Hassidic Passion Page 7

  Holding her legs together, he slid the panties all the way off. Their crotch was gleaming with her moisture, and he knew what he had to do: go straight to the source.

  Parting her smooth legs, he saw where the wetness was coming from immediately. Her pussy was startlingly pink, but for once, he was grateful for all the pornography he’d soaked up in his lifetime.

  It was time to step up to the plate, and Beryl knew exactly what to do.

  Stroking around her wetness first, experimentally, with his fingers, Beryl heard her moan and knew he was on the right track.

  He dived in with his mouth. There was no other way to think of it; just diving into her sea of wetness. Her cunt lips spread apart, shiny and pink in the dim bedside-table light. She opened herself wide to him and he splayed his tongue against her.

  She tasted tangy, meaty, but there was something else here, too. Something raw and primal, like a taste he’d experienced once and forgotten.

  “Mmm…” that was her, but he moaned along with her.

  “Mmm…” and the buzzing of his mouth traveled through her body. She spread her legs, letting her knees fall backwards onto the bed, and her pussy opened up as wide as it could possibly open.

  It gleamed with her wetness, and his saliva.

  As he licked her more and more roughly, she arched her back. Those weren’t moans anymore. They were groans – of pleasure, he knew.

  She reached down and grabbed his head, tugging his sweaty hair at the root and gently sliding him forward. Just a notch forward, where his tongue found what must have been her sweet spot, a delicious little button.

  Her groaning was non-stop now, uncontrollable.

  Her whole body shuddered. He reached up to stroke her belly and, for the first time, her breasts. Her skin was slippery with sweat, as he supposed his must be, too. His face was smeared with her juices and he wished he could dive in further, maybe even up to his neck.

  He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. In all the years he’d fantasized about sex, he’d never imagined how pleasurable it could be to go down on a woman. On his wife; licking her, eating her out. Pulling her down to the very depths of animal pleasure.

  If you’d asked him two days ago how to make a woman come, he wouldn’t have had the foggiest clue. But now, he did it. Or rather, she did it. She came.

  He felt it before it happened. Her body vibrated faster and faster. He thought of an express train crashing through a station without stopping – first, a distant rumble, louder and faster and faster until, with a crash, it passed and was gone.

  “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she muttered over and over, shoving her pussy up against his mouth, again and again and again.

  He didn’t know if she would ever stop.

  He didn’t think he minded.

  “Oh, oh, oh…”

  And then she cried out. A high-pitched keening wail he hoped the neighbors couldn’t hear – not that he really cared if they could.

  It must have gone on for a minute or more. A minute of feeling her her waves of pleasure against his tongue, her snatch slapping up against his lips, his tongue, his cheeks. And then, at last, the sound died out and her thighs closed, just a little, around his head.

  Reluctantly, he pulled away.

  “Mmm…” she said again at last. Raizy’s eyes were closed and her expression blissful.

  Beryl thought she might fall asleep after that. Which he didn’t mind; honestly, he didn’t. After everything she’d been through this evening, how could he mind?

  Except for the fullness in his balls. If she fell asleep, he’d have to take care of that on his own.

  Her breathing had slowed. More rhythmic. Definitely, she was falling asleep. He crept up alongside her, to take his place on the pillow. He’d go to the bathroom in a few minutes to jerk off and relieve the tension. Right now, he just wanted to watch her doze.

  Surreptitiously, he wiped his face on the sheets. He didn’t mind smelling and tasting her on him, forever if he could, but his skin felt uncomfortably cold now.

  When he looked up, her eyes were open again.

  “That was very nice,” she said. Demurely, modestly. How the hell did she do that – flip a switch and turn from a raving sex beast into a perfect lady? No wonder all the boys in yeshiva said they didn’t understand girls. How could you begin to understand a creature like this?

  Suddenly, Beryl knew he could tell Raizy anything.

  “I got a job,” he blurted out.

  What would she say?

  On the other hand, was this confession worse than anything else they’d been through in the last two weeks? The humiliation of being interrupted in the yichud room, her throwing up in the honeymoon suite – and again, tonight? That frantic first-night fuck and now, tonight… this?

  “What about yeshiva?” she asked. He imagined all her dreams of being married to a Torah scholar, flying out the window.

  “I called the rosh yeshiva. I quit. He said he thought I’d be happy.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Okay.”

  Then, “What kind of job?”

  “Working in a store; a bookstore.”

  She sat with this for a minute.

  “But,” she started again. “The shadchan said you were planning to sit and learn.” Amazing that despite their new intimacy, most of what they knew about each other still came from that old bat, their matchmaker.

  “That’s what I told her.” He cleared his throat, tasting her on his tongue still as he spoke. “I’m sorry. It’s what I thought I wanted.”

  “But then?”

  “But then, you were worried about finding a job. About money. And I thought, I thought… a man shouldn’t let his wife worry that way.”

  “Wow,” she said.

  “Plus, who knows when there will be children to take care of?” he asked. May as well throw in some practical benefits. “This way, you can stay home.”

  “Stay home.”

  “Well, like you said. You can stay home… and write. Isn’t that what you said you wanted to do?”

  “Someday. I said someday.”

  “So tomorrow is someday.”

  “You start tomorrow? Right away?”

  “I guess they were short-staffed.”

  “But how do you know I’ll succeed? Maybe I’m not even a good writer.”

  Even though the shadchan hadn’t told his mother anything about Raizy’s writing ability, somehow, Beryl suddenly knew that whatever she tried to write would be great. Sometimes, you can just tell about a person. With Raizy – he could tell.

  “You’ll be great,” he said.

  “But what will I write?”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  She laughed then, and turned over onto her side. Which was when she glanced down at his stiff cock, still naked from when she’d pulled off his underpants.

  It seemed like hours since she’d come home from the mikveh. Since they’d retreated to the bedroom. And he’d been hard all along.

  Hell, it could have actually been hours. How long had he been down there, in that surreal damp world between her legs? Half an hour? Forty-five minutes? Forget Viagra… he must have had the natural version coursing through his bloodstream for months now. Years.

  Sleepy now, she raised herself up and hoisted her body, slowly, on top of his. Rubbed her soaked pussy playfully over his whole pubic area. It was his turn to let out one of those low, involuntary groans. He didn’t think he could stand more than a few seconds of this kind of playing before he would scream in frustration.

  Happily, she put him out of his misery. She reared up suddenly, high above him, then plunged herself down on top of him. On a friend’s advice, he’d hidden a tube of lubricant in the bedside drawer. But there was no need; this was as wet as a human being could get.

  “Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god fuck me.”

  “I’m fucking you.”

  “Fuck me more. Fuck me harder. Oh!”

  He�
��d never spoken out loud before, let alone yelped like that. When would he have had the chance? At yeshiva? In his parents’ house on Shabbos? Now that he could, he did, practically shouting,

  “Ride me, ride me, ohhhh, fuck.”

  He grabbed her breasts, one in each hand. Held them, gently squeezing, as she rocked her body on top of his, up and down, stroking his shaft until he couldn’t take it any longer.

  “I’m going to – ” he said, almost apologetically.

  “Come into me,” she said, like an accomplished lover. How did she know exactly what to say? “Come into me. I want to pump it out of you.”

  So he let her. He let himself go, arching backwards into the sheets as his cock flailed upwards. Cum sprayed out of him in a fire-hose gush, violent bursts like fireworks, spraying up inside of her.

  And then – Beryl collapsed.

  It was his turn to be sleepy, and this time, there was no coming back from this dozey, dopey place his mind had wandered off to.

  Tomorrow, he would leave early and take the subway to work for the first time in his adult life. He was a man now and he was stepping up to the plate.

  He’d be a man, and support his wife so she could do what she loved to do. And, since what she loved to do seemed – at least in part – to involve his cock, then perhaps, tomorrow night, he’d shove her full of his manliness once again.

  CHAPTER Twenty-four

  Raizy

  If only someone had told her it would be like this. So raw, so powerful.

  She drifted dozily in and out of sleep, still riding on a drowsy cum-filled haze. Everything around her seemed sticky and warm, though the bed was dry and Beryl’s side already cool from where he’d gotten up and showered that morning.

  Showered her sex off him, she realized.

  She hoped she’d get to smear him with it again soon.

  And then Raizy sat up. Why shouldn’t that someone be her?

  The someone who told all there was to tell about what went on – between husbands and wives.

  She was a married woman now. She knew what happened behind closed doors. Maybe not everything, but she could learn.

  And she had always wanted to write – something. She just hadn’t been exactly sure what. She always figured she’d do some kind of reporting for a community paper or her shul.

  Now, Beryl had given her the chance.

  Was it really possible? Could she really do it?

  Now that she had discovered the rawness, the pleasure, the depth of what was possible between her legs and her husband’s… well, she didn’t have all the experience in the world, but why shouldn’t that someone be her?

  So she dragged herself to the kitchen and hauled out her laptop. He was gone; first to shul, then to work.

  Grateful for the real internet connection they’d paid for instead of her parents’ “kosher internet” service that wouldn’t have let her do the searches she needed to do, or watched the videos she needed to watch, she stared at the blank page for a minute.

  Then, silence roaring in her ears and that heat – that constant heat – buzzing between her legs, Raizy began to type:

  Hassidic Passion.

  She was still a novice. She had a lot to learn… but already, a lot to say, and her fingers twitched trying to hold back the words that threatened to pour out any second.

  Perhaps, she thought, licking her lips, hovering over the keyboard, eager to begin, the journey of discovery really can be its own reward.

  And somehow, she sensed that Beryl would make a great companion along the way.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jayde Blumenthal is an established writer in other genres, and she’s super-excited about branching out into a field where she can let her passions fly free. Come sign up for occasional free quickies and deals at http://JaydeBlue.com.

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