I know, I’m nothing like you.
And at the same time, I’m exactly like you.
We both have this fetish. We both want to live it, not just dream it.
but for you, almighty bipeds, it’s probably easier. You’re not stuck in fantasy the way I am.
And no, it’s not just about tickling a pinky and cumming.
I’m not into cute socks and flirty giggles that end with “teehee, isn’t that funny?”
I’m a blunt guy. I don’t get turned on by women in boots and sweaters.
I need nudity. I need access. I need space to let my desire actually breathe.
If that sounds too much, fine. But that’s who I am. No point pretending.
But that’s not all I am.
I always joke about being an alien.
And honestly, maybe deep down, I actually wish I was.
Because I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere.
Not in the real world, and not in this world either, the fetish one.
Where it’s either “fuck me now” or “tickle me until I’m screaming.”
There’s no middle. No room to just talk. No one stopping to ask what this kink actually means to us, personally.
And that’s what I want.
Sometimes, more than anything, I just want a real conversation.
Not some endless RP menu. Not someone using me to hunt for their next orgasm.
Sure, I’m fine talking about fantasies. That’s part of it.
But talk to me, don’t just search for your next release in me.
I want to talk.
Sure, about the fetish. But deeper. Smarter. Real.
I want to be understood.
I want to know how other people carry this thing.
How it shaped them. How they deal with it.
What it triggers, what it comforts, what it screws up.
Because I know what it does to me.
And yeah, I’ll say the word: friendship.
Not clingy, not dramatic, not weird.
Just something real.
A connection that isn’t built on horny one-liners and fake flirting.
Two people talking. Openly. No filters. No games.
So if you get it, say hi.
If not, scroll on. I’m not chasing anyone.
But I’m here.
And at the same time, I’m exactly like you.
We both have this fetish. We both want to live it, not just dream it.
but for you, almighty bipeds, it’s probably easier. You’re not stuck in fantasy the way I am.
And no, it’s not just about tickling a pinky and cumming.
I’m not into cute socks and flirty giggles that end with “teehee, isn’t that funny?”
I’m a blunt guy. I don’t get turned on by women in boots and sweaters.
I need nudity. I need access. I need space to let my desire actually breathe.
If that sounds too much, fine. But that’s who I am. No point pretending.
But that’s not all I am.
I always joke about being an alien.
And honestly, maybe deep down, I actually wish I was.
Because I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere.
Not in the real world, and not in this world either, the fetish one.
Where it’s either “fuck me now” or “tickle me until I’m screaming.”
There’s no middle. No room to just talk. No one stopping to ask what this kink actually means to us, personally.
And that’s what I want.
Sometimes, more than anything, I just want a real conversation.
Not some endless RP menu. Not someone using me to hunt for their next orgasm.
Sure, I’m fine talking about fantasies. That’s part of it.
But talk to me, don’t just search for your next release in me.
I want to talk.
Sure, about the fetish. But deeper. Smarter. Real.
I want to be understood.
I want to know how other people carry this thing.
How it shaped them. How they deal with it.
What it triggers, what it comforts, what it screws up.
Because I know what it does to me.
And yeah, I’ll say the word: friendship.
Not clingy, not dramatic, not weird.
Just something real.
A connection that isn’t built on horny one-liners and fake flirting.
Two people talking. Openly. No filters. No games.
So if you get it, say hi.
If not, scroll on. I’m not chasing anyone.
But I’m here.
