Just Like a Kinky Werewolf

When I grow up, I’m going to be RainDeGrey: a proud pain slut who gives zero fucks about showing the entire planet my body. I’m going to have fifty sexual adventures before lunch and then have energy left for a tea time pegging. Then, when I’m done screaming, I’m going to put on a pink blouse with no cleavage as though I’m picking up the boys from soccer.

Rain is my inner porn star. I may or may not have gone through all one million and fifty-seven of her photos in the hope that I’d catch her charisma through osmosis. She’s even smart, so seriously, fuck her, but only after you’ve stood in the (very, very long) queue.

I’m too inhibited to *have* a queue so I’ve stayed away from my wildest fantasies. By Fetlife standards, I’m all soccer mom and no Rain. I’m whorish enough to turn into a completely different creature, kind of like a were-slut, but I’m not wild enough to be RainDeGrey.

When I found this community, I thought it would give me the chance to turn kink up a thousand notches. I was right about that, but wrong about whether I’d actually *use* those opportunities. I still haven’t been able to destroy my reticence to take my BDSM into the public sphere, even though my fear is rooted in bullshit.

Much as I want to climb the Everest of disinhibition, I’m not quite there yet. All around me, I see shy young things removing their dresses at parties and running around in nothing but curves. I see them overcome their fears, and I just about explode in admiration because when I'm at play parties, I mostly just hide under a coat and talk about The Walking Dead.

I’ve loved my time in the community. I might have kept my BDSM behind closed doors, but my life hasn’t been entirely devoid of were-slut hours. The kink community has been healthy for me, largely because I’m surrounded by friends.

My inner Rain will arrive any day now, though, I swear.