I rarely write subject matter that I don’t think would realistically happen. Most of my short stories or chapters represent fantasies of mine that aren’t actually all that fantastic. Because, honestly? I don’t really find the template that many seem to follow in erotica all that exciting. Guy sees another guy with hot sneakers across the frozen food aisle, they lock eyes and just “know,” after some scant dialogue we end up at one of their apartments where 8-inch weapons are whipped out and shoes and/or asses are pounded. 500 words in we already have semen flying.

Perhaps it actually happens that way for some. But that will never be my world, and I personally don’t experience pleasure from the brain contortions of imagining it. I like a backstory, to follow the narrator’s thoughts, and—of course—live each sensation along with them. In short, it’s just as much about the lead in as it is the climax, and I have actually found that it takes some diligence in self-control to work my way there carefully. I also fully accept that some might find this style cumbersome or just plain boring.

Recently I started the short series Too Much of a Good Thing, which is somewhat of a deviation from my usual vice. I’m trying my hand at a little science fiction here, I told myself as I started to weave a context of nanobot technology and how it could enhance a fetishist’s experience. But somewhere in the middle of the third installment, it occurred to me that the entire basis of inventing this story was about our protagonist getting to be immersed not just the unseen but the unheard aspects of the shoe fetish.

I started to think back to all of the times I incorporated the sound a shoe or boot makes in my other pieces, and began to realize that it is an integral part of my “fantasizing” process. I did a little digging into this and unearthed the term accousticophilia—sexual arousal as caused by non-sexual auditory stimulus. On some level, most people must have this—it’s why vocalizing can enhance an experience for both partners. I’m turned on by a good “fuck, yes” as much as the next person. But my predilection for the squeal, creak, and crunch of footwear is decidedly non-sexually specific, which is what firmly places it in the accousticophilia realm.

The fascinating thing is that people can only guess what causes a stimulus like accousticophilia to cement itself in the mind as a source of sexual excitement. Most seem to go right to childhood trauma, but that is not always the case. I am not aware of any pivotal event that would have planted the seed for a paraphilia (or two), yet on reflection I am keenly aware of the first time I experienced a sound triggering a funny feeling inside me as a child.

It was an animated segment on an old Sesame Street episode. Some goofy looking character blows up an enormous balloon of a pink elephant, then struggles to push it through the door of a building. The balloon crackles and squeaks as it contorts under his strain. He pauses to ask a passerby—a little girl—if she can help. At first, she refuses, and he continues to grapple with the rubber beast. Eventually, the girl pulls the plug and releases the air from balloon and it flies right inside, carrying the man with it. The memory of this clip was incredibly hazy—I was half-convinced I had invented it. But sure enough, a little dip into the internet yielded just what I was looking for. I found that viewing the clip and hearing the sounds issued from the balloon still stirred the same feelings it had over 30 years ago.

Of course, this creates a whole new chicken-egg conundrum that I will probably never fully unpack: did the sounds turn me onto shoes, or vice versa? Is it possible the two predilections developed separately and just eventually melded together, as perfectly demonstrated in this seemingly innocuous short how-to video put out by Lowe’s? Who knows? But I said from the beginning that Shoe Horny was about exploration, and one thing is now certain: I finally understand why layering sounds into my writing is such an essential ingredient for my specific brand of fantasy.