“Can I pray for your tummy?” I asked. He was standing by the bed, naked. I was stroking his tummy, appreciating it.
“Yes,” he said. His eyes were closed, and he looked so beautiful.
“Mother God, please bless the tum of my love. Please bless all the organs of his tummy to do their work. Thank you, tummy, for all that you do, digesting food, handling waste, filtering stuff. You are such a good tummy. We love you and want to do what’s best for you to keep you safe. We want to feed you the foods you like, give you the healing waters, respect you, and listen to all your needs. Thank you for your hard work and for being so helpful to us. We love you, tummy.”
“Ah, that feels good,” my spouse said, smiling.
“Am I bumping your dick?” I asked.
“Yes!” he said.
I noticed his erection. I’d been making circles on his tummy with my right hand, but that part of my arm that was by his dick, I can’t really feel, because of my pinched nerve.
“Can I bump you intentionally?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
I bumped his dick with my arm, and his eyes were mostly closed. He seemed ecstatic–only the whites were visible, so he had that look I enjoy, when his eyes seem rolled back in his head. A long time, I’ve been watching him do that.
I touched his dick and balls. “Can I say a dick prayer?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
I held his dick and prayed. “Mother God, please bless my spouse’s dick. Please bring joy and pleasure to his dick, and his balls also, as they do their work of happiness.” I held his balls too. “Please bring health to these beautiful places, and thank you for their good work, in my spouse’s lifetime of dickedness. Love to these amazing parts.”
I kissed his dick, and my spouse was glad. This was a good experience for him.
“Did you like my dick prayer?” I asked as I rubbed the head of his dick and kissed it again.
“Yes,” he said.
“Do you feel loved?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
Then how did we transition to sex? Oh yeah, I asked, “Can I watch you masturbate?”
He was happy to. “Does it feel good?” I asked.
Yes. I studied his method–so many years, and I am not very good at getting him off by hand. He likes the touch, but he almost never comes in my hand. Mouth, cunt, and tits are way likelier.
Then I was sucking it, and he seemed to feel a lot of pleasure. Then he was masturbating again.
I touched his hips, thighs, chest, and tummy, as he beat off. Sometimes I touched his balls and rounded, meaty ass. I also touched the place right above his dick that I don’t even know what you call that place. On me I might call it my mons, so maybe that’s what it’s called on him also?
“If you’d like to steady yourself, you can grab me here,” I said, offering my left breast for him to hold onto. Yes, he wanted that steadiness. He held my tit tightly, his legs shaky.
“Do you want to come?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“You could shove your dick down my throat, when you’re going to come,” I suggested.
He held the back of my head much more tightly than usual, as he shoved his dick down my throat. Yes, I liked the slight pain of his fingers digging into my head and neck. He moaned quietly but didn’t come. I nodded my head, so the way his dick was held in my throat changed, the amount of pressure in the different places.
He withdrew his dick and masturbated some more. “You’re so beautiful,” I said. “Your dick is so beautiful. I love you so much.”
He shoved his dick down my throat again, and I treasured it there. I held him in my throat as the valuable, gorgeous miracle that he is. His fingers held my head tightly again. The pain was very welcome. My cunt felt warmed with love. I thought he would come this time, but he didn’t.
He withdrew his dick again, beating off more slowly.
“You can come on my face,” I said.
He hadn’t come on my face in a long time. I know my cunt feels different at different times. Sometimes overly sensitive–sometimes hard to please. Sometimes delighted by everything! A dick is even more mysterious to me.
He seemed like he would take my advice. He was getting more excited. Then I felt some thin liquid spurt on my face. I was smiling with my eyes closed. It felt thin like pee.
Then he made a gasping sound, and thicker liquid pumped out onto my face. I held his hip tighter and kissed this dick. I kissed the head where the semen was coming out, over and over, so he came on my lips. It dribbled on my chin. It made viscous strings. Some semen was also on my neck. Some went into my mouth, from my lips. It tasted good.
He gasped more and liked when I kissed his dick. I kissed it hard and smoochily, as he came. It was messy and wet.
Then I held his dick in my hand and looked up at his face. No semen was on my eyes. He looked happy and tired.
I got a tissue and wiped it up. “I love you,” I said. “That was erotic!” The messiness felt sweet.
The sex had been sort of unexpected. The whole day felt like that–I was disoriented, going along with the activities of the day, loosely intentional.
He lay with me and cuddled me, then went to the bathroom and took a shower. He had places to go and people to meet with. I was just a writer, home, to cook food and make art joyfully, as I do.
But I guess it’s true, what they say–prayer changes things. Yes, dick prayer helps us organize our desires and name what’s most important to us. Then we know what to do and can make better choices.
We can pause in our activities to shift our awareness to what’s vital. Prayer can help us get laid also.