If someone looked you dead in the eyes, grinned, and said, “tickle me,” would you?
People with disabilities, or anyone society calls “different”, are still people. They want, crave, fantasize, and blush just like everyone else. Desire doesn’t vanish because of a wheelchair, a scar, or a diagnosis. And yes, fetishes live there too.
This isn’t about politics or pity. It’s about sex, laughter, and humanity. The stuff we all share but pretend some people shouldn’t. Fantasy doesn’t need fixing. It just needs honesty, and consent.
I’ve known many disabled people, and it always strikes me how invisible their sexuality becomes to the world. As if desire has a body type or an instruction manual. Every one of them has their own kinks, their own needs, their own ways to feel alive. Why don’t we talk about it? Why don’t we let them be part of the fantasy too?
I’m one of them. That’s why I write this. Not to provoke, but to remind you that different doesn’t mean untouchable. Next time you meet someone who doesn’t fit your idea of “normal,” don’t assume what they want, or what they don’t. Under every label is a person who still wants to laugh, to feel, to connect.
And yeah, I’ve got my own fantasies. Some wild, some gentle. Sometimes she’s disabled, sometimes she isn’t. Because desire doesn’t care about symmetry, it just wants to breathe. Maybe it’s time to stop being scared of beauty that breaks the template.
This isn’t a green light to go around tickling strangers with disabilities, consent still rules. But don’t give up on the thought that their feet, sides, or armpits might be just as ticklish. Because laughter doesn’t discriminate, and neither should we.
- Would you tickle a deaf person?
- Would you tickle a blind person?
- Would you tickle someone in a wheelchair?
- Would you tickle a paraplegic, right at their neck?
- Would you tickle someone missing a limb?
- Would you tickle someone anorexic?
- Would you tickle someone with albinism?
- Would you tickle someone fighting cancer?
- Would you, carefully, tickle someone with asthma?
- Would you tickle someone with a prosthetic?
- Would you tickle a burn survivor?
- Would you tickle someone with Down syndrome?
- Would you tickle someone covered in scars?
People with disabilities, or anyone society calls “different”, are still people. They want, crave, fantasize, and blush just like everyone else. Desire doesn’t vanish because of a wheelchair, a scar, or a diagnosis. And yes, fetishes live there too.
This isn’t about politics or pity. It’s about sex, laughter, and humanity. The stuff we all share but pretend some people shouldn’t. Fantasy doesn’t need fixing. It just needs honesty, and consent.
I’ve known many disabled people, and it always strikes me how invisible their sexuality becomes to the world. As if desire has a body type or an instruction manual. Every one of them has their own kinks, their own needs, their own ways to feel alive. Why don’t we talk about it? Why don’t we let them be part of the fantasy too?
I’m one of them. That’s why I write this. Not to provoke, but to remind you that different doesn’t mean untouchable. Next time you meet someone who doesn’t fit your idea of “normal,” don’t assume what they want, or what they don’t. Under every label is a person who still wants to laugh, to feel, to connect.
And yeah, I’ve got my own fantasies. Some wild, some gentle. Sometimes she’s disabled, sometimes she isn’t. Because desire doesn’t care about symmetry, it just wants to breathe. Maybe it’s time to stop being scared of beauty that breaks the template.
This isn’t a green light to go around tickling strangers with disabilities, consent still rules. But don’t give up on the thought that their feet, sides, or armpits might be just as ticklish. Because laughter doesn’t discriminate, and neither should we.
