We did the breast worshiping ritual. Wow, I was right–it was messy. It was also amazing, and didn’t go quite as planned.
The biggest surprise is how horny we got. Something about having the objects there, reading the words at the beginning, the depth of it. The safety of the container? My spouse was 100% showing up to care for me.
Well, he cares for me skillfully every day. But talking at the beginning about how my breasts were formed, the misunderstanding I had as a kid that my body existed to please men, and getting right that confusing fact of how I choose not to have kids and nourish them of my body, but my body is sacred nonetheless.
We used rosemary instead of flowers because it’s what we had, from our garden. I got the small round table as altar and gathered the materials while my spouse lay in bed. He showed me his big boner, as he lay there, and I didn’t know how to react. “Congrats–you have a big boner!” I applauded, and we laughed.
Creating a way to support my back as I sat on the bed was a challenge. We heaped a blanket and put a wedge supported by pillows, but it wanted to slide. “I’m probably going to have to shift around to stay comfortable,” I told my spouse.
three minute naked hug
I was a bit kurfuffled, so I suggested we meditate for three minutes before the ritual. Wow, that was one of the best parts. It was a naked hug meditation, language-free zone–we hugged for three minutes. I set the timer on my phone.
Yes, can we do that again, every day? I held him, kissed his nipples, and that’s when I started getting horny. My cunt was quite interested in this safe, long hug and informally honoring the breasts of my spouse, which was not in the plan. I felt nurtured by the Great Mother via my spouse, which made my cunt quiver with love.
After three minutes of wordless hug, I did feel grounded and ready. So I read the words.
I like the promises. It was good to make them in ritual space.
I’ve written many rituals, and my spouse and I are both used to the cadence and format. The words felt reliable. It was comforting–yes.
My spouse read his words and got to, “We look beautiful in the flickering candlelight. He kisses my nipples,” then went to grab the fruit.
“Hey, you didn’t kiss my nipples!” I said. I felt disappointed, like he didn’t want to do the things.
“Oh,” he said and put the pears back down.
Then he kissed my nipples, and how thoroughly. He kissed my right nipple three times slowly, then my left, then said, “I think I need to do that some more.” I lay back on the back support, which was not the plan, and I was in a vulnerable position, as he went down on my nipples for a while. I squirmed with sexual desire. And his dick was lined up with my cunt, because of how we were on the bed, so he started humping me.
I’d gone from minimal sexual desire before the ritual, to full on whimpering intense horny need, like Holy God, put something in my cunt immediately or I will surely die.
He did stop and continue the ritual. I liked holding the pears in my hands–they felt solid and joyful to hold, almost like holding rocks. I wanted to hold them throughout the ritual, to hold them as I came, squeezing them as I had an intense orgasm.
trying to get the chocolate to melt
The milk to anoint my breasts and for my spouse to suck off, I did like that very much. Then the chocolate, we’d agreed that I would do the chocolate part, because my spouse’s ocd means he doesn’t like getting his hands messy.
I’d set out a hershey’s kiss and held that against my left nipple to let it melt, but it didn’t want to melt. I slightly rubbed it against my nipple, as my spouse was rubbing his erection on my cunt.
“Is it melting?” I asked.
“No,” he said. A minute later I asked again, and he looked, in the dim light, and said no again.
As we waited for the chocolate to melt, he was humping me. It was clear that he wanted his dick fucking deep into me.
“Is that ok?” he asked. There was nothing I wanted more. So we put my legs up on his shoulders, and he humped my cunt, then found the right place and angle, and slid into my wet, eager hole.
Wow, we were beautiful, in the flickering candlelight. He fucked me like that, and I thought I would come right away. Then he slipped out, and he was rubbing his dick on my plump, excited clit, sliding himself in that groove of my cunt cleft. Yes!
Then he found my hole again and fucked me there. Slipped out again, and slid his dick on my cunt cleft and said, “I’m going to come.”
“Yes, please,” I said, and I felt his dick spasm and ejaculate–usually he comes in me or on me. This was an unusual way for him to come. I savored the feeling and wanted him to keep humping me, because I was ready to come right then, but I did not.
He seemed great, didn’t collapse on me as he came. In the ritual space of being honored, I was more self-centered than usual, or my consciousness was deeper inside myself than usual. So I was concerned about him, but if felt good to be centered in myself, as the worshiped Cosmic Mother.
Usually when we have sex, my consciousness is in both of us. Blissful, to have my consciousness almost entirely inside me, trusting him to be ok.
return to the ritual
Wow, yes. Well, then. The unplanned fuck was very welcome, but changed our ritual. During those moments of fucking, the chocolate melted on my fingers. So I rubbed the thick, gummy melted chocolate on both of my nipples, and my spouse licked it off.
Felt beautiful. As he licked it off, I sucked it off my fingers. So I got the thrill of the sweet chocolate in my mouth, and my fingers in my mouth, at the same time as the thrill of his tongue on my body, as he held and licked me.
Then the honey–I asked if it was ok, and he said yes. I love the part where he says my fat sexiness is a good example to the world. True story: I love being validated, but especially I love being validated in ritual space.
He dabbed the honey onto me, and that’s where things got messy, messy, messy. I knew he probably wasn’t comfortable with it but wanted to try. Then he put rosemary leaves on me, stuck with the honey; I asked if they were sticking–he said yes.
My spouse saying, “Today and always, I honor you and love you,” felt meaningful and so important, a little one-sentence wedding toward the end. I wasn’t expecting how much it would affect me. I felt delirious with safety, and it made me want to marry him some more, to plan a ritual just to marry him again.
He took pictures of my breasts adorned with the rosemary, but he hadn’t licked the chocolate all the way off, so it looks messy. I suggested we go to the shower to wash the messy all off, and he was willing but didn’t seem to get the whole shower project.
I wanted him to use the hand-held showerhead to spray warm water on me, then get his hands all wetly soapy, rub lather all over my breasts, and rinse them off. To me, that was kind of the obvious way to do it. Maybe I’m mistaken, or his mind was not functioning super-well.
He tried rubbing my breasts without soap and water, and it hurt. My breasts were sore by then, from so much rubbing and sucking, so I needed gentleness and the soap as lube, almost. I gave some instruction, and he was happy to oblige.
Well, he was disturbed he got honey on the bedroom doorknob, so I encouraged him to clean it off right away. He washed his hands and did that.
Maybe next time he will do better at washing me, or maybe he just was silly from lots of sex, being tired, using a lot of language–who knows. I love him unconditionally.
All the honey off me, I lay in bed and masturbated. My spouse helped arrange the pillows to support my left arm so I could comfortably jill off. I was feeling extra physically disabled and had problems with muscles spasms in my back. Then when I finally did come, I had an issue with the pinched nerve in my neck, and intense electrical pain shot down my right arm.
“That was a lot of pain!” I told my spouse afterward. “And not the kinky, fun kind!” Later my left hip hurt also, and I was afraid today I would be injured. But it feels fine now.
There’s gotta be chocolate that melts better than that.
Long rituals are ok with me.
Flexibility is good–I did want my honeyed breasts ejaculated upon, but the joy of being fucked in ritual was glorious. Maybe next time.
I would like to do this ritual again soon. If we could find some edible flowers and decorate my breasts with them, that might be fun. Or maybe the messy honey is just not going to make sense, considering the people we are.
Maybe I could do it by myself sometime. Yes, if I had a date with myself. Sounds fun. Unrushed, and probably less horny.
I also would like to do this ritual switching roles, honoring my spouse as Cosmic Mother. Yes, sounds delicious. Maybe a garland of flowers, and we could eliminate all the messy possible ocd issues.
It was worthwhile to take a break from being my usual self. For my spouse to formally state so much respect and love was healing to our relationship, which has had more stress-conflict than usual lately.
Healing, fun, sexy, pleasurable, and informative. Great ritual! I suggest you worship a goddess as Cosmic Mother sometime soon, reader. If no other goddess is around, maybe you could be that goddess yourself. Shakti energy is inside us all.