ritual theory


“Hmm, I’m going to stab you with an almond,” I told him.  We were in the car, and he was driving us to a small park nearby.

“You can’t stab me with an almond!” he said.

“Sure I can!  It’s pointy.  Look.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Here, I do it!”  Stab, stab gently on his forearm.

“Ow!  Ow!”

“See, it worked.  I could have stabbed you way more vigorously too.”


“How are your nuts?” I asked.  He was eating almonds as we walked in the park.

“They feel great!” he said.



“You have intentionally misunderstood me.  You are uncouth!”

“I’m uncouth?”  He seemed to be trying out the word.

“Yes,” I said.

“I’m good, now that I know where my nuts are.  I looked in my nut sack and couldn’t find them, at first.”


I took the almond bag from him.  I’d thought he’d finished them off.  I groped the bag. “I can feel your nuts in there!  They are ok.  It’s not empty.”

Laughter as we moved down the trail, and I almost fell over.  Laughter in the shadow of a tree.  I was doubling over with laughter.  “It’s not good if you laugh so hard you can’t walk,” I said.  I handed the bag back to him.


“Who has the Beavis & Butthead sexuality now?” I asked.

“Hmm,” my spouse said.

“I touched your nut sack.  I was looking for nuts in there, and I found them,” I said.

“All is right in the world,” he said.


Then last night, he came to bed, and he was slightly smelly.  He’s not been wearing socks.  “Can I wash you?” I asked.

I explained I wanted to put his hair up so it would be out of the way, soap him down in the bathroom, then hose him off in the shower.  “Would that be ok?” I asked.  He said yes.

It’s warm enough now that we can do that.  We had some tender negotiations, as I soaped him, like was I allowed to wash his butt, and could I gently wash his butthole.  A good amount of checking in; I asked, “Do you trust me?”  He said yes.  “Does this feel appropriate?” I asked.  He said yes.

It was tender care, and very sexy.  My favorite part was washing his balls and rubbing his dick.  They looked so pretty, with the soap.  I added a little water to my hand, to loosen the soap.  Then I cupped his balls in one hand and rubbed his dick earnestly with the other.  I would switch hands.  “Does this feel good?” I asked.  Yes, it did feel good.

It was a love ritual, and I’m grateful to his beautiful body, whatever we call the parts.  Our laughter can add diversity to the feelings we feel, a good energy to the tenderness.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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