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What women REALLY want. Rant but a must read.

mASF post by gunwitch

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What women REALLY want. Rant but a must read.
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mASF post by "gunwitch"
posted on: mASF forum: General Discussion newsgroup, June 6, 2002

Women when asked "whats SEXY in a man"? 9 of ten times say "confidence".

Lets look at this. What do they mean? Why is "confidence" so SEXY?

Cause they wanna fuck RIGHT AWAY, LIKE YESTERDAY. They KNOW that they want a
guy to come up and take em hard and fast they just cant come out and say it
without looking like a whore.

BTW when they say they "LIKE a guy with a sense of humor" they arent saying
THAT guy is SEXY they are saying they LIKE that guy. THESE women are REALLY
trying to cover up thier desires.

Get this same chik alone after not "making a funny" in her presence ONCE but
instead rubbing her legs and thighs every chance you got and youve got a wet
vage on your hands.

Confidence also shows that you have SOMETHING of value to hher or else oh my
god "how could you act like that". I didnt used to be capable of coming on
extremely strong UNTIL i got in better shape than almost any guy around and
realized "im the fuckin shit" "im better than other guys" "i DESERVE these
chiks to wax my pole".

My excellent body of course SHOWS her something of value as well, but it aint
all that, its just enough for ME to feel good about moving on em like something
out of a porn scene. Some of you said this when i was on my "loos are all that
count" rants. Which IS true for me or any other guy who needs to look good
before getting confident enough to not apologize for being pushy towards sex.

Funny thought: You wanna learn good seduction tactics watch pornos. They get
em alone, look at em like "yeah im GONNA fuck you" get in close with KINO and
EC and say something to the effect of "lets do some fuckin" before they comence
to kiss close.

Womens definition of confidence isnt acting nonchalant or cool and collected
its TRYING TO ISOLATE AND PLUG EM fast and furious. I am starting to think that
women and men operate almost identical given the right circumstance and

Approach em as some strange computer that needs some special programming, as
the convention of this NG and SS suggests and BOOM she becomes a difficult
entity. Approach her like shes a horny desperate guy needing to get laid and
youve got her TRUE nature figured out.

ANY other strategy is amateur CRAP and is apologetic.

I realize that ther is a certain entertainment value of studying seduction and
analyzing its complexities, but whats the REAL goal. TO GET LAID ALOT, whenever
you want by whoever you want.

When RJ ad other seduction gurus started writing thier stuff they thought
"hmmmmm if i tell guys women think MUCH differently than they do, theyll
believe it when i say guys looks dont count at all" "cause if they DO think
like us then LOOKS are ALL that counts and guys know this".

Thing is they DO think like us and this is why LOOKS dont count. How many of
you if isolated with a chik thats say a 5 looks wise(little fat, kinda ugly
face, ok hair or something) whos doing everything she can to get your pants off
and suck your cock are gonna say to yourself "WHOA shes not good enough
looking?" PLEASE we'd ALL fuck her. Women are the same. Diference is we pump
and dump, while women are SOOOO conditioned they try to make any ugly fuck they
happen to bang their LTR for fear of being a "slut who has ONS with ugly guys".
NOPE at that point you become "special" in some way to her that she will make
up for you. Loving, deep, caring, good in bed, funny, intelligent blah blah bla
even if you arent.

Thing is this is hard to sell and isnt as enthralling or entertaining as doing
mental exercises and 12 hour seminar discussions on the subject.

Do you wanna get laid? THEN try to fuck em. Simple as that. Dont try to
demonstrate value, or convince her or make her imagine it, just get em alone
and try to fuck em.

We would all be better off trying to find a model or how to isolate women and
how to convey extreme sexual interest and aggression than what we do at this

THIS is what ive learned so far with this strategy

I'VE found "im having a barbecue later wanna come back to my place" WHILE im
already kinoing and ECing her up close and personal works well at GYM and on
street. While "Lets save a little money and have some drinks back at my place"
WHILE already KINOing and ECing her up close and maybe already having kiss
closed her works at the bar. If not ill NEXT, but havent had to yet.

You know youve got a horny pushover on your hands when as you KINO and EC them
right up close they look down and smile and giggle alot.

About the best opener on street is standard introdutions, sneaking into KINO
slowly during short conversation followed by "i like you alot i wanna know you
better" with blatat kino and HUNGRY EC. Follwed by attempt to isolate.

Sounds scary to some of you im sure but it works. MY friends have all told me
i look fuckin NUTTS doin this shit so blatant and fast on the street but its
like i tell them "whats she gonna do hit me with her purse or tell store
security on me lol"

GYM opener is roughly same only with GYM chat instead of "from round here"
type of shit.

AT the bar i hardly even talk, as talking go me really nowhere most times at
the bar anyway. THOSE GIRLS ARE THERE TO FUCK FOR SURE. They just never get to
caue they got some asshole TALKING to em instead of trying to fuck em. Get em
on the dance floor to get KINO and EC going then hit em with the "have some
drinks back at my place"

Unless otherwise noted, this article is Copyright©2002 by "gunwitch" with implicit permission provided to FastSeduction.com for reproduction. Any other use is prohibited without the explicit permission of the original author.

Copyright©1999-2010 Learn The Skills Corp. All Righs Reserved.
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Lily Adams - Do As You Are Told

Жанр: Разное
Full bodied coed Lily Adams gets caught by her stepdad Johnny Castle for refusing to do her chores. She takes the laundry into the laundry room, but when she doesn't actually start it Johnny has had enough. He helps her peel off her tight tank top, miniskirt, and panties so that she can't leave until her chores are done. When she is naked, he leaves her alone. Now that she's naked, Lily decides there's something much more fun to do than laundry. Hopping onto the washing machine, she spreads her thighs and starts rubbing her clit. Soon her twat is filled with creamy juices that make it easy to slip her fingers deep inside. Just as she's about to cum, Johnny returns. He bends her over for a spanking. When Lily drops to her knees, Johnny lets his big dick spring free so she can give him a deep throat blowjob. He rewards her good behavior with a fast pussy fingering, followed by a feast of her juicy slit. Then he slams into her as she sits on top of the washer, going balls deep as he hits all the right spots. When Lily gets on her feet and bends over the dryer, Johnny takes her little twat from behind with orgasmic results. When it's Johnny's turn to cum, he urges Lily back onto her knees so that he can shower his stepdaughter with a facial.

Гдо выпуска: 2017

Продолжительность: 00:24:03

Качество: SiteRip

Формат: MP4

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[BadTeensPunished] Lily Adams - Do As You Are Told (23.09.2017) rq.mp4 456.64 Mb / (478820592) bytes


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Tales From Subspace

Seven hours later I was still trying. He ate me twice. I was on top, on bottom, on all fours, on the counter, in the shower. Standing, sitting, oral, manual. I tried every thing that I could think of to get this guy off, and no go. I finally made him stop. Sitting on his mom's marble coffee table with my legs open, dripping and pumped raw. I can't even remember how many times I came. I like a challenge, but I was so frustrated that I wanted to draw blood. He waited on the floor as I frowned at him, playfully mean to assess the situation. I wasn't going to give up even if it killed me.

When I frowned and narrowed my eyes at him. I saw his cock stir, stiffening. No, it couldn't be this simple. I growled, low in my throat. More movement. I laughed, and ordered him quickly.

"Come here." He crawled over. I widened my legs so he could get between them. "Put your hands on my thighs." He did it, trembling softly. I took his nipples with my nails, and pinched them. He looked at my face and was suddenly embarrassed. I touched his cock. Letting the little eye wink at me as I examined it. "I've worked at this for seven hours." He swelled. I knit my eyebrows together. "It needs to be punished for not giving me what I asked for." I felt a flush of heat and was surprised the return of my desire. I figured that I was well fucked now. I lost track of how many times I came beneath him. This sudden return was inexplicable. I thought that I'd be done by now, finished. I rested my toes on the floor. I twisted his nipples, making him moan. "I like to fuck, Eric. I like the feel of cock in my sex. You have a nice cock that needs a lesson in manners. Put it inside me, but don't move it." He knelt up and guided his cock in. I started flexing my sex around it with strong clamping force. Milking it. Telling him how to move, when to move. I pulled him against me, digging my fingers into his shoulders with brutal force and ordered him to come in me. Right fucking now. He did. Bucking into me and filling the air with the scent of sex. Collapsing finally over my sweaty body. I ordered him to lay on the floor. Straddling him. "Open your eyes." I said stroking his hair, quietly pleased by his compliance. "Why didn't you just tell me what you really wanted?" I asked.

"Because it's kind of weird." He blushed. "I've never come the first time with anyone. I didn't want you to think that there was something wrong with me."

"Why would it be weird? Everybody needs some type of special attention to make it good for him or her. You need to be ordered around. I can take control from you. Does that make me weird?" He shook his head. "You just can't ask for it. I figured it out." I was very surprised that he felt so bad about what he needed. He kept talking. Fear making him shake and softening his words. I felt bad for him.

"I like strong women. I like to be talked too. Told what to do." His voice trembled with what could only be fear.

"Why are you ashamed of that? Are you thinking that you aren't entitled to ask for what you want? I wanted you to eat me. Should I have kept quiet?" Another slow shake. "I like you. You're funny, caring, and talented. You're good to me. What we do together is our own business. If you need more than talk, you let me know." His hands trembled, and I could feel him getting hard again against my thigh. "Naughty boy." I teased, and took his hands to hold them over his head. Pinning his shoulders with my elbows. I bit his neck, and then licked it. Whispering. "I feel you getting hard again. I have it in me to tease you until just before you come again and leave you in torment. Should I?" He shook his head. "I would love to lay you over my lap, and warm those strong buns of yours, but I'm pretty sure you'd come against my leg, wouldn't you?" He shook his head, protesting he didn't like to be spanked. "But I would want too, and you would let me." His organ jerked making me laugh. "You'll let me do what ever I want to with you, because I can give you pleasure." I traveled down his body, and nudged open his thighs. Running one hand under his butt. "Virgin territory, I'll bet." He twitched. "I have you now. I can tie you up. Make you beg. Make you come in my mouth so I can taste you." Fluid leaked from the tip, and I licked it off. "Make you eat your juice out of me, slowly. Any thing I want." I leaned up over him and put his cock in me. Leaning up on my arms and moving like a man does. "Oooh, you are so hard, again. So ready, so easy." His breath was short and he looked like he was in pain. "I feel you, deep inside me. Hard and full. Ready to shoot that big load into my sex before you eat me to orgasm. I will make you eat me. Slowly, deeply. Pulling all the cum from my deep well with your fingers so I can lick them clean, so you better cum for me soon honey. I want your face against me, right now." Eric arched off the floor and shot into me for what seemed like forever. Spurt after spurt of hot fluid. Jetting into my wet clamping sex. His face a study in animal rut. I came again then I worked him until he was soft. Laying against his sweaty body in perfect satisfaction.

I really enjoyed Eric, and I think he enjoyed me. Okay, he did. He said that I was one of the most sensual people that he had ever met. He would make love anywhere, any time. All I had to do was call, tell him I was on my way and he'd meet me at the door with a smile and a hard-on. He cooked for me. Painted my toenails and gave a great massage. He got transferred to Chicago and we didn't last long after that. He wanted me to go, but I had just gotten a great job with room for advancement. I was happy. Knowing what I know now. I would have gone. I still miss him.

Finding someone else to play with has not been easy. Well, impossible is a more accurate word. I went out with a couple of straight men. They were less than adventurous than I and even less amenable to suggestion. Hell, they wouldn't even tell me their fantasies so I had nothing to work with even. I gave up, totally and I thought, completely. The convent was starting to look pretty good.

It's a human thing really. Everything on the planet is different. Emotionally and psychologically we are all diverse, yet even now most of us are afraid to say anything about our diversity. Afraid of what people will think of us.

I went on this way for years. 6 to be exact. It got so bad that I named my shower massage. It became a great joke at work, when they weren't calling me a Lesbian. That the reason it was unsafe to cross me was that I had not had sex in so long. I was a major Bitch.

There were advantages in that. It eventually made them give me an Urban Times. The local underground newspaper. That was where I finally came into myself. They had ads in the back for people like me, to meet other people like me. Us, the perverts. I never answered any of the Ads, but I sure got mileage out of them. For someone with an I.Q like mine, anything that inflames the imagination is appreciated. That and the fact that I could pick out an ad and build a scenario to match it in my head. Nice.

The most embarrassing thing was buying the equipment. I bought a really nice whip the other day and the only reason that I got away with it was that it was so close to Halloween. I still had to put up with S/M jokes, but I didn't care.

It became an obsession. The thoughts whirling through my head with breakneck speed.

I found the ad that I answered in the back of the paper. Not an out-call service. It read like a support group. I could do that. I needed the support. I was lonely. I was so hot that I felt like I was going to explode. So I did what any prudent closet case does.

I screwed up my courage and made myself do what I truly wanted to do. I called the number.

Fantasies even good ones don't hold a candle to real flesh. The problem, as always, was how to meet like-minded people. I wanted to meet people who play the game, but also play by the rules. I can't afford to end up with injuries and trying to explain how I got them. Bruises are a hazard, but so are welts. Not always, but sometimes. `The best times.' Came that little voice from inside my head. Most people think that it's a question of getting off on pain. Wrong. It's sensation, attention, and limits. It's the master or mistress focusing complete and total attention on the most profound way to make you feel. I may be submissive, but I'm really the one in total control. I'm the top. It was that way last weekend when I started my new life. I was in just enough control to feel again and just desperate enough to be reckless. I had to have somebody watching out for me upstairs, because I struck gold. THE PHONE CALL

It was an absolutely miserable night. Cold, wet. The phone like ice in my hands and the numbers hard to see. The call itself was almost impossible to make. I could barely breath. I felt like someone had kicked me in the chest, hard. I'd prepared myself like Rob had taught me. I was as ready as I would ever be, so I steeled myself and dialed the phone. A woman answered.

"I'm calling about your ad in the Urban Times." I tried to keep my voice steady and hoped that I succeeded somewhat.

"Do you have any experience?" [Does years of living inside the three ring circus of my own mind, count as experience?] Probably not, so I recounted what I did know.

"About six years ago I had a boyfriend that did this kind of thing." Humiliating to speak of this forbidden desire that kept me awake nights.

"Do you have any costumes?" [Costumes?] That was a new one on this naked kneeling girl. I spoke the truth.

"No, I never needed any on my end." That was accurate enough. There was a pause on her end of several seconds and I got the impression that I was on a speakerphone. The tone had that weird wind-tunnel effect that those phones have. "I see. Can you describe yourself briefly?" I did. I'm average, normal height and weight. Brown-hair, hazel-eyes. She seemed pleased by my description and I heard a male voice in the background speaking.

"Have her come in."

"Can you come in on Monday?" Monday was bad for me. I had my real life on Monday. Separate from this fantasy life.

"I'm sorry, I work." Another pause from her end.

"Oh, you have a job?" I was kind of puzzled. [Don't most people have jobs or some way to make money?]

"This is not my real life." [Just a hobby.] Came the little voice again. [God, what a smart-ass.] They were conferring in the background, but too low for me to hear. "Can you come by tonight?" Overdrive on my pulse. "We close in about an hour." [Close?] Oh well, time for questions later. I agreed and got directions that I repeated back to her. [Wouldn't do to knock on the wrong door now, would it?] It was her last words to me that ran through my head on the way over like a time loop. "Be ready for anything." I debated whether or not to even go.

My palms were wet and my breath came in short pants. I pulled the shreds of my dignity together and prayed for some sort of guidance. It came from within me. That little voice that I usually ignored.

`What do you have to lose?' That was it. I had nothing to lose. Nothing but the empty, boring sterility of my waking world.

I made it on the expressway in twenty minutes. I found a place to park on the street. I was kind of surprised to find myself in a residential neighborhood with an address in my hand. I found the right house. A three-story Victorian in the Indian Village area. High-walls surrounding the property. A real nice house actually. I sat in my car gripping the steering wheel. Mouth dry. Panic circling my lungs. God, don't let me knock on the wrong door.

I took a deep breath and got out of my car. Walking up to the door and knocking softly.

A woman answered it.

"Yes?" The voice from the phone, without the echo from the speaker. I cleared my throat.

"I called a little while ago and you asked me to stop by." She smiled pleasantly, moving to clear the doorway.

"Come on in." I did so. Noticing the foyer and hallway had been expertly restored to their turn-of-the-century splendor. We walked towards a big oaken door that she opened to reveal a study done in shades of cream and ivory. A real fireplace graced the room, a leather sofa [ivory] before it. Cream plaster walls with hunt prints. Bookshelves with titles that I recognized. The only thing that looked out of the ordinary was the umbrella stand with riding crops in it, instead of umbrellas. [About ten of them]

"My husband will be here in a moment." [husband?] I must have looked surprised, because she said. "It helps to have both of us in the business." She smiled at me, motioning me to sit down on the sofa. "This is how we make our living." Pride shone through her every word. She checked the clock on the mantle. "He'll be just finishing up." Very hard not to ask who, or what, he was finishing up. I managed it.

She left me alone with my thoughts, going back out the door that we had entered to the main hallway.

I wasn't sure what to do. How to sit even. [What would they want?] I was nervous. I rolled my head and shook out my arms. Doing some deep breathing. Saying to myself. "Grace and perfect obedience. Perfect silence and flexibility." I'd just finished when I heard the door opening up behind me.

I didn't turn. I looked straight ahead. Hands on my knees. Hearing the slow steady tread before me. A man's tread. He came to a stop before me. I glanced up to about waist height and noted the black leather pants with studded boots. He put out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Jon." I looked up into his face as I gripped his warm fingers. Standing up from the couch as I did so. Business habit. [Carnegie Grad, you know?]

"I'm Anne." Firm grip of my hand in his. He introduced his wife, Traci. Inviting me to sit back down on the sofa. I was slightly uncomfortable. Unsure of what he wanted of me. I knew that he was master here, but did not know their protocols.

"So how did you hear about us?" I swallowed down the fear and answered honestly.

"Your ad in the paper. I called from a pay phone." I had no idea why I volunteered that little snippet of information to him.

"Why?" He asked directly. Face sincere. Intelligence in his dark-eyes. I noticed that he was 35-40 with just a touch of gray in the dark hair at his temples. Coupled with his commanding manner he was formidable.

"Because I was tired of vanilla, when I'd rather have rocky road." I wanted to bite my tongue out, but they laughed. [Thank you, God.] She spoke.

"I've never heard it put quite like that before. I like it." She sat on the end of the sofa and curled her legs under her body.

"You'd better tell her about us, Jon."

"You know about the code?" I nodded and the relief must have shown on my face. A certain tension leaving me in a rush. The code was a set of rules. Rules designed to set parameters and prevent accidents. I had hit gold, if they abided by it when they played. I kept my cool.

"I did six years ago. Has it changed much?"

"Just a safe-sex clause. You don't object to condoms, do you?" Another tension gone. I assured him that I believed in them one hundred percent. No one' is touching my body without protection. "Are you a dominant or a submissive?" This was the one question that I had been dreading. This was it. The moment when I stated out loud for the first time what I really was. Who I was.

It was hard to get the words out around the congealing lump in my throat. Rob had never made me say it. He just took it for granted that I was his. This man wanted me to say it out loud. Express what I was craving. I had to force myself to say it and even then it was barely a whisper when it came out of my trembling lips.

"Submissive." I felt hot color crawling up my neck and over my face. My hands clenched on my knees. Eyes down. I felt his presence as though he had just suddenly appeared before me. His voice when he spoke again had changed. It had hardened.

"If you are a submissive, then you are in nowhere near the proper position to be addressing me." I didn't even hesitate. I dropped from the couch unto my knees on the floor before him. Hands behind my neck and under my hair. Legs slightly apart, eyes down. Thinking that if I did what I had done before and it was properly respectful that maybe it would be acceptable. He asked me questions. Rapid fire, trying to pin me to some kind of personal philosophy.

"Voice trained?"

"Yes Sir." I said, quickly.

"Sexual Orientation?"

"Heterosexual, Sir." Never ever tried it any other way. Why mess with what you like?

"Have you ever been with a woman?"

"No Sir." I felt color creeping up my neck. He waited and I made myself continue speaking, slowly. "Almost once, but I'm curious sir."

"Wait there." I felt them walk away by the changing in the air around me, then snatches of the conversation they were having over in the other end of the room. Never a whole sentence, just snippets. Words like- Willing, Nice Manners, Not hard to train this one. Then I heard her say.

"Well, we didn't have anything else planned for the rest of the evening now that Adam's taken the weekend off. We can ask." They whispered for a couple of minutes, and then came back to where I was kneeling on the floor. "We could really use a good submissive, honey." Nothing like being in demand.

I heard them talk about fees, contracts, costumes, and hardware. I thought I was going to pass out it got so hard to breath there for a minute. My heart hammering in my chest at much faster than it's normal rate. I was dazzled and filled with a sudden sense of unreality. I heard one of them leave and one came back over to stand in front of me.

"You can stand up." Traci, I did it, noting with some surprise that I was much taller than she was. "We'd like you to stay for awhile as a trial. If we like what we see, we'll include you with our regulars." I looked at her with curiosity shining in my eyes. "We have a fully equipped dungeon. Whips, chains, clamps. I do erotic body piercing. You will have an opportunity to pick your safe-word, if you agree to stay. Once you agree to stay, if you ask to leave it's considered an act of rebellion. If you use your safe- word to get out of a non-painful situation. That too, is considered rebellion. If you agree to stay we will consider you our property and use you as such." I asked her a question that was important to my answer to them.

"Have you ever had an accident here where anyone got hurt? Really hurt?" She smiled with a great deal of pride.

"No, We are more than careful here and have never had an accident with one of our people. We are always near and always watching." I looked her straight in the eye.

"Are you secure here? I cannot afford to have even a whisper of this get out. It won't ruin me, but it would make my life much more difficult to live." She looked at me seriously, as though I had handed her a loaded gun.

"This is the most discreet establishment in the city. We screen our guests very carefully here. If you become one of our regulars here by the time you return to us. We will know everything about you that is possible to know." I believed her.

"I agree." I said it fast, so that I wouldn't balk.

"Okay, I'll take you someplace to prepare for the festivities." I blushed.

"I...umm. Already douched. Twice, both ways." She looked curiously interested in what I said.

"Were you expecting?" I shook my head and sheepishly grinned down at her.

"No, Ma'am. I'm only human. I had a date with Mr. Michigan, later in the night, if you know what I mean. I was planning on going home alone." She laughed. Understanding full well what I was saying to her. She walked over to a cabinet and got a blindfold.

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Avançar para o conteúdo principal

Celebrating body fetishes

By João Lopes Marques (Eesti keeles)

One of the most charming facts of life is that everybody is different. We can even have a dozen of look-alikes, but humans are so nuanced that a quantic analysis will detect automatically significant differences. We just have to scratch a little bit. Zoom in.

Those are perfect news. We human beings complement each others.

This said, I must acknowledge I have a weird fetish with fetishes. How can I justify it? That was perhaps my way to overcome no tangible obsession in my life. Let’s face it: a deep-rooted fetish in a man is something quite idiosyncratic. Gives us character. Impresses. It’s something others will always write in our obituary: “Donald just loved smoking pipe hours long”, “Magnus never missed a FC Levadia match”, “Ruslan loved so much stars and planets he bought a powerful telescope with his first salary”, etc.

Yet I am being too benign. Some of men’s biggest fetishes are related to women’s bodies. That’s quite normal. Funnier is the fact women have a love-and-hate relationship with male fetishes: on one hand they believe it’s another sign of men’s primitive thinking; on the other it’s a great chance to manipulate (or seduce) their targets.

Generally speaking, we can divide males into three very different families:

  • The ones who look for a harmonic face with breathtaking eyes;
  • The ones who value a really generous bust, euphemism for “big tits”;
  • The ones who prefer to contemplate women from the back, since they just go crazy with a butt.

Even though we must consider the national/cultural biases, a beautiful woman is always a beautiful woman. Inhere we don’t use metrics, just senses. Emotions. Empathy. Love. Yet there are individuals who are tremendously picky with things one never imagined. Still remember the day my friend Xavi visited me in Tallinn. He had just divorced and came to distract himself for a while.

Honestly, I feared I was inviting another sex tourist to Estonia. All my friends and acquaintances had fallen in love with Estonian women — and not necessarily just male visitors. They made me believe Estonian women were the most beautiful in the world.

But not for Xavi. Surprisingly, he gave up the very first night. He got suddenly demotivated. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?”, I asked him in the club. He pretended he was more tired than he was, had a sip in his beer, and replied me: “Estonian women are too blond for me.”

Not only you. I was also quite surprised, since we were surrounded by dozens of extremely attractive party-goers. How could he be so picky?

This was some four years ago in BonBon, if my memory doesn’t betray me. Also remember that night Xavi and I spoke about fetishes for a while. We concluded that besides the three most common ones there are four secondary ones that tend to haunt men:

  • Really long legs;
  • Bellies, either very lean or slightly chubby belly-dancer-style;
  • Pigmentation and skin texture;
  • Abnormally elegant feet.

We laughed a lot while mapping men fetishes. If we discarded vague categories like large, young or mature women, this 3+4 equation comprehended most potential anatomical combinations. But no, we were mistaken. I thought we had been quite assertive but the next week I just met a German (or Austrian) guy in Tallinn whose main fantasy was...

“Hands are the most important part a woman’s body!”, underlined me Manfred. He was categorical enough to close the subject.

Impressive. Once again, Manfred could have the most amazing girl in front of him but his focus were hands — and not necessarily porno-like gel nails. Manfred just depicted himself has a rather sensitive soul for whom hands were determinant. Alas, a girl with bad hands was immediately vetoed.

It took me another couple of years to digest such radicalism. “How a fetish can be so cruel and illogical?”, I wondered. “Why people focus so much in small details ignoring the whole?” But no, I don’t want to sound neither moralist nor spreading the word of Jesus. Very far from that. I myself in times of doubt adopted the Spanish politically incorrect saying: En la duda, la mas tetuda (“If you are in doubt, pick the girl with bigger breasts”).

I just want to confess that — after another troubled emotional storm — I realized was haunted by an irrational fetish. Finally. Better said, an anti-fetish I am not particularly proud of: I’ve just discovered I hardly favour women with short thumbs. Another Freudian-like fetishism?

Hate to admit it, though looking at too short thumbs turns me off. Somehow. And that’s very stupid, I know — so stop looking at your fingers.

sónia disse…
Cada homem, cada maluqueira!
Interrogo-me se os animais também têm destas coisas... Vou dar uma de etóloga e avançar com propota de mestrado sobre o assunto. Ou talvez corte os dedos pela metade, pois pela rama não dá!
Bons fetiches!

Nada como um "barefooted man with sense of humour" :)
sónia disse…
propota=proposta, sorry i'm hungry