I read this post earlier today and wanted to reply, but couldn't really think of whyat to say. The compulsionb to reply was all. So I didn't. Now I know why I want to reply. I think fetishes are a profound barometer of a person in many ways. All mine are boring as if detatchyed from my imagination, indicating I have none, and feel alarmingly dictated by what is presented to me to see. None are interesting, like I feel yours is. When I was young, I saw Gregory Dark pornography and became obsessed with close-ups of women's faces as they get banged from fucked from behind very hard, which is a motif in Dark's pornography. Now I am addicted to women gagging on penis thrusting into their mouths, particularly with their heads UPSIDEDOWN, as JM Productions produces with 'Gag Factor'. I'm not saying I'm out of the loop or a mindless consumer, but I certainly depend upon the pornographers to shine a light upon my soul, noit capable of that sort of reflection seemingly. Your one-piece bathinfg suit fixations seems to me an indicatiobn of an active, imaginative mind, which makes me sad and jealous., The last time I can remember having an independant sexual thought was so long ago I don't rememmber it if it evcer happened. Probably that realization of what happened when I pulled myself up on the monkeybars at 11 or so. Then it was 'Three's Compabny' and 'Benny Hill' and then a slow, sad slide into a cipherlikje sexual existence. So I am in admiration of such stuff as you described and I feel cheated and confused and frusrtrated and very, very angry.