I don’t know why they chill me to the bone.  No, that’s a lie, I do but I can’t articulate it completely.  My fucked relationship with my southern mother, my delicacy, my general weird uncomfortableness in the world, the endless failure to understand one another between me and my mother, my years failing to understand even basic parts of taking care of myself.  I’m mostly an adult now, thank god, thank god.

Is my mommy kink partially eroticized fear of being alone with my mother?  Almost certainly.

Is it also a desire to have a relationship with a maternal figure with whom I can actually communicate?

Yes.

Is it my fear of stagnation in a state of adolescent dependence?

Possibly

Women without men, women without men is a theme that comes up both in my horror stories and my erotica. 

 Is it my fear of being left alone without one of the men I know and trust to act as a shield between me and the unrelenting viciousness of patriarchy?  

Certainly. 

 The result of the traumatic isolation of time spent at all girls school? Probably.  

Actually even Margaret White and her telekinetic daughter Carrie repeat the theme and are an erotic touch stone for me (and actually if you think about it Carrie is sort of the Glass Menagerie minus Tom and plus telekinesis.)

Is it my desire to escape into a realm of the arcane feminine, a realm that I felt oddly cut off from? 

Yes

Is it that for me sexual desire is something that occurs within the pink and ruffled confines of the feminine boudoir and that for me masculinity is the antithesis of sexuality?

Yes

Is it my fear of being left alone with my mother without the protective buffer of my father?
Absolutely

Is there something very, very, very wrong with me?

Yes.