Fetish Friday is back.  I know you missed it. Today’s fetish is shredding, or the act of ripping or tearing stockings, fishnets, and other undergarments off your partner (with your teeth, if you like). Perhaps this isn’t a hardcore fetish like Trichophilia or Narratophilia but it has a small cult following.

The shredding of fishnet, lace or other synthetic material makes a satisfying rrrriiiiiipppping noise that synergizes the whole dominant/submissive vibe. The shredder feels powerful and in control, while the shredded gets to enjoy feeling like their partner wants them so badly they are literally tearing their clothing off. Or, if you look at it another way, shredding can be a minor league player in a ravishment fantasy. The shredder is forcefully taking what the shredded isn’t quite ready to give.

Ladies, make use of your ruined, runny stockings and give shredding a try—since it is a major sensory stimulator (ahhh, the noise! Like popping those bubbles in the bubble wrap) I hear it can be fun to stoke your senses first with some decriminalized herbal remedies.

Have you tried shredding? Wanna talk to me about your fetish? Email me at SexyTofuBlog(at)Yahoo.com

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What pretty veins you have...the better to err, worship you with..

So, alas, I couldn’t find anyone to interview about this fetish, although I thought about ways I could coax some of the females from the Jersey Shore into giving me the inside scoop, since they seem to like their men stuffed, oiled and browned like a basted turkey.

Jokes aside, Sthenolagnia—or the worshipping of muscles, is a form of sexual arousal that derives from the touching of, looking at, licking, kissing or observing of another’s muscles. Usually the fetish is coming from the worshipper (the one who likes the muscles) and aimed at the muscled-up dominant, or “Dom,” in reference to last week’s post on submissives. The worshiper may also gain satisfaction from being pinned in some wrestling holds. Not surprisingly, the Dom is often a body builder, wrestler or a participant in some form of athleticism that results in heavy muscle tone.

Worshippers are both men and women; male worshippers get off on glamazonian type women, just as much as females get off on men who are beefier than taco bell. (Really that’s not hard, there is basically no beef in taco bell “food.”)  It is not uncommon that a Dom is a female body builder. In fact, I remember a handful of years back I saw a documentary on a female bodybuilder, Christine Fetzer, who offers “clients” sessions where they can come worship her muscles.  At first I thought this weird and attributed it to the fact that Fetzer had also been a stripper at some point. But it turns out quite a lot of bodybuilders offer “worship” sessions where people can come obsess over their muscles.

Personally, I like my men sort of skinny, but I guess I can understand it. What about you? Know anyone who spends a lot of type hangin’ out at gyms creepin’ on those guys who kiss their biceps in the mirror?

Want to be interviewed for Fetish Friday? Want to suggest a Fetish Friday post? Want to tell me I’m totally nuts? All is fair!

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Okay, I know what you’re thinking.  Another post about lube! But Astroglide—hoorah for vegan lube!—recently put out a survey about the most popular bedroom fantasies and published the results! Their top responses were as follows: Getting’ it on somewhere exotic, doing a dude (or lady) in uniform, sex in public, taking control and having more than one person at once. None of those are really all that surprising, so here is a list I have cultivated through very extensive and professional research. (Getting my friends drunk and harassing them with inappropriate questions about their sex lives.)

Audio Arousal-Lots of people use music to set the pace, but what about having one person wear a pair of those huge hipster headphones while their partner picks the tunes. With only one half of the party listening, it feels secretive, making things a a bit more interesting—for the one listening at least. Take turns switching off.

Bon Voyeur! - A bit creepy but still hot. Hide in the closet (or peek around a shower curtain) while your man or woman comes in, undresses, and gets down to business solo. Come in and help out if you want.

Ravishment- Also known as “play rape.”  This can be appealing for both the dominating and the dominated. However, for obvious reasons, it can be dangerous, so always have a code word. Blueberry! Also maybe a code hand signal, in case for some reason you can’t speak. Uh…what?

Pants Down in Public—Similar to putting out in public, this one entails being caught givin’ yourself a little TLC in a public place, and then having a stranger or acquaintance walk in on you and offer to give you a helping hand. Very risky because it would be more likely that the stranger would offer to call the cops…

The Home Wrecker – This involves shakin’ the sheets with someone who has children, while the children are in the house. Knowing you need to be extra quiet makes it extra juicy.

The Drive By- This one involves driving side by side with a huge truck and touching yourself while the trucker watches. Cool in theory I guess, but I make 9 hour drives down south (hah, no really!) all the time, and all the truckers I pass are seriously creepy. Once a friend had a trucker pull a video camera on her, and all she was doing was driving! So imagine where she would have popped up on the internet if she was givin’ her passion pit a playful poke…

Lost in Translation—Sexing up someone who doesn’t speak your language. Actually they also specified it was a maid or house keeper who doesn’t speak their language, but I veto that part of the fantasy because I CAN. I think it would be hot to pick up anyone and somehow convey nonverbally that you want to remove their clothing with your teeth. Also then you could say hilarious things to them mid coitus and they wouldn’t understand you.  I HAVEN’T BATHED IN 2 DAYS SO I HOPE THAT TASTES NICE. Oh, gross.

What do you think of my friends’ fantasies? Weird? Hot? Sociopathic? Oooh, or be super ballsy and tell me some of your fantasies! I wanna know know know!

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I got my first job when I was 14 and spent the next two years saving up to a buy a super awesome used Honda Civic that I had a lot of (really bad) sex in before it was stolen OUT OF MY DRIVEWAY, stripped and lit on fire. But before I was working, I cleaned the bathrooms, took out the trash and did the dishes for an allowance of 25 dollars a week. What did I do with this money, you ask? What any 14 year old with a wad of cash in her back pocket who desperately wants to be sexy would do—bought a shit ton of fancy underwear.

What!? Yes. My mother once said to me if I came home with one more Victoria’s Secret bag she was going to cease my cash flow. At least, I think that happened. I remember it happening, anyways. I LOVE underwear. There is nothing better than walking around all day, even if you’re in nappy sweats and your hair is unwashed, knowing that you have a killer pair of underwear on underneath. It’s like having a juicy secret that no one knows about—unless your shorts are too short and you flash everyone in your English class a nice view of your lacey purple crotch. I made lots of friends in English class.

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I was recently extremely delighted by a writer for XOJane.com who chronicled her obsession with stalking her husband’s lube bottle. The writer, Eliza, was intrigued by her husband’s masturbation habits, simultaneously turned on by the mystery of it all and slightly hurt by the fact that he was masturbating instead of seeking her for help.  I found this to be an interesting combination of reactions. Not everything is black and white.

A couple of my girlfriends get pretty upset when their guys go solo–especially if they are using porn to help them out.

I view masturbation like long road trips. Often I find I need to get somewhere, and a road trip is in order. Usually, I like to enlist a friend for company–it makes things more interesting and allows the time to fly by. However, now and then I want to get in my car and go alone, with no distractions other than my own thoughts and no passenger-seat interruptions  (Can I put it in now? How about now? now?).  Getting off is the same–usually I want a buddy to help me out, but sometimes if you want a job done right you just gotta do it yourself. This in mind, I would never give my guy (or girl) shit for going at it solo..in fact, I have found it is quite the opposite.

Sort of similar to Eliza’s lube OCD, I developed a weird fixation (not quite a fetish) on my guy getting down to the beat of his own, uhm, drum. This fixation has followed me and my relationships since highschool. I know what my solo-sessions are like, but am totally mystified as to how a guy gets off on his own–does he drag it our or get it over with band-aid style? Does he know some cool trick I am clueless about it? What is he thinking of? My ego is not so big as to think he is fantasizing about me all the time–so as long as it isn’t an animal or my mom, I don’t really give a shit. In fact, if he were to share his solo fantasy with me, it would probably be a major turn on.

So, if my life were a porno, I would tell my boyfriend I’m into watching him get into himself, he would give me a show, I would get a facial (say whatt!?), and we would both be happy. Right? Wrong. Every time I have brought up masturbation with a boyfriend–any boyfriend!–they have totally clammed up and either lied (“I haven’t done that since I was like..15..” Right, and I don’t shop for shoes online when my boss leaves early. Really. I don’t.) or been freaked out and convinced I was trying to make them feel guilty or pigeonhole them. No happy endings for me.

And so the interest, for me, will remain unresolved, and I will have to unleash my frustration on a pint or two of home-made banana ice-cream..

Oh, and to clarify the difference between attractive, it’s-good-for-you  masturbation and a masturbation problem (some people have trouble with this..): The thought of my guy getting off on his own while he thinks of me–super hot. Finding my (ex-ex-ex) guy behind my bedroom  having himself a private party while smelling a handful of my sweaters–not so much. True story. Apparently 14-year old boys have no shame.

On that note..

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