It’s the cold floor against your cheek that really cements it in your mind. It’s the feeling of that hard wood floor, or that bare concrete, or even the slightly irritating scratch of carpet that resolutely reinforces your position, that brings you crashing down to earth.
And you want to be there, you want to be as low as you can go, because you find catharsis in that. And it is cathartic, for both of us. In many ways, I live vicariously through you, I enjoy your catharsis and in turn have my own. It’s about that shared experience, only I’m causing it and you’re receiving it. Cause and effect, on a brutally emotional level.
And though my hand is firm, and my touch rough, on occasion, there’s always a tenderness there, the lingering fingertips that slide down the side of your face, that mix of lust and power, affection and arousal. That’s what separates this, what frames it in just the right frame that you can enjoy it, and I can enjoy doing it to you. We tread such a delicate line, right here, tight rope walkers every one, and somehow we manage to make it to the other side without slipping, most of the time.
It’s that mutual trust that does it, I think. That’s what balances, and grounds, and keeps us from falling. Knowing that the other isn’t going to do something stupid, or cruel, or careless. Knowing that they do what they do out of love, and that’s enough.
That’s enough.
(Source: need2be-there)
