Confessions of a libra

Initiatrix | Credit: Here

05.07.25

He said he wanted to know what communion feels like. That he wanted a glimpse of an experience he sensed when he watched me. Something that felt out of reach. So I invited him over. Tonight was the night of the Scorpio full moon. The moon was high and luminous – her energies already infused into the night air. There was delicious anticipation in me which made my nipples taut.

I set up right in front of the fireplace. The rug was a mixture of orange and brown hues signalling comfort and passion in equal measure. I had splayed on the ground before me, my herbal blends on one side, and a platter of nibbles on the other. Water was in easy reach, and towels… just in case. The doorbell ring tore through the silence snapping me from my reverie. I reached the door without being conscious of my speed and took a steadying breath as I opened the door. There he stood, in his majestic frame – always disarming me with his boyish smile.

“Welcome to mi casa,” I say with a theatrical cadence.

His whole body folded towards me, clearly seeking affection owed. “I missed you.”

That’s just like him. Simple, poignant and not a waste of a single syllable. My stomach was in somersaults and even I couldn’t believe my luck. We have something so new, yet so pure. I gave him 3 kisses on both cheeks in quick succession. He pulled my body into a tight embrace. His warmth rewired my nervous system. I felt hearth and home in his arms. As though the earth had just resumed spinning on its axis.

“You should come in so I can shut the door, we’re bringing cold air to my space.” I grumble lovingly.

He chuckled but listened to instruction and soon we settled in. He sat with me on the floor without question, and I withheld a smirk. He’s so good at taking cues.

“When you invited me over, I didn’t think you’d go to all this effort.” He said while looking around at the platters of fruits, crackers, cheese and deli meats. His tone was suddenly soft and vulnerable, “did you do this for me?”

“Of course I did, I did it so I can give you an authentic spiritually aligned healing experience. You wanted to know me and this is one of my favourite ways to upkeep my spiritual hygiene.” I say in an even tone. I want him to know that this is my normal life.

He swallowed, as though pondering the responsibility now on his plate. “Do I have to partake?”

“No such thing as have to. You can watch. I hope you’d like to do at least that,” my tone turned low and velvety at the end. I looked up at him from beneath my lashes, letting my inner siren tease for just a moment.

His eyes darkened and his voice carried strain that wasn’t there before.

“I can watch. You don’t even have to talk to me, just let me soak you in and bask in the privilege of your trust in me.”

My heart skipped a beat and I knew he was ready.

He agreed to try the herbal blend first. One I made myself, with the purpose of calming the body. I lit his herbal joint while staring into his eyes. I may have licked my bottom lip a little when he blew out his first puff of smoke. Now that he was sorted, I brought out my conch glass pipe and packed myself some weed. My man returned the favour with enthusiasm, to fulfil my needs. I took a long drag, savouring the way the smoke travelled into my throat and straight to my lungs. I held my breath and felt the air coalesce within me. I fought the rising pressure for a moment, letting the medicine travel through me and bond with each and every cell. The smoke I exhaled created a long thick cloud, stretching beyond the room we sat. The smoke tendrils rose and swirled into each other, slowly dispersing through the air.

“That is the sexiest thing I have ever seen. How can your lungs hold so much?” He asked in genuine wonder.

“I’ve listened to their capacity,” I said simply.

He nodded like he understood, I hope he did. Once the heaviness lifted from my chest, the smoke well and truly integrated – I found myself crawling sensually to the speakers. I felt his eyes watching my every movement with reverent intensity. I put on some dreamy jazz music and crawled back to my spot on the carpet.

“Woman, the way you move should be made illegal. I’ve lost my train of thought,” his words were almost breathy, his hand rubbing his jaw in containment.

“Are you the high one, or am I?” I tease.

He scooted closer until our fingers were intertwined. The smell of burning wood suddenly overlayed by the scent of his cologne. A light, sweet musk. My eyes closed to savour the way his scent touched me in all the right places. I felt his energy enter from our joined fingers up arm, a deep hum of pleasure invading my sensory neurons. During communion, my hearing got more sensitive. Presently I could hear his breath, his heart and quite possibly his surrender.

“I don’t know where you are, but if you never return I’ll stand guard.” His voice stirred me from without.

My chest bloomed with warm, explosive recognition. A solar flare of adoration. My fingers squeezed his tighter and I smirked while opening my eyes again.

“The outside world gets quieter, but my world feels more lush and vivid.” I exhaled like someone who had offloaded a heavy truth. I said in a dreamy tone, “I feel sharper. More in tune. More whole in my intelligence. Bodily and spirit.”

A little gasp escaped from him and I watched a million thoughts cross his mind. My body relaxed instinctively into luxurious deep breaths. I let him formulate his words. I let his silence have company. My eyes closed again, my neck rotating intuitively and eliciting feelings of rightness in the body. I could get lost in the webs of my own intuitive downloads and somatic expression. Moving to the music came second nature to me, but became more ritualistic when I was medicated.

“Can you read when you’re high?” He asked in earnest.

“Yes. I can read. I can write. I can cook. I could do my taxes,” my tone playful.

“And you feel more psychic?”

“Yes, I get a lot more messages without trying. It just flows through me,” I exhaled again directing my arousal with my breath.

A moment passed, maybe two. I opened my eyes as he leaned in, grabbing my chin along with him.

“I always knew I would find someone like you. Someone who communes with nature, with their own body like it’s something sacred… I want to be your something sacred.”

His need pierced through me, stealing my breath away. I bit lip instinctively and held back the tears prickling my eyes. My hand came up and scrunched up the shirt at his chest, lazily.

“Let me initiate you, my love. Let me blow smoke directly in your mouth,” I offered.

His thumb swiped across my bottom lip, feeling me out. The tension at an all time high, condensation surely marking the windows.

“I’d let you devour me at any time, in front of anyone – with delicious pleasure. Bless me, Goddess.”