yoni fire

Yoni Fire

I am gentle, but you stirred the yoni fire in me.

Top: Bourbon Geranium, Mimosa, Grapefruit

Heart: Champaca, Cypress, Immortelle

Base: Davana, Rehmannia , Chickpeas

He smoothly spreads the oil across his hands, tells me to lie down, and begins soothing my back.

The air is faintly scented with Geranium, and my body curls like Mimosa.

"Your back is very tense."

He gently loosened my spine.

"I do most of the dishes at home."

I face him, the touch slowly opening me up.

"You seem quite gentle, as you only discuss husband matters here."

he drips the hot oil with Champaca into my gluteal cleft.

"Except for you, all other men make my yoni fire rage."

Yoni Fire.

Yoni Fire.

He repeats it again and again.

The light is dim, his face is blurred; this isn’t my husband.

Or perhaps, he is my ideal husband.

He is a sweetheart, he listens, he doesn’t ask questions when he enters.

He cares more about how I feel, whether I am happy.

When I turn over, the air smells of Immortelle, as if I were his eternal flower.

Living with in-laws, I can’t voice my joy out loud. After holding it in for so long, the yoni fire blazes.

Ah, keep going.

He gently presses my neck. It seems like he’s choking me, but he isn’t. His love won’t suffocate me. He says I’m too tense and that I should come more often.

I say I already come every week.

"Come here, apply a face mask for me."

He says he’s giving me the most special, with a sweet, berry-flavored Rehmannia.

The moist fibers reveal his flushed face.

The fire today burns fiercer, beyond mere tipsiness.