5 Good Reasons to Date a Foot Fetishest

The title says it all.

Number One:

I’ve been dying for these Valentino Rockstar heels since I first saw them. What can I say, it was love at first sight.

Number Two:

Number Three:

Number Four:

I’m not the hugest fan of platforms–heels without platforms are so much more elegant–but how cute are these velvet shoes?

Number Five:

Fetish Week: WAM

Come one, come all to the grand opening of Fetish Week! I’ve decided to devote one post a week to a fetish I find on Wikipedia, because that is clearly a good use of my time. Besides, it is really hard to run out of things to write about with all the, um, sexy fetishes out there. I decided to start Fetish Week off with a non-creepy one: WAM!

WAM is “wet and messy” fetishism, which is not as gross as it sounds (or is exactly as non-gross as it sounds, if you don’t have a dirty mind. Which you clearly do, because you’re reading a post about fetishes, you filthy fuck). WAM-lovers just get off to people covering themselves [Ed. note: I totally typo’d that as “them elves,” and I’m pretty sure that’s a whole different fetish] with messy things, like mud or whipped cream. It’s not even weird, really. Like, what guy doesn’t want to see his girlfriend rub oil all over herself?

Plus, the best part? WAM doesn’t include anything disgusting like “wet and messy” kinda implies. No bodily fluids, no puke (apparently that’s a thing? Thanks, Wikipedia), no nothing. Mud is pretty much the grossest thing on there, and since mud wrestling is about as common as a ladybug with spots, even that doesn’t faze me.

So, now that you’ve learned and adopted a new fetish, enjoy jerking off with ketchup like one WAMmer did! Or, you know, stay tuned for next week–but put on your seatbelt, because I’m going to pick freakier and freakier ones until your minds explode. (That’s called brainexplodingophilia.)

Cum On Over and Read This Post

I am afraid getting facials is bad for my skin.

Not a spa facial, obviously. Although if that were true it would be an amazing breakthrough and I could become famous. They would call me “The Dirty Scientist” and say, “She Uncovered the Truth, Which Is That Cleaning Your Face Is Bad For Your Face!” Actually, you know what, that sounds horrible. Why would I even create a fake fantasy life where I’m known as the Dirty Scientist? I really didn’t think this through.

Anyway, I meant the dirty kind of facial, obviously. (Also, I write about having people come on my face a lot. A lot more than is normal, probably. But the first step in knowing you have a problem is admitting you have a problem, right? [Side note–obviously my problem is that I talk about facials a lot; clearly my raging sex addiction is not a problem. Ask anyone.])

Back to the topic at hand, I was just mulling it over, and I wonder if cum is bad for your face. Based on the amount of facials I get (don’t ask me, it’s not like I have some secret diary under my mattress with “Cumshot Journal” on the cover…seriously, I totally don’t), I feel like it isn’t. Which means…could cum be good for your skin?

I read about some show where some psycho mom (coughMadonnacough) made her son give her like a tube of his jizz so she could use it as hand cream or something. Ignoring the highly disturbing content of that last sentence and refraining from any super-creepy puns, if that is true, I should have some youthful-ass skin.

To be honest, though, even if someone was like, “Don’t let anyone cum on you because it’s bad for you and you will get a cold or something,” I would still be like, “Yes please.” My friends were all, “WHY DO YOU LIKE THAT, IT’S DISGUSTING.” And my answer is, I have no idea. I bet if you asked a dude why he liked seeing girls covered in cum, he would have an equally vague answer. It either turns you on or it doesn’t. And believe me, it turns me on.

Oh and also I hope it’s good for my skin, just as an added benefit.


I have sex in weird places.

Added to the list today: a lecture center on my campus. I have class there tomorrow and I’m going to laugh at the people sitting in the back row, since it was just my own personal bedroom a few hours ago.

They may or may not be judging me for the unspeakable things I did on their desks.

I can’t remember all of them, but, in no particular order, here are some of the wild and wacky places I’ve either gotten it on or done a lot in: a bicycle storage room, a laundromat, a dock, a park, a hallway by a dock of elevators (and almost got caught), some public bathrooms, the beach, in a car parked on the side of the road, an elevator, and atop a one-story roof.

On one hand, I kind of admire people who can keep it in their pants until they reach a socially acceptable destination. Beause that is just not really an option for me and my raging sexaholism. On the other foot, they’re missing out. If the only place you’ve ever had sex is a bedroom, MISTAKE. It’s kind of like the world is made to bone on. There are so many wonderfully-heighted things for leaning on and bending over, and couches in public places are surprisingly comfortable. Just a tip (but not just the tip, ’cause that’s lame).

However, I will say this: don’t have sex on the beach. Just don’t do it. Even if you throw down a towel and try not to kick sand all over yourself, you’re still going to end up with itty-gritty beach dirt in places you seriously, seriously don’t want it. And let me tell you, nothing says “romantic” like a full-body rug burn; rolling around on the beach is kind of the equivalent of being attacked with a giant sander.

But luckily for you, Person of the Internet, it’s too cold for that nonsense, so go throw on a jacket and find a sand-free place to sex it up. (But if you’re flying solo, don’t go looking for adventurous jacking-off locations, ’cause that is sad and gross and probably illegal.)

Raging Narcissism (or, 10 Facts About Me)

Sometimes, I like to write about topics and things that are actually interesting to other people (like sexy hairy dudes and shoe porn). And sometimes, I just like to ramble on about myself to the enjoyment of no one. But it’s my blog, so nah nah nah, I do what I want. Now here are ten facts that you do not care about at all.

  1. I love Nutella.
  2. I am a little bit in love with Miss Mosh, an alt and fetish model. I’ve always had a thing for lace and garters and latex, and Mosh wears them so well. (On that note, here’s 2 ½: A photographer friend of mine and I might take some fetish-y pictures. Rawr. Now if I only had Mosh’s silver-white hair…please, I’m working on it.)
  3. Healthy drinks are my jam. Odwalla and Vitamin Water and Pom and Fuze. Especially Pom. Mmm.
  4. I have one tattoo, but I want more.
  5. I used to hate soup, but now I really like it. Blame Au Bon Pain. (Curried Rice and Lentil is my favorite.)
  6. I believe in sex on the first date.
  7. I have really, really, really vivid crazy dreams. Every night. Most of them are kind of nightmare-esque and when I wake up, I’m like, “What the fuck?” but in the dreams I am usually not afraid. Last night, I dreamt I was trapped in a room full of doors, and later my jaw was skeletal and fell off. There was also a fire mountain monster, but I can’t even explain it.
  8. People always tell me I am unqiue- or exotic-looking. Considering I am white and blonde-haired and blue-eyed, I take it as a compliment.
  9. I love to roller-skate.
  10. I like writing this blog, but sometimes I run out of good ideas so I just talk about myself.


Hit Me

According to the fine folks at Wikipedia, masochism is gaining pleasure from pain. Which is a simple enough concept; I’m no rocket scientist, but I can pretty much grasp that. But what I am confused about is where you draw the line.

See, I have a thing. A spanking thing.

And I don’t know if that makes me, like, a masochist. I don’t know what it is, but it really turns me on. I had an ex who I literally begged to spank me, and after giving it the old college try, he was like, “Look, I’m sorry, but I just can’t bring myself to hit you.” Okay, bud, there is a difference between woman-beating and sexy sexy spanking. (I mean, I’m not holding it against him–if you’re not into it, you’re not into it–but there is a reason he’s my ex.) I guess I was supposed to find that comment sweet, but instead I was just jonesing.

So that got me to thinking, am I into S & M without even knowing it? I mean, I don’t want to get choked or stabbed or branded or anything weird, but I think a teeny-weeny little bit of pain is sexy. Like getting spanked, obviously, or having your hair pulled, or a guy biting your lip when he kisses you. My Guy is excellent at all of these things, and unlike some people, he likes doing them, which makes it all even sexier.

Literally typing this right now is making me horny (sorry, Internet, but unless you’re a new visitor you should know I’m a filthy oversharing freak). So I guess either I’m a masochist, or I have some weird getting-spanked fetish, or I’m just a weirdo?

What I do know is that it doesn’t matter, as long as I’m getting some. So hit me!