A man and a woman met. They immediately thought they were to be wed. The man and the woman were both separately into deep marriages they could not live without. They met decades ago with the internal task of trying not to fall into each other's arms naked, embraced or to feverishly copulate. It was difficult, but with some measure of success their friendship succeeded in deepening into a spiritual quest that led them separately into depths of spiritual awareness and healing during an absence of a decade. The reunion they had was an annual event appreciated by the two of them, and invisible to anyone else as any more than two old friends happening to see each other for a period of days.
The woman was made of the substance of Earth and Sun. The man of intangible particles finer than sand and constantly shifting into other forms. The woman's pussy had changed along with the rest of her body into a vessel. Over the years she had been completely absorbed in the creative process of staying alive and becoming whole. Her pussy became complex. It could no longer, first, be perceived as just pussy. Her pussy became She. It became a life force, and an extraordinary creature she communicated with. Her pussy learned through conversations with the man to connect with her Womb at a much higher level than encouraged by the culture she grew up in. It was extraordinary what lived and was constantly wet between her legs. The pussy she had was an extraordinary creature experienced fully as a spiritual entity with the force of Nature tied to the woman's secrets of healing and restorative powers. These powers she offered to the man, and only him. No one else.
They met one day in a public building, and the strong energy pulls between them worked like magnets. Their eyes sparkled, and they stood poised in the empty room like statues ready to break from the mold. One step and they were in each other's arms. His right arm snaked down and around her smooth figure, and cupped her right hip sensuously. She gyrated slowly and he, like in the movies, pressed her against a wall and their genital areas rotated against each other in their jeans. It was deep thrusts into each other. The man could feel her pussy opening up to his dick swollen to the touch of her promise to fuck him and love him and pull him in her.
Because of her long years of celibacy, and the relationship she'd developed with her Death to heal what was within her capacity was sacred in a way unfamiliar to many women. It was a secret way of being holy, and mysterious, not for the sake of being seen as mysterious, but for the sake of personal growth with the Creator, and relationship with Life. It changed her, and neither her Womb, or her pussy were the same, or by any stretch of the imagination ordinary.
There was a sexual thing she did better than most women the man thoroughly enjoyed, and kept secret. So precious was this gift of hers he, one night, thanked her for it, and told her how much he loved it, and the way she and the talent made him feel as a man. You, the reader, will not guess what her talent was. What she did do was bond with his spirit thus creating something akin to the power of Thunder gaining momentum in the distant!
Sitting still one night he thanked her for the 'thing' she did for him. Knowing she wouldn't do it for another added to the force within him that kept him connected to who she is to him. He had not placed his penis within her. "Yet." was the word she like to interject when the subject came up for discussion. She believed in the prophecy of her spirit and the discoveries within her spirituality and the God and Goddess she served. And she 'knew' he was going to put his dick in her pussy. Over time she'd convinced him it would be a sacred act to couple within them, and that it would strengthen their marriages, and their spiritual walk.
At different times he had fingered her pussy and that overwhelmed him beyond words into a spiritual fit of sorts. Thinking about what that was, and what it meant he said, "... the feel of your tight pussy is an agreement with something I cannot explain."
"Not with words, my love." She said.
"How do you talk about the magic of your pussy?"
"Not with words, my love. Come inside. All will be known. I will be known."
"Sounds like a formula." he joked.
"A key."
"Natural mystery. It will change me, and the world I know."
She glanced at him. "Transforming. Change is the vehicle of the deeper higher...."
"It is transformative. What will it cost?"
"Probably more than we know we have. As is the cost of most things of such great worth!"
"What would the cost be to souls; Medicines?"
She stared off a moment rubbing her left hand over her thighs and down between her muscular thighs beneath her black stretch pants. He knew what that felt like, and what the smell would smell like if she pulled her pants down. But this subject was important and dear to him. "Focus!" he told himself. His life would be determined by his decisions, not God's intervention. He was responsible for the words of his moth and the meditation of his heart.
They looked at each other. He looked down when she spoke so he could listen to her spirit. "Only thing I know is that God is Love and love is; love is all. I believe that what is in us is given by God, protected by God. I think we will get more than we lose."
- Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 2.25.13
The woman was made of the substance of Earth and Sun. The man of intangible particles finer than sand and constantly shifting into other forms. The woman's pussy had changed along with the rest of her body into a vessel. Over the years she had been completely absorbed in the creative process of staying alive and becoming whole. Her pussy became complex. It could no longer, first, be perceived as just pussy. Her pussy became She. It became a life force, and an extraordinary creature she communicated with. Her pussy learned through conversations with the man to connect with her Womb at a much higher level than encouraged by the culture she grew up in. It was extraordinary what lived and was constantly wet between her legs. The pussy she had was an extraordinary creature experienced fully as a spiritual entity with the force of Nature tied to the woman's secrets of healing and restorative powers. These powers she offered to the man, and only him. No one else.
They met one day in a public building, and the strong energy pulls between them worked like magnets. Their eyes sparkled, and they stood poised in the empty room like statues ready to break from the mold. One step and they were in each other's arms. His right arm snaked down and around her smooth figure, and cupped her right hip sensuously. She gyrated slowly and he, like in the movies, pressed her against a wall and their genital areas rotated against each other in their jeans. It was deep thrusts into each other. The man could feel her pussy opening up to his dick swollen to the touch of her promise to fuck him and love him and pull him in her.
Because of her long years of celibacy, and the relationship she'd developed with her Death to heal what was within her capacity was sacred in a way unfamiliar to many women. It was a secret way of being holy, and mysterious, not for the sake of being seen as mysterious, but for the sake of personal growth with the Creator, and relationship with Life. It changed her, and neither her Womb, or her pussy were the same, or by any stretch of the imagination ordinary.
There was a sexual thing she did better than most women the man thoroughly enjoyed, and kept secret. So precious was this gift of hers he, one night, thanked her for it, and told her how much he loved it, and the way she and the talent made him feel as a man. You, the reader, will not guess what her talent was. What she did do was bond with his spirit thus creating something akin to the power of Thunder gaining momentum in the distant!
Sitting still one night he thanked her for the 'thing' she did for him. Knowing she wouldn't do it for another added to the force within him that kept him connected to who she is to him. He had not placed his penis within her. "Yet." was the word she like to interject when the subject came up for discussion. She believed in the prophecy of her spirit and the discoveries within her spirituality and the God and Goddess she served. And she 'knew' he was going to put his dick in her pussy. Over time she'd convinced him it would be a sacred act to couple within them, and that it would strengthen their marriages, and their spiritual walk.
At different times he had fingered her pussy and that overwhelmed him beyond words into a spiritual fit of sorts. Thinking about what that was, and what it meant he said, "... the feel of your tight pussy is an agreement with something I cannot explain."
"Not with words, my love." She said.
"How do you talk about the magic of your pussy?"
"Not with words, my love. Come inside. All will be known. I will be known."
"Sounds like a formula." he joked.
"A key."
"Natural mystery. It will change me, and the world I know."
She glanced at him. "Transforming. Change is the vehicle of the deeper higher...."
"It is transformative. What will it cost?"
"Probably more than we know we have. As is the cost of most things of such great worth!"
"What would the cost be to souls; Medicines?"
She stared off a moment rubbing her left hand over her thighs and down between her muscular thighs beneath her black stretch pants. He knew what that felt like, and what the smell would smell like if she pulled her pants down. But this subject was important and dear to him. "Focus!" he told himself. His life would be determined by his decisions, not God's intervention. He was responsible for the words of his moth and the meditation of his heart.
They looked at each other. He looked down when she spoke so he could listen to her spirit. "Only thing I know is that God is Love and love is; love is all. I believe that what is in us is given by God, protected by God. I think we will get more than we lose."
- Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 2.25.13
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