Aphrodite Gone Awry
The ritual began a few hours before she was to leave. The children had been gone a while, off to their father's for the night and most of the morrow. She was pleased she got Saturday nights free. She had never been one to take that freedom for herself. When married, he was usually the one who played, the one who had no problem seizing moments and happy hours, days of hunting, and her generous offers for nooners with April, the entj. She was content to stay home and take walks, nurse the babies, and talk on the phone. She would have felt guilty taking so much for herself, especially when he seemed to need it more.
Now, two and half years since her separation and divorce, she was finally coming into her own independence. She wasn't free. She was tied to her children and her work, which was securely rooted in this community. But how much she was enjoying her free time! Hours of quiet, contemplative space all to herself, able to be spend without interruption to make pbjs, run interference for squabbles, or deal with temper tantrums. Often she would be found in simple repose in her 4-poster (her favorite place) meditating as a humming peacefulness enveloped her, where she could get lost for an hour or two feeling God's imminent love and grace.
But this evening she wasn't indulging in abstract, intuitive pursuits, but concrete, sensory ones. She wanted her skin to be as clean and smooth as possible, her hair flowing and irresistible, her make-up exotic and alluring but light, and her clothing just right. She felt sure he would like that. It would somehow make him proud. She had run earlier this afternoon so that she would feel fit and supple in health. She liked how working out made her feel like she had achieved something positive. Somehow feelings of guilt were associated with not working out regularly, and she wanted no guilt, no negative feelings of any kind to plague her tonight. Plus, he had told her to begin a workout regime of at least three times per week. She had been waiting for him to do so-knew he would eventually, so when he did, she was titillatingly relieved, if one can imagine such a feeling? It made her face so smooth to run and then be exfoliated with her special rosemary loofah soap, which she made herself. She was picky about the products she used on and in her body, and had been making all her own creams, soaps, and lubes for many years now.
Her first task was the dirty one. To clean herself out. The best way she had found to do so was not the obvious one which most people probably used, the enema, but more of a....how shall we say....manual one? Her bath oil was applied generously for ease of access and removal and the shower helped make it not such a messy task. Finally she felt satisfied that she was squeaky clean and nothing untoward would interfere with any activities which might (or might likely not) ensue. It was really all about being prepared. It was mostly psychological. For both of them. Being prepared. And it was as much about the preparation as anything else, she had come to realize.
She had waxed earlier as well, so the redness had time to abate. she would have preferred to do it a day or two ago, but she had nary a moment to do so, much less the hour or two it usually took her to wax herself. She only used wax on her mons down to her labia. She preferred to shave those, and around her backside as well. She wasn't very hairy, so this worked well. After washing her hair thoroughly with her son's Axe (to give her a bit of manly scent) twice, she placed copious amounts of conditioner on her long, curly locks to tame them somewhat and make them soft and silky. While she let that sit, she shaved her pussy lips, underarms, and then legs. She had replaced the razor of her Venus with a new one for the utmost smoothness. When she was done here, she rinsed her hair, leaving just a touch of conditioner in it, then exited the tub and gently dried off, wrapping her hair within the towel coiled upon her head. She knew he was watching her and she was a bit shy here because she was completely exposed. And was sensitive about her womanly belly down low. She always wanted to be beautiful for him, but how to be beautiful in the bright light of the bathroom, fully naked and unadorned!? Consequently, she hurriedly toweled off, though she tried her hardest to go slow and be open for him to see. This, along with changing, was a difficult moment for her, because her body was not perfect, not nearly so.
She walked to her bed, laid upon Aunt Agnes' brightly crocheted blankets in horizontal swaths of color, and reached for her rosehip seed oil. It was the most precious oil she used, and therefore appropriate for her most precious places. She applied a small amount to her waxed areas, lips, and bottom and gently rubbed it in, very pleased with how velvety her labia now felt, free from hair. She rested for a moment, just savoring how her toil had left her feeling so much like an open, clean palette, ready for additional preparations. But those could wait a bit, this was a ritual to be enacted and enjoyed; even perhaps a bit of performance associated with it. All for his benefit of course, and somewhat of hers too...she really could not extricate the two anymore, they were so intricately intertwined.
in luce vive, vive in amore
Last edited by AphroditeGoneAwry; 01-19-2013 at 03:27 PM.