Page 73 of Unclench Me Softly

It’s warm where he held it.

Heavy in a way that has nothing to do with weight.

And somehow, impossibly, it’s the one that feels the most like me.

What Your Favorite Ice Cream Flavor Says About Your Favorite Sexual Position

A fully channeled reading by Bliss, who once received this intel while spiritually climaxing next to a pint of Cherry Chocolate Chunk

Chocolate (Dark):You’re emotionally intense and spiritually feral. You like eye contact, deep strokes, and confessions whispered while someone’s buried inside you.Favorite Position:Missionary with wrists pinned and a sacred amount of emotional ruin.

Vanilla:Classic. Clean. Underrated. You want it soft, steady, and with intention. You pretend it’s about subtlety, but when the rhythm hits? You ascend.Favorite Position:Spooning. Slow. Deep. Reverent. Bonus points for forehead kisses and mutual sobbing.

Strawberry:You’re flirty, sweet, and secretly depraved. You giggle mid-sex and still somehow end up on top, riding like it’s a fertility ritual.Favorite Position:Cowgirl. Preferably in a moonlit meadow. Or sacred steam dome.

Cookies & Cream:You are duality incarnate: soft and savage. You want to be bent over something sturdy while also emotionally held.Favorite Position:Bent-over-anything™ with one hand on your hip and one on your soul.

Cherry Chocolate Chunk:You are chaos in a robe. You crave connection, filth, and maybe a man growling praise into your ear while dragging your orgasm out like a sacred ceremony.Favorite Position:Blindfolded. Hands tied. Face-down in trust. You want the universe inside you. Slowly.

Coconut or Dairy-Free Anything:You’re deeply specific, maybe allergic to commitment, and probably into tantric edging. You like sex that’s part science, part spell, and ends in crying (from pleasure).Favorite Position:Cross-legged lap-sitting, facing each other, breathing in sync while whispering filth with a purpose.

Mint Chocolate Chip:You pretend you’re fine. You are not. You want to be wrecked. Gently. By someone who reads aftercare manuals for fun.Favorite Position:Pinned to a wall with praise in your ear and both of you pretending it’s not a spiritual awakening.

Banana Anything:You’re a menace. A freak. You have never made it through a guided meditation without imagining it dirtier.Favorite Position:Reverse cowgirl while saying something emotionally compromising. You want to be watched. And worshipped. At the same time.

Birthday Cake / Anything with Sprinkles:You are whimsical, dangerous, and probably led someone into a life-altering orgasm without taking your robe off.Favorite Position:Whatever gets the most noise and eye contact. Could be missionary. Could be riding their face. You are the ceremony.

Bliss-ism #119/c

“Stillness is great until five emotionally unhinged men achieve it at the same time. Then it’s a cult.”

Chapter Fourteen:

I Asked for Stillness, Not a Beautiful Masculine Healing Collective

I am journaling.

I am eating.

I am absolutely not having a meltdown in my sacred Womb Cloak™ while clutching a pinecone of love, a rock of masculine rage, a feather of soul-recognition, a driftwood metaphor for late-stage burnout, and a stick I’m pretty sure I orgasmed onto.

I take a deep breath.

Then I take another bite of something that might’ve once been a granola bar but is now more of a compressed block of sadness and expired chia seeds. I found it in a tin labeled “Sacred Snacks.” I think Callie wrote that on it with glitter glue during the first new moon of Pisces.

It tastes like anxiety and artificial fruit.

I write:

Day Three. Root Chakra work is in full swing. I am calm. I am leading. I am definitely not being emotionally dismantled by a curated lineup of forest-scented men with personal growth agendas.

I pause. Take another bite.

Asher gave me a moss heart. Seb gave me a rock with tension issues. Jax gave me a stick that probably witnessed a crime. Jonah gave me a feather and then surgically exposed my unresolved identity crisis. Miles gave me a piece of wood that feels like a thesis on abandonment.

I underline abandonment.

Then doodle a tiny screaming womb next to it.

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