No, I won’t change it for anything! It is what it is and I am what I am. This fetish is part of me, it's an integral part of who I am, and I enjoy it. I love it! But… I’m also that stubborn weirdo who constantly analyzes himself mercilessly. So the thought comes up quite often: this is fucking ridiculous! Tickling? Laughter? What kind of psycho am I?!
I mean, I get aroused watching naked women laugh. Doesn’t that sound absurd? Why am I not like other men, with their standard obsessions for asses and blowjobs? Life could be so much simpler and more “normal”... and yet it would feel empty. Because my obsession isn’t just with the body, it's with the raw reaction, the involuntary surrender of laughter. That’s the core, the trigger, the flame that ignites everything inside me.
And yet, I don’t want to, and probably couldn’t, change who I am. Still, I sometimes catch myself wondering… wtf?! Why me? Why this? But then I realize, every fetish is strange if you look at it long enough. Mine just happens to be painted with laughter and helpless giggles instead of leather and whips.
The more I understand, the deeper I dig into the mechanics of it, the clearer the picture becomes. Being aware of the internal details, the elements, the essence of my attraction to this fetish only makes it feel even stranger. But I cannot avoid it. If I see it… it’s Fire! The kind of fire that roars through my nerves, demanding attention, impossible to ignore.
And that Fire is so good! So intoxicating! It’s not just about a body, it's about a storm of vulnerability, joy, and torment, tangled together in something so bizarrely beautiful. A trembling belly, a helpless gasp, eyes watering from laughter, these images burn into my mind like they’re carved there with a hot iron.
Even just the idea of that trembling belly of laughter… BOOM! It’s like a detonation in my brain, a rush I cannot compare to anything else.
WTF? Yet, I wanna watch it so bad!!! And maybe that’s the truest part of me: ridiculous, strange, stubborn, and completely alive when laughter turns into fire.
Why do I crave seeing her suffer through laughter? Why is it the helplessness of that laughter that captivates me? It makes no logical sense, yet every fantasy circles back to this, and when I imagine it, it feels overwhelmingly, intoxicatingly good!
I want more!
So ridiculous, I keep telling myself it’s ridiculous, and yet it loops back around: it is ridiculous… isn’t it?!
Still, I am what I am.
I mean, I get aroused watching naked women laugh. Doesn’t that sound absurd? Why am I not like other men, with their standard obsessions for asses and blowjobs? Life could be so much simpler and more “normal”... and yet it would feel empty. Because my obsession isn’t just with the body, it's with the raw reaction, the involuntary surrender of laughter. That’s the core, the trigger, the flame that ignites everything inside me.
And yet, I don’t want to, and probably couldn’t, change who I am. Still, I sometimes catch myself wondering… wtf?! Why me? Why this? But then I realize, every fetish is strange if you look at it long enough. Mine just happens to be painted with laughter and helpless giggles instead of leather and whips.
The more I understand, the deeper I dig into the mechanics of it, the clearer the picture becomes. Being aware of the internal details, the elements, the essence of my attraction to this fetish only makes it feel even stranger. But I cannot avoid it. If I see it… it’s Fire! The kind of fire that roars through my nerves, demanding attention, impossible to ignore.
And that Fire is so good! So intoxicating! It’s not just about a body, it's about a storm of vulnerability, joy, and torment, tangled together in something so bizarrely beautiful. A trembling belly, a helpless gasp, eyes watering from laughter, these images burn into my mind like they’re carved there with a hot iron.
Even just the idea of that trembling belly of laughter… BOOM! It’s like a detonation in my brain, a rush I cannot compare to anything else.
WTF? Yet, I wanna watch it so bad!!! And maybe that’s the truest part of me: ridiculous, strange, stubborn, and completely alive when laughter turns into fire.
Why do I crave seeing her suffer through laughter? Why is it the helplessness of that laughter that captivates me? It makes no logical sense, yet every fantasy circles back to this, and when I imagine it, it feels overwhelmingly, intoxicatingly good!
I want more!
So ridiculous, I keep telling myself it’s ridiculous, and yet it loops back around: it is ridiculous… isn’t it?!
Still, I am what I am.
