Screw you! I for one thank G-d I live in a country where I’m free to pursue my fetish- and that just two blocks from my house is an intersection with two bars (one of which has a tricky driveway). Just because I live for the erotic thrill of screeching tires, shattering glass, and bending metal does not mean there’s anything wrong with me.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go masturbate while licking windshield fragments.
Note that Jeep’s is not referring to cognitive-behavioral therapy or the Chicago Board of Trade, but to a paraphilia involving the deliberate infliction of pain on the male, uh, junk.
I’m going with Adult Baby Diaper Fetish. I had an ex that later revealed to me that he had this fetish. If I had known at the time we were dating I would have been instantly revulsed. I’m still revulsed. I consider myself an open-minded person and all, but personally… I could never be in a relationship with someone who wanted to wear a diaper in the bedroom… and USE it. IIIICK!!!
We call foot fetishes the “gateway fetish,” today you want her feet in your pants… tomorrow she’s at the bottom of a pit hearing you say “it rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again!”
I find the most unerotic fetish balloons. I mean… balloons. It’s not wrong and I can see the appeal but they’re… balloons.
For me at least, there is a distinction between disgusting and un-erotic. Lots of things are gross and revolting, but I suspect the emotional reaction could be eroticized for some people. The stuff that squicks me out is not necessarily the stuff where you go “Ick” but the stuff where you go “What?”
Being spanked is one thing (although not my thing). Being dressed up like a panda bear is another.
Women in high heels stepping on just about anything. And that can range from cockroaches to testicles. I understand getting off on pain to a certain extent, but why oh why do you want your balls stepped on or kicked? The mind boggles.