Read Online Hassidic Passion by Jayde Blumenthal - Free Book Online
Authors: Jayde Blumenthal
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secrets.
But why did they have to be secret? If this business between husbands and wives really was as holy as everybody said, why not share it openly? Maybe not shout it from the rooftops, but at least write it in a book. A pamphlet. Something.
Raizy wondered how often most of these women here in the waiting room did it with their husbands. Three times? Twice a week? Maybe less?
She figured how often a boy – a man – wanted to do it had to with how much juice he had built up inside. That slippery juice she’d felt between her legs that first night.
Did Beryl have more than most boys? Less?
She was so curious about that juice… and couldn’t help thinking about these virtuous women lying beneath their husbands in bed when they got home from the mikveh .
Bearded husbands, white undershirts, discarded tzitzis lying on the floor, pants around their ankles, pumping juices into each of these ladies who now sat demurely, legs crossed, reading or praying as they waited.
Squirting them full, full and then overflowing, juices pou ring out of the men into their wive’s most private éclairs.
Oy.
Raizy was starting to squirm on the uncomfortable chair. She realized she’d been rocking back and forth, just slightly, pulling and stretching her private parts in a way that was starting to tingle.
She shouldn’t be thinking about that. Not here.
Soon enough, she’d strip down, dunk in the mikveh, and then rush home to be with Beryl again.
More than anything, she wanted to know more about his juices. She wanted him inside her, but she also wanted to know everything about it – to see, to touch, to taste whatever came out of him down there.
Patience, she told herself.
There were years ahead. There would be time ahead for everything she wanted to try.
But her private parts didn’t believe it, at least to judge from the way she’d started rubbing herself again – almost against her will – on the rounded edge of the chair.
“Next!”
It was Raizy’s turn, finally, to be led into a private room.
“What do I do?” she asked, embarrassed to sound like a no vice, even though that’s essentially what she was.
The mikveh lady came with Raizy into the room and started water running into the bathtub.
“You studied how to prepare?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, so take a bath, shower off, comb your hair, dentures out, earrings out. Just press the green button to call one of us when you’re ready.”
“Okay, thanks.”
The mikveh lady shut the door as she left, and Raizy turned the lock behind her.
Dentures?
The rest she knew already. She knew how to prepare like a virtuous woman. She’d gone over it with with the rebbitzen, of course.
But there was one thing she needed to do first. Raizy didn’t think she’d make it into the cleansing waters without letting out some of this tension first. There would be plenty left for her husband, she promised herself.
At least it wasn’t a sin for a woman to explore herself. No seed to spill. Right now, she was grateful she wasn’t a man, with so many more opportunities for transgression and punishment in fulfilling his pent-up desires.
So when the bathtub was full, Raizy lowered herself into the slightly too-hot water with a sigh. She pictured her own seeping moisture spreading into the clean, pure water in the tub.
Then, she reached down into her fuzzy bush of hair, spreading her own lips apart with her fingers. Stuffed the fingers of her other hand inside herself, vibrating them gently.
Imagining the lapping water as her husband’s tongue, she stroked herself harder and harder until – with a groan, arching her back, she released all her passion, wave after arching wave, into the cleansing heat of its watery embrace.
CHAPTER Twenty-one
Beryl
Does it usually take this long?
Beryl hated himself for being so impatient. Before marriage, he imagined himself somehow
But why did they have to be secret? If this business between husbands and wives really was as holy as everybody said, why not share it openly? Maybe not shout it from the rooftops, but at least write it in a book. A pamphlet. Something.
Raizy wondered how often most of these women here in the waiting room did it with their husbands. Three times? Twice a week? Maybe less?
She figured how often a boy – a man – wanted to do it had to with how much juice he had built up inside. That slippery juice she’d felt between her legs that first night.
Did Beryl have more than most boys? Less?
She was so curious about that juice… and couldn’t help thinking about these virtuous women lying beneath their husbands in bed when they got home from the mikveh .
Bearded husbands, white undershirts, discarded tzitzis lying on the floor, pants around their ankles, pumping juices into each of these ladies who now sat demurely, legs crossed, reading or praying as they waited.
Squirting them full, full and then overflowing, juices pou ring out of the men into their wive’s most private éclairs.
Oy.
Raizy was starting to squirm on the uncomfortable chair. She realized she’d been rocking back and forth, just slightly, pulling and stretching her private parts in a way that was starting to tingle.
She shouldn’t be thinking about that. Not here.
Soon enough, she’d strip down, dunk in the mikveh, and then rush home to be with Beryl again.
More than anything, she wanted to know more about his juices. She wanted him inside her, but she also wanted to know everything about it – to see, to touch, to taste whatever came out of him down there.
Patience, she told herself.
There were years ahead. There would be time ahead for everything she wanted to try.
But her private parts didn’t believe it, at least to judge from the way she’d started rubbing herself again – almost against her will – on the rounded edge of the chair.
“Next!”
It was Raizy’s turn, finally, to be led into a private room.
“What do I do?” she asked, embarrassed to sound like a no vice, even though that’s essentially what she was.
The mikveh lady came with Raizy into the room and started water running into the bathtub.
“You studied how to prepare?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, so take a bath, shower off, comb your hair, dentures out, earrings out. Just press the green button to call one of us when you’re ready.”
“Okay, thanks.”
The mikveh lady shut the door as she left, and Raizy turned the lock behind her.
Dentures?
The rest she knew already. She knew how to prepare like a virtuous woman. She’d gone over it with with the rebbitzen, of course.
But there was one thing she needed to do first. Raizy didn’t think she’d make it into the cleansing waters without letting out some of this tension first. There would be plenty left for her husband, she promised herself.
At least it wasn’t a sin for a woman to explore herself. No seed to spill. Right now, she was grateful she wasn’t a man, with so many more opportunities for transgression and punishment in fulfilling his pent-up desires.
So when the bathtub was full, Raizy lowered herself into the slightly too-hot water with a sigh. She pictured her own seeping moisture spreading into the clean, pure water in the tub.
Then, she reached down into her fuzzy bush of hair, spreading her own lips apart with her fingers. Stuffed the fingers of her other hand inside herself, vibrating them gently.
Imagining the lapping water as her husband’s tongue, she stroked herself harder and harder until – with a groan, arching her back, she released all her passion, wave after arching wave, into the cleansing heat of its watery embrace.
CHAPTER Twenty-one
Beryl
Does it usually take this long?
Beryl hated himself for being so impatient. Before marriage, he imagined himself somehow
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