From: Queer Click
When is a fetish really a fetish? Or when is it just playing dress-up? When is it just weird?
The situations range far and wide. There must be a legitimate lawn mower fetish out there if one can easily find two guys posing with their machines. And are certain brands of cellophane better than others in the realm of auto-erotic asphyxiation? (Don’t try that at home alone. QC will not be held liable if you are lured into a coma by the Glad Wrap when putting away dinner leftovers.)
There is a little “horse me” contingent out there. They love to morph pictures of themselves into horsies… and we hope that’s the extent of it. The clothespin thing? Yawn. That’s so 1978 dungeon. Been there, hospitalized for that.
One of our favorites, because special effects meet homosex meets Jack And The Beanstalk (and occasionally the Godzilla-esque trampling of a major city by a hunky naked muscle man), is the whole “Giant Fantasy” trip. Search the net for “gay giant” and you’ll find lots of it.
Finally, there’s the “sex with any inanimate object around the house” thing, which we don’t consider a fetish. Certainly one could have a thing for carrots, slightly microwaved… but we digress… or a melon balled (hence “melon baller”) to create the perfect “orifice”. But it’s all just horniness, plain and simple. If we have anything to say about it, the old saying “if the shoe fits…” needs to be adjusted for queers: “If it doesn’t cause a prolapse, give it a shot”. OK, too graphic. “If the boot fits, lick it.” Better?
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