Recently I noticed that the Slim Jim balloons, the lovely, 6-foot long balloons from Tilly, are back. I have always wanted to order a large package of these balloons, and I was really upset when they went off the market that I didn’t get the chance to have more than one or two to play with. I can get bags of 50 from Amazon.com or a wholesaler in Connecticut, and the price, for such unusual balloons, is not bad.
So why don’t I just jump on it and buy a bag? Because, frankly, although I’m very tempted to buy them, I don’t know what I would do with them. Balloons have three purposes in life. They can serve as decorations, as objects that I like to touch, or as sexual toys (preferably in contact with my lovely wife). Now I’m sure readers of this blog would have many suggestions of just what I might do with some big, long balloons, and I certainly have a few ideas myself. But the reality is that balloons this big would rarely get blown up in my house. They would sit around in a drawer for years.
Why? Well, for one because I am a wimp. Long balloons scare the crap out of me, and I have to get a lot of courage up to inflate them. Another problem is that I have no place to keep big balloons around, and I would really hate to pop a Slim Jim without having kept it around to play with for awhile. I even have trouble find a place to keep 16-inch rounds.
I do decorate with balloons, but I almost never get a chance to do that with anything larger than 11s, partly because I don’t have a lot of space, and partly because the smaller balloons don’t make my wife feel like I’m exposing my fetish to the kids if they happen to come into the bedroom while the balloons are hung up. Anything 6-feet long wouldn’t go over well.
And my sexual fantasies with them? Probably, if I’m being honest with myself, nothing that my wife would feel comfortable with.
It’s not the first time I’ve had this problem. I have a few 36-inch balloons in a drawer that may be too old to trust, but they’re there because I have some very specific fantasies involving those as well, and I have never had the chance to fulfill them. And even if I did, I’d have to pop the balloon soon afterward, because I definitely don’t have a place to keep something like that.
Perhaps someday, when the kids are grown and on their own, I’ll have a little more flexibility with big balloons. My wife and I do talk about it from time to time, and she seem amenable. For now, though, I probably have no use for bag of Slim Jims.
But, in truth, that doesn’t guarantee that I won’t buy them anyway.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Monday, August 4, 2014
A Real Writer
Okay, let me start out by saying that no one has ever said that, since I write fetish fiction, I can’t be a “real writer.” In fact, readers have complimented me on my style, and not just the balloon fetish content of my stories.
On the other hand, I’ve never had anyone interview me the way they do other writers. I’ve been contacted by people who want me to give an interview (which I’m happy to do by email), but they always want to interview me about balloon fetishes. I never get asked the standard writing questions, like “Where do you come up with your ideas?” or “How do you develop your characters?” or even “Do you write in your pajamas?”
Which is a shame because I do all of those things. Well, except writing in my pajamas. I don’t sit in front of the computer thinking, “Okay, how am I going to do the next sex scene?” I think about my characters and the situation they’re in, as it relates to their balloon fetish (or the fetish of one of the other characters), and I try to figure out how they would react, and how their feeling about balloons (but not just balloons) influences what they say and do. And, yes, even how they have sex with balloons.
And, sure, a very large part of the purpose of the story is to titillate readers who get sexually excited by balloons. But I think my readers also like to see themselves portrayed as real people with real lives to live outside of their balloon activities, and fairly run-of-the mill people at that, which you can’t usually get away with in fiction. But the balloon fetish offers the quirk—or flaw if you insist—that makes the character more interesting, at least for the intended audience.
Now, I know about this because I am a real writer; I don’t just write fetish fiction, I write other kinds of fiction under my real name, and non-fiction as well. I choose to separate my balloon fetish writing from all my other writing, not entirely out of embarrassment (although my family would be unhappy if I were too public about it), but so that the fetish fiction doesn’t influence readers’ opinions about my other writing.
So, I have chosen to put my alter-ego in a corner, trapped by his niche, not really so surprised that no one treats him like a "real writer."
But still hoping.
On the other hand, I’ve never had anyone interview me the way they do other writers. I’ve been contacted by people who want me to give an interview (which I’m happy to do by email), but they always want to interview me about balloon fetishes. I never get asked the standard writing questions, like “Where do you come up with your ideas?” or “How do you develop your characters?” or even “Do you write in your pajamas?”
Which is a shame because I do all of those things. Well, except writing in my pajamas. I don’t sit in front of the computer thinking, “Okay, how am I going to do the next sex scene?” I think about my characters and the situation they’re in, as it relates to their balloon fetish (or the fetish of one of the other characters), and I try to figure out how they would react, and how their feeling about balloons (but not just balloons) influences what they say and do. And, yes, even how they have sex with balloons.
And, sure, a very large part of the purpose of the story is to titillate readers who get sexually excited by balloons. But I think my readers also like to see themselves portrayed as real people with real lives to live outside of their balloon activities, and fairly run-of-the mill people at that, which you can’t usually get away with in fiction. But the balloon fetish offers the quirk—or flaw if you insist—that makes the character more interesting, at least for the intended audience.
Now, I know about this because I am a real writer; I don’t just write fetish fiction, I write other kinds of fiction under my real name, and non-fiction as well. I choose to separate my balloon fetish writing from all my other writing, not entirely out of embarrassment (although my family would be unhappy if I were too public about it), but so that the fetish fiction doesn’t influence readers’ opinions about my other writing.
So, I have chosen to put my alter-ego in a corner, trapped by his niche, not really so surprised that no one treats him like a "real writer."
But still hoping.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
Balloons Everywhere
Summer is a time of year when I get to spend very little time with balloons. Not because I don’t think about it, but because the kids are home from school, and it’s hot and sticky and contact with latex just makes my skin feel even more hot and sticky, and so the balloons just never get pulled out and blown up. But it doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about them.
And seeing them. Everywhere. You know that phenomenon wherein the very thing that you’re thinking of seems to be all around you? It’s just because you’re paying more attention, of course, not because the Universe actually cares what happens to be on your mind. On the other hand, when it comes to balloons, that kind of thing happens to me all the time, because I don’t see balloons the way other people see them, so I notice them wherever they happen to be, even when no one else notices them. In the back of someone’s car, in a corner of the restaurant (I notice if the restaurant has a helium tank, even if they don’t actually have balloon around), even un-inflated balloons in a box behind a store counter.
So why do I seem to notice more balloons at this time of year, when I am deprived of actual contact with balloons? Well, I think it’s mostly because it bothers me so much more, and so the sightings stand out in my mind. But there’s also the fact that a few of the situations in which I see balloons in the summer are more annoying to me.
For one thing, there are water balloons. My wife tries to tell me (and I try to tell myself) that it’s not the same thing, that I don’t even play with balloons that small, that they don’t pop like air-filled balloons and so it shouldn’t bother me. But it does. I think it’s because small balloons (not necessarily water balloons) were an important part of my childhood play because that was often all I could get hold of. In fact, the first orgasms I had with balloons were with five-inch rounds and airships that were about a foot long, balloons I’d never consider buying today. But that’s what they sold at the market, and it was better than nothing.
As an aside, 9-inch balloons were my favorites in those days, when I could get them. They were the perfect size for stuffing into my clothing. Now I use Qualatex 11s and 16s almost exclusively.
But I digress. The other thing that comes out in the summer is something called a Balzac. It’s a cloth sack, originally made my Wham-O, now owned my Hasbro, and currently no made by anyone, that holds a balloon inside to make a fairly rugged play ball. I have to admit, that it’s a very clever idea. We’ve had ours since the mid-90s, and it is one of the prized playthings in my household.
And I hate it. I hate that I have to use one of my lovely 16-inch balloons for a play ball, that the balloons will get inflated, tied, and eventually popped, without me ever having seen it, much less played with it. My wife offers to buy official Balzac balloons for it, but it doesn’t make sense, since they cost about three times as much as the better-quality Qualatex balloons, and are hard to find. So I capitulate. But it makes my unhappy. (Though, granted, I do try to wrangle some extra balloon-play out of my wife by way of compensation.)
Summer will soon be over, and here in the Northeast I will come to regret wishing for its end when the snow has to be shoveled. But the air will cool, the windows will get closed, the kids will go back to school, and the balloons will come out of the drawer for my pleasure.
But meanwhile, they just seem to be everywhere.
And seeing them. Everywhere. You know that phenomenon wherein the very thing that you’re thinking of seems to be all around you? It’s just because you’re paying more attention, of course, not because the Universe actually cares what happens to be on your mind. On the other hand, when it comes to balloons, that kind of thing happens to me all the time, because I don’t see balloons the way other people see them, so I notice them wherever they happen to be, even when no one else notices them. In the back of someone’s car, in a corner of the restaurant (I notice if the restaurant has a helium tank, even if they don’t actually have balloon around), even un-inflated balloons in a box behind a store counter.
So why do I seem to notice more balloons at this time of year, when I am deprived of actual contact with balloons? Well, I think it’s mostly because it bothers me so much more, and so the sightings stand out in my mind. But there’s also the fact that a few of the situations in which I see balloons in the summer are more annoying to me.
For one thing, there are water balloons. My wife tries to tell me (and I try to tell myself) that it’s not the same thing, that I don’t even play with balloons that small, that they don’t pop like air-filled balloons and so it shouldn’t bother me. But it does. I think it’s because small balloons (not necessarily water balloons) were an important part of my childhood play because that was often all I could get hold of. In fact, the first orgasms I had with balloons were with five-inch rounds and airships that were about a foot long, balloons I’d never consider buying today. But that’s what they sold at the market, and it was better than nothing.
As an aside, 9-inch balloons were my favorites in those days, when I could get them. They were the perfect size for stuffing into my clothing. Now I use Qualatex 11s and 16s almost exclusively.
But I digress. The other thing that comes out in the summer is something called a Balzac. It’s a cloth sack, originally made my Wham-O, now owned my Hasbro, and currently no made by anyone, that holds a balloon inside to make a fairly rugged play ball. I have to admit, that it’s a very clever idea. We’ve had ours since the mid-90s, and it is one of the prized playthings in my household.
And I hate it. I hate that I have to use one of my lovely 16-inch balloons for a play ball, that the balloons will get inflated, tied, and eventually popped, without me ever having seen it, much less played with it. My wife offers to buy official Balzac balloons for it, but it doesn’t make sense, since they cost about three times as much as the better-quality Qualatex balloons, and are hard to find. So I capitulate. But it makes my unhappy. (Though, granted, I do try to wrangle some extra balloon-play out of my wife by way of compensation.)
Summer will soon be over, and here in the Northeast I will come to regret wishing for its end when the snow has to be shoveled. But the air will cool, the windows will get closed, the kids will go back to school, and the balloons will come out of the drawer for my pleasure.
But meanwhile, they just seem to be everywhere.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Scholarly Source?
Recently—well, in fact, after May 29th of this year, I've been seeing traffic from Wikipedia on this blog. At first it didn't make sense to me, since the last time I had looked at the entry about balloon fetishes, there was no reference to me at all, which is how it should be, because I'm not (as I keep saying) an expert.
Although I guess I'm as much of an expert as any of the people who are claiming to be experts out there, so who knows?
But when I looked, there it was, a footnote with a link to my May 29th entry about the difference between kinks, fetishes, and fetishistic disorders. It follows the text:
Unlike the editor of the Wikipedia article, I have corrected my mistake.
If someone is going to edit a Wikipedia article, they should be looking for more authoritative source material than, well, me. It would be fine to mention my blog or any of my books as an example of writings on the subject, but not as a factual authority.
I am not a Wikipedia editor (and I don't have time to become one), but I hope someone will correct this error sometime soon. I want the entry, such as it is, to be as factual as possible, and including me as a scholarly source hardly serves that purpose.
There are a lot of Wikipedia articles that are lacking in factual information, written by biased people, which is why, in my opinion, the site should only be used as a jumping-off point. And since the subject of balloon fetishism is near and dear to me, I hope that everyone who reads the Wikipedia article about it will, if they have any interest in arriving at the truth of the matter, heed that advice.
And on that, you may quote me.
Although I guess I'm as much of an expert as any of the people who are claiming to be experts out there, so who knows?
But when I looked, there it was, a footnote with a link to my May 29th entry about the difference between kinks, fetishes, and fetishistic disorders. It follows the text:
"However, it is now in the DSM-VI to where a fetish is no longer considered as a disorder (except for fetishistic disorder where if the fetish interferes with the person's life)."Ignoring the poor writing for a moment, linking to my blog to support this statement hardly seems rational. Especially because I was mistaken, partly. I think I read something that mentioned DSM-VI and the description of fetishistic disorders (I can't find my source because I was not writing a scholarly article), but in fact DSV-VI has not been released, and the definition I used was as from DSM-V, which was released last year.
Unlike the editor of the Wikipedia article, I have corrected my mistake.
If someone is going to edit a Wikipedia article, they should be looking for more authoritative source material than, well, me. It would be fine to mention my blog or any of my books as an example of writings on the subject, but not as a factual authority.
I am not a Wikipedia editor (and I don't have time to become one), but I hope someone will correct this error sometime soon. I want the entry, such as it is, to be as factual as possible, and including me as a scholarly source hardly serves that purpose.
There are a lot of Wikipedia articles that are lacking in factual information, written by biased people, which is why, in my opinion, the site should only be used as a jumping-off point. And since the subject of balloon fetishism is near and dear to me, I hope that everyone who reads the Wikipedia article about it will, if they have any interest in arriving at the truth of the matter, heed that advice.
And on that, you may quote me.
Friday, June 6, 2014
Surprise
There is a story that I have been struggling with. I think I know where it is going, but I don't have any idea how it gets there. I probably will have to abandon it altogether or start it over with a different situation or a different character to support the same theme. I don't know.
What I do know is that, out of the blue, another story idea came to me, and to find out whether it seems to be going anywhere, I decided to just sit down and write for about 30 minutes.
And I pumped out about 700 words! They just flowed out, as if I had been preparing to write the story for months. I don't know if I'll run into any roadblocks or not—that sort of thing does happen—but from the first scene, knowing who these characters are and what their relationship is (although I haven't actually revealed that in those first 700 words), I find myself liking them already and seeing ahead to what's in store for them, and being very excited about getting them there.
With luck, you'll be able to see the results of this burst of creativity soon. No pun intended. Well, maybe a little.
What I do know is that, out of the blue, another story idea came to me, and to find out whether it seems to be going anywhere, I decided to just sit down and write for about 30 minutes.
And I pumped out about 700 words! They just flowed out, as if I had been preparing to write the story for months. I don't know if I'll run into any roadblocks or not—that sort of thing does happen—but from the first scene, knowing who these characters are and what their relationship is (although I haven't actually revealed that in those first 700 words), I find myself liking them already and seeing ahead to what's in store for them, and being very excited about getting them there.
With luck, you'll be able to see the results of this burst of creativity soon. No pun intended. Well, maybe a little.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
From Kink to Fetish to the DSM
What is the difference between a kink and a fetish? And are either of them anything to worry about?
I often see postings on Internet sites about people who are "experimenting" with a balloon fetish, or just "getting into it." And I think they're using the term in too broad a sense. Now, I'm not going to get into a fight over semantics, but I think the difference is worth noting. If you are experimenting with a sexual variation, like sexual activity with balloons, for example, I don't think you are participating in a fetish; I think you are trying out a kink.
It's something you are deciding to do, something you want to try out. It's not something that you feel compelled by some inner feeling to do, and most likely if you decided to give it up tomorrow, you could do so without any difficulty.
This applies to any kinky sex you might decided to experiment with, not just balloons, but since this is a blog about balloons and sex, we'll stick to that topic.
And as kinks go, I think balloon play is probably a pretty good one. It's harmless, with a low risk of injury. Balloons are fun, sensual, and yet in some ways kind of scary, though in a superficial sense. That is, the balloons won't really hurt you, but popping them might give some enough adrenaline rush to provide some extra stimulation.
I wouldn't know. I can't see balloons the way others do without it being influenced by my very real fetish, something I did not choose, feelings that just happened to me along the way, starting very early in my life. They are ingrained in me, and I can't just decide that I don't want to be turned on by them (or afraid of them or emotionally attached to them) and change my feelings overnight.
If I did want to make such a change (and I don't), it would be a long battle, and I truthfully believe that some vestige of those feelings would just never go away. And that, in my opinion, is the difference between a fetish and a kink.
That and the fact that I am convinced that not all fetishes are sexual, whereas all kinks are, by their nature. There's nothing wrong with that; I have nothing against kinky sex or experimentation as long as no one gets hurt, but I do care about the difference, personally.
Now, what about the second question: is kinky sex or fetishism anything to worry about?
I once had a commenter on Twitter tell me I need to see a psychiatrist. I was tempted to reply: "I don't think you'd agree with what the psychiatrist had to say." (I resisted the temptation.) Because according to the latest Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM-V), which is what the psychiatric profession uses as a guide, fetishism in itself is not any kind of disorder.
There is something called fetishistic disorder, but that only comes into play if the fetish interferes with the subject's daily life. I wouldn't qualify. It's true, I do sometimes get very anxious when I'm around balloons in public, but that has little to do with my fetish and everything to do with my phobia.
So, whether you're doing balloons as a lark, or you're in it for the long haul through no choice of your own, there's nothing to be concerned about.
As long as nobody gets hurt.
NOTE: If you arrived here from Wikipedia, you should know that citing my blog as a source for what DSM has to say is a bit misleading to say the least. To see my opinion about that, click here.
I often see postings on Internet sites about people who are "experimenting" with a balloon fetish, or just "getting into it." And I think they're using the term in too broad a sense. Now, I'm not going to get into a fight over semantics, but I think the difference is worth noting. If you are experimenting with a sexual variation, like sexual activity with balloons, for example, I don't think you are participating in a fetish; I think you are trying out a kink.
It's something you are deciding to do, something you want to try out. It's not something that you feel compelled by some inner feeling to do, and most likely if you decided to give it up tomorrow, you could do so without any difficulty.
This applies to any kinky sex you might decided to experiment with, not just balloons, but since this is a blog about balloons and sex, we'll stick to that topic.
And as kinks go, I think balloon play is probably a pretty good one. It's harmless, with a low risk of injury. Balloons are fun, sensual, and yet in some ways kind of scary, though in a superficial sense. That is, the balloons won't really hurt you, but popping them might give some enough adrenaline rush to provide some extra stimulation.
I wouldn't know. I can't see balloons the way others do without it being influenced by my very real fetish, something I did not choose, feelings that just happened to me along the way, starting very early in my life. They are ingrained in me, and I can't just decide that I don't want to be turned on by them (or afraid of them or emotionally attached to them) and change my feelings overnight.
If I did want to make such a change (and I don't), it would be a long battle, and I truthfully believe that some vestige of those feelings would just never go away. And that, in my opinion, is the difference between a fetish and a kink.
That and the fact that I am convinced that not all fetishes are sexual, whereas all kinks are, by their nature. There's nothing wrong with that; I have nothing against kinky sex or experimentation as long as no one gets hurt, but I do care about the difference, personally.
Now, what about the second question: is kinky sex or fetishism anything to worry about?
I once had a commenter on Twitter tell me I need to see a psychiatrist. I was tempted to reply: "I don't think you'd agree with what the psychiatrist had to say." (I resisted the temptation.) Because according to the latest Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM-V), which is what the psychiatric profession uses as a guide, fetishism in itself is not any kind of disorder.
There is something called fetishistic disorder, but that only comes into play if the fetish interferes with the subject's daily life. I wouldn't qualify. It's true, I do sometimes get very anxious when I'm around balloons in public, but that has little to do with my fetish and everything to do with my phobia.
So, whether you're doing balloons as a lark, or you're in it for the long haul through no choice of your own, there's nothing to be concerned about.
As long as nobody gets hurt.
NOTE: If you arrived here from Wikipedia, you should know that citing my blog as a source for what DSM has to say is a bit misleading to say the least. To see my opinion about that, click here.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Fetishist From Birth?
After my last entry, someone on Facebook was discussing the post, and talked about being "born with the fetish." And I asked, as an aside, "Do you think we're born with the fetish?" Because I don't actually think that's true. I think that, even for true fetishists (a subject my predecessor touched on a couple of years ago), there is an event, before our earliest memories, that triggered some reaction to balloons that became an attachment to balloons which became, for most of us, a sexual connection to balloons, of some stripe.
But I could be completely wrong.
Anyone who claims to know how fetishes occur is blowing smoke into your balloon. Because, for us who truly have the fetish, our reaction to balloons was never something we chose. It was a reaction to something that happened to us; exactly what we have no way of knowing because most likely it happened in that time before we were four while we were forming memories that, for whatever reason, don't stay with us.
But born with it? Well, of course, there's no gene or birth trauma that makes us have a particular fetish. We're not born to love balloons, specifically. But maybe, just maybe, we're born to have this kind of attachment. After all, there are a lot of fetishists in the world, if you count all the fetishes that there are. Maybe there is a rather large subset of the populace is predisposed to have an emotional and/or sexual attachment to some object or another, with the particulars of which object falling to the whims of circumstance.
I don't know. And I don't think anyone else does either. My inclination is that fetishism is more likely an awakening of propensities that almost all of us share, but some incident or series of incidents turns the attachment process on its head and sends us in an unusual direction (and, as I said, not all that unusual for fetishism as a whole).
Not necessarily a bad direction, either. Sometimes my life would be simpler if I didn't have a fetish for balloons. But for the most part the balloons not only bring me sexual excitement, but comfort and happiness as well. It would only be a problem if my fetish interfered with living a full and satisfying life. And frankly, if that was the case, it probably wouldn't be just the fetish that was the issue.
So, while I cannot say with any confidence why I feel as I do about balloons, I'm quite happy with the way it turned out.
But I could be completely wrong.
Anyone who claims to know how fetishes occur is blowing smoke into your balloon. Because, for us who truly have the fetish, our reaction to balloons was never something we chose. It was a reaction to something that happened to us; exactly what we have no way of knowing because most likely it happened in that time before we were four while we were forming memories that, for whatever reason, don't stay with us.
But born with it? Well, of course, there's no gene or birth trauma that makes us have a particular fetish. We're not born to love balloons, specifically. But maybe, just maybe, we're born to have this kind of attachment. After all, there are a lot of fetishists in the world, if you count all the fetishes that there are. Maybe there is a rather large subset of the populace is predisposed to have an emotional and/or sexual attachment to some object or another, with the particulars of which object falling to the whims of circumstance.
I don't know. And I don't think anyone else does either. My inclination is that fetishism is more likely an awakening of propensities that almost all of us share, but some incident or series of incidents turns the attachment process on its head and sends us in an unusual direction (and, as I said, not all that unusual for fetishism as a whole).
Not necessarily a bad direction, either. Sometimes my life would be simpler if I didn't have a fetish for balloons. But for the most part the balloons not only bring me sexual excitement, but comfort and happiness as well. It would only be a problem if my fetish interfered with living a full and satisfying life. And frankly, if that was the case, it probably wouldn't be just the fetish that was the issue.
So, while I cannot say with any confidence why I feel as I do about balloons, I'm quite happy with the way it turned out.
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