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Not Love, but Not Nothing Either

September 2, 2010 by sroxy

The long, slick shaft leans towards me, begging

Do it again, baby.  Take me.  Own me.

We’ve ripped the sticky sheets and knocked the pictures from the wall

with our condoms-stolen-from-your-daddy’s-drawer lust.

Lick me, baby

It’s giving me that look, stiff and pointed like a dirty old compass,

begging me for more.

I want that

soft

pink

flesh

one more time, baby.

Baby, baby…

Open for me, tight and wet,

Take it, darlin,

be my girl.

I giggle

as I lean down against your chest,

listening to your breathing, the way your heartbeat slows

from the machine gun rhythm of fucking like porn stars

to a slow thump thump as you fall into dreaming.  (Backs arching, thighs rubbing, lips tasting salty sweet sweat and more…)

My heart swells with pride, remembering how

my body invited you in,

loving so strong as you slid it in deep,

no prisoners,

no mercy,

riding my hips bareback,

cuz baby don’t need no saddle.

How you looked, gazing down,

eyes wild with a man’s desire,

but flashing that mischievous little boy grin.

The way you spread my knees and slid your hands

down along my shuddering

inner

thighs

.

made me gasp

.

like the world had just. Stopped.

The way your hips pressed into me,

rough

and

sweet,

(Baby, baby, baby…my baby…god, yes, baby…)

as your eyes rolled back and your fingers raked my sides,

signing me like a work of art.

.

I watched your chest rise and fall awhile

and then I slid my leg back across your still-sleeping form,

kissed your chest

and spread my body over yours

saying,

“Yes, I belong to you,

my fierce, wicked man,

and you -

my sexy,

amazing,

dangerous (the fire in his eyes was hotter than Hell, and twice as hungry)

creature -

are Mine.”

Posted in Kissing girls, Kyle, Poetry | Tagged , , | 2 Comments »

Sugar and Spice

August 30, 2010 by sroxy

As Kyle and I were each working on our respective to-do lists this morning, we were IMing as well.  I’ve recently become entranced by a movie called Tokyo Gore Police which seems wonderfully twisted and gory (and which I’m nervous about seeing because I know no mortal movie could be as good as I’m imagining this one is.)  I sent Kyle this link (warning – disturbing and NSFW image.  I’m serious.  Really, really weird and disturbing realization of some seriously vicious vagina dentata) and we had the following conversation about it:

Roxy:  So this is what guys think of women, eh?

Kyle:  No, not all of them.  ;)

Most are made of fluffy stuff and rose petals, of course ;)

Roxy:  Women are made of fluffy stuff?

Kyle:  snort…hee
no.. not really
well, some
but also lots of other stuff
stuff I like
sweet stuff
slippery stuff
tough stuff
firm soft wonderful stuff

Roxy:  *Swoon*

Is it any wonder I adore him so?

Posted in Kyle, love | Tagged , | 3 Comments »

When I Grow Up

August 28, 2010 by sroxy

I find it incredibly soothing that, in the middle of all my chaos, I can peek in on other people who face their own personal chaos with a grace that I have yet to muster.

My favorite of these is Grumpy Granny over at Grumpy Granny’s Weblog.  This is one amazing woman.  She has a beautiful garden and creates magic in her kitchen (I dare you to read this and not start drooling uncontrollably.)  Her family, like mine, is at times difficult and crazy-making, but she writes about facing the challenges with patience and hope (and that’s admirable even if she only manages to do that part of the time.)  She writes about good times and bad times with a depth that makes it easy to relate and enjoyable to read.  The pictures of how well she enjoys her life make me smile like few others.

I’ve commented a few times, but she never responds, and I giggle when I try to imagine what she must think about someone with a blog full of sex commenting about her garden full of caterpillars.  (And, yeah, I realize that I might be overstating a bit to imagine she gives it a second thought.)  However, if you like gardens and good food along with stories that make you think, give her a try.

And if my brief little ad hasn’t convinced you, go read her “100 things” list here.  I imagine she’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but she really is mine.

Posted in Uncategorized | 4 Comments »

It’s Not the Size, It’s the Stickiness

August 26, 2010 by sroxy

My son bounced into my room this morning, sporting a giant grin.

Son: “Do you notice what’s different, Mommy?”

Me: “Um….you’re taller?”

Son: *Laugh* “No.”

Me: “Um…you still need to brush your hair for school?” (Moms can’t help being moms.)

Son: “Nooooo.”

Me: “Um…I don’t know.”

Son: *Pointing to his pants* I grew.

Me: “Err…”

My son proceeded to lift his shirt and tug down his sweats to show me that he had tied a sticky ball around his waist so that the sticky mace-like ball hung down in front of his underwear.

Yes, my son was packing.

He pushed everything back into his pants and bounced back out of my room with a sweetly innocent smile. Later we agreed that the sticky ball should probably stay at home while he was at school.

The thing I’ve learned about weasels is that you can’t assume anything – there’s no telling if he’ll ever bring it up again.  The truth is, though, that I never considered having to have a packing conversation with my son, and so I’m at a bit of a loss.  Will he mention it again?  Will he have questions?  Will he want advice?  And, most importantly,

will I get a chance to suggest that he replace it with something a bit less…sticky?

Posted in Being a Mom, Weasels | Tagged , | 10 Comments »

Love Timelines

August 25, 2010 by sroxy

I was raised in the “stuff those feelings down, smile through it all” military/WASP/bad-ideas-from-the-50s-that-seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time tradition, and so I find it REALLY difficult to express my feelings, especially the ones that might upset someone. In fact, I often don’t even acknowledge them to myself, which means that I tend to follow the tried-and-true simmer quietly until you blow up method of handling your emotions I learned from my dad.

And, yeah, the therapist has suggested maybe I should work on that.

What this means to you, though, is that there’s a slight lag in my posts. By the time I sit down to write about something, it’s already been felt, pushed down, exploded and dealt with, especially because I don’t like writing about bad news. The post I wrote yesterday described what I’ve been feeling for a couple weeks, and something that Kyle and I have been talking about for just as long, which means that it might have been tumbling around in my psyche for a lot longer.

Kyle, however, writes about his life in something much closer to real time, and so the post that he wrote yesterday might feel a bit abrupt.  It looks a lot like a tv show – the problem cropped up at 7:30, and was solved by 7:55, with time for one last witty joke between the stars.

In fact, we haven’t solved anything yet, but what we’re going to do is pretty big.  When we met, we both needed something easy, something simple.  We created a place for each other that was more fantasy than reality, and it fit us both perfectly.  As time’s gone on, however, we’ve outgrown that initial design, and Kyle and I have agreed to discuss a new way to be us.

But don’t misunderstand – I don’t play games.  I really was ready to walk away from all of this because it hurt so much, and the grief I was feeling was very real.  Kyle surprised me by being willing to reconsider a lot that we both had been taking for granted.  It is amazingly romantic to be told I’m worth/loved/valued so much, but there’s still a lot of work to do.

So, what’s the moral for me?  To speak up, and speak with conviction.  That I shouldn’t take anything for granted, especially that rules can’t be broken.  Trust more, fear less…especially myself, but also Kyle.

One of my favorite quotes comes from The Tempest, one of my favorite of Shakespeare’s plays.  Prospero and his daughter, Miranda, were stranded/exiled on an island full of magic and Prospero, a great magician, calls up a storm that shipwrecks a group of men on the island.  Upon meeting them, Miranda exclaims,

O, wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
That has such people in’t!

I want that feeling, that wonder.  I want to look at this opportunity and see possibility rather than failure, but I’m stumbling a bit on my fear even as I feel buoyed by Kyle’s love.

So here’s to our brave new world.  I am guarded, but hopeful, and I can’t wait to see what we come up with.

As you from crimes would pardon’d be,
Let your indulgence set me free.

Posted in Kyle, love, poly | Tagged , , | 5 Comments »

Tuesday, August 24

August 24, 2010 by sroxy

I’ll be the first to agree – it doesn’t make any sense. Never seeing someone because you couldn’t see them enough…it’s illogical.

But when my “I want to see you” banged up against his “but we have to be practical” for the 50 billionth time, it just hurt, damn it. I *am* practical, but I really need a romantic out there, reminding me of the stars when my reality is down in the mud.

Do you have any idea how awful things have been?

I want someone who says, “I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to see you again and again and again because there are no limits on my love. I will show you how important you are to me by treating you like a gift.”

Yeah, right.

I miss being touched. I miss being held. I miss being wanted. I don’t miss being told how hard it is to manage to find time for me.

I want someone who can’t wait to see me, every time, no matter what. I miss feeling like I was special, all the time.

I know I’m ridiculous. I’m insane. No one ever gets what I want, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting it. I’m sadder than I’ve ever been.

And I have no idea how to break it to my therapist.

Posted in Uncategorized | 4 Comments »

Many Truths

August 21, 2010 by sroxy

One of Max’s favorite statements is “there are many truths.” I originally thought he was being a smart ass and trying to get out of something, which, to be honest, wasn’t that far off….but there’s a core of truth to it, too. Being human is rarely clear-cut.

My husband moved out of the house a few weeks ago for the second time. This was good – despite the fact that his behavior had changed for the better, I was having flashbacks that left me shaking in fear, and I felt claustrophobic whenever he was around. I literally felt trapped in my seat – I couldn’t move, I couldn’t act, I just sat, panicked, whenever he was here. Let’s be clear – he did some very bad things, and they’re burned into my memory like someone took a branding iron to my soul. It was very good to finally have the house, and its decisions, back to myself.

He’s been back, though, in small doses – finishing projects he had started, spending time with the kids. It’s good and bad – good, because he really does want to be a good father and the kids love him, and bad because it sends my psyche through the wringer. I’m happy, sad, guilty, hopeful, full of sorrow and memories of the past when he’s around. It’s only like a roller coaster if you can imagine one that careens straight up and falls all the way down at the same exact moment.

When he asks how I’m feeling, I don’t even know where to begin.

But today was a good day. He went out of his way to really listen to me and help out – and I was happy with what we accomplished. And then he got a text – the party he was planning to attend tonight was actually a play party, and could he please bring some toys?

The engineer in me immediately set about collecting chains and cuffs and pulled out my violet wand and my big metal paddle and stuffed them into the play bag for him.

The Dom in me was suddenly flush with desire at touching all those instruments of pain. I haven’t had a chance to use them since April, and the time away just made the reunion that much more powerful.

The rest of me sat on the bed and watched the action with a touch of sadness.

I don’t know how to put into words the terrible want/not want of this situation. I could say that I want to be with him, and I could also say that I really don’t…and I’d be right in each case. It is so sad to watch myself let the man I married slip slowly away, especially when I’m so torn.

And then, while I was writing this, he stopped back at the house to present me with a bag of mini Three Musketeers bars. I had been craving them all night (my tweet: “I would totally shank someone for a whole bag of fun size Three Musketeer bars”) and he took time out to get me some.

I know how obvious this all seems on the outside. I’ve seen the after school specials, I’ve read the stats. I can even imagine the headlines, “Woman sells soul for bag of candy bars.” But I know men who abuse don’t change overnight, and I guarantee we’re not going back there again. The thing is…the black and white is so seductive because it would be so easy – cut him out and never speak to him again.

The grey is hard. It’s broad and hazy and hard to see. It’s making the decision not to make the decision quite yet. It’s putting down my gun and agreeing to come to the table with the enemy, when I could just shoot off his balls and be done with it.

It’s hard, really really hard. I’m crying tonight, and I’m not sure why. I hate what he did. I miss him. I miss us. I’m mourning the future I worked so hard for. I worry the kids will grow up to be like him. It sucks to be alone, and to parent alone. I can’t believe I let it happen. I’m scared it’ll happen again. I’m scared I’m making the wrong choice. I’m scared I’ll never make any choice.

I’m alone and so lonely and I really, really miss the fantasy.

But I’ve got mini candy bars for company tonight. Ate three already while writing this. Chocolate makes a lousy lover, but a pretty good friend, and the little ones remind me of Halloween night, when my hardest decision was how many Jolly Ranchers to trade for a box of Milk Duds.

I’ve seen what people trade for love, for security, for a warm body to lie next to at night, and it’s much more than a few pieces of candy. Right now all I’ve got is candy.

And, to be honest, I have no idea what I’d trade it for.

Posted in BDSM, Husband, Max, Metal Paddle | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments »

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

August 20, 2010 by sroxy

The. Last. Day. Of. Summer.

*Long, thankful exhale*

Don’t get me wrong – I adore sleeping in, when the weasels let me.  And I adore the blank, open days stretching before us, eager to be filled with wherever our whims will take us.  But I miss the sexy me…the one that exists when I get time away from motherhood to remember who the rest of me is.

As the summer’s coming to a close, we’ve stuffed the days full of everything the weasels don’t want to let go of – sleepovers and play dates and beach time and playing in/around/over and under the water, which has made for busy days for all of us.  I haven’t had any trouble sleeping lately because I’m truly worn out at night.  It’s a lot of fun, of course, but I’m really looking forward to the little things:  An uninterrupted shower.  Going to the market by myself.  Thinking through a whole sentence before voices ask me where the equator is or when the sun is over us where it is to them or when we’ll get to go to the Amazon and if we’ll be able to bring snakes back from the jungle or what my favorite snake is or can I have that Pokemon card Please Please PLEASE PLEASE??  I’ll never ask for ANYTHING again…

(It makes me wonder how god deals with all of her children.  Just two constantly asking for things has driven me to the brink of insanity…trying to imagine millions of pleading voices makes me thankful to be mortal.)

In fact, I’m only writing this right now because one of the weasels has come down with mysterious flu (the kind you get when you don’t know anyone else who has it,) and so they are both parked in front of the tv in an attempt to coax the sick one into resting.  (You call it the opiate of the masses, I call it a bribe to get them to sit still long enough to heal.)  Of course, part of my head it panicking with the thought of all the things I need to do today that I really can’t do with a sick weasel, but I’m confident that I’ll find a way to eke out the absolute minimum that has to be done, and face an even longer list tomorrow.

The joys of motherhood – I haz them.

In better news, I mustered just enough energy last night for a quick game of Parcheesi with my buzzy toy.  I waited until the weasels had been asleep at least an hour, and I locked the door and turned on the tv to drown out any sound.

And, in case you’re wondering…

Yeah, I totally won.

Posted in Being a Mom, Weasels, buzzy toy | Tagged , , | 5 Comments »

HNT – Tan Lines

August 19, 2010 by sroxy

If you couldn’t tell from the screaming, my baby‘s back home after a week away.  Sure, he’s still 700 miles away, but we’re back to being able to use web cams and IM to keep in touch throughout the day.

This morning I was treated to brand-new, post-vacation tan lines that brought a hunger to my belly and growl to my throat:

(And, yeah, I’m totally keeping the R-rated bits for myself…punish me.)

Welcome back, Kyle, and Happy HNT, luvvies!

Posted in Casey, HNT, Kyle, Pictures | Tagged , , , | 5 Comments »

Back Soon

August 18, 2010 by sroxy

Tonight, probably late enough that it will technically be tomorrow, Kyle will get back from Florida.

It’s been a REALLY long week.

His phone decided, on the second day of his trip, that it was no longer willing to send me pictures, so he’s been emailing them to me in small batches every few days.  We’ve only managed 2 or 3 phone calls since he got there, one of which was accidental – I was leaving him a message and he surprised me by answering in his sleep.  (Btw, yes, he’s very sweet and cute when he’s sleeping…in a completely rugged, manly way, of course.)

I’ve had a really hard time of it, which surprised me – I knew it was gonna be hard, but I figured I’d work my way through it the way I always do.  I just didn’t take into account the perfect storm of events that was brewing on the horizon:

  • My separation from my husband slid out of the fear and excitement of a new experience and into the dull ache of grief.  The reality of being alone as a parent for days and days at a time hit like a ton of 5-year-old car-seat french fries (much harder than bricks, as all parents know.)
  • The week before a new school year I always get anxious about my new class…will I like them, will they like me, will I make a complete fool of myself trying to explain ideas none of them has the least bit of interest in?
  • The doldrums of summer have just hit wherein the weasels and I are absolutely sick of each other and are actually looking forward to the stress and strain of school so we can get a break from all this wonderful togetherness.  If I never see another board game/fun family craft/amusement park/video game it will be too soon.  (I’ve tried to escape, but the friendly clerks at the supermarket think I’m just kidding when I whisper, in a hysterical voice, “please help me, my children are holding me hostage!”  Are they laughing because they think it’s funny?  Or are they in on the evil plot to destroy the brains of moms until we’re actually willing to buy Kellogg’s fruity cocoa puff pop tarts with mini marshmallows – now with extra corn syrup! – for breakfast?)
  • A low point in my cycle.  A couple times a year I get the Period Whose Name Shall Not Be Spoken.  I’m talking the kind of PMS that carries a federal warning and a sizable death toll.  As much fun for me as it is for everyone else, I’m as likely to burst out in tears at random moments as I am to whip out a machete and explain to the nice man behind the counter a few reasons why customer service can truly be a matter of life and death.

Oh, and with the general insomnia that the weasels experience during the summer months…sadly enough, Roxy has NOT been getting her groove on.  An attempt in early July that was nearly interrupted by a wandering weasel close to midnight left me too scarred to try again, even with the door locked.  For the first time in my life, it’s been MORE THAN A WEEK, and, at this point, I can’t even remember when I last passed Go and Collected $200, if you get my drift.

Hell, at this point, I’d settle for a quick $5 and a house on Marvin Gardens.

So it was really a difficult week to be away from the luxury of constant connection with Casey and Kyle.  Yes, there have been emails and texts and I know he loves me, and he knows I love him, but it’ll be really nice to get back to normal and see his face on the screen where there’s just a blank space now.

I know people get by on a lot less, sharing great loves through long-distance letters, infrequent phone calls, and the hope that their lover will be home for the holidays, and I’ll be the first to admit that I’m weak.  I’ve fallen apart because I’m an addict, and his total being is the only cure.  His love is an addiction that I’ve developed over the days and weeks and months I’ve known him.  He’s my drug – the best drug I’ve ever taken.

Hello, my name’s Roxy, and I really, really, really miss my baby.

Posted in Kyle, Weasels | Tagged , | 4 Comments »

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