I have a dilemma about casual play and it’s the reason I stopped doing it, haven’t done it for so very long, and don’t do it as a rule.
In play, I need and *want* to create the bubble, you know, ‘the bubble’. That intimate, hot and lovely space that exists between me and him, that place that I describe, well, all the time. For me, play is about creating impossible intimacy, about opening him up and shoving my fingers into the wet stickiness inside. It is about those moments when there is nothing else, when all that noise is gone, when all the voices in your head that question and doubt and incessantly talk are made quiet, when it’s just the two of you. That.
When I play, I want to create that bubble, shove him into it, and then I want to climb in after him and be all over him in it, to rub it all over my body and wallow in it with him.
I *need* to create it to get what I want out of play. I reach for it, I work for it, and when I get there, I adore it, it is what makes play amazing for me. Without it, it’s really just ‘stuff’ and it doesn’t work for me: *Thwak thwak… hiss whisper… shove push… yawn*.
In casual play, being in the bubble makes me feel an intimacy that doesn’t quite fit, and when I have created it, it is half done because I can’t fully get in it, I hold back because I know that what I feel in it isn’t real and I can’t give in to it. But I reach for it anyway, I want it and I push for it and then… and then…
Getting into that intimate space with someone casually hurts and confuses me. It doesn’t seem to matter that I know this, that I know exactly what it is, how it happens, why it happens… it makes not a whit of difference. Despite the knowing and the reasoning and that strangeness, I think I fall a little in love in those moments with a boy who can give me that, and I find that sad making.
I know this sounds melancholy, and it is, a little. I wish it wasn’t like this, I wish I could do casual with nary a thought about it, enjoy it for what it is, turn off those parts of me that make it swim around in my head (for fuck’s sake, just stop fucking thinking!!). In the end, it reminds me of what is possible and how incredibly sweet it can be, it reminds me of the point, which in turn, makes the play kind of pointless.
He asked me if I would like to do it again.
I really don’t know.