by Shosha Pearl
"You tell me," he said.
"I want to feel your fingers inside me – right inside me," she said.
"Then take them inside you. And tell me what you feel."
Esther moaned. "I'm sliding my middle finger inside myself. Oh, I'm so wet – and hot, burning hot and sticky with moistness. It feels so good to slide in and out." Her voice was breathless. "I want to pleasure myself to climax," she said. "Will you let me do that?"
"I want you to imagine it's me," he replied.
"Of course it's you," she said. "I'm spreading my juices around my clitoris. It feels so, so good. I'm circling it – round and round. Oh, it feels incredible."
He was silent.
"Are you there?" she asked.
"I'm here. I'm touching you. Tell me more," Sholem said, his eyes staring at the ceiling.
Esther delivered clusters of words in breaks. "I’m rubbing, circling and rubbing harder. It feels so good. I can feel pleasure around my body. The muscles in my back and legs – and my shoulders – are beginning to tense... I crave to have you inside me. I’m thinking about your hardness. It makes me want to rub myself harder... I can't talk ..."
The sounds Esther made filled the darkness; they were part scream, part sob. “Ah, ah, ah, aaaahhhhh."
As her breathing calmed he asked her, his voice as tense and strained as she had ever heard it. "How was that? Did you like the way I touched you?"
Esther gave a slow sweet smile. "Oh, yes. Yes, I did. Thank you." She sounded languid and seductive.
"I'm glad," his voice sounded lighter, as though he was smiling. But a minute later Sholem rolled out of bed. Despite the dark he had his clothes on in seconds and then his runners. "You go to sleep, Esther, my darling. I'm going for a run."
It was Monday night. Esther was driving home from the mikveh; her windows down, warm summer air rubbing her flushed face. She had a ten-minute drive through residential streets before she got home. Esther's eyes scanned the houses that lined the streets; she imagined that in each Jewish house she passed women were cooking for Shabbos. But what was everyone else doing, she wondered? Perhaps they were watching television or on their smartphones surfing the Internet, reading emails or on Facebook. Isn't that what most people did at night at home? Esther smiled; it wasn't the only thing they did. How many people, right then, at that moment were having sex? How many were watching sex on their computers or phones? She tried imagining what it would be like to watch a movie that had people having sex in it – and to be able do this whenever you felt like it. It made her uncomfortable and excited contemplating what those films might look like. How would they sound? What would the people do in them? She wondered how she would feel if she watched one of these movies. Would she be disgusted or aroused? Or both?
Sometimes, on the rare occasion she went into newsagents, she saw magazines with pictures of partially naked women on the front and was torn between wanting to stare or turn her back on them. Once, not long before she had finished school, Esther had gone into a secular bookstore, with its long rows of multi-colored paperbacks; fraying rugs stretching across scratched, worn floors. She'd had time to spare until the next bus came so she had browsed the aisles to see the sorts of books that existed outside her tiny frum world - the sorts of books that other people read. There had been books about murders, about aliens, about wars from the ancient world. There had also been many books about love. Esther had drifted along the quiet aisles, her fingers tracing over the tops of each spine, enjoying the gentle roughness of pressed paper.
What she had discovered at the end of one aisle had made her stop with uneasy curiosity. She had found the books about sex - all different types of sex. There had been novels with book descriptions that were shocking but fascinating. She had understood quickly that no one was married; no one worried about whether what they were doing was right or wrong, or how their actions would be viewed in the eyes of Hashem. More shocking still had been the books with pictures; these Esther flicked with uncontained curiosity. She had stood looking at them for what felt like an eternity, unable to stop reading. They had told her more about sex in that brief moment in time than the sum of all she had learnt to that point in her life.
The young seventeen-year-old Esther who stood looking at those pictures in the bookstore had never had a conversation with an adult about sex. She had barely spoken with her friends about it. Her friends didn’t talk about such things and where references were made, they were done quickly and without elaboration because none of them had known any more than she did. And besides, it just wasn’t proper or tsnius to talk about such things.
It was only during her kallah classes, three years later, in the months leading up to her wedding, that Esther learnt anything about sex - and even then, what she had learnt barely equipped her for what was to come. After the wedding, judging by Sholem's uncertainty on their first night together, his chosson classes must not have been much better. The rebbetzin, her kallah teacher, had produced a basic sketch of male and female sexual organs. She had talked about the vagina and the clitoris in the simplest terms. Then she had moved on to discuss the penis. She had explained to Esther that the penis has two phases: flaccid or erect. When it was erect, she had said, her chosson would insert his penis into her vagina and would move it in and out until he reached the point of climax; when this happened his semen would ejaculate through the eye of his penis. Esther had been fascinated and had wanted to know more but was too shy to ask. There had been no joy in looking at pictures of penises with Rebbetzin Sterner and their conversation about clitorises had seemed as awkward for the rebbetzin as it had been for Esther.
Rebbetzin Sterner had said, "Some women find it is pleasurable when their clitoris is touched and some find they can reach climax when their husbands... ahem... stimulate it." At that point, the rebbetzin had turned over the pictures and folded her hands in her lap. The lesson for that evening had been over.
These classes had taught Esther that sex was a mitzvah between husband and wife. Sex between a Jewish man and wife was sacred – it was kodesh. Such an idea had seemed beautiful to Esther, the young rabbi’s daughter as she approached her own marriage, but Esther had not forgotten the pictures she had seen that morning in the bookshop, a few years earlier. Those pictures had made sex seem to be more than just a mitzvah. Many of the pictures in the bookstore had been sketches, just like those on the rebbetzin’s table. But the sketches in the bookstore had been very different. She had seen images of men and women with pubic hair. Women with bare breasts had stared at their lovers free of shame while numerous erections had burst forth from the page, sometimes with a hand or a mouth on it – sometimes inside a woman. It was through this tiny illicit moment in an ageing, empty bookstore that Esther had discovered sexual intimacy happened in different ways, in many different positions. Travelling home she had found herself looking at men – Jews, non-Jews, people of all colors and ethnicities – and wondering what lay beneath their clothing. Did they all have penises that stood out like those in the books? Could their faces contort with the same expressions of pleasure, lust or joy?
Now, ten years later, driving home from the mikveh, Esther was no longer a virgin, but she was still not as comfortable with her sexuality as the people in those books. Only half an hour before she had stood before the mirror and looked properly at herself. Her mikveh preparation had been different this time. She had decided to do something about the wildness of the hair growing between her legs. She had wanted to shave it off completely – to be as brave and bare as her neighbor – but she worried that Sholem had already struggled with the changes in her and he might find this too confronting.
For the first time in her life she had brought scissors to the mikveh. Sitting cross-legged on the tiled floor, naked from the waist down, Esther had carefully trimmed her pubic hair. Slowly, precisely, she had cut the hair, surprised at the paleness of the wispy strands that gathered in balls on the floor between her legs. She had taken each of her lips between fingers
and trimmed along their ridges. When she had finished and stood before the mirror in the bright florescent light she’d been amazed at the difference. What had been a thick bush of dark, chaotic hair had become a layer of lightness – both in color and in feel. Running her fingers along her opening; it had felt as though someone had opened a gate to her sex. She was frightened and excited to see how Sholem would react.
Before she had dressed that night at the mikveh, having immersed herself with fervent intentions – with a kavonah unlike any she had had before - she had turned from side to side to view herself in the mirror. She had on a new bra and panties that were dark blue and edged with white lace. Her mound had seemed barely contained by the flimsy v-shaped fabric; when she had turned, the swelling of her buttocks had been as visible as the breasts which had spilled out over the low-cut cups of her new bra.
It had been difficult to shake off her constant awareness of this tiny, smooth underwear as she had pulled on her clothing and then as she drove home. Esther imagined herself standing before Sholem wearing nothing but these paltry coverings. She wanted to walk around him – to circle him, so that his eyes would follow her every movement, watching desire and confusion rushing across his face until the two merged into one.
Esther walked through the front door with her heart rate elevated. The apartment still smelled of cheese pasta from dinner; the dishes she had left in the sink remained untouched, but it was quiet which meant the children were probably in bed.
Sholem was not in the tiny room at the back they called his study; he was sitting in the lounge by the window, reading. He closed the book and stood when she approached, extending his warm, soft hands. Pulling her towards him, his kiss was light.
"I've missed you," he said. He seemed calm, not at all as he had been in the past week. Esther felt momentarily shy in his embrace, but the sensation of his arms around her, the smell of him so close, quickly launched a whirl of thoughts inside her mind. Esther felt herself begin to sway, but Sholem’s arms tightened around her, drawing her to him. Within seconds, she was overwhelmed by a realization of how much she wanted this man, her husband. She wanted him in a way that overwhelmed her.
If the eyes she raised failed to tell him how she was feeling, she knew the press of her mouth to his would leave him in no doubt. Esther wanted to be consumed – and to consume in turn. Sholem’s taste, the feel of his hands on her body, these things sent uncensored signals to her brain. Meeting the force of his mouth on hers, she extended her tongue towards his as she pushed her body tighter against him. The movement triggered something inside Sholem. He propelled her backwards in his arms until she was pinned against the wall. Esther’s excitement was almost unbearable. She could scarcely breathe with anticipation as Sholem lifted her skirt and pushed his hand inside her panties. When he drove his finger inside her, the sounds of her desperate pleasure echoed through the apartment.
“The children?” she whispered in his ear.
“Asleep.” His voice was hoarse.
“I want you,” she said involuntarily.
Sholem looked at his wife, placing his hands on each of her shoulders, holding her back to the wall. Esther could feel his stiffness reaching out to her. She saw her husband’s chest rising and falling; she saw the stained, wet pinkness of his lips, and the eagerness in his eyes and she knew his face was a reflection of her own – that at that moment she looked as wild and wanton as any woman could. The idea filled her with more excitement than she knew was possible. “I need you,” she whispered.
Sholem grabbed Esther’s hand and pulled her into their dark, warm bedroom, pushing her on to the bed. “Don’t move,” he said. For the first time in their married life he used his bedside lamp to light their intimacy, rather than turning on their bathroom light and allowing its florescent brightness to creep through a half-open door towards them. “I want to be able to see you properly tonight,” he said.
Esther crawled to the center of the bed, dropping her shoes on the floor. She knelt on the covers - her eyes fixed on her husband - and began to take off her clothes. Sholem was on the bed in an instant, pulling at her clothing and his, covering her with kisses. The underwear she had chosen with great care was torn from her body without a second glance. Within seconds they were both stripped naked.
Sholem pushed Esther back on the bed. The sight of his erection stretching out towards her was mesmerizing. And then he was on top of her; his bare flesh on hers; the rough press of his mouth; the sound of his excitement; these things were almost too much for Esther to process. She found herself held still by a mix of pleasure and expectation as Sholem cupped and fondled her breasts; his mouth moving down her body. The wet warmth of his kisses circled her belly and her hips. His mouth pressed on the top of her thigh and moved inwards. Esther could barely breathe wondering whether Sholem would dare to kiss her there - in her most intimate place, from which the scent of her need for him was rising.
Esther lay with her eyes closed. Her mind filled with images from that night - weeks before - when she had watched Jason push his face between his wife’s legs. Esther’s fear and excitement tussled together inside her so that she could not be sure whether she wanted Sholem to do this thing to her - whether she wanted to feel the pleasures that she had witnessed her neighbor experience. Sholem opened his mouth and took Esther’s thigh between his teeth at the same moment his fingers reached into her wetness. Esther moaned, and continued to moan as he ran those same fingers along the gushing valley of her sex, around her clitoris and then inside her. Esther arched her back and called for more.
“I need you inside me,” she whispered.
Sholem moved like an advancing predator. His eyes were fixed on hers – unblinking - as he unfolded himself from between her thighs and positioned himself above her. He paused a moment before slowly pushing himself inside her. Esther’s husband’s increased sexual self-confidence made him a virtual stranger to her. But she wanted him with absolute desperation.
Sounds, low and guttural, escaped from Esther’s mouth, echoes to each of Sholem’s thrusts. She raised her legs and wrapped them high around her husband’s hot, firm back, tipping her hips to receive the fullness of his penetration. Esther ran her nails down Sholem’s back, clawing at him, urging him to push deeper and harder. And as he continued, Esther began to notice sensations rising inside her; slow and lovely, the unfamiliar vibrations ran along her limbs, surfacing in a flush of heat along her chest and into her face. Pleasure flowed through Esther’s body like a current; breathless, shapeless sounds emerged from deep inside her, husky and unfamiliar, pulling Sholem from his frenzy.
“Are you OK?” he asked. He had switched from wild to tender in a second, dropping small kisses around her face.
“I am more than OK.” Esther felt a new wave of energy rush through her. She wanted more. “It’s my turn,” she said.
“Your turn?”
“My turn on top,” she answered.
Sholem’s face was a mix of expressions as he slid his arm underneath her, flipping them both in one quick effort. Voices rose from the communal garden into the warmth of the room, their muffled words failing to penetrate the bubble that had formed around these two naked lovers.
Sholem lay still as Esther placed her knees on either side of her husband’s body. She was amazed at the delight she felt at being so exposed before him - her breasts hanging unashamedly in the brightness of the lamplight. She knew the pleasure she was experiencing was written all over her face. “Don't move," she said, raising and then lowering herself on to him. Her movements were so smooth and deliberate that they seemed rehearsed. Esther raised Sholem’s hand to cup her breast. He circled it, squeezing her nipple between his fingers. She closed her eyes and let herself go completely in the moment, taking a deep breath and rubbing herself back and forth against Sholem’s bareness, feeling his steel-like hardness inside her.
At first Sholem appeared relaxed beneath her, as if changing positions had eased some of the wildness that
had taken hold of him only minutes earlier. But as she picked up her pace, lifting and pushing her weight against him, feeling the fullness of the sensations that greeted her, Esther sensed Sholem’s tension grow beneath her. Within moments his fingers grabbed her thighs with such force that she knew she would have bruises for days to come to remind her of this moment. Esther watched the muscles in his arms, chest and neck tense as he ground her against him. Esther’s thighs strained as she strove to keep up the pace that Sholem set. She lifted her hands to her breasts and rubbed them roughly, pinching her nipples between her fingers.
"I can't hold on,' he moaned, spraying a boundless tide inside his wife as he crushed their bodies together, trying to extend his last moments of release.
When it was over he closed his eyes. If not for the fact that his hands still held on to her legs, Esther would have assumed from Sholem’s silence that he had instantly fallen asleep. She sank down beside him and stroked his chest, ready to go again and again.
"I need to adjust to this new you," he said, his eyes still closed.
"Me too," she said.
Later, Esther was up with her little boy. It took almost twenty minutes to settle him. By the time he rolled on to his side and closed his eyes, she was ready for sleep. As she switched the kitchen lights off, standing a moment in the darkness, she turned to look towards her neighbors' window. A light was on, but something was different. She walked forward, gazing across at their apartment. It was as she thought.
"Esty?" Sholem called, silently approaching her from behind. "Are you coming back to bed?"
Esther tensed from the surprise of Sholem's presence in the darkness, from the casual comfort of his touch, from sharing this decisive moment with her husband, even though he would never know just what that moment meant.
Something hard rubbed against her backside; her interest in sleep was immediately erased by the excitement of her husband's sexual readiness. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling in gratitude for what Hashem had given to her.
