What’s my designation? My designation is open-minded whore.
From the outside, the world of fetish and kink can appear a tough nut to crack. It seems shrouded in secrecy with a those-in-the-know air. It’s something on the fringes, less accessible than the High Street gay world, and those with a curiosity may be put off by perceived barriers. Well, as someone who stumbled into fetish, I can tell you that this doesn’t need to be the case.
Fetish and kink weren’t something I’d ever really considered until I did. I had a vague awareness from passing porn or mainstream interpretations, and the images they conjured weren’t always favourable. Based on these snippets, I didn’t really think it was for me, so I kept my distance.
The thing is, though, I’ve always had a relatively healthy sexual appetite, which only increased as I passed through my twenties and into my thirties. This then full on exploded once I moved to London around the Dawn of the Apps. Suddenly I had access to so much cock, pretty much 24/7. What’s a poor boy to do but dive right in. The thing I discovered from all this additional whoring was that when the buffet is vast and varied, you start sampling new things and you find you’ve got a more sophisticated pallet than you realised. A request to fist here, a swing in a sling there. A harness? A double ender? Sure, why not! Suddenly you feel yourself opening up to possibilities.
Still, despite this broadening of horizons, there was still something holding me back. I’d say my recipe for apprehension was 1 part social stigma, 2 parts a word.
a form of sexual desire in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular object, item of clothing, part of the body, etc.
As it reads, I didn’t have a dictionary definition fetish. Not really. I liked plenty of the stuff I’d tried and looked forward to doing it again, but I lacked the compulsion I felt was required. I enjoyed kinky play, but I was equally happy having a quickie fuck then calling it a night.
I stalled at this roadblock for some time, until I was forced to confront it head on. Through the machinations of fate, a career opportunity in the fetish world emerged. It was a job in line with my skill set, but would my lack of a capital ‘F’ fetish hold me back? [shrugs] What’s the worst that could happen?
In this new role I now had access to fetish gear and my curiosity was at fever pitch. I began experimenting more. I started off gently with what I already knew; a harness becoming my first piece of gear. I don’t have the best body in the world, but wearing it gave me a kick. My vision of myself shifted when I wore it, and when I attended my first fetish party it helped me to adopt a new mindset, helped me to let go of some of my fears.
Next came rubber, and this was really where things started to come together. I avoided it for so long – it looked strange and unnatural – but the pull was unavoidable. When I eventually bit the bullet and got my first few pieces of rubber gear I was excited and mildly terrified. Lubing my body and edging it on felt so alien, but in an unexpectedly pleasurable way. Once it was on, I was pouring with sweat, but letting go and enjoying the sensation made me rock hard. The biggest kick for me, though, came when I made my way to the club. Wearing a hoody and trackies over the top of my gear, I still felt the horny tightness and sweat, but to the outside world I was just a scruffy guy in sports casual. It was like a filthy secret as I passed the good people of the world going about their evening. It was a promise of even more fun to come.
Since that first time in rubber, my collection has grown rapidly. More rubber. More leather. A few other things thrown in the mix – I love Lycra! Who knew?! Not everything I’ve tried has been for me, lacking that horny charge or not fitting right, but that’s the whole point of experimenting. You’re finding what works for you, and the failures are as important as the successes.
The more I give stuff a try, the more I realise what the dictionary says doesn’t matter. Fetish is just a word, and like all words it’s open to interpretation. My interpretation is this: it’s not about a definition, it’s about the way it makes you feel. Life is full of spectrums, from mild to hardcore, and it’s ok to be placed anywhere along the scale. I’m comfortable with my own branding as an open-minded whore – a fet-ish man, if you will. I love wearing rubber and Lycra and getting up to no good with guys who love it too. I think that as long as you’re respectful of other’s tastes, and upfront about your own, then there’s nothing stopping you from a little experimentation and a whole lot of fun.