Shatterproof, I am not.
I am melancholy. Restless. Unfocused. I crave the heat of physical touch but am burned to ash by emotional connection.
I am a tempered, crackled pane, and he can see through to the inside of me.
But I am outside myself. Vacant. Empty. Dripping with icemaidenly desire, desperate to be filled. Unable to find fulfillment.
I am fragile.
But he can see my fragility, and knows he must sharpen the icicle shards of my need before he can enter any part of me.
I’m ready to shatter.
So he does not break me.
Instead, he gives me the glass.
And the fevered singe, the firy freeze of ice cold steely liquid pressing against my swollen tissues slowly diffuses my resistance. This is not a weapon, but he weilds it with the skill of swordsman. And slowly the ice surrounding my my soul begins to melt against his invasion. Exalting in the exquisite parry and thrust, I beg for more. I revel in the frigid sensations, their counter-assault assuaging the lava boiling inside me. I arch into his insistent thrust. Again. And again. Until the heat and cold combine to become fog. Then vapor.
Evanescence.
Then crystal clear convulsive release.
I come close for a instant, but I do not crack.
I am cut for a moment, though, by the sharp shards of my own fragility. And I am shocked by the discovery that my frozen heart has the capacity ~ and the audacity ~ to bleed.
But he knows I am fragile.
He knows what I need.
So he gives me the glass.
And under his seductive ministrations, I cum…
I come apart…
But I do not shatter.
I’m left simply saying…wow.
That’s all? Hmmm…
Well, if you’re done talking, there are other things you could be doing with your mouth.
I could whistle. Recite the pledge of allegence. Hum the battle hymn of the republic. Eat out your luscious pussy. Sing that new Muse song. Chew some gum. Make out with a nerd in a GoDaddy commercial. Do the Elvis lip thing…lots of stuff I could do with my mouth. Why do you ask? Hmmm?
I didn’t ask, Seamus. I rarely do.
Oooh… Luscious pussy…
Wait!
You can do an Elvis thing with your lip…???
that felt real and true loved it, Jayne
Always real. Always true.
It’s the best and sometimes the hardest way to be – the only way to be.
The hardest, yes. And often the rarest. But it is the only way I know.
me too… I don’t like that it is often the rarest. That truly makes me sad thinking about that.
To be your true self (and to be true to yourself), you must first know who you are. Or at least be willing to learn. And the process of gaining self-knowledge is not often easy; even more rarely, pretty. It is, at times, downright scary.
Yes to that! Also, though, it has to be one of the most exciting ways to live. Like the crazy ride I had on a horse one time. This horse was intent on heading back to the ranch and the SECOND, I turned the reins toward “home”, this sucker took off and didn’t care AT ALL that I was on his or her back. The horse just galloped back and I had to duck trees and hang on for dear life! Exhilerating – thats a better word for living this way.
What a perfect analogy! Lol.
Hang on for dear life, cuz you’re in for one helluva ride!
Love it.
You wrote my thoughts and feelings!
It is a high compliment, indeed, when another person can relate to what I think and feel. Thank you.
My, sounds like somebody had a good time this afternoon…LOL!!!
😉
Somebody succumbed to Somebody Else’s skillful manipulation of a glass cock.
Then Somebody came.
Again…
And again…
But, um, it wasn’t this afternoon. 😉
Glass cock makes life worth living.
Or something.
At least right now. (IMO)
Wow, wow, wow.
For an icicle … this is hot.
And also very honest, personal, direct, trusting. A fantastic write — thank you for sharing it.
Thank you. I don’t do Grief well. This interlude (and subsequent post) came out of his exquisite care during a time when the wounds just wouldn’t heal.
Does anyone do grief well?
I certainly don’t.
You’re quite fortunate to have someone who can and will take the time and care to help you heal – no matter how long it takes or what it takes.
I suppose you’re right. I suppose a better way to say it would be: I typically am the one who can compartmentalize. Who can plan, who can keep her shit together, who can take care of everything and of everyone else who is falling apart.
This particular situation…
No. I lost it.
It’s an extremely vulnerable position to be in, to have a deep knowing that you are poised to shatter, and to trust someone else to see you through that. To keep your pieces in tact. Especially when that Someone Else is grieving too, and when he’s the one who usually leans on You.
And you’re absolutely right. I am incredibly fortunate. 🙂
Quite vulnerable… frightening … and thank goodness you could lean on him, trust him. Even with the roles reversed. Sometimes the other person completely falls apart or proves ineffective.
I don’t know if you’re the “virtual hug” type — but — sending a virtual hug 😉
Thanks. 🙂
(And this was a long time ago now. It’s all good.)
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