The comments on yesterday’s post gave me lots to think about. For what it’s worth, any urge to “come out” to B, my hairdresser, was mild and fleeting. As thesubmissivebf pointed out that might simply make me the next topic of gossip. Plus, i’m just not likely to do that anytime soon.
I really found myself wondering what it would be like to be able to casually do it, like the slave that B met. To disclose it, apparently without a thought.
Sin’s comment sounded appalled – or maybe it was a challenge –
“Yes I do think it’s becoming more mainstream. And I also think that a secret shared isn’t a secret anymore. How much of your secret would you not mind being common knowledge. How much really needs to be secret? That’s something to think about isn’t it?”
i don’t know. For now, it’s all secret – well, except it’s not because there are people in real life that i know who know “about me.” Mick and Molly, of course, but beyond that, there’s at least one person who crosses over with my vanilla life.
Donna, Mick’s “Southern Correspondant” and my friend, had a lot to say. I’m going to put it here so you don’t have to run over to “comments” to look for it:
“In many ways, it’s a dangerous game. With the conservative wing and religious right growing longer and stronger talons politically, this may be a time to enjoy one another, but lay low. If there happened to be such a creature, I would probably be a card-carrying member of conspiracy.com. In that vein, I would say it is easier to shoot down a flight of birds once flushed from the reeds by what seems to be a friendly sound. My Hubs and I are open to a degree, but we are in a situation where neither employment nor children would be impacted.
We recently became aware of a legal situation in which a woman’s partner was arrested. She needed emergency room care for a kidney stone and some bruising across her back and butt were noted and the police called. Had she mentioned to her physician earlier that she was into a bit of BDSM, the doctor could have produced those notes and probably halted the situation. So is it the right thing to tell your physician, or is keeping quiet there, too, important. It is way past confusing for me.”
She’s right, i think, and for the most part i am laying low. But i think it’s important for our health care professionals to know, to avoid situations like the one she describes. Not that i’ve told mine…
The same goes for therapists, i think. If you can’t tell your therapist about your kink, you’ve put up some barriers to really doing the work of therapy – in my opinion.
Which is why i intend to be on the Kink Aware Professionals list. Being on the list doesn’t mean that you are kinky, just that you’re aware that being kinky isn’t necessarily a problem. So i’ve been mentioning that to people i know who might know people who could use that kind of therapist.
And have gotten interesting responses. One woman wanted to take some of my cards – which of course delighted me – but it seemed like she was looking at me with a new eye. Speculative, if you will.
Another friend commented, “That community is really laying low. I mean, I’m sure they’re around, but you never hear anything. They must be really secret.” That made me laugh, inside, not out loud.
i totally think Donna’s right – there is danger in being exposed. Lots of stigma. Risk of all kinds of bad things. And yet –
– For me, that’s always balanced with a pull to openly be who i really am and to gently say “fuck you” to anyone who doesn’t approve.
Sigh.
i know. Not a good idea.
But i also won’t be held hostage by the idea of being discovered. Fortunately, i don’t have enough money for anyone to think they could blackmail me. i’m not a politician or a public figure, so there’s no big pay-off there. If it made the news, it would be a one-day wonder.
If it happens, i promise not to take anyone else with me.
If it were to happen, it would not be the end of the world.
It might be embarrassing. There might be unwanted consequences. Still. i’d brazen it out, one way or the other.
i might say, “Well, of course i’m into a little kink – aren’t we all? What’s your point?”
Or i might say, “That blog? O good grief – that’s all fantasy. You don’t really think that stuff happens, do you?”
In any case, i believe that the vanilla world conspires with us not to know what’s going on. i think it would be easy for people to dismiss the information, and pretend they didn’t know.
But i’m not seeking out exposure, no. And i won’t. i will lay low and enjoy what we have…
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Sitting next to Him in the booth, with my skirt hiked up and my legs spread, naked ass and fresh shaven pussy pressed against the plastic seat, i feel His hand move up my inner thigh. The server is there beside the table, smiling, and He orders coffee and a glass of water for me. Milk for the coffee, not creamer.
We have not looked at the menus. i don’t know that i can eat anyhow.
The server moves away and His hand moves further up my thigh. He’s talking at the same time, chatting about what we’re going to do next, asking me if i want lunch or breakfast.
i can’t think, can barely answer.
His hand is on my pussy now, His thumb pushing at the outer lips, spreading them open. i am wet and slick so it’s not hard to do. A finger presses at the entrance to my pussy.
i’m trying not to moan.
i will NOT moan. Not in this restaurant, with people around us. i bite my lip.
His hand explores. Fingers sliding in the folds of flesh, slipping in and out –
– slipping in and out of my pussy,
of my hole –
hot and dripping
and i think i’m going to die from pleasure. Right there on the seat of a booth in a family restaurant.
“Are you thinking about what you want to eat?” He asks.
And it’s all i can do to answer, “No – ” and i laugh a little – “No, i’m really not.”
“What are you thinking about?” He says, and He’s smiling. He turns toward me in the booth, and one hand brushes my breast, just touches the nipples, which are hard, pressing against my bra.
i laugh, to keep from moaning. “i’m thinking,” i say, almost gritting my teeth, “thinking about what Your hand is doing to me.”
“My hand?” He says innocently. “What’s my hand doing?”
Ok. Fine. i can do this.
“Your hand between my legs,” i whisper, “Rubbing my pussy Making me sooooo hot. Driving me crazy. That’s what Your hand’s doing.”
He grasps my clit between one finger and thumb, and tugs gently.
Omigod.
i think i will come out of the booth – i think i might cum right here in the booth – i think if He keeps this up, i’m going to embarrass us both.
He releases me, and i giggle. “Omigosh.” His hand is resting lightly on me. “Do we have to eat?” i say.
The server arrives with drinks. i wonder if i’m blushing. i wonder if i’ll make it through this meal …
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Had to come back and edit this after an IM from BR. He says:
the angle is not quite right for getting a finger in you when sitting side by side…laughing…sorry to be such a disappointment…but unless you are built differently than most…the angles not right…not that we wont try…still laughing
Sigh.
Ok, fine..
{Laughing}
aisha 