It takes all kinds.
But as I have said on countless occasions, "I don't know why."
On a planet as peopled as ours, it stands to reason that someone, somewhere will get into something, regardless of how alien, ridiculous, or gross it may seem to you or I.
Yes, yes, yes - that may be a food, a reality TV show, a sports team, or a reality TV show about a gourmet sports team, but that's normal. Tame. Expected. I may not get the appeal of the Kardashians, but obviously many do, and it doesn't hurt anyone else that they love to tune into the escapades of stiletto shod garbage.
Not that I have an opinion.
No, what I am talking about right now takes us into the murky, TITillating, scintillating world of fetishes.
And lord, there is definitely a plethora of "pleasureable" pasttimes out there.
We have all heard and joked about whips and chains, leather and lace, an errant plug here and there (you know where there is). And we roll our eyes and wrinkle our noses in disgust when we hear of those who find sexual stimulation via the Fritoed feet of another. (Unless, of course, that's your thing, and I just lost you as you fantasize about someone's chipped up, scaley, calloused love hooves.)
I may not get the appeal of being painted with latex only to have it peeled off like a five day old sunburn. And I personally don't correlate asphyxiation with anything that would pique the curiosity of my nippleage either. But that's ok.
Just like the old trash-treasure axiom, it can be said that one person's nausea is another's ecstacy.
Dress like stuffed animals and rut like wild boars. Shower in the liquid leftovers of your lover. Wear a mask, make a fist, pull some hair, drip some wax, plug a hole, clamp a nip, or burn through some Duracells.
If it makes you and your partner happy, no one's getting hurt, and all are consenting - then draw the shades, close the doors, and ride that furry squirrel to Happy Town.
Now, I like to think I have an open mind, that I am not exactly a prude, that I have a fairly wide knowledge of what passes for kink in this world, but I must admit that tonight, I was once again reminded that there are still so many things for me to learn...
For there are, scattered across this big blue marble of ours, folks who want to eyeball you.
And I do not mean stare at your fineness.
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but in this case, mouthmeat is in the eye of the beholder.
Yes, there is a fetish call worming. And it involves having your eyeball licked by another person for sexual gratification.
Let me repeat.
HAVING. YOUR. EYEBALL. LICKED.
One young lady interviewd for the story - Electrika Energias (pardon me whilst I roll my eyes and think that's not her real name) says, "My boyfriend started licking my eyeballs years ago and I just loved it. I'm not with him anymore, but I still like to ask guys to lick my eyeballs. I just love it because it turns me on, like sucking on my toes. It makes me feel all tingly."
But lest you think she goes around making bedroom eyes at just anyone, think again. She may not be monacled in her view of this fetish, but she only has eyes for a select bunch. "I don't ask just anyone to do it. Guys I like a lot are more likely to not think it's so weird. I've never had anyone turn me down though."
Geez, my eye is watering again. Hold on...
Look, anyone who wears contacts has been admonished to NEVER use saliva to moisten their own contacts. There's a reason. Our mouths are full of bacteria (and leftover lunch) that have no business anywhere near our retinas.
Oculolinctus (yeah, like the tongue gymnastics that Michael Douglas claims gave him throat cancer, only for the windows to the soul) can literally be a sight for sore eyes, not the least of which is conjunctivitis.
But just like the idiots who abound on Youtube attempting to down a huge spoonful of cinnamon - you are just a single search away from endless videos of peeper porn because folks like Electrika like to tempt fate and always keep an eye out for eye candy.
"I got some weird offshoot of TB in my eye once. I ended up with corneal ulcers and I spent like a month in the hospital," she said. "Nobody really knows why. Well, I got over it, and I'm fine now. That was like six years ago. I'm just safer now, I guess ... Live and learn. I mean they don't really make tongue rubbers, but maybe they should."
Tongue rubbers. What's next? Lube by Bausch & Lomb? Feast your eyes on THAT.
Electrika, honey, we will never see eye to eye about this one.