Friday, May 29, 2015

Phallic Friday - mannequins

The mannequin fetish is called agalmatophilia. It's arousal/pleasure from a doll, mannequin, statue or other similar object.

This fetish continues on, I guess, from the 'watching someone sleep' fetish but could also involve bondage fetish too.

It can also be linked to a pygmalionism, which is the love of something you've created.

When I've gone hunting for information on this fetish, there isn't a lot. The websites are mostly for those with the fetish, not about the fetish.

There's a website for the perusal of mannequins dressed in various costumes, and various states of dress/undress. (

There seems to be a lot of 'art' associated with this fetish, with cartoons, images, videos, stylised photographs, etc filling social media sites (like Tumblr).

There was a reference to this fetish on a Criminal Minds episode too, not that long ago. I wrote a post about it here.

Not sure that this one will make it into my story. I can't get my head into being sexually aroused by mannequins...but maybe it's more about the stylised woman/man, than an inanimate object.

Do you have any insights into this fetish?

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Having a Rant - State of Origin Game 1

I need to vent today, so skip this post if you've no interest in football - rugby league - state of origin - me ranting!

Last night's game had me fuming. Absolutely ashamed to be a Blue. Why? Because some of the players on the Blues team have egos that are far huger than their abilities. For years I've thought this, but last night blew my mind. If I was choosing the state side, for either team, some of the guys in that game would not be there, would never even be considered. I know footballers, or any sports people at the elite level, need egos. You don't get to the top without a healthy dose of self-worth...but when you're combining into a team, egos have to match ability and, to a certain extent, be left at the door.

Queensland seem to be able to do this. NSW rarely.

Is this a sign of the coaching? The attitude around the teams? The players chosen themselves? The captains? The history of each team?

Yes. For all those questions.

As a spectator, I can only look and interpret what I see. I know I'm a little one-eyed sometimes, and I'm rather opinionated, and my opinions rarely match the masses. But here's my opinion, cos it's my blog and I need to express my fury!

Qld has a wealth of highly decorated players in their team. There are a handful of club captains in their roster. As we've heard all build up, the Qld team is 'old' which means most of the guys have earned their reputations by what they do on the football field. On paper, these guys should have huge personality clashes...there are some big reputations in that team...but that doesn't seem to happen. They function like a team, work together by doing their job and somehow that gels.

NSW...gees, where do I start? Let me start with Pearce or Farah, because I would never have them in an elite team, yet they keep being chosen. Neither are imaginative players. I don't see any evidence of a brilliant footy brain in either of these guys. They don't seem to read the play as quickly as I expect they should, especially when it's not a set play. They're left scrambling, in the wrong place, doing the wrong thing, no longer in control of the game they should be controlling. Pearce's kicking game last night was incredibly boring. Why would you kick time and again down Billy Slater's throat? He drops what, a ball in 10 games? It made very little impact except to give the ball back to Qld. Yet he kept doing it. Some of the commentators even thought it was brilliant because it was testing Billy's shoulder - except there was no evidence that Billy Slater had a shoulder issue. Was Pearce/Daley a victim of the Qld media campaign?

Fair enough Farah was injured in the first half, probably badly, but no one helped out at the dummy half role. No one came in and said to the skipper, I'll give this a go while you take a bit of a breather - even for a set, or half a set. What happened to the halves? Neither of them think to help out? Look at Qld...their hooker gets a breather, and got quite a few last night, which lets him complete 80 minutes at a high work rate still thinking at the end of the game.

And the bit that had me fuming for hours...what happened to taking the field goal? Three times they set themselves up with Hodgkinson in place ready to drill it. And what happened? The ball ended up in other people's hands. Why? Who the f*ck knows. Certainly at the end of the game Pearce had no idea - yet he's supposedly one of the freaking playmakers. Farah, the other playmaker, didn't seem to know what was happening. Is this because he slogs himself through every game and by the end is out on his feet with no blood getting to his brain, so nothing happens in the thinking department. He's unimaginative at the best of times but appalling towards the end of the game, more so last night when he may have been in pain as well as exhausted. Hodkinson, another of the playmakers, was in his position and so not available to set the plays...does that mean he was the only one who knew what was going on out there?And did he know, or was he playing his own game? Did he call for the field goal, or just stand there and think it was happening?

Yes, I'm hammering the halves and the hooker. But they're the guys who have to set the plays, steer the team around, have a brain, and work the ball to suit the team's plans. The forwards were firing. The backline, on one side at least, was firing, yet in the centre where everything is supposed to happen...they were so far from firing. It was appalling. Absolutely appalling.

There will be loads of excuses - again. There are even people who think these guys had brilliant games but I disagree. Look at the respective positions in Qld and look at the possession stats. NSW's defence stopped the score line from being a disgrace but defence is only half the game. Until NSW can function in attack, they will never win.

NSW did not deserve to win last night. They don't deserve to win until they can play like a team. 13 individuals is useless out there because no one knows what's going on. A forward pack and a backline that works, is hopeless without playmakers who can make plays.

Qld function. NSW don't.

And that makes me ashamed of being a Blue.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Wildlife Wednesday - pelicans

Up close with a resting pelican
On Sunday I had the day of pelicans! These 4 photos were taken on my walk. Some days the pelicans aren't photogenic, but on Sunday, they were posing well.

This first fellow was sitting just off the path. I was a little worried he may have been injured because he let me get so close to him...but on my return a few more people were around he wasn't so thrilled by their attention. So no injury, just resting...and he must have enjoyed me chatting to him as I took my photos!

Coming in for landing
Pelicans coming in to land make me laugh. They are the most ungainly things and this photo depicts the typical landings. Legs and wings seem to go like the clappers, then there's a flick of feathers and they settle down as if nothing funny happened. I wish I had a video, not just a still! Just love peli-landings! They're kind of like jumbos...but messier.

These two pelicans were in poles at the boat ramp. One tucked up having a snooze, the other surveying the scene.

Given the messy approach they have for landing, it always surprises me that they can land on poles and lights and bars. They don't look any worse landing on tricky spots than they do on the beach!

They're a magnificent bird. I think I fell in love with them when I read Colin Thiele's Storm Boy. But it may have been the rhyme associated with pelicans that won me over - Mum often said it to me because I was a guts! Pelican, pelican, your beak holds more than your belly can.

Having a snooze where no one will bother you

Surveying the scene without expending energy

Sunday, May 24, 2015

Sunday Story - Krissy Daniels

With a book title of, How to Kill Your Boss, how could I not read that? Immediately a few of my past bosses came to mind - one in particular I used to fantasise about his end! LOL Thankfully not the way this book had it!

I stumbled across Krissy Daniels through my association with The Naughty Ninjas. Krissy won our April prize and I was to send her a book. We emailed and we ended up swapping all our books - I even got a sneak peek at Krissy's new book, Aglow, that's out 2 June - and it's awesome!!!

Preorder AGLOW - I think it's 99c, which is a total bargain!!!

I did an interview with Krissy for the Naughty Ninjas, which you can find here. I desperately wanted to know more about her writing and her plans for more books. so rather than stalk her and bombard her with questions, I did it in a totally legitimate way with an interview - sneaky, hey? (That's how we get to be Naughty Ninjas, you know :) ).

One thing I noticed when I gorged on Krissy's books, How To Kill Your Boss, Aflame and Aglow, was that she writes in both first person (How To Kill Your Boss) and third person (Aflame and Aglow). The choice between first person and third person is something I've struggled with for years. I LOVE first person. It sings to me...and Krissy's is no different. For me, How To Kill Your Boss, was magical. It was witty and funny and had so much spark and sass. Then I opened Aflame and I missed the first person voice...but let me tell you, I soon forgot to worry! The story ripped me away into that 'reader world'.

And maybe that's the key. First person brings you snappier, wittier, sassier writing. Third person tells more of a story, which weaves around all the characters. I'm not convinced yet...but I'll write in third when I have to. I read comments from so many people who say something like, "I hate first person" and it makes me so sad.  They're missing out on so much great reading!

Aflame But I digress... :)

Let me tell you a bit about Krissy's books.

They're romances and don't have cliffhanger endings.

How To Kill Your Boss is like a suspense-comedy. It has some really powerful angst in the story and the characters, so although I say comedy, it's a dark one. Someone's out to kill Tatum (heroine), and Franklin (hero) is to protect her...but it's nowhere near smooth sailing. There's action aplenty, not only as they try to have a relationship, but in the whole world around them. It's chaos, even when they try to escape it. Clever, witty, fun, as well as deep and angsty.

Aflame and Aglow for a series that's a romance with paranormal themes. Each book is focused on a different set of characters within the same world...and it's a lovely world - part real world, part something like an extended family utopia.

Aglow (Apotheosis #2)
Isn't this sexy? :)
In Aflame, Grayce and Zander star. We meet Tyr (villain) and most of the other characters too. Grayce has been through horrific things but is such an amazing heroine who still cares for people after such horror has befallen her. Zander is this huge hunk who makes me all sloppy with his over-protective alpha-ism. He's fun too though, and soft-hearted.

In Aglow, Marcus and Camilla take centre stage. Oh, they're so much fun. Camilla is like Ms Purity...until she's not, and when she's not, Oh Boy! It's steaming hot! Marcus is even more over-protective alpha than Zander (and I'd thought Zander was hot!) and Camilla has him all worked up and tied in knots. And while they're trying to work out their relationship, bad stuff happens...all the time!

These books kept me up at night. So be careful!

Smoking hot heroes, wicked sex, smart dialogue and sexy sexy times - what more do you need of an evening? :)

Friday, May 22, 2015

Phallic Friday - nappies and babies

I know, this topic doesn't seem like the right thing for a Friday, does it? But there's a fetish for people who like to dress up as a baby and be treated as a baby and for those who like to wear nappies and be smacked, punished, and treated like a child. Sometimes this can crossover with the golden showers/scat fetish too.

Here's a UK newspaper article about a couple who not only live with a nappy fetish (the husband is into diapers; the wife is Mummy) but they also run a 'nursery' for adult men to visit by the hour...and they insist that nothing sexual occurs in the sessions. It's stress relieving only.

Along with the hour long visits, they also provide overnight, or 12 hour, stays. With a bonus of 'nappy changes', that are charged extra. And yes, they have adult sized nappies. Actually, from the photos in the article, they have a sized-up nursery complete with cot, high chair, and toys.

They claim to have a lot of male clients who are under 25 years of age, and say that with the increase use of the internet, people are finding themselves/their 'thing' more easily than in the past.

Although the newspaper article claims that sex is not involved in their business, I think sex is often associated with the fetish. Many men masturbate while dressed as a baby. Others like to be masturbated, or sucked, while acting a child.

If you're looking for more information, this article talks of paraphilic infantilism (i.e. individuals who get sexually aroused from being an adult baby) and the associated fetishes that can be attached to this, like being a lactophile (enjoying being wet-nursed), or enjoying urinating or defecating on themselves.

This fetish is not about being interested in children, like a paedophile, but from acting like a child and receiving enjoyment/pleasure from that act.

This fetish is often used for images when people are disparaging fetishes. I've seen many images of an older man dressed in a bib, nappy and bonnet (or something similar) when I've read about fetishes in the past. It somehow seems to be the image, along with a leather-clad, stocking wearing Domme, that signifies 'fetish'. Maybe that's changing now with so many other fetishes becoming recognised and discussed.

How do you feel about changing adult nappies? I have a weak stomach, so it's not my thing!

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Wildlife Wednesday - moth

I have another moth today. It was on a deck chair that was stacked up in the backyard. When I moved one to go soak up some sunshine, this stunning moth was hiding between the chairs. Beautiful isn't it?

We have a moth today because of the Naughty Ninjas. This is a bunch of writers who have wacky senses of humour and we seem to spur each other into silliness.

Anyway, over the past week, we've been talking about shifter erotic romance...because those are the things we talk about! But really, the conversation started from a Submission Call that captured Rhyll's attention. You can find the call here...but it was all about Strange Shifters.

So a few of us have been inspired by craziness and have been writing. You'll never guess what shifter type my story went to ... no, not a moth, but a butterfly!

Sometimes I do wonder about my mind. It's not quite right yet - the story, my mind is long gone crazy! - so it will take some tweaking to get the right vibe. But I think I need to thank my Wildlife Wednesday posts for giving me a range of animals to turn into shifters :)

If my shifter butterfly ever sees the light of day, you will be the first to hear :) Long live the moths and butterflies!

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Sunday Story - reliving memories

Last Sunday, Mother's Day, Mr E and I took his mother to watch the footy. This was odd (and a little evil on my part) because their team wasn't playing on the Sunday, mine was...against the team of my favourite player. So we went to that game. I felt strange because they were coming to something I wanted to go to...and I felt a bit evil for perving when with hubby and his Mum...and I felt like a meanie taking her to the footy on Mother's day...but I think it worked out okay.

I spent a lot of my teenage weekends at the footy, many times at this ground. I used to go with a friend and sometimes my sister(s). I'd hang around outside the dressing rooms to get autographs. I had my huge flag to wave wildly. When we were old enough, we'd go back to the club after the game and gather more autographs and have our hearts all aflutter if we met a player. I was innocent and naive back then...getting an autograph was my thrill. These guys were my heroes.

I know when I was writing Deep Diving, I banged on a lot about my favourite player who had inspired the story. I watched him play a lot to fuel my imagination to get that story written. I still watch him, avidly. But I made a huge discovery...

When you're reliving your youth, at the footy ground of your team, it's very difficult to cheer for another player, watch another player, or perv too much.

My blood raced when a try was scored by my team right in front of us. I was on my feet screaming and shouting. That Coops was right there, close, took a while to dawn on me. So long that I didn't get a lot of photos of him. I probably have equal numbers of photos of him and Parramatta players.

I didn't think that would be possible. But the ghosts of many games past, many players past, and my Parra jersey that is older than most of the guys playing, all led me to screaming crazily for my team. And enjoying every second of it :)

And to add to the reliving the memories component, I took my old film camera with the telephoto lens. And I did remember to take photos of Coops...I just have to wait for the film to develop to see if I got any good ones. Oh, and some Parra players snuck on there too!! And in case you were wondering, Mr E wouldn't let me hang around outside the dressing rooms to get autographs!

Have you ever relived 'old' places and events?

Friday, May 15, 2015

Phallic Friday - furries, teddies and plush toys

This week we're going to look at a fetish all about soft toys, teddy bears, dressing in fursuits, dressing as animals, being happiest with furries.

This can be a fun, dress-up activity that people partake in, like FurFest which I think is an offshoot from ComicCon. A time where people get to dress as an animal and mix and mingle in relative anonymity behind their fur mask.

Or it can be a lifestyle choice, where you mix with other people who enjoy this fetish and partake in activities, including sex, dressed as your animal.

I'm probably explaining this terribly...but from what I've been reading as I hunted around to understand this fetish, it seems that for some people it's just a game they play, yet for others it's a complete lifestyle choice. Maybe that's not too dissimilar to a couple who occasionally play with a whip or handcuffs, compared with the full BDSM lifestyle.

There are quite a number of theories as to why this fetish is popular. Some believe that it comes from childhood affection to stuffed animals, or a particular stuffed animal. Others believe it's a way to hide your true self and take on a new identity that is devoid of gender, age, race, and other 'human' issues. Dressing as an 'animal' also takes away any human physical traits that a person may not see as attractive, and so they can indulge sexually without fear of rejection.

The fur community have developed a language for their needs. "Skritching" is grooming another's fur. "Yiffing" is mating, and a 'fur pile' is an orgy. "Plushies" are those who become aroused through the use of soft toys, also called "plushophiles".

It's an interesting fetish. I think the huge increase in shape-shifter romance stories might be indicative of the increase in the number of people interested in this fetish. There are certainly many more events for people interested in dressing up fetishes than there were twenty years ago. The world seems to be changing for people with some of the more 'cute' fetishes. One day the world may be ready to accept everyone. I'd love to see that.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Wildlife Wednesday - redback spider

We've been having some wild winds here the last few weeks, and because I'm surrounded by glorious trees (even if Mr E fears they'll fall on the house and kill us both), there's always a lot of debris after wild winds. Because of Mr E's dislike of our neighbour's trees, I often scurry out to pick up the fallen bits before he does it and complains mightily. (Hope he's not reading my blog!)

Anyway, this week, when picking up stuff, I came across a rather unexpected fellow on bark that had fallen - a redback spider. I've seen a few around but not many, so this was a surprise...and I was glad to see him, not feel him!

The trusty Australian museum webpage (here) tells me that redback spiders are found throughout Australia, and spiders of the same family are found worldwide. The Black Widow Spider found in the US is a relation to our redback.

The female spiders have this very distinct red marking, the male's red is often less distinct, and juveniles also have white markings on the abdomen.

The lifecycle information is interesting (taken from the Australia Museum website):

Once the female has mated, she can store sperm and use it over a period of up to two years to lay several batches of eggs. She spends much time producing up to ten round egg sacs (1cm diameter), which are white, weathering to brown over time. Each egg sac contains approximately 250 eggs and only one to three weeks need to pass before more eggs can be laid. These sacs are suspended within the web.

The young spiderlings hatch in two to four weeks. Spiderlings are cannibalistic and will eat unhatched eggs and other spiderlings.  The spiderlings disperse by ballooning to another suitable nest site on long silk threads that are caught by air currents.

Females may live for 2 - 3 years, whereas males live 6 - 7 months.

Male Redback Spiders do not produce a web, but may be found on the fringe of a female's web, especially during the summer mating season. The male has to make overtures to the female to discover whether she is ready to mate, which can prove fatal if she mistakes him for prey. It has been found that in order to occupy the female's attention during mating, the male spider offers her his abdomen by standing on his head and 'somersaulting' his abdomen towards her mouthparts. The female begins to squirt digestive juices onto the male's abdomen while the first palp is inserted. If he is not too weak, he will manage to withdraw, and then insert the second palp. She will continue to 'digest' his abdomen. Most males do not survive this process, which seems to be unique to Latrodectus hasselti (redback spiders).

First Aid for a redback spider bite is to apply an ice pack - not a pressure bandage. Fortunately, I didn't need that!

Sunday, May 10, 2015

Sunday Story - more thoughts on humiliation

Two Fridays ago, I spoke about humiliation and my lack of comprehension of it as a sexual arousal tool. (you can access the post here). It's been playing on my mind since then, or really before then, since my heated response at my last Book Club to a non-sexual form of humiliation.

Why am I so anti-humiliation? That's what I've been asking myself.

You wouldn't think it would take me weeks to work this out, would you? But I've had to dig deep into myself to answer this - and then even deeper to write about it.

From the age of about 11 or 12, humiliation was an every day occurrence for me. It was rarely deliberately said to hurt me, but it had that effect anyway. I had acne, well, that was the first diagnosis. At 19, it was severe cystic acne with rosacea, and at 42, it became Hidradentis supprativa with rosacea. But no matter what they called it, it resulted in not only pimples and blackheads, not only red skin that blushed puce at the slightest thing, but also boils. Huge boils that would come up red, angry and throbbing, rarely to a pus-filled head like a pimple, and then open to a huge deep crater-like wound that took months to heal and left scarring. Anything from 0.5 cm across to 1.5 cm across.

I remember the first day I was aware that I had a problem. I went with dad to the chemist (we went most weeks on a Saturday morning as dad was mates with the guy) and the pharmacist's mother, who worked there, said to my dad, "You have to do something about her skin. It's revolting to see." I was 11 or 12 and until that moment, I don't think I realised I had a problem...but oh boy oh boy, did I know now. I never voluntarily went back inside that shop. The woman became a witch in my eyes...when I'm sure she thought she was being helpful.

So, from then until I went to uni, I lived on antibiotics. They did nothing to help my skin (probably killed my immune system though). At uni, I learned how bad long-term antibiotics are for a I insisted on stopping...which led me to a skin specialist. I had part time work, so I could afford to try my own things now, as well as what the skin specialist suggested. The specialist had me go off hot drinks and oranges because she was sure they were the cause. I tried vitamins and minerals, drank chlorophyll, took extra zinc and magnesium in drinks, used every face wash under the sun, herbs, tonics, herbal washes, diet adjustments. No change.

Another semester at uni (thank god I did biology subjects!) and I heard about hormones and the impact of them on women in particular. My skin eruptions were definitely hormonal, I could predict them. The skin specialist was an older lady almost retiring...she suggested I get pregnant when I discussed the hormonal link. Horrified (because I was at uni looking to have a career in science, not a family. And I didn't have a boyfriend, which was hardly surprising given my facial eruptions), I asked to see another, younger skin specialist. She put me on the pill. This had some effect, but nothing major. Some years later I tried Roaccutane, with the result of my skin beginning to peel, as itchy as anything you can imagine. It was abandoned. Every treatment I could try, I tried. By age 26, and two different skin specialists, I gave up. I'd heard everything anyone could say, tried everything possible, and just had to live with it. Hell, I'd survived my teenage years and early adulthood when looks mattered - I was invincible.

I've had workmates tell me, "You need to do something about your face. It's the first thing people see and it's a terrible impression they get, when you're really a nice person."

I've had kids in the street stop me and say, "Does your face hurt? It looks awful."

I've had people constantly ask me why I didn't do something to fix it.

I've never handled any of these type of comments well. They shrivel me inside. They make tears stand on my eyeballs and spike. But they also made me tougher. I've had so many ask, in so many ways, that I'm now able to stand there and answer someone's question (especially young kids when they're only curious, or trying to be sympathetic) without melting into a puddle of shame.

But it's gut wrenching. Horrifying. Humiliating.

I've never understood why people would assume that you either (a) didn't know what it looked like, or (b) hadn't already tried everything you could to fix it.

Some days I remember looking in the mirror after some horrid comment, relieved when I didn't look as bad as I'd imagined, or as bad as the throbbing from the boil made it feel. It's so much worse from the inside than from the outside.

And that's why I can't handle humiliation - as a sex act, or otherwise.

Now I'm in my 40s and I appreciate when I don't have people ask, or stare. Writers are people who, although naturally curious, have never once asked or commented or made me feel bad, odd or different. It's been weird to be in a group of people (there are 300 at conferences) and not have anyone comment negatively. Writing conferences have been a place where I've received so many positive affirmations I've almost been bowled over by them. Last year I wore a dress to the dinner that I'd been talked into buying by the sales assistant. I wasn't sure that it was me - it was a dress to start with! By the end of the evening I thought my heart would burst. I can't tell you how many people came up and said how good I looked. It might have taken 30 years to happen, but every comment chipped away at a negative one I'd heard before. It was one of the most beautiful nights of my life.

I did have a funny one years ago. I went to an agricultural conference, and they had a formal dinner at the state Government House. It was pretty swish, so I'd bought a new shirt especially to go with my black skirt or trousers or whatever I was wearing. The shirt was this rich jade colour. I wore my hair out (it was always tied up for working) and maybe a bit of mascara. We caught a bus to the venue and I was waiting to get out of my seat when this elder statesman scientist I knew quite well stopped to let me out. I smiled and said, "Thank you, John." He looked at me, puzzled for a few moments, but then his face lit up like a kid at Christmas. "Cate, is that you? Oh, you look stunning." Maybe he didn't have his glasses. Maybe it was the shock of me in good, clean clothes and not filthy from work. But I have never forgotten his face or his words. I loved that man for his kindness that night.

For me, compliments are far more acceptable than humiliation. Humiliation should not be allowed.

And so... my purging is done. I've put my heart up here on my blog, and although I was terrified of doing that at the start, now I'm smiling and it doesn't seem so awful. Thanks for bearing with me, if you got this far.

I write to understand things, including myself. This post was written to understand me and my reactions. Not to garner compliments or sympathy.

Friday, May 8, 2015

Phallic Friday - sleeping

I hope I'm not the only person in the world to have a fetish for sleeping. I love snuggling into my bed for lots of zzzzs...

but today's fetish isn't that.

It's about watching someone sleep, somnophilia.

I have to say that I don't get this one but I've been trying to understand it.

I'm a night owl, so I'm often awake (and usually reading when I should be writing) long after Mr E goes to sleep. So lately I've been watching him and thinking about this fetish...but I'm still not understanding it. I need reciprocation, or at least response, for arousal.

I've thought back to my young years when I first slept with a man, and I do remember the thrill of waking up and watching him sleep. His face relaxed, his lashes lying on his cheek, his eyes flicking beneath lids as he dreamed (of me I always hoped!), his lips softened and almost smiling, his body relaxed, or sometimes curled up a little which was so cute on such a tough guy. But I think that mental catalogue lasted a few moments.

This fetish is more about getting off on the watching. Not looking and thinking they're cute... but taking that further to sexual arousal.

All I can imagine is that it's a sexual arousal from the vulnerability that comes with sleep. No one sleeps when they're 'on guard' and so to sleep with someone watching, you must be exhausted, or trust the person. And that's an aphrodisiac - trust.

But reading around the internet, there are lots of reasons why people have this fetish, and some have it linked with another fetish too. One guy said he was shy and used this to overcome his shyness - although he never had intercourse with the sleeping/unconscious woman, just touched, maybe oral, but usually just looking and sniffing and light touching. Reddit has a huge amount of fetish discussion.

There's an interesting website with some research about different fetishes too. It has an article on somnophilia. It's not explicit, more scientific. You can access it here.

Have you got any somnophilia insights for me?

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Wildlife Wednesday - Southern Shortfin Eel

We've had some rather wild weather of late and after it, we found an eel washed up on the beach. I'm not sure if someone caught it and left it there, or if it washed up on the beach.

So, the trusty Australian Museum website has some info here and a short video.

It usually lives in freshwater and mature eels migrate to the sea to spawn. Young eels return to freshwater to live.

They grow to about 1m length, which this one was close to. So I guess this was a mature eel heading off to spawn. We do have a river quite close to us, but this eel was definitely washed up on the beach.

I wonder if the rough weather got it? Or was it old age? Or did a fisherman play a part?

So much stuff is washed onto the beach after rough weather. Most of it rubbish, but there are heaps of soft corals, shells, stones and all sorts of things we don't get in calm seas. It makes a walk on the beach a photographic smorgasbord :)

Sunday, May 3, 2015

Sunday Story - the Baumgartners

Babysitting the Baumgartners

Selena Kitt writes really gritty sex. Sometimes it's a bit confronting, but I think it's always raw. I noticed she had a couple of freebies on iTunes the other day, so of course, they fell onto my iPad.

Meet the Baumgartners was the first one. I enjoyed it for the gritty rawness of the story.

The second one was Babysitting The Baumgartners. When I started it, I thought it was a bit weird...but then it got me. It's about 10 years after the first book, so the couple who hooked up in the first story, are now married with kids...and a babysitter.

The babysitter is nineteen, just becoming sexually aware, although not a virgin. She goes away with the family on a holiday to 'mind the children' but the Baumgartners have other plans for her.

This book reminded me of one of my favourite classics, Philosophy in the Bedroom by the Marquis deSade. It's an older couple educating a young girl.

It's really cleverly written from the girl's point of view, but she overhears and sees so many things she shouldn't, that we get to see how the couple feel too.

I thoroughly enjoyed this story for it's raw grittiness, clever writing, and hot hot sex.

Friday, May 1, 2015

Phallic Friday - golden showers and scat play

So, this fetish is not for the squeamish. Stop reading now if you're not into bodily functions.

I'm squeamish. I don't do bodily fluids. So this one's not something I'd be keen on playing with.

Golden showers are all about urination. Scat play is all about poo.

I'm not entirely sure what the thrill is with these - and it's probably different for each person. Maybe it's the taboo nature. Maybe something about the sharing and intimacy. Maybe it's related to the humiliation.

Taboo nature: some people get off on being 'dirty' and doing something 'wrong'. Some like trying something that's beyond the norm. Scat and golden showers fall into these categories. There's quite a lot of discussion on the internet about this nature of the fetish.

Intimacy: sex is all about intimacy. Joining of two people. Exploring another's body. Knowing what turns someone on. This takes it further. You're not just sharing sexual bodily fluids, but sharing bodily fluids that others don't ever share. When you share another's urine and faeces, there isn't a lot you don't know about the person. And it's a huge trust issue're moving into territory where trust violation can be a serious threat to your health, and also your lifestyle. Of the reasons, this one makes sense to me. There are very few people who I'd trust so much. And sharing something as intimate as this, would need a lot of trust on my part.

Humiliation: I'm not into humiliation. Even seemingly innocuous humiliation gets me furious - we had a discussion about this at Book Club last month where I realised how adamant I am against humiliation. I was shocked at my stance on something simple (a memoir where the author had shared embarrassing things about her children's childhood), that others didn't think was a big deal. So, although I know that people enjoy being humiliated (and humiliating), and they take sexual pleasure from it...I can't get my head around it. I can't understand it in the simplest form, let alone a sexually intricate form. Humiliation makes me turn in on myself, hide myself from the world. It doesn't come close to getting me off. But, if you like humiliation, this is kind of the ultimate, isn't it? Especially when it's 'forced' or 'commanded', and even more so when it involves swallowing.

Maybe there are other reasons that this fetish is sexually arousing but that's all I could find in my hunting. Do you have any other ideas?