…there is no beginning, although an end is possibly in sight on the event horizon I have always been attracted, no not attracted, lets say obsessed with rainwear. As most fetishists I have childhood memories of a strong love/hate relationship with PVC. Whereas the material aroused some unmentionable feelings, as a child I refrained from it although PVC brought me a feeling of wellbeing and security, I was always highly conscious of the need to touch it, smell it and “rub” it between my fingers and on my naked skin. My self-consciousness thus built a wall between me and my object of affection, since I realized at an early age, the material could jeopardize my outward cool and make me vulnerable to scorn and ridicule. Ah such my life suffers from the fear of unforeseen (and often improbable) mockery by my peers, thus the PVC love has been hidden. I’ve then evolved from the hate part and accepted my fetishism, often trodden a path of self loathing but in the end I will (and have) realized that it will not be contained within me, not suppressed and never again will an attempt of exorcising it from my life be attempted. My fetishism, began with PVC clothing, typical rainwear to begin with, bib-pants, jackets, cagoules, rain pants and such. Today, inevitable as it may seem, latex plays a significant role, leather clothing, boots and clothing from all aforementioned materials really tickle my nerves, please my eyes, sense of smell, touch and appease me… Still the originals always maintain and strengthen the special relationship one has with ones own sexuality. Which brings me to my next point of order, my sexuality. The different classifications of sexuality are in their multitude mostly appealing to me. To me, the greatest fear embodies within the vanilla. I thus proclaim that I am indeed, straight, bisexual, gay, transsexual, pan- and asexual and all of the above and probably a few more to boot. Oh, but I have qualms of some of my undertakings in the past, not in the least I have a deep set fear of other peoples sexuality on times, still there are limits to my fantastically broad interests of the sexual natures. These limits are not based on lack of understanding, nor a tunnel-visionist approach based on prejudice and preconceived notions of a biblical nature, far from it. I do adhere to my ever evolving personal moral standards and will not abide to accept sexual behavior that in the least could be construed as violence. By which I mean that whenever a gap in consent and understanding is between participants in a sexual act, there is indeed impermissible violence. In my teens, I would often be filled with apprehension that my fetishism was of such a deviant nature, I was indeed destined to be alone with my burden. No-one could suffer me the pervertism of such a freakish nature. No internet nor access to any likeminded people further strengthened the feelings of isolation. Today, just under forty, I have found likeminded people in multitudes though the physical contact has been minimal.