theory unsent letter

bless me

“Bless me with your come,” I said to my spouse.  He was between my legs, beating off, wishing to ejaculate on my vulva.

About two seconds later, he did bless me thus.  I looked at him with deep empathy.  His eyes were half-closed as he got exactly what he wanted, his semen spurting on my pubic hair.

I was grateful to have enjoyed a whole process with him.  From cuddle, conversation, and emotional tenderness to sexual desire, much pleasure, and intense satisfaction how we wanted it.

bless me

Here are more religious requests for my spouse.

Bless me with your time.  You give me so much: close sexual time, casual togetherness, emotional conversation, chill joking conversation, sleeping together in our shared bed.  Our dreams mingle in the night.

We share time in the car as you drive us somewhere.  The time of years, the time of meals, countless seasons.  Logistical things like you taking me to the dentist.  Sacred things like a ritual for pre-spring in the yard, attending funerals together, visiting the ashes of your ancestors.

You never make me feel like I’m asking for too much.  You’re generous and like to be near me.  What blessing that is.


Bless me with your attention.  You hear me and know me.  That deep knowing is only possible because you think I’m worth it and have the capacity to show up for love.  We slip into that intimacy easily, like seals slipping into the water.

We know how to be there for one another, and we don’t need to plan or budget for that.  Our life is set up to be there for one another.  It’s what marriage should be, or one way of doing it.  We’ve created the conditions to make loving one another sort of easy.  It’s still a lot to do, but we have the container.  We’ve set it up in a way that love is the goal and our default.

Bless me with the true Love intimacy that’s clothed in sparkling words, or just your bare, raw tenderness.  Eye contact, holding hands, deep ease.  More real than the misty chill of sunrise, more real than bird song and light itself.


I don’t need religion beyond your body.  Your love is my religion.  Your dick is my sacrament every day.  I take it down my throat like the host.  I enjoy gagging on your love.  Thank you.  Please, give it to me.

Your kisses are my blessing–the small sweet ones for comfort, and the deep ones with your tongue pressing me as it wants something I want to give.  And we are capable, fully formed beings who are able to give.  We’re there for one another.  We’ve created this through great work for great result.

For now, we have the thing so many people want.  I treasure you appropriately.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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