sadly with a much larger crowd of disgustees) with people who engage in fetishes of some kind or another. The world finds their given fetish so unspeakable, so incomprehensible, so damned unpleasant to think about that we deliberately make outcasts of them. Now mostly, this takes place on a purely social level- we are openly disparaging about them in various media, we strongly discourage them from being open or honest about their sexual practices and if they fail to comply or kick up a fuss, we quickly outcast them. However, there are some fetishes to which there is a legislative barrier in this country.

In 1993 there was a legal case in which a group of very serious sado-masochists who were tried and convicted of assault on one another, despite all the activities having been consensual and private (the groups actions were discovered by accident by the local police force) because in this country, you cannot consent to actual or grievous bodily harm (except in boxing… an exception made because we… like boxing… but sex is dirty). All the arguments made to uphold this decision fall flat on their face when looked at with a lucid mind, revealing (much to everyone’s shock and horror I’m sure) that the real reason these convictions were made was because people found their actions disgusting. Heck, I make jokes about incest (“Hey mum, looking pretty fit today- I would”) and I found them disgusting! But my finding them disgusting doesn’t mean these people shouldn’t be allowed to indulge any sexual fantasy involving consenting, able minded adults. My point is this, just because more people share my fetish for vaginal sex, doesn’t mean I should have the right to practice my fetish, while those with more outlandish fetishes are forced into, at best, secrecy and, at worst, repression.

It is my hope that with this contribution I will ensure that I am asked to write for this blog again, fingers crossed, or file a restraining order either one.

Getting busy with my fetish...

Well well, I am sorry to say that I will not be able to give you your much deserved post of the day. Dear readers, please forgive me but I am sure you will understand as under such circumstances... you would have done the same.

As a prepping for today's post, I decided to spend all day yesterday (and good part of this morning for that matter) indulging in some of my favourite fetishes - as well as the normal stuff people do out there (or so I've heard). Well now I know how silly that was (no, of course I don't regret it, it was fucking amazing!), for some reason I actually believed it would be an excellent idea: I could do a clear analysis of fetishes and compare such experience with the "normal/common" thing; after all, it is known that often the best way to learn is through experience, right? Oh, I can say I have indeed learnt a lot, but what I didn't realise were the consequences that would come with the experience.

Fetishes are by definition arousing, often entertaining, sometimes amusing, but ALWAYS distracting. If you can walk away from your "fetish", if you can say "let's give the cat a rest and have some breakfast", or "enough with the swastika encrusted dildos already, I have maths homework", then it can hardly be described as a fetish. Fetishes are all consuming. When indulging in a fetish (with any degree of success) do not expect to have any kind of reasoned or clear thought. It should just be "my goodness, this spanking is magnificent!" all the way.You can therefore see how I was not about to take out the laptop to report my findings, however interesting and entertaining they were.

"Bestiality killed the cat" - should have given it a rest

At this point, I would like to specify that by fetish I don't mean "give me your shoes or I will not be able to cum" but rather "yes, this is nice... now tie me up and make it even better!" So my advice is... you won't know until you try! Sure not all fetishes are suited for everyone, each person has different sexual preferences, but in Italy they say "il mondo e' bello perche' vario" which is a nicer way of saying: if we were all the same, the world would be a pretty shitty and boring place to live in.

Don't live closed up, escape the daily routine, explore, have fun! I am sure there is a fetish out there for you to discover and remember, it does not have to be taken to the extreme. It doesn't even have to be a regular thing, just a way of spicing things up with your partner every now and again; never underestimate the importance of a good sex life ;)

Pretending to be sims... try it it's fun! (as in "haha" fun, not "hot" fun)

So what are you waiting for? Go on, there is the whole of internet to explore (unless you have a fetish for homo-journal, which would be totally understandable).

Well I need to get back to my "unutterable deeds" and I will see you next week!

Love,

Miu xx

P.S. Don't forget to e-mail us at homojournal@gmail.com for any questions, comments, request or if you are bored and have nothing better to do. We are available 24/7 (that is 24 minutes every 7 hours) so try your luck!

The fetishes of animals are almost as bad as our own...

Since this week is all about fetishes, I’d like to take this opportunity to draw your attention to the fetishes of our pets. Everybody who has a pet, be it a dog, cat, ferret, owl, rat, toad or goldfish, will know that our beloved animals are all a little crazy-in-the-mind.

I have two cats and a dog, all of whom satisfy the crazy-in-the-mind criteria, and my aunt has four dogs and a cat, who all satisfy said criteria even more so (aunt included!). Let me start with my cats; they are brother and sister from the same litter and really rather gorgeous (even though she doesn’t let anybody touch her). Both have an absurd fetish for paper, and general destruction of most things they come across (you should see the state of the sofa). And it seems like it isn’t just my cats; if James’ anecdotes are anything to go by, his abundance of feline friends are just as destructive, and my best friend’s cats take their destruction further and pierce your skin (convenient if the piercing place down the road is closed). Clearly, we see this as unnecessary destruction, but this is all part of the well known plan for feline world domination, which is what all the fetishes that cats possess ultimately lead to.

Dogs on the other hand, are generally too stupid to plan a canine revolution and take over the world with their bizarre fetishes. For example, my dog seems to get his kicks from raiding the bin and my mum’s handbag in search of chocolate, and then proceeding to roll over on the carpet in my room while making what I can only assume are dog-orgasm noises… If that would result in dogs taking over the world, then I fear for our future.

My aunt’s dogs, on the other hand, while they are much more intelligent than my dog, will stop at nothing to get their daily kicks. One of them has a fetish for my feet (and only mine, I’m worried), meaning that whenever I’m there I can only walk around the house wearing shoes as otherwise I’ll have this dog hanging off of my toes. Another of her dogs (or maybe it’s the same one, I can’t remember) has learnt to open wardrobe doors to reach socks for her to destroy. Other fetishes that these dogs possess are just a bit weird and frankly dull in comparison.

Unfortunately, I don’t own any ferrets or owls or rats or toads or goldfish, so I’m not sure what their fetishes are, but if you own any of those, or others, let us know of their fetishes by leaving a comment or e-mailing us at homojournal@gmail.com!

Fetishes...

I wish.

You should probably know this already, but in case you have forgotten, I shall tell you. This week is strange fetish week. *does crazy dancing*

What Is A Fetish?

I’m sure many of you already have images in their mind as to what would qualify as a ‘Strange fetish’, but we in homojournal HQ had some trouble actually coming up with a  fitting and yet satisfying definition. I was sure that I’d read somewhere that a fetish for something (ie elbows), meant that that poor fetish-holder NEEDED that something in order for them to get-off. But others were not satisfied with that definition, and I certainly was not going to go through all of my collection of erotica from over the years to find that passage from which I had obtained all my fetish ideologies. It would take me too long. And I can’t risk asking someone for assistance, for fear of mentally scaring them for life. How disappointing. Sorry for the vague definition, you get the picture though, oui?

yus.. this is my fetish.. :)

Is It Ok To Have A Fetish?

I think it’s perfectly acceptable to have a fetish, and most fetishes are completely ok, as long as they don’t involve the harm of anyone or of any animals. If you have fetishes that involve such things, it’s probably a good idea to go see a psychiatrist.. but there are pleanty of good ways of venting out..  looking at hentai manga and anime online, using Japanese sex-dolls – they are very realistic, reading erotica…

These days, the interwebs is such that it can cater to ANY of your strange fetishes. Just a few clicks of a button will find you a number to call for an appointment to clean a lady's house, naked except for an adult dyper, while she watches you judging and commanding; if that suits your fancy. There are also thousands of online galleries to satisfy you momentarilly, from the very common shoe-fetish, to fetishes for religious and sacred objects (Hierophillia)... and weirder.

Apparently it feels good..

As long as there is no harm being caused to ANYONE, or minors, I repeat, it’s probably ok J

How do I tell people?

Now, the slight problem is that others, who are less understanding, will think you’re weird. Like the example James brought forward earlier in the week, about the fish lady.. if you have an elbow fetish, or you really really like trees, when is the right time to tell people?

I have no idea. It’s probably best to not tell people. We Brits don’t really go around talking about our sex lives (ok, maybe we do… but at least we don’t with family… i.e. grandmas), and no body really needs to know, unless they’re you’re sex partner.

does this need a caption?

If it’s your partner, it might not be a good idea to suddenly start licking their feet spontaneously, or rubbing yourself against his or her elbow. It’s probably best to say things outside of the bedroom, just mention it casually, see how she/he reacts, and go from there. If they’re not understanding, and they start freaking out and screaming, you know they’re probably not for you. Time to move on.

Now I’ve lost my ‘normal’ girlfriend, what do I do?

Fetish clubs! You’re most likely to find people who have similar fetishes, or like to be on the receiving end of them fetishes, in fetish clubs. You can probably find out locations of them on the internet. In London, I’ve heard that there is an event twice a month (I think) called “erotica” that has loads of stools for your sexy needs, and also live demonstrations of Japanese rope-tieing.

If fetish clubs don’t work, you can try online formns, but you have to be careful, you don’t know what kind of perverts can be hanging around there :///  some may be worse than you…

eli x

ps, follow us, comment us, email us etc etc etc it'll make me love you >.<

Links you might like

Don't tell mutti how I really broke the laptop mouse

1. Top 10 fetishes on Askmen.com
2. Fetish Advice on the gay pop culture website
3. Advice for dating a footfetishist
4. 'Whats your sexual fetish' quiz
5. Sex! The full Kinkiness quiz
6. The ultimate purity exam!
7. the marquis fetish magazine website (i think it's in german... but interesting cover pictures!)
8. Worldwide fetish news - the fetishistas
9. The freedom of fetish podcasts on the website

BDSM for dummies

For the people who have always been curious, but too embarrassed to ever research this.

Dom: The person who inflicts the pain/pleasure and is in control. Otherwise known as domme (for female doms). Often given a nickname dependant on the level of the dom/sub relationship e.g. daddy or sir

Sub: The submissive, can be known as pet or slave, again dependant on the level of relationship.

Scene: A scene is a one time bdsm experience - it is possible to enact scenes with people you may not have an intimate relationship with.

Collaring: sub/dom pairs who do more than just the occasional scene may choose to literally put a collar on the sub, as a sign they are in that kind of relationship, normally used by more serious couples.

Munch: A meet up of many like minded people who want to meet potential new dom/subs or just socialise.

Sensation play: literally playing with the senses, normally involves cutting one off (such as using blindfolds) and different textures and temperatures, like ice and hot wax.

Edge play: the dangerous stuff: knives and blood basically  

Contract: despite its reputation for danger and abuse, the people who are serious about this lifestyle are normally very careful to ensure that all parties involved are safe; this sometimes involves a literal contract before, stating what will happen if things do actually go wrong

Soft limits: any experienced dom/sub will have a list of things they do and don’t like, just because you like some aspects of bdsm doesn’t mean you’re going to like them all. A soft limit is something you’re concerned about but would be willing to try given the right situation. For example a dom might be unwilling to try using proper whips until they felt they had adequate training.

Hard limits: things you would never consider. It’s an abuse of trust for a dom to break a hard/soft limit without prior permission.

Safe word: sometimes things do just get too much, a sub or even a dom can yell a word and everything will stop, at once. My favourites are physics related, no one will ever mistake “thermodynamics” as a cry of passion. When using gags often a bell can be used as a substitute for a safe word. NEVER PLAY WITHOUT A SAFEWORD READY!

Vanilla: refers to inexperience, such as a dom or sub new to the lifestyle. Can also refer to non bdsm relationships/sex, a dom or sub may choose to have 'vanilla' sex from time to time. 

Play safe my little readers,

Todostrieb

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones But Whips And Chains Excite Me.

Ahh fetishes, my old friends. From abasiophilia to zoosadism and everything in between, it seems that in the world of sex, anything goes. Who are we to judge if a large percentage of serial killers get their jollies from -umm there’s no graceful way to say this- piss and shit? And who’s to say that spending time as a table or chair for your master isn’t a valid use of an afternoon?

I have one general rule when it comes to sex: I’ll try anything once.

Of course there are a few exceptions. Anything that is unhygienic and messy to the point of death I’d be reluctant to try. Animals? No thanks. Shit? No way. And obviously anything involving unplanned noncon or minors is a big no no.

And then of course there are the things that I might be up for but would have no desire to discover I actually enjoyed. I don’t particularly want to know if autoerotic asphyxiation is one of my kinks. Where do I go afterwards? There are some things I am probably better off not knowing about myself, lest I get carried away one day. Let’s just say I have enough fetishes to be going on with, without anything involving near death experiences, murder or cannibalism.

Are fetishes normal? ABSOLUTLEY! Even middle aged housewives have fantasies and certain kinks. One of my aunts imagines Edward Cullen while she and her slightly-balding overweight husband are doing the nasty. I cannot approve of a Twilight fetish, but I have nothing against teeth in general.

Now for your entertainment (drum-roll please) some of the slightly less normal fetishes. I am addicted to everything Sherlock Holmes; the films, the TV series, the novels. I even find the actors....well, down right sexy. Whilst idly wasting my time on Tumblr one fine evening, trying not to revise, I found a blog called  Dirty Sherlock Secrets, which sounded tempting. Now, I try not to judge my fellow fangirls too harshly, after all, a relatively large portion of my time is spent reading porn and watching it; but some of the confessions on this website just made me laugh whilst others made me want to weep for what mess humanity has been reduced to.

I thought this was really sweet until I read the last line. My poor poor innocent eyes.

Although...I must confess that I still follow this blog with the same horrible fascination that provokes me to pick scabs, poke bruises and look at roadkill.

Another fetish I struggle to wrap my head around is large age gaps. I’m all for the older woman...or man. A little silver hair is hot. A few wrinkles look wise. I draw the line at Dumbledore porn.

I read FanFiction (Oh God I’m a nerd help me). I will happily whittle away time reading Harry & Draco pairings, Harry & Hermione, Sirius & Remus....in fact I may as well say that I do not judge when it comes to fictional couples, threesomes, foursomes and moresomes. EXCEPT...I will never ever read a story that pairs Harry and Dumbledore together in a sexual way. Seriously. Who would enjoy reading about what must be statutory rape, an abuse of trust and a skinny, wrinkly, bearded old man?

Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me sir?

I also want to say, that, despite my obsessions (ok...ok...I admit fetishes) for the Dr Who, Harry Potter and Sherlock fandoms, I do not get off on imagining people who don’t actually exist. Alas, I am partially a rationalist, if I ever tried to imagine getting down and dirty with Buffy the vampire slayer, the sheer hilarity of the situation would soon distract me from my goal.

Now, back to the relevance of this post to the homo-journal. As far as I’m concerned, being bi-sexual opens up a whole new world of fetish and kink opportunities to you. I can actually enjoy all parties in a mixed gender threesome, and experiment with any other advantages the male and female physique have to offer me.

A word to the wise though, being caught up against a tree in a park is just plain embarrassing.

Whips, chains and hot candle wax to all my readers.

Love, Mel.

PS. It was night-time.

You WILL read my post about fetishes, or I'll spank you.

Fetishes and paraphilias are everywhere in modern society. You can't go anywhere without seeing the latest all-leather fashion line, or an episode of Criminal Minds detailing a serial killer with an obsession with shoes.

"I must kill until I can find the perfect brogue."

But how many of us can actually say that we have one? As in a full, "bring out the whip and the curried mayonnaise" fetish, that we can't get off without? Because that's the mark of a real "fetish" - you absolutely can't have any kind of "happy ending" without it. So whenever you're having hot, passionate sex with your significant other (because that's all my readers do when they're not reading my posts), and you suddenly think "Hey, I could really get into you wearing a trout costume right now..." just know that it's just you being a little weird, and not a fetish, and that you should probably seek treatment.

Pictured above: not the result of a stable, balanced mind.

But how about the real fetishes? The ones that have practically become necessary to your sexual happiness? Well, I'm glad you asked, Constant Reader, because I'm about to tell you. What's that? You didn't ask? Well, shut up, I'm telling you anyway, it's the bloody theme of the week and everything!

"Let me show you why you're going to do everything I say from now on."

To illustrate the difference between fetishes and normal (or abnormal) experimentation, let's take two men (as I always like to do), "Derek" and "Mark". Let's say that Derek asks his loving partner to dress up as a piece of gouda when in bed, because he feels that it would be exciting and he's a little weird like that. Derek's loving partner, understandably, politely declines.

"You've always loved dairy more than me - we're through."

Derek cuts his losses at this point to avoid being beaten by his loving partner, and they go off to have the usual, wildly passionate sex that my readers are always having. Thus, his demands for cheese-related sexual acts aren't a fetish, because as soon as some resistance was put up he did the normal thing and took whatever he could get.

Mark, however, is a different case altogether. He has a thing for clocks (with an "l"). When he asks his beautiful partner to dress up as a clock, he has to hope that they're in an agreeable mood, because if he has a real, serious fetish for them then if they decline he won't be having any happy times.



The fact that this actually exists makes me question my decision to stay on this planet.

So, as you can see, having a fetish isn't quite as light-hearted and easy an experience as one might think - it requires quite a lot of input. If you have a serious fetish, in the event of your particular fetish being unavailable ("We're sorry, but we can't find the whip you're searching for."), you'll just have to go have a cold shower or something.

Anyway, I'm off to do unspeakable things to Cretzal now, so it's adieu for now, Constant Reader, but feel free to email me at homojournal@gmail.com, and I might respond after I'm done,

James.

I had to Google "clock fetish" on my school account, I'm waiting for the letter saying I have a therapist appointment to arrive.