Sleeping with Mr Greedy

Had one of those lovely conversations with The Boy today, where we’re both talking about entirely different things, but that’s OK. We were discussing our sleeping arrangements. Specifically, how sleeping on our own, in our own beds, is the most amazing, awesome, grown-up thing ever, but sleeping in each other’s beds is bleurgh-for-babies.

“Yes Mummy – because my bed has only one pillow for only one person: me!”

“That’s right…”

“And your bed has… Wait. Your bed has TWO pillows. For two persons!”

His little face lights up. Ohhhhh no. I see where this is going. There shall be no small boy kicking me in the kidneys all night…

“Yes – me and Mr Nobody.”

The Boy is very taken with the concept of Mr Nobody at the moment. He’s a very real presence in our home.

“Yes! Mr Nobody needs somewhere to sleep, doesn’t he?”

And his gorgeous little face lights up again as a new thought occurs to him.

“Mummy – did you ever sleep with Mr Greedy?”

I think about The Pirate, and how much he took from me.

“Yes, yes I did…”

“And did he EAT YOU ALL UP?”

I think about The Pirate’s animal enthusiasm and considerable talent for oral sex. His hands pinning my thighs to the bed as he buried his face between them. Wiping my juices all over his face then smelling his hands, really breathing in, like I’m honey. Me nervously piping up that I’m on my period, and him looking at me like I’m mental and going down on me anyway*.

“Yes, yes he did…”

“Were you scared?”

Pinned to the floor of my living room so I can’t move. Nipples pinched so hard it hurts. Sharp, fox-like teeth in soft, hidden places. Slaps to the backside, playful at first but then not so, administered with a look that says ‘defy me if you dare’ – which was obviously met with defiance. Always, a show of strength – and he’s so, so strong. The thrill of submitting, giving what I know he could take  anyway.

“A little bit. But sometimes it’s fun to be scared…”

“Do you prefer sleeping with Mr Greedy or Mr Nobody?”

Ah, the million dollar question.

“Mr. Nobody,” I reply. But I’m not fooling anyone.

*It is impossible to orgasm when you’re worried that the string of your tampon is going to catch in his teeth. Fact.


5 Comments on “Sleeping with Mr Greedy”

  1. today someone complimented me on using the word “vibrator” (I actually mentioned having two), (Actually, now I’m up to three) anyways, in one of my columns. I was feeling bold until I read “juices” and “tampon string”! Bravo.
    Actually, just your tags make me laugh.
    Wait until The Boy is old enough to say, “Mom are you having sex with him – is that what all that noise was about?”
    I told my boys a blow job joke the other night – If I said “he ate me all up” they’d know exactly what I was talking about!

  2. I struggled with ‘juices’. It’s a bit roast chickeny, but I couldn’t think of a better word. Well, I could think of lots of words, but they were all very crude, and while I am a fan of oversharing, it should be eloquent, yes?

    My Boy is only 3.5. Still plenty of time to have fun with him yet.

    See follow up post for more words I never imagined I’d write in a blog:

    Off to read about your vibrators. There we go! More words you never imagine you’ll say to another woman.

  3. Oooh, good read. *sigh* Too bad men with that considerable talent, and hunger are few and far between.

    • I know… It’s fucking unjust, quite frankly.

      He has been in touch tonight. Wants to give me money for my professional services – words, that is. My reply was somewhat whisky-fuelled: fuck that. Being downgraded from potential girlfriend to hired help is insulting, sorry.

      He hasn’t replied.

      WHY can one male body not inhabit a filthy mind and a good heart? WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s