"What's In It For You?"

I've heard that question more than once. The first time was in May of 2008 following the Romp in Central Park. I was standing on a tiny yoga mat in my stall and could not move much. The problem was the floor. It was hardwood and new. That meant it was not only easily marked up by my hooves, but also slippery in a way that would ensure a quick meeting with my butt in a very painful manner if I moved.

So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when, standing there all dressed up with nowhere to go, the question of what was in this for me surfaced.

At other times, the question has arisen spontaneously. Most recently, it came up during a camping weekend sponsored by Northern Maine Kinksters. Mistress, Stormy and our new stable girl Jen had come up for the event and we spent two days doing no holds barred pony play. I'll tell you more about that soon. But again, someone asked what I got out of this pastime.

It's a good question and I have spent some serious time thinking about it. I know I have written about the why of pony play from my own perspective (it's the only perspective I've got, after all). But I have tended to focus mostly on why I do things rather than what I get out of them. Sound like the same thing? Not so fast.

Deciding why I do what I do implies some degree of forethought - as though the need to rationalize my way into something is inherent in the decision. Perhaps it is, I don't know. Rationale has little to do with submitting my back for a striping or my backside for a righteous whacking with a crop. But whatever.

So what do I get out of this? How about the continued effect that the 'fetish fitness program' as Mistress calls it has had on my health and physical well being. I'm not fond of going to the gym but I do it regularly. Because I do it to be a better pony, I consider gym time to be an act of submission to my Mistress and a way of fulfilling the promises I have made to her. I enjoy my hikes and don't need a reason to do them. My weight is down, my muscle is up and I feel great despite the health problems I have had this year. So I guess you could say I get better health out of being a pony.

But you can get that out of a lot of activities and for lots of reasons. You don't need to enter an altered state of consciousness or have the blood brought to the surface of your skin to attain the glow of good health. It's a nice byproduct of pony play, but it isn't the impetus that keeps me here.

What I truly get out of it - what's in it for me - is something that I discovered only after I had plunged in. It may sound a bit corny to the jaded, but it's true. What I get out of pony play can be summarized in two words.

Human touch.

Ok. This is going to sound sad to some but bear with me.

I live alone. I have lived alone for over thirty years. At the age of 50, I measure the time between intimate (read 'sexual') contacts with others in years. But at the age of 50, I feel differently about that than I did a couple decades ago. It's the way things are. So it's no surprise that I grab on to Mistress and Stormy when I get the chance. It's always an incredible pleasure to see them coming. And it's very sad when I have to watch them leave. Making the time and creating the circumstances for contact takes some effort.

Perhaps pony play is a wild construct for something like this, but one blogger saw the intimate relationship that exists between me and my Mistress when we were working together at the 2008 Winter Flea, so I know it's real.

What's also real is the increasing fondness I have for Stormy. We spend a fair amount of time on the phone keeping up with each others lives. We delight in each others company and do just about everything together when we make time to be together. At Camp Crucible this year, we were nicknamed 'The Bookends'.

You don't get this just anywhere. It's the soothing embrace of my Mistress after a good dungeon session that brings tears to my eyes. It's the gentle wash down after working so very hard for whomever is handling me during a pony session. it's the care and feeding that I get when I am a beast of burden.

It's the constant discuvery of a self that I never knew existed and by which I am constantly fascinated.

And it's the words, "I love you," spoken by someone I love - and didn't know before this.

That's what's in this for me.