Maybe

After I saw W last night I came home and crawled into bed with Ad, and we talked and snuggled, and fell asleep wrapped around each other.  But I woke back up at 4am and couldn’t sleep, so I went into the front room and putzed around on the computer for awhile.  My laptop is at W’s, so i couldn’t really do anything personal, since the kids use this computer too, but I did get on Fetlife for a while and poke around on there.  I looked through the pictures I have posted there, remembering the scenes W and I, and W and I and Ad have engaged in…damn, so much…so hot.
It’s been awhile. I am craving use and abuse. Bruises. Yelps and pleas; tears even.
Release.
This picture on my profile epitomizes that feeling, and makes me yearn for it more, with the sharp bite of desire that has little to do with sex and much to do with submission. To be released from myself, from the bonds of self and now and me…  I love, in particular (and aside from those thoughts) the bruises on my thighs and hips.  Which reminds me, in turn, of something W said last night.

We were at the Fox and Hounds, having a “welcome home” drink after I had picked him up.  We were talking about the stories BDSMers have to tell to vanilla people when they see the marks of our practice: bruises, scratches, etc. I mentioned having to be careful of my daughter coming in to the bathroom while I am bathing when I am bruised and battered, and he nodded and said, “Yes, you’ll have to be careful after this week.”  It was said so casually, and yet I had an immediate, involuntary reaction, my pulse quickening, my heart beating faster, a tightening in my groin.  Anxiety and excitement and fear all rolled into one.
Because it’s been awhile since I have been marked and bruised and hurt.  And even as I want these things, I fear them.
Maybe I am a baby.  Maybe I can’t “do it” anymore.  Maybe I won’t like it anymore. Maybe, maybe, maybe…
Did I mention my moniker is MaybeJade on Fetlife?
Maybe that’s why.