Hassidic Passion Read online

  CHAPTER Thirteen

  Beryl

  Beryl felt his cock twitch, still bound, but trying desperately to break free with each tiny, smooth click of the zipper on her wedding dress. All that smooth white satin, peeling off her. And beneath it, the smooth skin of Raizy’s back, emerging raw and new like a butterfly from its chrysalis.

  The small of her back, gently curved. Downy hairs, slightly damp with sweat. He could smell her, then, too, for the first time. A warm, sweet smell.

  And there at the bottom of the zipper, where the curve of her ass began, her cotton panties. Purple, cotton.

  Not white; those would only be for the days of counting when she was impure, before she went to the mikveh. Most of the month, he’d learned, she would wear colored panties so that any impurity would not show against white and render her impure.

  How difficult it had been to sit with a straight face, discussing panties with the rabbi, bloodstains. His wife’s crotch. It was a lesson he’d certainly never forget.

  His finger started to reach out. The lace edge of her panties was too close; it beckoned. He needed to touch it, to stroke it, to pull back the lace and see – at last – the damp and quivering prize that lay beneath.

  And just then, she fled. At first he thought he had tugged at the lace accidentally, scaring her, and that she was fleeing his touch. But then he heard her vomiting in the bathroom.

  She must be so nervous. He had heard of girls so afraid that they threw up on their wedding night, spending the night on the toilet with stomach cramps, dreading what would happen when they came to bed.

  He felt sorry for any girl so delicate. Perhaps it wasn’t a good match after all. How could he be gentle and help her overcome her dread even as he satisfied his raw, animal desires?

  He tried desperately not to think about her while she was being sick. More polite that way. He’d pretend when she came out that he hadn’t heard the horrible retching noises. Hadn’t heard her supper – what she’d eaten of it, because like him, she hadn’t had much chance to sit down and eat – pouring back out into the toilet. He wouldn’t say anything unless she did.

  And in bed, he would be gentle, he vowed. He would help her overcome her fears.

  Beryl decided to get into his pajamas right here in the room. He still needed to piss, with increasing urgency. But there was only one bathroom; he would just have to wait.

  He pulled out his cotton pajamas, remembered the bandage wound around his maleness. Its throbbing had barely let up throughout the evening. Even now, though he was exhausted. As he unwrapped himself, it burst free.

  There was no way Beryl’s light cotton pajamas could restrain that bulge. Once they were on, and the matching shirt – probably the first time in his life he’d slept in matching pajamas – he got into the one huge hotel bed and pulled up the covers.

  His hands strayed – oh, God, he couldn’t stop them from wandering beneath the sheets.

  He didn’t want to make himself come, but felt himself on the verge, even as his wife knelt, just a few feet away on the other side of the bathroom wall, throwing up with a symphony of sounds, echoing off the clean hotel tiles, that he almost didn’t believe they could be coming out of such a delicate girl.

  His cock quivered, demanding attention. Beryl rubbed the outside fabric of his pajama bottoms. He would not reach inside. He would save himself, this time, for Raizy.

  Through the thin wooden door, he heard her spit into the toilet. It sounded like the worst was past. Beryl knew the feeling from the few times he’d had too much to drink on Purim. She flushed once, then twice. Started brushing her teeth.

  And then the knob clicked and she was standing before him in a pink cotton nightgown, the bright light of the bathroom shining around her like a halo.

  If he got up now, he’d have to walk right past her – bulge and all. But there was no choice. He realized he’d only gone to the bathroom once all day.

  If they were to truly share everything, she would have to see his maleness sometime, and perhaps this was the best introduction – through the pajama pants. There was always a chance that she wouldn’t notice anything.

  “Excuse me,” said Beryl, getting out of bed. Still clinging to politeness, while he had the chance.

  “Of course,” said Raizy. She moved aside so he could get past her to the bathroom.

  She’d left it clean, of course, no trace of what she’d done there except a slight acid smell. He pissed and pissed for what felt like half an hour. God, that felt good – but not as good as what was to come.

  Beryl meticulously brushed his teeth, washed his hands and face and made sure he was as presentable as he could possibly be.

  It was now or never.

  Beryl was going to get laid.

  CHAPTER Fourteen

  Raizy

  Raizy had never been more embarrassed in her life. Had she really just done that, here on her wedding night? Alone in a hotel room with a boy? A man, she corrected herself.

  The night she had wanted to go so perfectly, a romantic wet dream of seduction, and she’d started it out curled around the toilet, puking.

  Still. Horrible as she still felt, she couldn’t have missed the bulge in his pajama pants when he got up to go to the bathroom. How had she not seen it earlier during the wedding? Had he been that way all along?

  And even though bitterness rose in her throat as she swallowed a few times, desperate to not start being sick all over again, she couldn’t help thinking about stroking it that bulge.

  She didn’t long to think about it. She heard him flush.

  It was now or never.

  She was going to get laid.

  Experimentally, she spread her legs under the sheets, which she’d climbed under for protection from the too-chilly air conditioning. Hmm, no.

  She didn’t want to seem too loose, too eager. She was a nice girl; that was all he knew. A nice girl would wait demurely, legs together, for her brand-new husband to return.

  The doorknob turned.

  He was back, in those silly grey cotton old-man pajamas. His bulge – was back.

  Beryl got into bed. “Should I turn out the light?” he asked.

  “Okay.”

  He did, and then they were lying in the dark.

  Lying side by side, not touching.

  Something had to be done about this, thought Raizy. Her head was clearer now and she was starting to feel stronger. Bolder.

  She turned towards him, wanting to put her mouth on his, the way they’d kissed in the yichud room… only more so. He must have had the same idea, because here he was, too. Lips first, then his parted to let her tongue in, and this time, here was his tongue, too, pushing inside her mouth. Twining with hers.

  Raizy had a moment of self-consciousness, hoping she’d brushed her teeth well enough; hoping there was no more vomit taste in her mouth. If he was feeling anything like she was, he probably wouldn’t notice.

  She rolled over towards him and slid over in the bed so their bodies were touching at last. The thrill was electric.

  Her pink cotton rubbed against his grey cotton; too many layers between them. Starting to sweat, but this time with passion, not illness, Raizy pulled her nightgown up above her waist, rubbing the front of her panties against his leg.

  Maybe she shouldn’t seem so eager. Maybe he would think she was too worldly, too desiring. She should slow down.

  But then, she felt his hands on her skin, circling her waist, stroking her back… and pulling at the lacy elastic waist of her panties. Okay, perhaps she wasn’t the only bold one in the room.

  She let him pull her panties down to her knees, then finished the job for him before reaching over and doing the same for him, tugging the grey cotton down and letting him pull his pants off all the way. And his underpants.

  They were naked together. Well, naked from the waist down.

  Suddenly, amazingly, Beryl’s hand was between her legs. He just rubbed her at first, the triangle of hair between
her legs, but then his fingers began to probe, stroking, stroking her. Spreading her lips apart and savoring the moistness inside. His fingers felt almost like a tongue.

  Almost – but she would never ask him to do that, she thought.

  It seemed he could wait no longer. His insistent cock was hot and hard as he rolled her over onto her back. He must know how wet she was, how ready. There would be no need for the little packets of lubricant her mother had mysteriously slipped into her toiletry bag that morning.

  He pulled himself up above her, kneeling on the bed, wielding his cock like a sword, as if he were about to stab her. She braced herself; her whole body buzzed with pleasure. She couldn’t imagine being able to fit him entirely inside her. Her opening wasn’t that big, even if it did all work out in movies.

  He spread her wetness over his fingers and rubbed it all over the head of his cock. She could see him shudder with pleasure.

  Then, he leaned forward with seriousness, holding himself, and pushed at her pussy. Once, twice; she wondered if he would find the right place. She was ready; he was ready.

  Boldly, Raizy reached down and took hold of it for the first time, feeling the heat of his shaft. Glad for all her practice in her darkened bedroom at home, she knew exactly where this was supposed to go. Her pussy was almost dripping with wetness as she guided him expertly to the opening and pushed the tip inside.

  It hurt; a stretching sensation that burned around the entire opening. His cock was bigger than her fingers ever had been, and no amount of natural lubrication could erase that fact. And then he started thrusting. The burning inside her grew and grew, but there was a different type of heat behind it, a heat she could just barely detect.

  A faint, hot pleasure that she sensed would only get better and better, each time they did this.

  CHAPTER Fifteen

  Beryl

  He was doing it.

  He was fucking her; he was inside her.

  Beryl’s mind raced but he knew he didn’t have much time to savor this feeling. There would be other times, later on, to linger with the pleasure. He knew what was about to happen, and he had to take control so he wouldn’t come too soon.

  All the times he had thought about fucking, thought about doing it with a girl – some theoretical girl, or with Raizy – he hadn’t imagined how wet it would be. How she would twitch, squeeze his cock with an almost unbearable tightness.

  He couldn’t tell if she was getting pleasure from this at all. But, he thought regretfully, it was too late to think about it. He would pleasure her later. There were years ahead of them, and he vowed to be a considerate lover. But first, he had to answer his own body’s urgent needs.

  His desire had mounted to a mind-blowing mix of pain and pleasure. He was glad she’d only guided the shaft towards her opening; had she touched the head of his cock, he’d undoubtedly have screamed. And possibly burst his creamy juices all over her.

  And now he was inside, enveloped, digging, digging deeper into her slippery trench.

  Once, twice, he thrust into her. He thought he would burst, but held on, held on, and then, with a shout, convulsed, pounding, pounding, pounding his cock into her with waves of brutal pent-up desire.

  And then, release.

  Beryl was a man now.

  And Raizy, he thought sleepily… Raizy was his woman.

  CHAPTER Sixteen

  Raizy

  Her mouth tasted disgusting. Raizy’s eyes were nearly glued shut with fatigue when she woke up the next morning.

  She stretched her legs – oy, they ached.

  She needed to pee. There was a strange ache between her legs, too.

  And then she remembered.

  She rolled over and looked. There was Beryl, lying tranquil, asleep on the pillow next to hers.

  A stranger… a stranger whose body had been all over hers yesterday.

  As if he’d heard something change in her breathing, his eyes opened and he gazed at her, there in her pink nightgown.

  For a second, then he smiled. Then, at the same moment, they both realized. Niddah.

  How could she have forgotten? How had he forgotten? Raizy blamed herself, though, because these laws were, at their core, the woman’s responsibility.

  Now that he had punctured her last night… she was niddah again. Somewhere on the sheets beneath them, there would be blood that made her forbidden to him.

  She pulled her nightgown lower, though it already came to her knees. She had no panties on underneath, and felt self-conscious. Could he see through the thick cotton to her skin? Her goosebumps and quivering underneath?

  She still had to pee… and somewhere in her mind she wondered if last night had been enough.

  She’d always heard of couples for whom that one time was enough. Seed and egg, joining on the very first try.

  She noticed something dribbling down her leg. Was she peeing already without realizing it? Then she realized what it must be: his manly juices. His seed, trickling out of her.

  Did that mean it couldn’t have taken? That she wasn’t pregnant. Raizy had no idea. Somebody ought to tell girls everything. Answer all their questions.

  Somebody should write a book, she thought. A guide to what went on – in the bedroom. Because right now, she had no idea.

  Her thighs were so wet with the stuff. Raizy turned and fled to the bathroom to figure out what to do.

  Despite the ache between her legs, she couldn’t help but be curious about this powerful substance he’d squirted inside her.

  It was slippery, just like her own juices when she reached down and touched herself. That made sense.

  She touched her fingers to the juices between her leg and then raised them to her mouth to taste. Harsh; metallic… with just a touch of salty sweetness.

  That’s when she realized her fingers bore a smear of blood.

  Niddah.

  Perhaps that’s what the metallic taste was.

  How could she have fallen so low? To go from a pure-white, fasting angelic bride to this coarse creature, tasting her own juices and her husband’s… and maybe, just maybe, imagining doing it again someday.

  Licking and sucking his juices as they came out of him.

  She had heard of girls, not so nice girls, who knelt in front of boys – men – and licked their members. Sucked that quivering head she had avoided with her fingers last night.

  They did it in movies, sometimes, though she’d barely dared to watch at first.

  Kneeling, of course, was forbidden to observant Jews. But perhaps there was some other way.

  Her éclair felt bruised… but it also felt fuller than it had ever been before. Like an expert chef had piped her full of the most delicious cream. Full to bursting.

  Even as she could barely wipe after she peed for the stinging and ache, Raizy knew this wouldn’t be the last time she’d imagine licking him, sucking those juices out of him.

  She wouldn’t have thought it possible before yesterday. But it made sense, right? If she dreamed of being eaten herself, licked and tasted and savored, then it made perfect sense to dream of tasting him herself.

  Looking at the bloody paper she tossed into the toilet, Raizy retched a little. Too soon for it to be new life, she knew; it must just be the alcohol, still, from last night. Her stomach still wasn’t back to normal.

  Nothing came up this time, to her relief. But somehow, she wasn’t embarrassed any more than Beryl might hear her. Did every new bride overcame her shyness overnight? And turn into a bold, wanton, bloody woman?

  But it was true.

  Raizy felt bolder, about twenty years more experienced than she had when she’d asked him to undo her zipper for her the night before.

  Quickly, she brushed her teeth, slipped one of the pads she’d brought inside her panties, and packed up her toiletries. This hotel, the newlywed suite, was only for the first night.

  Now, there would be seven nights of blessings, of parties, of dinners in their honor. Seven nights in which she and Be
ryl would sleep in separate beds. Not passing each other so much as a salt shaker, lest their fingers meet.

  She’d always thought that was ridiculous, until they touched for the first time last night and she realized how much power there was in a single touch. How much electricity. Maybe not on her fingertips, but she would give anything to feel his fingers inside her again someday, very, very soon.

  After she returned to the mikveh, and they would be together again.

  She promised herself she would put her mouth on him then. True, they had a whole lifetime together to enjoy the buffet of possibilities.

  But why shouldn’t she start sampling it now?

  CHAPTER Seventeen

  Beryl

  Seven days, he thought, as he stared down woefully at the smear of blood on the sheets below.

  Her virgin blood. The proof of her innocence. It wasn’t true, as many of the boys in yeshiva believed, that you had to hold up the sheet on the morning after the wedding, to show off this proof to the entire community.

  Or that you could return your bride to her parents if she didn’t bleed that first night.

  But he really had always thought somebody would check. Apparently not; his rebbe said he didn’t need to do anything with it, just leave it for the hotel staff to take care of.

  Now that she’d bled, he wasn’t supposed to sit on the bed, to touch it, lest he have thoughts.

  He knew exactly what kind of thoughts he wasn’t supposed to have, now. Thoughts of what he’d done to her last night. Thoughts of the way she’d swallowed him up, sucked him inside her warm womanly hole, tight and quivering all around him.

  He shuddered again.

  He heard Raizy running the shower. Good, she would be a while.

  Beryl sat on the bed. Forbidden, but he didn’t care. The bed was so warm. He leaned over, to smell her indentation. And in the center of the wrinkled sheets, that smear of blood, mixed, he supposed, with his own juices.