The Anointing

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She poked her head in the door and looked at me with wide eyes before saying, “Brother Smith?”

“Come in, Sister Peterson,” I said, standing up. I swept out my arm, welcoming her into the room.

She sidled in and closed the door, then she quietly jiggled the handle. Most of them did that, just to make sure it was locked.

She was dressed as they all are when they first step through my door, in a white, fluffy robe. I had one on too. Though of age, she was quite small of frame, and she stood awkwardly, as if she was hyperaware of her body and could feel the exact location of every limb. She was breathing quickly, and her cheeks were a little flushed. She watched me with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

As always, I had to make the first move, which doesn’t bother me at all. This job is worth doing well. So much of this girl’s future happiness was riding on it.

To carry the anointing out, we had to enter a trusting space. Most people think that can only happen through words. They would say that I should speak soothingly to her, tell her not to be nervous, tell her we could take all the time she needed. But in my years in this calling, I have found that the eyes can create more connection in five minutes than words can in a year.

“Please, sit,” I said, smiling. She moved to one of the pair of comfortable white chairs I have in my room. The robes tend to hide body contours, but I could tell from her face, her calves, and the athletic way she moved that she was one of those aerodynamic girls with subtle, graceful curves.

As she sat, one corner of her robe fell to the side, exposing her knee. She reached for it instinctively, but then stopped. After a moment of reflection, she put her hand in her lap and looked up me, leaving her knee exposed.

The two chairs were situated quite close together, facing each other. I sat down. “Please get comfortable,” I said. She sank back into her cushion, and I sank into my own.

The art of falling into another’s eyes is one I’ve been practicing for years. Most of us don’t look into anyone’s eyes for more than a second at a time. Various threads of our minds and souls get tangled up with the other person’s. Those threads reach back into our deepest selves: sometimes to our beautiful parts, sometimes to our darker parts. Having those parts of us observed by another is so intimate, so vulnerable, that we instinctively pull back. Most of the time this is a good idea. Day-to-day life is complicated enough without our secret loves and fears being drawn suddenly to the surface.

However, we were in the anointing room now.

Years of practice have made it almost easy for me to fall deeply into the eyes of even a stranger. I’ll admit that it is especially easy to fall into the eyes of a beautiful young woman. And that is who was sitting before me. I could feel my stomach relax as I looked into her eyes and opened my soul a little.

Like the others, she was startled to begin with. She jerked backward, grabbed the arms of the chair, and glanced away. But she was only startled, not frightened. Seeing the first layers of someone’s soul takes some getting used to.

I smiled awkwardly, acknowledging how strange this was. It gave her the reassurance to sit back again and look into my eyes. I took a deep breath as if to say, “Let’s take this slowly.”

More relaxed now, she instinctively opened herself just a little and I saw the bright, happy, adventurous girl she was. So full of the energy of youth. I let her see into me a little: the extra years and experience I had, what they had formed of me.

But then I had to take the next step. The initiate rarely does it herself. So, I shifted from my confidence and experience to the fear lying just beneath it. Yes. I’ve been an anointer for years, but every encounter is a new one, and every soul is precious. I had failed before, and those failures still haunt me. They are so painful that I would like to erase them, except that they humble me and make me better at my calling.

I let her see into that fear. The revelation made her mouth and eyes open a little wider, and her own fear suddenly rose to the surface. She was tender of years, tender of body, and she was about to take a big step. It would involve things she didn’t understand yet, taking her to the highest and lowest places life offers. Tears started streaming down her face and she sucked in great gulps of air as she started crying. I reached toward her, and she jumped up, throwing herself into my arms and curling her small body up into my lap, heaving with sobs as I held her. This always happens, and it always breaks my heart. But it is often the first time they truly face their fears about the near future. And letting this fear express itself through the body is an essential part of the ordinance. It cleans them out. It opens them up. It makes them brave.

She cried for half an hour, but finally settled down and tottered back to her chair. She looked up at me apologetically. kaçak iddaa But I looked back at her as a mirror, allowing her to see this new level of herself. The level one finds when one goes through fear and comes out the other side. Her eyes cleared immediately. She sat up straighter. I could see a new part of her mind turning on.

And I was ready. I opened my soul completely, and she responded instantly. It was like beams of pure light suddenly connected us. We both saw our souls: that our mortal lives were but tiny twigs on the great tree of our existence, that we had access to all the power and knowledge we had gained through the eons. We were both as tiny as atoms and as giant as galaxies. I watched as this new knowledge washed over her, as she started absorbing it, as she began realizing its implications, as she connected with her soul.

This might surprise you, but it did not surprise me. She stood up, not taking her eyes from mine, and put one hand on the belt of her robe. She slowly pulled it loose and let the robe fall open. She grasped the lapels and pulled the robe off her slender body then threw it to the side.

She stood before me as a goddess would stand. Her back straight, her shoulders back, her muscles relaxed and firm. I reached up and touched her at the hollow of her throat and then slowly slid my finger down her chest, between her pert breasts, over her flat stomach, and down to her vulva. As my finger slid down, she closed her eyes, smiled, and raised her arms toward the ceiling.

When I took my finger away, she began dancing around the room. I watched the roundness of her long thighs, the curve of her narrow hips, the bounce of her little breasts. And my body reacted. I stood up and removed my robe, tossing it on top of hers.

I stood there watching her dance until she noticed me. She showed not a hint of embarrassment, but immense curiosity. She walked over to me and gazed at my erect penis. As she gazed, her breath came more quickly. Her body was telling her that something was happening, though she did not quite know what. But she was still expanded, newly attached to her soul, so she looked confidently up into my eyes. “What’s next?” they asked.

I gestured toward an extra-wide massage table near the corner of the room. It was large enough to hold two people comfortably. The walls surrounding it were mirrors. She walked over to it.

“Lay face down on it, if you would,” I said.

As she climbed onto the table, I took a moment to appreciate her buttocks and vaginal lips. She was a beautiful girl. Anointing her would be a great pleasure. She looked up at me with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Just so you know,” she said, “I’d like to know a little more about that,” and she pointed at my hardon.

“All will be made known in time,” I said, smiling. “Get comfortable.”

As she did so, I dipped my fingers in the bowl of massage oil resting on the stand next to the table.

“Now, when you are anointed for other purposes, such as healing or inspiration, only your head is anointed. But this is different. You will be entering an entirely new part of life soon, and so your entire body must be anointed in preparation.”

She settled down and I climbed onto the table, straddling her, a knee on each side. I eased myself down, my penis soon pressing between her buttocks. “Oh,” she said.

I started with her shoulders, rubbing the oil deep into her as I felt out any residual tension.

“I anoint your shoulders,” I said. “That they may bear up under the burdens that life will place upon them.”

I rubbed oil into her firm arms and down to her hands.

“I anoint your arms. That they may have strength for daily labor and to hold the ones you love. I anoint your hands. That they may make all things grow.”

Then I worked my way down her slender back, admiring the even tone of her skin, running my hands down her sides as they tapered toward her hips, pressing the heel of my hand along the indentation of her spine. And, of course, all this time, making sure to not put too much weight on her. My penis slid again and again between her buttocks, giving me great pleasure.

“I anoint your back,” I continued. “That it may be straight and unbent in the face of adversity.”

Then I took handfuls of her buttocks, massaging them and moving them to the side so I could admire her anus and vagina. For a moment, I very gently probed both. And again, she said, “Oh.”

“I anoint your buttocks. That they may know when you should sit down and take a rest,” I said. She giggled. “Believe me,” said, smiling. “That is a very essential blessing.”

Then I turned around and massaged the oil into her legs, running my hand luxuriously up and down those trim thighs and subtle calves. I took a few moments to run a finger along the little bulge on the inside of her thighs, feeling that sweet lacuna between thigh and vagina.

“I anoint your legs. That they may be both sturdy and limber, that you may both kaçak bahis work and play.”

I got off the table and moved to her feet. The feet are always iffy. No matter how connected you are to your soul, if you have ticklish feet, you have ticklish feet. But she, apparently, did not because I took great care to spread oil between each toe, to run my thumbs down her soles, and, yes, to clasp them around my penis and gently thrust between them.

“I anoint your feet. That they may always carry you. That they may connect you to the earth and thereby to your ancestors.”

I finally took my hands away from her lithe little body. “That ends the first part,” I said.

She turned over, and I took in an appreciative breath as her breasts, stomach, vulva, and face came into view. She was such a beautiful youth. I took her hand and pulled her to her feet, facing her toward a mirrored wall.

“Look at how beautiful your body is,” I said, slowly running my hand down her side, cupping her waist, then hip, then thigh.

She didn’t blush. She didn’t say, “No it’s not.” She just looked. She put a hand to her cheek and admired her face. She used both hands to feel her breasts, curving her palms over them and sensuously stroking them. Then she hefted them. As I noted before, there wasn’t a lot to heft, but that was part of her beauty. Then she ran her hands down her sides to her hips and, surprising me, slapped her left buttock with a grin. “You’re right!” she said.

A look suddenly came into her eyes, and she rested her gaze on me in the mirror. Then she turned around and gave me a deliberate up and down. “You’re not too bad, yourself!” she said.

I smiled. “Here’s an open secret. Anyone who is connected to their soul is beautiful. I don’t mean that ‘beautiful on the inside’ stuff. I mean that it doesn’t matter what one’s body looks like; when soul shines through it, it’s beautiful, and anyone can see it. Look at yourself again.” She did. “You are in the bloom of youth. Your body will change over the years. But connect to your soul, and you will be literally beautiful no matter what stage of life you’re at. Take me, for example. I won’t tell you how old I am, but you, who would normally not appreciate my body, can see its beauty.”

She looked at me in the mirror for a moment, then reached her hand out and wrapped her hand around my penis, which was only half erect. “I still want to know about this,” she said.

At her touch, my penis grew quickly. It began pulsing in her hand, and she could feel it. She looked up at me. “In good time,” I smiled. “Lie down on your back now, if you would.”

She did, and, once again, I dipped my fingers in the oil, climbed on the massage table, and straddled her. I sat lightly on her pelvis and bent over, looking into her eyes. We immediately connected again, soul to soul.

I used my index finger to trace a path of oil across her forehead. “I anoint your head. That it may be filled with intelligence, contemplation, and humor.” I touched just above her eyes. “I anoint your eyes that they may connect with the souls around you.” I touched her nose. “I anoint your nose. That it may immerse you in the bounties of the earth.” I touched her lips. “I anoint your lips. That you may speak new things and honor old ones, that you may heal wounded hearts and question hurtful dogmas, that you may call forth the spirit of life.”

Then I stopped. The time had come.

I got off the table and faced her. I reached for her right knee and pulled it toward me. Then I gently pushed her left knee away from me, spreading her legs and revealing her vaginal lips. She looked up at me, prone on the table, glistening with oil, a question in her eyes. I slid a pillow under her little buttocks and then climbed back up on the table. I was kneeling between her thighs, my dick hard and ready. I crawled over her and then reached down and placed the head of my penis up against her vaginal opening. It was slippery, warm, and welcoming. Her breath started to come harder. My entire body was throbbing as I knelt over this lithe young woman, my hardon pressed against her exquisite softness. I placed my hands on her little breasts and then looked deeply into her eyes. I could feel her heart beating like a bird’s; I could see her face flushing, her mouth open and panting.

“What do you feel?” I asked.

“What is it?” she gasped.

“It’s the reason for these anointings,” I said.

With my hands placed on both firm little breasts, I said, “I anoint your breasts. That they may give pleasure–to you and to your spouse–and, in their time, that they may give nourishment to your posterity.”

“And now.” I repositioned my penis so that rubbed on her clitoris. I began to thrust, gently at first, stimulating it. She caught her breath and then began to moan with my thrusts. It was amazing to be crouched over this little beauty, thrusting against her most sensitive organ, seeing the pleasure well up on her face as I moved over her. Faster illegal bahis and faster. She finally reached out and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me to her so that I was pressed fully up against her body, our sweat mixing with the oil, making our bodies glide silkily together. I thrust and thrust until she arched her back and let out a wail. She clasped me to herself with both arms and legs, using strength I wouldn’t have suspected, her breasts pressing against me, her vagina pulsating with pleasure. After the shockwaves subsided, she shuddered a few times and then slowly relaxed.

“I anoint your clitoris,” I said. “That its song of rapture may resonate in your deepest parts… and do so often.”

It took a little while for her to recover. It usually does. This is always the most intense orgasm they have ever experienced. It does not bother me to wait. They often fall into a deep slumber, giving me a chance to gaze at their peaceful faces and their relaxed bodies, contemplating the beauty of the female form swept up on the shore of ecstasy, running my fingers gently along their thighs, hips, stomachs, breasts.

It’s wonderful to live in such an enlightened time. For so long, sex was a dim, violent thing. We threw two people together and let them figure it out themselves. Often the man took his pleasure, and the woman endured. There was no language to discuss sex with, and even less of an idea that it could possibly have a spiritual dimension. When, in fact, spirituality is the gateway to the highest sexual states. But it takes knowledge, practice, patience, and work to enter them. And that’s what we were starting here today.

She eventually woke up, and the first thing she did was take my face in her hands and gaze into my eyes. “I’ve never felt so close to anyone,” she said. “Not even Richard.” Suddenly her face got sad. “I’m not sure now if I should marry him.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“You… open me up. I feel whole and free and powerful and vulnerable and…,” she snuggled up against me, “close to you. I think I’m in love with you.”

“I’m flattered,” I said, sincerely. “And I have great news for you.”

“What?” she asked.

“It’s going to get even better than this with your fiancé.”

“Really?”

“That’s why you’re here. To get a head start. I’m here to show you a glimpse of what you and Richard can achieve together. And, believe it or not, in a close marriage, you can access levels of spiritual connection… and sex… that will make today seem like a shadow.”

She stared at me with wide eyes. “That’s impossible. I mean, this whole thing has been AMAZING.”

“Thank you,” I said. “But the thing about sex, the thing about spirituality, is that it develops differently depending on who is involved. The journeys you and Richard will go on will be your own. And as you get to know each other better, as you experience more together, you’ll be able to go deeper and deeper into territory that not even I can know about.”

“But what you and I have right now… it was almost instant! I feel so close to you. I just want to fall into your eyes and…,” she moved her breasts against me, “make love.”

“Again, I’m very flattered. And I’ve come to like you very much. But you must realize that I’m what you might call a professional. I’ve been practicing this for years. Soon, you and Richard are going to start practicing until you’re as good as I am. Then you can access these states of connection by yourselves. You’ll be self-sufficient instead of relying on me.”

“Does Richard know anything about this connection stuff?” she asked.

“He’s getting his anointings too, isn’t he?”

She stopped and thought.

“That’s the whole purpose of the anointings,” I said after a moment. “And there are plenty of people who are both qualified and happy to help you two along the way. It’s not an easy journey. The mundanities of life can burden us down and dim our eyes. It helps to talk through things with people who have gone before you.”

She thought for a few moments more. And then she looked up at me with sad eyes. “Does that mean my anointing is over?”

“There’s one more thing,” I said. “And I’m happy to report that it’s the lesson you’ve been so excited about.”

Her eyes widened and a little smile popped onto her face. Her eyes flitted down to my crotch.

“You remember that when I anointed your hands, I said, ‘that they may make all things grow.’ And then, when I anointed your lips, I said, ‘that they may call forth the spirit of life.’ There are many interpretations of those blessings, as there are for all the anointings. The penis is the staff of life; the vagina is the cradle of life. Through our hands, through our mouths–in fact, through any part of the body, including the words that arise from our lips–we call forth the spirit of life. Let me show you what I mean.”

I reached down and touched her vulva tenderly. Her hand fluttered up to my cheek and she began to breathe heavily in anticipation. She looked into my eyes as my finger slid down and began rubbing her clitoris. A huge smile spread across her face, and she rubbed her cheek against mine.

“Now, why do you like my touch so much?”

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