Bette Callison and Smooth Blue. A sudden, intense, rush of sexual excitement coursed through me, as I read 'the name' on the entertainment calendar that my boss had asked me to post at the hostess station, at the front of the club. Just reading her name gave me butterflies! I posted the calendar on the wall with tape, and then stepped back to make sure that it hung straight.

We had great performers. Lightnin' Hopkins, John Lee Hooker, Taj Mahal, Joey Long, Jimmy Long, Rocky Hill, Tommy DarDar, Leonard Lowdown Brown, Mark Mays, and, Bette Callison.

I love the blues. And, I have been priveledged to meet some of the most talented blues men and women performing. I booked music acts, for the club where I worked. And, with time, I would get to know our performers. I got to actually be there when some of the songs that you have heard on the radio, were written. We hosted jam sessions, songwriters nights, and open mic nights, and other opportunities that brought together some amazing talent. We were a musician's club. We took great care of our talent. And, I feel that I was lucky to BE there, and be part of it. And, that is a very precious thing to me. But, that's another story. I digress.

Bette was an incredible, sensuous, thrill of a woman. She sang her songs with a low, throaty, growl, from somewhere deep within her passionate soul. She was mesmerizing, on stage. She moved with fluid motion, and grace. She WAS sensuality. When her show started, the room was quiet, and no one took their eyes off of her. She belonged on that stage, and she loved being there. She turned the room on. You could feel the heat and the electricity. And, what she inspired people to do on the dance floor was a down right sin.

Her body was tall, and thin, and lithe, like a dancer's. Her hair was thick, and almost black. Long, and rather coarse, but still shiny. Mane-like, I thought. Bette's big, emerald, eyes, had perfect topaz stars around each pupil . And, I was so, so, fortunate to get so close, to see those stars.

I was an assistant manager of a blues club, in Texas. Which was an appropriate job for me, because my name is Blue. Blue Blue Sleighty. I can't help what my boozy party hound parents named me. I was 21 years old. I wanted to be an artist. But, my artwork did not pay my bills. So, I had to learn how to survive doing other things. MANY other things.

I had been attracted to women all of my short life (it wasn't a phase lol). I'd had unrequited crushes on a teacher, or two, when I was in school. And, I had fooled around, a little, with a couple of girls. Actually, I had fooled around with just about every single one of my girlfriends, as a teenager. I figured out at a pretty young age, that I liked women. And, I found out at a pretty young age, that it was not an acceptable thing. Cuz, when I asked my next door neighbor what "queer" meant (I had heard her niece was one), when I was 5 years old, she went on quite a rampage, and warned me to stay away from her niece.

This caused me some distress for a while, figuring out I was queer, and then being told that queers were sick and perverted, AND going to burn in HELL. Again. lol But, the 70's were very big on bisexuality, and, so it wasn't long before I could pretty safely identify as bisexual, and feel OK about myself. Then, I didn't have to admit that I was gay, and, I could still be with girls. I was trendy, and outrageous. Right? (That worked for me, for a very long time).

And, now, I was an adult. And, I knew I loved women (but, I still wasn't ready to come out). And, I knew that this woman, Bette Callison, made my pulse race. My mouth go dry. My mind go blank. And, my spirit soar. And, for the first time in my life, I had my own place, and my own life, and I was free to do whatever I pleased. And, I dreamed.

I was obsessed with Bette. I loved the way that being near her made me feel. I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I loved her big green eyes rimmed with long, thick lashes, against her sun tanned skin, and dark hair. The thought of her white, straight teeth and full lips, flashing her sexy smoldering, smile, made me smile, myself. I fantasized about her, day and night. And I booked her band as often as I could. She did put on a great show, and I appreciated her talent. But, I booked her so often, because I just HAD to see her.

Soon, my boss figured it out. He noticed that I was "hot" (his word) for Bette. And, he began to worry, he told me, that people would notice how I behaved when I was around her. (I don't think that I was that obvious, I think that it just bothered HIM when he figured it out) He was afraid that it would be bad for business for me to be discovered to be a lesbian (and years later, he turned out to be correct, but, that's another story). My looks, and the fact that men found me attractive were part of why he hired me. So, he started scheduling me to be off work, on the nights that Bette performed. He told me that I was acting like a fool, and he would just have to eliminate the problem, since he couldn't solve the problem. And, that it was just a phase. Fuck head. He really screwed up my program.

I longed to see her. But, I was not allowed to go into the club on my nights off. It was a dilemma. It had been weeks since I had seen Bette.

I was so depressed! And, I couldn't talk to anyone about how I felt, because, I wasn't OUT. It was lonely. Bisexuality was supposed to be all fun and games.

I was a glamor girl. Great looking. 5' 6", sun bleached blonde hair, blue green eyes, and dark tan, from partying by the pool almost every single day, before work, and spending many of my weekends, and vacations in the Yucatan. I had a beautiful body. I was hard and muscular, from hard physical work, and, I really put a lot of work into trying to look my best. My looks kept me working in the bar business. I looked like I stepped out of a centerfold. I am referred to as the "bunny type", by those who only know me from a glance (their words, not mine). I know I sound like an arrogant asshole, and, I'm sorry. No one would ever have guessed that I was gay. When I even TRIED to tell people that I was gay, they would look at me with exasperation, and say, "Uh! NO, you're NOT!"

So, I silently obsessed over Bette. And, she didn't even know I was alive, except that I was partly responsible for scheduling her work life, and I served her gin and tonic, when she wanted a drink. And, maybe she noticed that I was never there anymore, but, I would never know. I tried to reason with myself. She probably didn't even LIKE women. I tried to talk myself out of caring. But, I couldn't help it. I spent hours in bed, fantasizing about making love to her. And, I touched myself, imagining how it would be to make her feel the way that I was feeling. Imagining HOW to make her feel the way that I was feeling. I imagined her kiss, and her taste, and how I would touch her. I could get high on her, if I let my mind just...go.

At work, I thought to myself that, at least, I was in the right place. Because, I sure did have the blues. I felt like laughing a little, for the first time in weeks. I was starting to get a handle on my infatuation with Bette. My boss, Ken, was at a football game. I wouldn't be seeing him. He would be gone, all night. I was glad. I had a love/hate relationship with Ken. Being rich, handsome, and charming as hell, made him so much easier to forgive for being such an asshole. I knew I could count on him, if I really needed help. And, he thought I was the smartest person in the world, and forgave me for the ignorance of youth. I liked that about him!

I loved it when someone called in sick, and I got to tend bar, or wait on tables. I got sick of the tedious paperwork, and phone calls, and inventory, and supply ordering, that is manager's work. It kept me away from the action. I always got to see the act, if I wanted to, on nights that I worked. I had plenty of things to do behind the bar, and I could always take care of them while the music was on. I liked to socialize with the customers. The regulars were like family. And, I didn't get to do that from the back office.

I looked at our newly printed entertainment calendar, and sighed, as I read Bette's name on the calendar, one more time. And, then...

"Heyay!", a voice called from behind me. A jolt shocked through me. I immediately recognized her voice! It was Bette's voice! Oh, SHIT!!! Oh, YAY!, And, what the hell?, I wondered. I was feeling giddy. I tried to compose myself.

"What's a girl got to do to get a drink around this joint, woman?" Bette looked sternly at me, and then broke into a smile. She was teasing me. I liked it. "How've you been, Blue?," she asked. I smiled. I liked Bette's little tank top. She looked great in black. She was wearing black jeans, and high heeled boots. She was carrying a black motorcycle jacket. She was SO hot! I sighed.

I got a tall collins glass, filled it with ice, and set it on the mat, across the bar from Bette. With my left hand, I pulled a green bottle from the speed rack, and poured a double shot of gin into the glass, raising the bottle high, and letting the liquor stream into the glass, as, with my right hand, I filled the glass with tonic from the soda gun. Multi tasking. lol A couple of squeezes of lime, and a blue straw. I sat the drink on a napkin, on the bar, in front of Bette."I'll just put THAT one on Ken's tab", I smiled, and went to the register to make a little slash mark on a guest check, with my boss's name on it.

"Yep. Old Ken was always my favorite," Bette winked, and tipped her glass, as if to toast him, before she took several long pulls off of the straw in her gin and tonic.

"So, where have you been? You haven't been here, lately." Bette asked, with just a hint of a demanding tone. Oh! She noticed! My heart fluttered. I thought for a moment, she was going to lock eyes with me. She was really giving me a hard time.

It dawned on me, that she was flirting.

"I've only been off on nights when YOU work. Why?", I teased back, dishing out a little abuse. "Did you miss me?" I wondered what she would think if she knew the real reason.

"Bitch!" she teased, as she chomped a piece of ice.

"So, what brings you here? Why aren't you working someplace, tonight?" I asked her, as I washed, and dried glasses.

"Seems like my biggest fans are HERE, these days." She laughed. "No, really, I'll tell you, a little later, fair enough?" she said, avoiding my eyes, and looking into her glass.

I fucking HATE suspense, of any kind. I must KNOW. EVERYTHING. I acted as disinterested, as possible, though, and tried not to think about it. But, inside, my curiosity was driving me crazy. It was probably no big deal. I was probably projecting all kinds of craziness, because I was so enamored and obsessed. And, I was so excited to see Bette!

Soon, the bar got packed, and the music started. Bette joined the band's table, and I got too busy to notice what she was doing, except for the occasional stolen glimpse. I had to make myself behave, and keep my mind on what I was doing.

The night went by quickly. My tip jars were full, at the end of the night. I always counted my tips, last. I was busying myself with the nightly closing tasks. Draining coolers. Stocking beer, and bottles of liquor, carrying buckets of ice; removing the mats from the well areas, and the floors, and mopping; washing glasses, and hanging them, and finally, counting my cash drawer. It was midnight. We closed earlier, during the week, than we did on the weekends. And, every time I thought of Bette, my heart did flip-flops.

I had to piss like a Russian racehorse. I looked around the bar. The musicians were still hanging out, cleaning up their instruments, and putting them into their cases, folding up mic stands, and wrapping cords, and rolling amps out the door. I locked up the register, made sure the front door was locked, and walked down the corridor to the ladies room. To my surprise, Bette was waiting for me, in there. Sitting on the chaise lounge, sipping a drink. She smiled when she saw me enter the lounge.

"I've been waiting for you to get off work. I was counting on this being one of your first stops, after you locked the door," Bette laughed. Pretty smart, I thought to myself. In a really stupid sort of way. I laughed.

"I thought I took up all of the drinks, ma'am. You're going to get me closed down," I scolded.

The stalls were all empty. That was good. No stragglers, to coax into calling it a night. I entered a stall, and unzipped my slacks. What a relief! I felt a little shy, as I heard the sound of my piss hitting the water. But, I was SO happy to be there, and, I quickly got over it. I was wondering, of course, what Bette was doing, hanging around, waiting on me. I hoped it wasn't about getting paid more money, or something like THAT. Paying the talent wasn't my department, anyway. I just booked them. She would have to talk to Ken about that.

I zipped up. and went to the sink. I was about to cut to the chase, and ask what was up, but Bette beat me to the punch.

I heard Bette clear her throat. "Ken told someone that you had a crush on me. That true?" Bette asked softly from her seat on the chaise lounge.

EEew. Nothing like being blunt, and to the point, I thought. I was NOT prepared for this. I really didn't know what I was supposed to do! A crush? A CRUSH? Uh? Ken. That fucker. I was afraid to answer. I made great money, and had plenty of bills, and I really, mostly loved my job. I didn't want to lose it. And, I didn't want to offend Bette, and at this point it wasn't clear where she was coming from. "Uh! I don't think I'm going to discuss this with you. I can't really help what Ken says to people," I mumbled, reaching for a paper towel. I dried my hands, thinking I would go back to the bar, when Bette came up behind me.

"I'd like to go somewhere, where we can talk about it," she said from behind me, watching my reflection in the mirror.

"What is there to talk about?," I asked, pitching my paper towels into the waste basket..

"Well... something. I think." She tried to make eye contact with me, but I refused to look up. I COULDN'T look up. "If you want to find out, let's go. Come with me for just a little while," she coaxed.

"I can't let anyone see me leave with you, Bette. If you want to talk, you can come to my apartment. I live at Spring Lakes, in apartment 1208. You are welcome to come by. Now, I've got to get out of here, before someone walks in. Now that people are gossipping about me, and all," I jabbed. And, with that, I walked out of the bathroom, and went back to the bar. The other bartenders were still around, counting tips. I grabbed my jars, and stashed them in the office. I'd count tomorrow. I was getting the hell out of there!

"I'm leaving! You guys lock it!" and I ducked out the back way.

I didn't see Bette, anywhere. I was scared! I was terrified to let myself realize that it was really happening. She probably wouldn't show up at my apartment. Would she? nah She'd think about it, and feel as terrified as I did, and she wouldn't show up. God. I hoped she didn't show up. My mind raced through all sorts of possibilities. I shivered, as I wondered what the rest of the night would hold in store. And, I braced for terrible disappointment,

in case she didn't show up.

She was there! I was so excited, and scared. I was so nervous, I wasn't sure that I could walk. Somehow, Bette had beaten me home. She was sitting on my porch swing, watching the reflections of light dance on the rippling surface of the lake, when I pulled up in my pick up. I lived right on a lake. I enjoyed it very much. It was very peaceful. Mine was one of many apartments in the community. All brand new, and modern.

I walked up the steps, hiding my terror well, and opened the door to my apartment, gesturing for her to come inside, with me. "Sshh," I whispered, "don't wake the ducks up". I teased.

I was proud of where I lived. I had a nice apartment. Bette had a seat on my sofa, while I got a bottle of white wine, and two wine glasses from the kitchen. "Awesome place!", she remarked. And, it really was. I thought I was pretty lucky.

The view was beautiful. I lit some candles and cut the lights, so we could better enjoy the view of the lake, without having to open the doors. I sat a glass in front of each of us, and poured some wine. Bette produced a spliffie from her purse. I grinned, and nodded my approval. She winked, and fired it up, inhaling deeply, exhaling, and then, taking another hit, before passing it to me. I took it from her, and took a deep hit, and then, remembered that we needed some music. I turned on my stereo, and put on Nina Simone.

"So, what do we need to talk about?", I asked. I was feeling pretty good. Braver, anyway. And, Bette had already had a few drinks. She had been at the bar since 10:00 PM. And, it was now 1:00 AM.

She didn't say anything. She just slid over closer to me, looked at me for a second, and then closed her eyes, slowly, and kissed me on the side of the mouth. I turned more towards her, and met her lips with mine, and then hers parted, slightly, letting my tongue find hers. It was then I learned what the term, "take my breath away", means. We kissed forever. Not long enough. Maybe hours. It was intoxicating. Ecstacy! A kiss I will ALWAYS remember. I couldn't believe it was really happening. It felt so good. In my own place, with complete privacy, with the finest woman on the planet.


Nina Simone sang "I'm just sitting here, waiting for you to turn me on...."

I took Bette by the hand and urged her to follow, leading her to my bedroom. We stood in the middle of the floor, at the foot of my bed. I faced her, and slid her tank top over her head. The room was dark, except for lights shining in from the kitchen. She unbuckled her belt, and unzipped her black jeans. I had my pants off, and was unbuttoning my shirt, as I went back to my living room, for the rest of our wine. I lit a candle, when I returned to my room. The room filled with the warm scent of vanilla, and the soft flame, tinted everything in it's amber glow. And, when I turned back around, there was Bette, bathed in candlelight, laying on her side, on my big, four poster bed. I admired the sharp curve from her waist to her hip. She smiled, and patted the mattress beside her, with one raised eyebrow. And, then, she wasn't smiling, but the look on her face reflected the way that I felt.

I moved beside her, and took her in my arms, pushing her onto her back, with me above her. I rolled towards her and lowered myself to meet her mouth with mine. We kissed deeply. The tips of our tongues moving against each other, as we breathed, with mouths locked together in passion. I pulled back for a moment, to look into her eyes. All sensation and emotion seemed to suddenly intensify, as our eyes met. Our mouths met again, this time, searching hungrily. My body pressed into hers. My breasts against her breasts. I could feel her position my thigh against her, as she moved her hips forward to press harder, pushing and relaxing, rthymically, as we kissed with our bodies entwined.

© 2004 My Secret Obsession

I moved by body beside hers, with my forearm under her neck. I propped up on my left elbow. I stroked her skin with my right hand, my fingers spread apart wide, caressing her body, wanting to feel her every curve. To experience every inch of her.The smoothness of her skin. The definition of her muscles. The swell of her breasts. I bent my head down, and kissed her mouth. My fingertips lightly traced her contours. I found her nipples, tracing from one, to the other. Her breasts were small. I moved my mouth to her breast, to suck her nipple into my mouth. Bette let out a little moan. I kissed her more, and ran my hand down between her legs, enjoying the coarse, curly thick, hair. I parted her curls of pubic hair to find her clit. Moving my fingers further down, I found her wetness, easily, as it was already overflowing her vagina. I felt the warm slickness of her natural juices, as I moved my fingers down from her clit, and pushed between the plump lips of her pussy. I parted her lips, and rubbed her clit, up and down, arousing Bette more and more.

©2004 My Secret Obsession

I was in ecstacy. Complete bliss. My heart pounded with excitement, pumping blood to my engorged clit. Feeling her beautiful, smooth body beneath mine excited me in a way that I never dreamed was possible. My fantasies were never as good as the reality of that moment.

I had to taste her. I had never done this before. Never been down on a woman. But, I had fantasized. Often. And, I could hardly wait to taste her, and breathe her in. I raised my body, and moved down between her legs. I pushed her knees back. With a hand on each inner thigh, I parted her cunt lips, separating the thick hair, to better expose her clit. I pushed my mouth tight against Bette's pussy. She moaned, and pushed herself against my mouth. I found her vagina with my tongue, and pushed my tongue inside of her as deeply as it would go, wrapping my arms around her hips, and pulling myself tightly against her. I pushed my tongue in and out of her pussy, tasting her juices.

©2004 My Secret Obsession

I ran my tongue up and down her clit, almost to the end, but stopping right before I got to the most sensitive part, not wanting to cause the sensation to be TOO intense to be pleasurable. I kept my tongue slick with her juices, and slid it up and down, and up and down, exciting her and teasing her. I reached up and pinched her hard nipples, sending a jolt through her. And, then, moved my hand back down to her cunt, and found the tight opening.

My fingers soaked with her flowing juices, I pushed inside of her cunt, moving them in and, in and in, fucking her, as I licked her clit with my tongue.

I was propped up on my elbow, and had my hand under the small of her back, pushing her cunt against my face. Her legs were wide apart, with her knees drawn up, grinding her pussy against my licking tongue. I fucked her pussy with my fingers, and slowly, and softly, worked my middle finger against her asshole. My finger slipped inside of her. So tight. She gasped, as she got into the sensation. She was so wet, my fingers moved in and out of her with ease as I fucked her in both places at the same time, one finger in her cunt, and the other in her ass, fucking her, and licking her clit. She moved her hips, fucking me back. She gyrated her pelvis and fucked, and moaned with mounting pleasure.

"Ooooh....God!," she whispered, gasping, "I thought I was the only one that knew about that......"

She caught her breath, sharply, and cried out, in pleasure


oh, oh"

and I knew she was coming. I pushed my fingers all of the way inside of her, and she clamped her muscles tight around them, as she shook, and came, muscles clutching in rythymic, involuntary spasms. I moved from between her legs, and kissed her on her lips, her juices still on my mouth, my fingers still in her pulsing pussy. She squeezed her thighs together, my hand still between them, and fingers still inside her hot throbbing cunt, and she kissed me, and tasted herself in my mouth.

We lay in a tight embrace, our bodies entwined from head to toe. Smokey Robinson crooned "Cruisin'". The candle was out. And I dozed off to sleep, with Bette sleeping in my arms. And, I was changed. Forever.


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Comment by Angie on February 28, 2016 at 7:53pm

Comment by Samantha on February 7, 2016 at 6:58am

Comment by PuddyGirl on February 4, 2016 at 7:32am

Comment by Annabellle on January 19, 2011 at 2:28am
love it! i'm wet, sweety!!!
Comment by Eva Rose Endless on January 10, 2010 at 6:10pm
loved it.
Comment by Kennedy Lynn on November 10, 2009 at 6:21am
Wow.....My hearts racing after reading that!
Comment by Angela Corelli on October 18, 2009 at 3:16pm
I love it!.. I've read several really good stories here on Puddy Girl, and yours is one of the best. Please let me know if you write any new stories! Is this in any way drawn from reality or personal experiences??

Etymology / Definition of Masturbation The word masturbation is derived from the Greek word mezea ('penises') and the Latin verb masturbare ('to defile by hand or to disturb by hand'). Masturbation can be defined as deliberate self stimulation of ones genitals. As the etymology of the word suggests, hands are generally used to arouse the sexual organs which may result in orgasm. Men may fondle or stroke their penis with their hand or touch other erroneous zones (like the scrotum or anus). Women often rub the vulva, or gently stroke the clitoris and the minor lips (labia minora). Some women simultaneously play with the nipples of their breasts. Instead of using their hands, both males and females may also rub their genitals against some object, such as a pillow. Some females can reach orgasm by riding a bicycle or a horse. Masturbation commonly refers to sexual activities done alone (autoeroticism), but can be a sexual act between people. This is referred to as mutual masturbation, where one person stimulates their own genitals or their partners. Many people find the sight of their partner masturbating highly erotic. visit


There are many special masturbation aids on the market. The most common of these is the artificial penis, also known as a dildo (from the Italian diletto - "delight"). Dildos can be made of wood, rubber, plastic or glass. Vibrators are also popular sex toys. They are like dildos, but battery powered or electric. Great for masturbation as well as partner sex play. Babeland have a great selection of sex toys. Watching pornography, reading erotica or cultivating sexual fantasies are common aids to masturbate. Humans are not the only animals to masturbate. Many other mammals have been known to masturbate in the wild and in captivity. Female Masturbation Techniques There are many different techniques women may employ to masturbate. Through experimentation, a personal preference may be found which gives that particular woman the most exquisite pleasure. Some common techniques are: *Inserting one or more fingers into the vagina to stroke the frontal wall of the vagina where the g-spot is located. * Stroking the clitoris and / or massaging the breasts. * In the bathtub or shower, using warm running water to stimulate the clitoris. * Lying face down and straddling a pillow (or something similar) and rubbing the vulva and clitoris against it. * Standing up, the corner of an item of furniture, or even a washing machine, can be used to stimulate the genitals. * Some women can orgasm by crossing their legs tightly and clenching the pelvic or leg muscles, which creates pressure and enhances blood flow to the genitals. Techniques, Sexual Response & Multiple Orgasms From the website: 'Women commonly masturbate by rubbing or applying pressure to the clitoris, mons, lips of the vagina, or some combination of these areas. The methods by which they do this varies greatly. Fingers or other devices may be used to rub the shaft of the clitoris in an up-and-down motion on either or both sides, or the shaft may be rubbed in a circular fashion. The vaginal lips may be gently pulled; this movement of the inner lips causes the loose skin covering the clitoris to move back and forth, creating a pleasurable sensation. Because the glans of the clitoris is highly sensitive, prolonged stimulation usually becomes irritating, and thus it is not often used as the focus of masturbation. Relatively few women (some sexologists estimate about 20%) insert anything into their vaginas while masturbating. Those who do usually insert just barely into the opening. However, some women completely insert fingers, dildos, vibrators, and other objects, such as bananas and cucumbers, during masturbation. All these methods may involve the use of various kinds of lubricants, and many women stimulate their breasts while stimulating their genitals. Some women use washcloths, clothing, pillows, furs, silks, or other such devices to aid their stimulation. Most women prefer lying on their backs, but some prefer standing or sitting. While standing or sitting, a woman may rub against certain objects, such as doorknobs, dresser drawer pulls, the edge of chairs, or bedposts. The woman may cross her legs and increase the pressure on her genitals by contracting her lower abdominal, gluteal, and thigh muscles. Water massages may be used. Some women derive sexual stimulation while riding a bicycle or a horse, activities that were at one time forbidden to women for that very reason. Female sexual response to masturbation is about the same as for males. Some women have reported orgasm 30 seconds from the start of self-stimulation, while the usual time is a little less than four minutes. Because of a woman's ability to have multiple orgasms, she may maintain her threshold of orgasm far longer than a man. ... When mutual masturbation is employed during intercourse, it may greatly enhance sexual response; some women report that they receive more intense pleasure from masturbation either by themselves or by their partner than they do from coitus, especially if their partner is a male who has only slight potency. This is because the clitoris receives little direct stimulation during pelvic thrusting in the missionary position.'



Below you will find summaries of articles & websites on Sexual Fetish & Fantasy, i.e. on creativity, the mind & sex, fantasy vs realism, sexual morality, evolution and human sexuality, bestiality, incest, rape, violence, bukkake, bdsm, bondage, spanking, school girl, cheerleader, secretary, milf, smoking, panties, high heels & foot fetish, cartoon pornography, latex, rubber & leather fetish clothing etc.
Obviously 'fetish' gets relatively few searches per day compared to specific fetishes e.g. 'milf' 150,000, 'hentai' 90,000, 'beastiality' 45,000, 'lingerie' 30,000, 'bondage' 20,000, 'bukkake' 15,000.

The top ten related searches for fetish are;
fetish (8,000), foot fetish (5,500), smoking fetish (2,000), medical fetish (1,600), fetish sex (1,150), fetishes (1,000), feet fetish (900), high heel fetish (900), diaper fetish (860), panty fetish (800)

We hope you find the following articles & websites interesting, useful and fun.
Karene Jade Howie

Definition of Sexual Fetish
First described by Sigmund Freud in 1887, sexual fetishism is a form of paraphilia where the object of affection is a specific inanimate object. 

A fetish is an object, not a body part. According to psychology or psychiatric terminology there is no such thing as a 'foot fetish'. That is called a partialism. This is when a part of the body is an extremely important part to achieve sexual arousal. A shoe though, could be a fetish.

A fetish is when a person is sexually aroused by a specific object or objects and is generally unable to achieve sexual satisfaction without that object being present.

What makes a fetish 'fetishism' by definition is that it interferes with your life. It's not just something you like to do, but something you have to do. In other words, there is no other way to have an orgasm except with a shoe, bra or panties present, or whatever that person is into.


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