Fetish

Home Fetish

If you can think of it, there is a fetish for it: Centaur Fetish

“I’m a…crab!” The girl who is always drunk was dying at her own joke.

“Well I’m half-person half-horse!” Ah, dressing room astrology-talk.

“You’re a centaur.”

“What the fuck is a sen tar?” It seemed like she couldn’t decide if it was rude of me to call her a sen tar.

“A mythical horse man thingy. I’m pretty sure it’s the same as a Sagittarius.” It sounded weird coming out of my mouth. Yeah, what the fuck is a centaur? Am I thinking of a satyr?

“A CENTAUR! You never watch Xena?! Shiiit.” Well, at least someone knew what a centaur was.

An Excerpt From Ecowhore’s Whore Diaries

WhoreDiariesTits and Sass contributor and wilderness expert Tara Burns has published an Amazon Single about her first two weeks as an escort in Alaska, and it’s free at Amazon.com today and tomorrow. She’s allowed us to publish this excerpt from her memoir. There are a lot of sex worker blogs out there, but Tara’s experiences are definitely unique. The first time I ever met her, she picked me up at the Kenai airport and let me live on her converted schoolbus for a week while we worked at a crazy rural titty bar with linoleum stages, plastic lawn chairs, and dogs running around in the club. That was probably a pretty dull place for her. Enjoy this excerpt and check out her book. Tara also says to our readers “They could write a Kindle book, too! It’s awesome passive income. Get our voices out there!” 

—Bubbles

I look at the camera he brought. It’s one of those old fashioned ones with a spot for a little tape. There is no tape in it, and he swears it’s not recording anything and he can’t get off without it. I don’t see any place for a little digital card or anything. He says that he used to have baby monitors, which the whores weren’t afraid of since they never record, but one day he got pulled over driving, and the floor on the passenger side was filled to overflowing with porn and baby monitors, so the cops thought he was a pedophile. They took him down to the station for questioning and he explained to them that he was not at all interested in children. Just that the only way he can get off is to watch prostitutes’ feet through a camera screen, leaning over to sniff them sometimes. The prostitutes didn’t let him use digital cameras or anything cause they didn’t want to be recorded. The police advised him to ditch the baby monitor and get an old camcorder like this with no tape. They were mean to him, too, the female detective kept asking if she had nice feet, and they all laughed at him.

First he rearranges the lamps in the room for optimal lighting, and then we sit on the edge of the bed and he sits on the floor. He points the camera at our feet and tilts the screen up so he can watch it. He sets one of my shoes next to him, and one of Mac’s shoes in his lap, both of which he sniffs deeply. He asks us to lie down and not look, he doesn’t want us seeing him. We would laugh. The poor guy is so embarrassed, and the worst part, I think, is that the whores who laughed at him probably didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. They just misread him as having a humiliation fetish. So we lie back, expecting him to start licking and sucking our feet, like most foot fetish guys. But nothing happens. We look at each other questioningly and whisper, “is he touching you?” “no, is he touching you?”

The Taxman and the Domina

It’s tax season! That makes me think of a story I found out about a few weeks ago involving a Domina and a silly man with a government job.

A tax collector from Secaucus, NJ named Alan Bartolozzi wired (maybe more than) $780,000 in taxpayer money to a Domina with addresses in 5 states. He wired money internationally too, but there isn’t any info out there on where… I imagine somewhere sunny. She featured the guy on her website, but it’s down. I am assuming he’s dressed up in sissy clothes or bent over with objects inside him based on my own experience with government workers, but I could be wrong.

Talking Dirty with Tonya Jone Miller


I was flipping through BUST magazine last month when I came across a story about a Portland-based phone sex operator who makes all sorts of cash talking about food fetishes. Impressed and intrigued, the first thing that came to my mind was my all-time favorite South Park episode where Stan’s dad gets caught jerking off while watching the Food Network late at night. After his wife blocks the channel, he starts calling the Food Network hotline and talks to a sultry-voiced woman about deglazing and how moist the pan roasted chicken is. So when I heard about Tonya Jone Miller, I was beyond thrilled to think that conversations like this really happen in the non-animated world, and that a real live woman might be getting rich bringing foodie fantasies to life.
To my disappointment, Tonya tells me that the food fetish thing isn’t super-common but was a fun angle for the story, which appeared in BUST’s food issue. She is, however, a successful, full-time indie phone sex operator with plenty to say about her business.

Tiny Tuesdays: Part Fetish Night, Part Keep Portland Weird

This week I stopped by Tiny Tuesday at Lucky Devil Lounge (633 SE Powell). The ad boasted that all dancers would stand under five feet, there’s a three and half foot tall host, mini bottle service, a free drink for any customer under five feet, and “customers under 4 feet drink free all night!”

I was surprised by the amount of male customers taking advantage of the free drinks thing. When a friend asked what it had been like, I said that there were kind of a lot of little people in attendance, “Well, there were three dudes at one table…”

“Was it Mini Kiss? Are they in town?”