It has admittedly been some time since I was last at a shrine. Of course, I pay respects in my own way, in my own places, and I’m sure the gods see and hear them, but nothing quite compares to the intimacy of a shrine. And besides, I have an anniversary coming up, and thanks to give. It only makes sense to make the journey out, to pay my respects in person.
The shrine in the crimson cataract is my favourite. It feels more personal, more private, though I notice evidence to the contrary, left behind offerings and footprints littering the area around the statue. I take extra care to ensure I’m alone, just in case, before I strip down to nothing, hiding my clothes in the roots of a tree and standing before the almost humanoid effigy. I brought with me incense sticks, in sweet, flowery smells, and gathered fruits and berries, both of which I set out around me, the sticks remaining unlit for the moment.
Then, with my scene set, I stand before the statue, a coy smile on my lips. ”I call to Frey.” I begin, both hands spreading over my collar before I slide them down my body, cupping a breast in each palm and tipping my head back. ”Please, accept my offering...” I pinch my nipple, gasping softly, then move one hand further down my stomach, teasing along my body, past my bellybutton until I come to my goal, the little centre of pleasure between my legs. ”...and grace me with your presence.” My voice is shaky now, my whole body is shaky now as my finger circles my clit, building up to a hopefully impressive orgasm. I do try to hold on though, hoping to perhaps gain a partner before I cum.
Tarasha
the adnascentia of my soul will crack the earth
