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I know it's happened to you. You read fan fiction on the interwebs, and you find out something about yourself. You never used to know that, oooh. *That* turned you on. At least in fiction. Like, for example, alien sex rituals. Or taboos in general. Or jealousy stories, or that thing with the tongues and the Places Man Was Not Meant to Know.
And you happily read along, noting stories containing such things, until it happens.
One day, you read one of these stories, and IT NO LONGER WORKS FOR YOU.
You think, okay, bad day, maybe next week things'll be back to normal. But no. Even months later, not even a little bitty frisson down the spine. That kink, my friend, has joined the ranks of the lost and lamented.
You fear that, of all things! The internet has just made you LESS KINKY.
So, yes. I no longer find the idea of characters having sex with someone who looks exactly like them hot. Isn't that seriously sad?
At least the seduction of straight men into gay relationships is as on fire as ever in Chez Billy. Or I might have to turn in my bootlegs.
And you happily read along, noting stories containing such things, until it happens.
One day, you read one of these stories, and IT NO LONGER WORKS FOR YOU.
You think, okay, bad day, maybe next week things'll be back to normal. But no. Even months later, not even a little bitty frisson down the spine. That kink, my friend, has joined the ranks of the lost and lamented.
You fear that, of all things! The internet has just made you LESS KINKY.
So, yes. I no longer find the idea of characters having sex with someone who looks exactly like them hot. Isn't that seriously sad?
At least the seduction of straight men into gay relationships is as on fire as ever in Chez Billy. Or I might have to turn in my bootlegs.