THE WEDDING NIGHT. STORY

In a small room in the teachers' dormitory, a young teacher, Nina Aleksandrovna, was sitting at a table covered with a heavy fringed tablecloth. She was only twenty-four years old. And she was pretty. Fluffy hair lay in a dark avalanche on her shoulders. On weekdays, with the help of hairpins, she gathered them into a bun, but they, unruly, framed her face in stubborn wavy strands and made it more attractive. Her classic facial features allowed her to be called a beauty.

Nina Alexandrovna's shining gray eyes looked at the world benevolently. Her sonorous and high-pitched voice could be heard even in the school hallway when she taught lessons to her beloved second-graders. This was her second year working with them. Not all of them succeeded. Vasya’s studies with Polyakov were not going well. And he wrote poorly. I skipped all vowel sounds. He wrote his last name with four consonants - PLKV.

You are my Egyptian! Just like you, the Egyptians wrote. You are not alone. Humanity did not immediately catch and identify vowel sounds in speech. But it did it. So you can do it too!

Now, in the second grade, Vasya was already writing dictations with grades of four. Overcame the obstacle. I did it. Few people knew that for almost six months Vasya went to Nina Alexandrovna for individual lessons in her dorm. He sat down at the table. He and the young teacher took a book of fairy tales and turned each fairy tale into a ballad. They sang the lyrics! And so Vasya comprehended the world of vowel sounds!

-In some kingdom, in some state! - was heard in the corridor.

Now the month of March was outside the window.

Nina looked through the washed window at the bird cherry bush that grew under the window. She thought that everything in nature is arranged wisely. In spring, the Earth experiences the joy of renewal every year. Trees lose their leaves in autumn. It is believed that all of it. But last year’s leaves still remained on the old bird cherry tree. Why did neither snow, nor wind, nor winter storm ever force them to tear themselves away from their native branch? A few withered leaves of bird cherry were visible in the tangle of flexible branches like lonely brown lumps. We held on.

But in the spring, new leaves will appear, and a heap of old leaves will appear from under the winter snow at the very roots of the bird cherry tree. But they will remain so - last year's foliage. Bird cherry, no matter how much it wants, will not lift them from the ground and return them to their branches. The crown of the tree will be completely renewed.

Why is it not as simple for people as for living trees? The past is not at all like a heap of leaves under a tree in spring. Some events, like leaves stuck in the crown, remain with a person forever.

No, no, and helpful memory will throw up one episode from the past, then another.

It's good when these memories are bright.

Here she is, a young student at a pedagogical college. College, as it was called during her student years. She is not yet eighteen years old, but she got a temporary job in a shop baking pies. The factory is almost next to the house. But Yegor comes for her after his shift on a bicycle. She understands that he likes to carry her on the frame of a bicycle. After all, he almost hugged her! In front of everyone.

She would hardly have agreed to go for a ride with him if she weren’t so tired. And then one day it seemed to her that Yegor was looking down the neckline of her dress. Ah well? Unnoticed, she then took out a small box of powder from her purse and opened it. And so - as soon as he leaned indecently close to her - there, the powder hit him right in the face.

They fell into a ditch. Both were hurt. For some reason, both laughed at the sight of each other. Then she carried the fallen wheel, and Yegor turned the bicycle over and drove it down the street on the surviving rear wheel, lifting it by the handlebars. And the bicycle chain was dragging along the ground with some strange creaking sound. And these sounds made all the dogs behind the high fences of the wooden houses bark loudly and angrily.

-All! The last time I came for you.

And so it turned out that the last one. He received a summons to join the army.

Nina saw him off easily. The correspondence was stormy.

She didn’t believe anyone when they told her that Yegor was no longer in the world. I didn’t believe it, but ran to his house.

There was some kind of ominous silence around. On the veranda, on two stools, stood a galvanized coffin with a window. And there, behind this window, she saw her own face. She turned and walked away from this horror. She walked, but her legs gave out on her. She fell on the street. The neighbors saw her. They picked me up and carried me home in my arms. She lay completely indifferent to everything. She didn't say a word. I looked in front of me - that’s all. Her father opened her mouth with a spoon, unclenched her clenched teeth and poured broth into her mouth. She didn't want to swallow.

-Live! - he told her. - Don't you dare follow him. Live!

She rose after three days. Another.

Wounded bird. That's what her father said about her.

-Nothing, nothing! Time will heal the wounds.

Father knew what he was saying. He was at war.

She came to terms with the loss of her loved one. I even tried to build a personal life. On the rubble. Didn't build it. And she left to teach in a distant village.

And the children warmed her up. The village suitors also tried to attract her attention. It wasn't like that. She didn't greet anyone.

Islands of memories, like those stuck last year's leaves, were still alive.

Only spring played with her. The sun warmed gently. The drops rang joyfully. Be reborn! I give you an example!

Someone timidly knocked on her room.

-Come in, it's not locked!

The door opened, Alexey entered - the first guy in the village. All the unmarried girls of the village “ran” after him, and even the married ones looked approvingly. In fact, he showed up right in the middle of winter in his flight cadet uniform. Due to health reasons, he was expelled from the flight school. Could not withstand overloads during flight practice. He got a job as a driver at a state farm after completing the courses. The girl didn’t wait for him. Got married. That is why he began to look down on everyone else. He set a price for them. And it was small.

The eagle look of his brown eyes, his tall stature, his easy gait, his wonderful singing voice, his bearing and his courtesy made him irresistible.

-Are you coming to me on business? - Nina asked in surprise, turning to him.

-Yes, you can say so. I came to get married.

Here's to you, grandma, and St. George's Day! He came to get married! In honor of what? No signs of attention, a casual introduction, nothing more, and here he is - showing up. I've come to get married! She's not a chick in a stall. To throw a rope like this and lead you along.

Nina was indignant.

-So, you want to say that you love me?

Why are you women running around with this love? I already fell out of love with mine once. No. I do not like. But I'm calling you to get married. We are the right age for each other. It's time for us to start families. And for this, respect is enough. I treat you very well. (So ​​have we already switched to “you”?) You are pretty, smart, you love children, and they love you. This means you will be a good mother to my children. To our kids. I'm not calling you into fornication. I am calling you to marry. Yes. I think it may not work out for us. Anything can happen. Then we'll go our separate ways. What do we have to lose? You are twenty-four years old, and I am twenty-five. Let's try!

-But I don’t love you either!

-Yes, I guess. So what do you tell me? What will be your positive answer?

“No,” the word burst from his lips, “who gets married like that?”

But outside the window the drops rang so loudly, the sun shone so gently, and the bird cherry branches under the window no longer crunched from the frost, but bent in the gentle spring breeze, and everything around was awakening from winter sleep. She looked, looked at the blue high sky, at the distance of the field, at the grove in the distance and suddenly quietly nodded her head.
- Let's try.

Alexey was delighted and smiled at her.

-Well done! I made the right decision!

It turns out that all his numerous relatives have already gathered at his house, and everyone is waiting for her there to discuss the upcoming wedding. And tomorrow they must submit an application when they agree on the day of the celebration.

The wedding was scheduled for two weeks. And for the entire two weeks Yegor regularly went to her dorm. He was more silent. I sat on a chair by the window, and she wrote work plans. He took books from her shelf. Read.

“I’m getting you used to me,” he said with a smile, “otherwise we’ll sit at the wedding table like strangers.”

They had already gone to the city and bought him a suit, and her a wedding dress and veil. We also bought gold rings. And still there was some kind of invisible wall of alienation between them.

-What am I doing? And for what? And isn’t it possible to give up all this before it’s too late?

The wedding was noisy and very fun.

Only at three o'clock in the morning did they arrange all the guests for the night. Nina’s parents stayed in her dorm, in her room. His relatives are in his house.

They came to Alyosha. His mother threw up her hands in confusion.

And I didn’t even think about you. I decided that I would go to the hostel. You know, go to the summer kitchen. I'll give you a sheepskin coat. Heat the stove, Egor.

The sheepskin coat dragged itself through the March snow. The kitchen, although it had a stove, was so cold that there was no way to warm up in it. Alexey filled the firebox of the stove with firewood. But still there was no warmth.

-I’ll just fall from fatigue now, honestly! I can't wait for the kitchen to heat up.

-Now!

There was a wooden trestle bed in the corner of the kitchen. Not covered with anything. Alexey spread part of his sheepskin coat on him and lay down with his back to the cold wall. Nina did not dare to take off her wedding dress in this cold. She lay down in it. I just took off my veil. The young husband also did not even take off his wedding jacket, but only opened it. There was no pillow. Nina lay down on her husband's arm. He hugged her so tightly, wrapped her in a hollow sheepskin coat so carefully, and held her practically in his arms that for the first time she felt for him that warmth that had not awakened in her soul for so long. It was as if she had been walking along a thorny road, and now she had arrived. And this is her haven.

He didn't sleep until almost morning. He kept wrapping her up and wrapping her up. Protected and preserved. But she also worried about him all the time. She slipped her thin arms under his jacket, and covered his back with her palms. The wall behind him was almost icy. So they lay side by side in some strange half-asleep. And during this strange dream, their human intimacy was born. The wall of exclusion was disappearing.
Then, many years later, she asked him about that night. Why didn't he insist on intimacy?

Were we in a hurry? We had our whole lives ahead of us. You should remember this trestle bed, and this cold. Did you want to catch a cold? And so we have something more pleasant to remember.

He confused her with his words. By that time they had already raised two children of their own, but she had not lost her ability to be embarrassed.

And again the drops of another spring rang! And these sounds again gave someone new hope for revival. And last year’s withered leaves trembled and crumbled in the crown of the old bird cherry tree under the windows of the hostel.

Valentina Telukhova

**************

From Agnieszka:

Moved me to tears, bright and pure,

how it feels to be told.

And where is the current world in a hurry?

Losing the meaning of true relationships...

Ultimately losing each other...

Losing myself.

And the race continues...

Not everyone will dare to describe their wedding night.
Immediately after it, they are stopped from writing by feelings that either overwhelmed the person to such an extent that there is no time for description, or bitter disappointment that it is already shameful not only to describe, but to remember.

One day, a woman who came to see me before a long journey for a cup of tea inadvertently forgot her diary. While cleaning the apartment, I came across this notebook, with burnt edges and yellowed pages, and at first, mistaking it for my drafts, I sat down to leaf through it, but immediately came across the inscription, “First Wedding Night.” Well, it’s not for me to tell you, reader, how intrigued I was. Especially if your wedding night is so far from reality. As a well-mannered person (I thought), she put the notebook aside and decided to finish cleaning, thinking in the meantime, was it not by chance that the notebook was forgotten by the guest? What if she wanted to tell me, but didn’t have the courage? Perhaps there is something interesting there? And if so, should I start reading from the beginning, or only about the first wedding night? Doubts tormented me, my hands were burning, my thoughts were confused, and then the owner of the diary called, saying, “I forgot your notebook, I may never come back for it” (She was leaving for another country), you can throw it away, don’t keep it Necessarily. You, a person interested in extraordinary cases, will probably find it interesting to read. I wished her all the best and picked up the notebook. But like the first wedding night, which is surrounded by secrets, which drowns in the imagination, which we anticipate and naturally dream about, wait and fear, does not bring the desired sensations. So the diary disappointed me a little. And I apologize in advance to you, my long-awaited reader, if you are disappointed by this description of the poor girl.

May. Evdokia, or simply Dusya, is my work colleague. I met her in the morning to go to work together and on the way, looking away, she told me about her secret. Oh, how interesting it was to listen. They (i.e. Evdokia and Vladimir) met a month ago, and they already had “IT”, that it was difficult for her to walk, that she felt between her legs, as if they had forgotten something there. I was a little upset. We have been friends with the young man for three years now, and besides kisses until the morning, nothing happens, and I want to give myself to him on this first night, innocent. And Dusya walks along, proud of herself and excited about her exclusivity, rubbing her knees. I ask her:

“Why are you touching knee to knee like that?”
And she told me: “The guys then think that an innocent girl is coming.”
“But you’re not innocent anymore!” I asked her in despair, because I couldn’t walk like that, and I was worried what everyone who knew about this would think about me now. And without hesitation she answered
“But I’m not married yet” Logic!

June. Dusya turns pale and often runs out to the toilet.
This evening my sweetheart and I went off to the empty market. Wide benches where you can sit and dangle your legs. I ate the dried fruits I received instead of candy because I loved them. Kissed. From some kisses the heart sank, and a particle, some kind of inexplicable melancholy, mixed with desire and pain, fell into the place Dusya told. It was nice and I wanted to kiss more, but I was afraid that the situation would get out of control. I started talking about the wonderful people I had read earlier, swinging my legs, and suddenly with the next swing..... I almost burned with shame, praying that at least there would be no smell. Oh, these dried fruits! And how deliberately it was quiet, or my ears were blocked! And he, looking into his eyes, asks:
"So what is next?"
he asked as if he hadn’t heard anything and kissed her on the cheek. She began to talk further, getting confused, the thought distracted her, did you hear or not? Mom came with a twig. I thought that something was going on between us, but when I saw us innocently chatting and sitting in an embrace, I calmed down, saying it was already 4 in the morning, it was time to leave. And how does time fly by with him?

August. Burning with shame, I canceled dates. He was worried and asked what happened. But here we are together. Again on the market benches. Indian summer. Hot. Light dress. Laying my head on his lap, I fall into anticipation. Eyes are directed to the sky. We are silent. Cozy, good. His trembling fingers touch his hair. And lulled, it seems, I fall asleep. And in my sleep I feel, or dream, how his hand easily lifts the crepe de Chine hem of his dress. Weightless fabric shifts and glides along your legs. His hand touches the panties with a slight movement. The heart seems to fall under his hand, trying to protect him. It pulsates there, under his hand. And where the heart should be, there is inexplicable joy. I fiddle. His hand returned to his head. I get up and, having kissed, barely touched, afraid to frighten off this new feeling, we return home. At the house we linger in a long kiss. Mom comes up to me as I fall asleep, trying to stroke my head, but now for the first time the touch of her hands is unpleasant.

September. At work I leaf through a health magazine. Article about the first wedding night. I'm wondering if my colleague Evdokia has read it. She is pale. The belly is visible, but the guy does not marry and avoids. Every evening he calls to his conscience with tears. She doesn't answer me, she just cries. I read it myself. It turns out that it happens that a man cannot do anything on the first night out of excitement and that the bride would prefer not to show that she is dissatisfied.
I read it, but didn’t believe that this would happen to me. I asked my brother’s fiancée what was going on with them. Her pure blue eyes filled with tears caused by tenderness, and she said that it happened so quickly that she didn’t have time to come to her senses? I guess I was a good listener if she revealed her secret. Or she wanted to remember him again, her fiancé and my brother (my brother was in the army and wrote to her that he was tired of sewing buttons on soldier’s trousers as soon as he remembered her) because she missed her. With rosy cheeks, with a mysterious look looking into inside her soul, she said that she had dated many guys, but never like with my brother.
“What about him?” I asked, freezing.
"ABOUT! There are no words in the Russian dictionary to describe the sensation when his hand touched his chest."
“How did it happen?”
“He caressed me, and you know that I was living in an apartment at the time and the owners were sleeping. They trusted me and your brother, but we also whispered quietly. He whispers, just let me hide the tip. I thought she would hide and calm down, but then I realized, biting the pillow, that everything had happened.”
“Was it pleasant or painful?” I didn’t let up.
“It’s both pleasant and painful. But so on until the morning. All night long"
“I read that it’s better to do it twice a week.”
“You read a lot. Don't believe everything doctors write there. They don’t know everything, she added defiantly, denouncing the doctors who wrote to Health magazine.
Attempts to find out something from married women were unsuccessful, they kept their secrets, and I decided to rush the groom with the wedding, timing it to coincide with the arrival of my brother from the army on leave. His fiancee Anya was extremely pleased with my proposal to sign on one day, because she still had a whole year left to serve him, and it was much more pleasant to wait as a wife. So it seemed to me.

December. On December 31, the registry office is open until lunchtime. We are waiting for our turn. And here my brother and I, born on the same day, both happy and cheerful, and our partners sad, and Anya, who even cried more than once, approached the treasured table in the registry office to sign. We are witnesses. The wedding in the evening is one for two, but the invitees are from my side, two classmates, colleagues from work and friends of the Husband. The word husband is fascinating, the more pleasant the anticipation of the first wedding night is. The article, which I conscientiously read about her, said not to drink alcohol, and even if the bride and groom drank, then to refrain from intimacy. The evening was drawing to a close when colleagues brought in their gift, a washing machine. It turned out to be unexpectedly easy to abstain. My husband's mother fell asleep on our wedding bed, mine snored on hers, and we sat on two chairs, hugging each other closely, all night.
“If many years later, the opportunity arises to tell us about our first night, no one will believe that we have preserved our innocence,” joked the groom, or rather the husband, hugging us tighter to himself. The morning started with jokes on us. I was jealous of my brother, they ran away in the evening before everyone else to her house. The stay was only a few days and they enjoyed the solitude. And I, surrounded by two mothers, are the groom’s sisters. They did not leave us for a minute, making us feel every touch more acutely, which made us incredibly tired and by the evening of that day, when his mother and sister left at 11 pm, and mine fell asleep, we entered a room without a door and finally froze in hugs. I consider this night to be the first wedding night.
The first of January, the beginning of a new year, a new milestone in my life, my wedding night. Having hugged each other, we, to our surprise, fell asleep. But the dream was short. I woke up from touching previously forbidden places. My husband, worried, examined my body with trembling fingers. Any touch lifted me above the bed. The climax did not come. We've been friends for too long, walking hand in hand until dawn, to rush now. He walked towards the logical end slowly, enjoying it. So I justified him not haste, not persistence. But then I felt sperm on my stomach and legs and, jumping out of bed, I ran to wash off this unpleasant, sliding thing. When I returned, my husband was sleeping, or pretended to be asleep. The article I read earlier helped with advice so that I wouldn’t find myself disappointed in the morning. The morning started prosaically. His mother came running and invited her son to the table, naturally, for a drink in the morning. In the evening, or rather at night, the same story was repeated, smeared legs, washing the perineum with cold water. On the third day, he sat in the morning, hugging a bucket, vomiting the excesses of what he had drunk. A friend came and told him that with vodka he would make this misunderstanding worse. Intimacy was not a pleasure, and I read to my husband that a marriage lasts better if husband and wife meet less often, for example twice a week. We set aside days of love, and began to sleep peacefully. Health magazine classified my coldness as a sign of frigidity. That’s what I lived with until I learned that it could be different. Chance helped. My brother came and asked to talk to Anya, she wants to break up. I'm going to Anna. I ask, he doesn’t answer. Looks away. I persuade her, praise my brother, exposing his good qualities, and after listening, she admits the reason for the divorce. It turned out that she cannot move in her sleep, as my brother throws himself with tenderness an infinite number of times a night, and then she has an abortion. And that's all I'm surprised at. Truly, a person does not value what he has. And I tell her the sad story of my married life. Anya listened, thought about it and changed her mind about getting a divorce. Alexandra 1966
In other ink it is written: “They (my brother and Anya) still live together, 40 years of married life did not cool his ardor, did not diminish his love for her, it was she who began to get tired more and fuss less in her sleep.” Alexandra 2007.

I delved into reading further descriptions of the hostess’s life with this and other husbands over many years of meetings and partings, became upset because of her disappointments in family life and decided not to upset the reader any more, so I ask permission to end this. But before I do this, I will say on my own behalf that she left for Canada after having an affair with a man 15 years younger than her. I hope that with him she will experience all the delights of her wedding night. After all, life is beautiful and amazing, and also unpredictable!

Nimegen, 1904

I honestly declare that the happiness of my marriage disappeared the moment my father kissed me on the forehead after the wedding dinner. Or rather, my suffering began shortly after this parental kiss. These sufferings were a direct result of my marriage to Captain McLeod - sufferings that I, a stupid girl who had just left the monastery and almost immediately found herself in the marriage bed, could not see even in a nightmare. They started on our first night. I don't think it happens often that a young girl - I'm not saying I was innocent, but you could say I was looking forward to our privacy with trembling hope - is more brutally raped, humiliated and insulted than I was during this disgusting, barbaric a ritual that remains in my memory as my wedding night. We left the wedding dinner while the guests were still eating and went not to Wiesbaden, where we were to spend our honeymoon, but to Zandvoort, a small place near Amsterdam. My beloved husband wanted to exercise his right to the first night in a cozy hotel, and not in a cramped compartment.

The atmosphere of our hotel room was somehow depressing, and I felt not like a young bride, but like a victim. The walls were dark, the doors were heavy, with iron curtains, like in a medieval castle. The heavy curtains were not so clean and muffled all sounds.

To cut a long story short, when we entered the room, it was approximately ten o'clock in the evening, my husband sternly told the attendant not to disturb us, after which he locked the door securely. Then... then he turned to me. He scared me. There was a strange gleam in his eyes. Today I immediately recognize a sadist by such a sparkle in his eyes.

Well, my dear Gretti, you were probably looking forward to this moment?” he asked. I noticed that he wasn't even waiting for my answer. He helped me take off my coat, threw it on the floor and kicked it away. And then he started literally tearing my dress. Literally. I was so stunned that I didn’t even think to ask him: “What are you doing?” My wedding dress was made of fine white silk. It was very long and hugged the figure. My luxurious black hair was covered with a heavy veil that made me look like a nun. I decided to keep my beautiful wedding dress, and now pieces of it were scattered all over the floor.

Then the captain grabbed my beautiful lace-trimmed bodice, pulled it and exposed my breasts. I could not utter a word, trembling with fear. The sight of my bare breasts simply drove him crazy. He roughly grabbed my dress and continued to tear the rustling silk like crazy - no, like a demon. He tore it at the waist, at the hips, and in the end the beautiful wedding dress lay at my feet. Or rather, these were the pitiful remains of a masterpiece made by a famous Parisian master.

Then the petticoat was torn and there was nothing to cover my body. I stood in complete confusion, covering my nakedness with my hands, freezing and dying of fear. All my hopes are gone, all my dreams are forgotten. I was now only his victim. The next moment I realized what kind of monster I had fallen into.

A roaring beast attacked me. Fully dressed, he came down on me with his full weight. His beard filled my mouth. At first I felt the unbearable heaviness of his body, then his hand began to probe my most intimate place, and suddenly, without any warning or preparatory caress, I felt that part of a man that I had so often dreamed of and which should be a source of indescribable pleasure.

I felt a hot thing between my legs - my husband forced them apart with his knees. His club was hard, and despite my confusion, I felt it poking, looking for the place where I needed to get into.

He found this place faster than I expected - that tiny hole that so often felt pleasure from Henrietta's slender fingers. But immediately my whole body was seized by such terrible pain that I roared like a wounded animal. It was as if a hot iron rod was piercing my stomach. The pain was so unbearable that my husband did not need to cover my mouth with his hand, like the first time: I lost consciousness. When I came to, he was standing over me almost naked and was about to put a cold compress on my burning triangle. Near the bed there was a basin of water, red with my blood.

I looked at my husband’s heavy, huge instrument, which hung almost to his knees - an instrument of torture that tormented me so painfully. It was a tool that would do credit to any stallion. And, to my horror, I soon realized this.

Well, it's over. You really scared me with your fainting. Don't worry, the first time always hurts. It was painful, right? But it's over, after all, you're not an old woman, right? - And then I heard these terrible words:

Okay, honey, let's get started. I haven't finished my terrible performance yet.

With these words, the man, who had become a complete stranger to me, moved his pelvis and said:

What, are you surprised that he hangs like that? Wait, now he will change. Just take the right pose.

"Pose"? What pose? I didn't understand anything. My husband was a completely different person than he had been during our courtship. But it turned out that I had not yet completely drunk this bitter cup.

Okay, go ahead, spread your legs, now lift your hips. I want to see this lovely hole. This makes me excited. Yes, dear, you will still marvel at your husband. Captain McLeod knows how to do it, everyone knows it

Incredibly, it was my husband. At the wedding, he drank a lot of wine, he was even drunk, maybe he is still like that from wine? I did not yet know about the extraordinary debauchery of this man.

He muttered irritably:

Damn, he won’t get up. Well, it’s okay, dear, I’ll whip you a little, it won’t hurt. But at least you will have something solid inside.

With these words, which I did not immediately understand, he took his cavalry whip - a thin, very flexible bamboo rod that he always carried with him.

A few weak blows - and he will get up, you will be satisfied. Why are you shying away? Didn't your father punish you?

His cruel hands, which are used to hitting recruits in the ears, grabbed me. He threw me onto the bed, almost dislocating my shoulder, and I was forced to give up. I lay down on my stomach, as he ordered, and, sobbing, said:

You want to beat me on our wedding night But what did I do, tell me, to punish me? Why do you want to beat me and not make love?

But I will compensate you for all this, I will introduce you to the world of love. Oh, these convent girls, that’s what I love

With these words, his whip whistled through the air and bit into me. The first blow was terrible, like a snake bite.

Oh, he's starting to move. Look, Grit, I told you. A few more spanks, and I will give you such pleasure that you will walk for a long time with shining eyes.

Does he really think he's doing me a favor? But the blows he inflicted clearly pleased my executioner. I was subjected to hellish torture. I fidgeted, trying to avoid the beatings, but it was all in vain.

Lie still, damn it, you better look at my thing

Squinting my eyes in his direction, I was convinced with fear that he was not bragging. His dick stood up like a club. Fortunately, it did not occur to me then that this beast intended to insert this terrible instrument into my body again.

Well, Grit, shall we try again?

God, those words scared me more than the terrible beating.

No, please, I can’t take it anymore, my whole body hurts,” I begged.

Ah, nonsense. You want it too, I'm not blind. Come on, quickly spread your legs, why this false modesty? I already told you - a soldier's bride must be fast, otherwise she will ruin the most beautiful maneuver in the world.

But... you hurt me so much Oh, oh, I can’t, I can’t stand it anymore... Oh, oh, please stop this...

I wriggled like a worm, I screamed, squealed, but everything was useless. This madman who took over my body did not listen. My pleas seemed to excite him even more. Today I know for sure that this is so. Tears, screams and despair were what this monster needed to break all the natural barriers of shame and tenderness that exist between the sexes. Only in this way were these cattle able to complete sexual intercourse. My husband - is he really worthy of this name? - placed his instrument of torture amazingly accurately in front of my narrow gate, determined for a new assault, despite my protests. The first shock of this heavy weapon nearly made me faint. And it became clear to me: either this thick club must become smaller, or my poor little hole will simply burst, since it is not capable of stretching that much.

The monstrous discharge that shook my entire body eliminated all doubts about the result of this unequal battle. A huge piston pierced my body, setting in motion some kind of infernal machine. This was the only comparison I could make, because now the regular, endless upward and downward movement of this terrible piston, the devilish constancy of which reminded me of the blind movement of a terrible machine, this movement fell upon me. Unfortunately, this time I felt what was being done to me, since there was neither life-saving anesthesia nor loss of consciousness that would ease my suffering. Each painful jolt into my body was accurately registered by my disordered nervous system.

I would never have believed it: the monster managed to penetrate two-thirds of its size into me.

This straight stake pierced me deeper and deeper, each subsequent blow hit me more and more...

The carcass that pinned me to the mattress was grunting, grunting, muttering: “Oh, fantastic, wonderful - what a lovely little p..., as if made of rubber... much better than the first time... hmm, she’s getting wet too... no wonder, with such x... like mine"

I started to feel sick. I was shocked not only by the pain and humiliation, but also by the terrible vulgarity of this man whom I loved and now felt disgusted with. It seemed to me that I was being pierced more and more, that a huge stake was rubbing me until I bled, becoming longer and thicker with each thrust. I couldn't take it anymore. I had a fever and was hallucinating. I saw a snowy landscape, and then it was as if I was sailing on a sailboat in a storm. And this terrible pain tearing me apart...

Well, baby, don't you feel good? This is what is called good f... Now you can enjoy - I will f... you as much as you need. It takes a long time before I cum. The longer you go, the more you love it.

I was choking - because of the tears and sobs, I didn’t have enough air. A deafening squeal burst from my throat, I screamed so loudly that even this heavily breathing animal began to pay attention to me.

The convulsions that shook my body, the convulsions that caused me to twitch, obviously aroused my partner even more. Perhaps these reflexes of my suffering body intensified his passion, because the remnants of my fading consciousness allowed me to notice: his penis began to thicken and enlarge. Yes, I could feel it clearly, he became even harder in my weakened flesh. It became so unbearable that I tried to grab this infinitely heavy stake with both hands and pull it out of me.

And then a hot stream sprayed into me. I thought it was boiling water and was afraid of burns, and at that moment a terrible spear came out of me. Warm juice dripped from my thighs, the sheet beneath me became wet. This is how I spent my first wedding night.

Unbelievable but true. Despite the horror of my wedding night, despite my disappointment and the fear that I felt after it, despite everything, I lived with the captain as his wife. Worse, I firmly believed that this was how it should be. And when circumstances required my humiliation, and in forms that defy description, I endured his antics with the devotion of a wife. We spent our honeymoon in the German city of Wiesbaden. The captain rented a house, fortunately there were no close neighbors, because there was no shortage of screams and loud sobs. He did not spare me either day or night. His lust, the lust of a dog or a hot stallion, was insatiable. I am sure: the only thing he regretted in this world was that nature gave him only one penis. His passion had no boundaries, and even in his sleep his huge erect organ spoke of desire. He followed me everywhere: in the bedroom, in the living room, on various couches and sofas - all of which witnessed our numerous copulations. Every corner, even the most inconspicuous, was used by this satyr to satisfy his lust. I don’t think there was a single chair left that did not at least once serve as a pedestal for my husband’s carnal pleasures. He had a mania for using the most unlikely places for activities that most people prefer to do in solitude. I burned with shame when my husband attacked me in the yard and even in the parks of Wiesbaden. He would stand me near a tree, lift up my dress and work on me in broad daylight, without fear of passers-by. He said that there is nothing more exciting than the improvisation of this matter, and that people have stupid prejudices about making love only in isolated rooms, away from the outside world.

Why the hell should we hide? Even animals do this wherever they want, right in front of people, and they do not find anything special in it. Oh, the morality of our cities is sheer hypocrisy - he said this not only to me, but also to his acquaintances, which caused surprise, and plunged me into terrible confusion.

I endured this life for three weeks straight. Fortunately, my husband's vacation ended and we left for Holland. And then I discovered that he had another passion - playing cards. I don’t know when he performed his official duties. It seemed to me that he spent all the time free from sex on gambling. It was impossible to pull him away from the cards. My dowry melted away faster than snow in the spring, and our funds were very meager, especially when the captain again found himself in debt. And this was almost always the case. His salary was barely enough to pay them off, and he regularly borrowed money from Aunt Frieda, who was always ready to help her beloved brother. He borrowed from friends and colleagues, but almost never repaid them, and it ended with the fact that they stopped lending him money.

And then the day came when he was forced to resort to the last resort.

He completely calmly, without any shadow of embarrassment, explained to me that it was my turn to get the money. These were lies, because after returning to Holland I often turned to my dad for help, and he, wanting to help his son-in-law, paid and paid until he lost patience.

Why are you so worried? I have many friends, and you will be lucky with at least one of them. I'm not blind, I know some people who really like you. After all, you are not a princess. Do not forget, my dear Grieg, that I have noble blood in my veins and that my family played a big role in the glorious history of Scotland, a very big role...

The captain mentioned his noble origins whenever possible. “My uncle, Admiral of His Majesty’s Fleet...” he began, and all this irritated me terribly. But that was nothing compared to his vile attitude towards me.

When he reached the end of his rope, seeing no other way to get money, he sent me to Kalish. He was a rich banker, a friend of my husband, and at the first meeting I disliked him. He impudently undressed me with his eyes and even tried to arrange a date with me - it is clear for what purpose. Perhaps he was seduced by my exotic figure. Even when I was just a girl, they said about me that I was very attractive. But I swear I never flirted with him, it never crossed my mind. I was very upset and told my husband about his indecent behavior. He just laughed, called me stupid and said that nothing fired his passion more than the knowledge that his wife was desirable to his friends. He immediately demonstrated how effectively my complaint affected his passion...

And while he was still breathing heavily, lying on top of me, he resumed the conversation about his difficult financial situation. And the demand to help him was unambiguous:

Today you must go to Kalish, my dear Grieg. Otherwise, I will be completely ruined and I will be kicked out of the service. “I know you don’t care, but I doubt that your father would want a son-in-law who has lost his honor,” he began cynically.

But,” I answered hesitatingly, “you can’t allow me to go to this man, especially after what I told you about him.” I’m a newlywed, an officer’s wife, he’s afraid that you’ll challenge him to a duel and kill him.

Yes, I was innocent and stupid in those years. My husband would never challenge anyone to a duel. And when it came to money, he was able to turn a blind eye to everything. But then I didn’t realize it.

Are you refusing to help your husband? Well, then explain to me: what benefit does such a wife have for me? I care about you, I love you, I pamper you, but when I desperately need help, you don’t even want to lift a finger.

How can you say that? I will be glad to help you, but do you really care how Kalish behaves towards me?

Oh, come on, he won't bite you. And even if... Don't be such a fool. I know you won't cheat on me behind my back. And this time I want it myself God, I married the stupidest woman on earth I want you to flirt with him and even make love I urgently need money

I was speechless. The last time I tried to reason with him:

McLeod, I may be stupid, I have little experience. But I know one thing for sure: when you put your finger in a stranger’s mouth, he will bite off your entire hand, and what happens next is not hard to imagine.

My husband raised his eyebrows in surprise:

So what? You're not a child. And with me you are no longer a virgin. Okay, okay,” he said quickly, seeing how I blushed when he said those terrible words. “It won’t be so bad.” If you offer something better, I won't insist. But I’ll tell you one thing for sure,” his voice became threatening: “Don’t come home without money, otherwise... Everything was clear to me.” I still didn’t know whether to end my life or carry out this terrible order? Do I have the right to die? Or rather, do I have the right to destroy a new life that has not yet been born? I was pregnant - it was Norman, my firstborn, who under my heart was preparing to enter this strange world. And then there was dad. An offense that will cost me honor can be hidden from him, but my cowardly departure from life will ruin him.

First wedding morning. I gave birth to Lenka without a husband. Of course, the beloved man took all possible part in his conception. But he disappeared from our life with our son even before Lenka’s birth. The parents were raging, dad demanded to reveal the name of the scoundrel.He’ll show that little guy’s mother and make him... I shrugged:
- For what? I can handle it myself. Who needs a father who doesn't want to know his son? Of course, it was painful: after all, the man was beloved, not some random one. I dreamed of a family, a house, a dog and geraniums on the windowsill. And no less than three cheerful little ones, one after the other. But if it didn’t work out, if I made a mistake... Then screw it! I'll make do!

I understood that my parents were condemning me: not only did I give birth without my husband, but I also refused to demand alimony from him... And in general, she was acting out on her own! Mom sighed: “Well, who will marry you?” So much for an educated modern woman! It was difficult at first. Lenka roared like a beluga day and night, the local pediatrician made a smart face and spoke smart words. But the little one was still screaming and didn’t sleep. Baba Klava saved us. One day she showed up from her village, listened to the roar of her first-born grandson, watched me feed him... She made a diagnosis:

- The child is hungry. You don’t eat yourself, and you’re starving the man.

- What kind of guy, bah?

- Yes, that's it. A man always wants to eat, even in a month, even in a hundred years. Pack your clothes, let's go to the village. I have a goat there, I’ll negotiate with Karpovna for milk from the cow. Otherwise you will kill the little one. And myself too.

I doubted it. The toilet is in the bushes, the water is in the well... How am I doing there with the child? Their village shop probably doesn’t even sell diapers... And then I understand: Lenka has stopped crying and is looking at Baba Klava with interest. Something told me: it seems that the little one really likes the idea of ​​drinking goat’s milk. And Lenya and I went to Baba Klava for “supplementary feeding”.

Mom, having learned about our move, just sighed:

You do everything your own way. But I can’t help you, you understand. I won’t abandon my graduate students in the middle of the school year, will I?

The difficulties of life in Baba Klava’s house turned out to be not so terrible, especially since spring was approaching. Although, of course, they didn’t sell diapers in the village shop, as they were unnecessary. Well, which villager will spend money on this pampering? I washed the rompers, dried them in the sun - and everything was in order! Lenka quickly gained weight in the country air, and by June he was already crawling around the yard with might and main in the company of a kitten. Paradise!

There was one problem in this heavenly life - Baba Klava decided to arrange my personal life at all costs. You see, the boy needs a man's hand! Her neighbor and friend Lyudmila Karpovna helped her in this “noble” matter.

“Listen, Rusya,” Aunt Lyusya Karpovna once said, “I want to marry you to a very good and calm guy.” He saw your photos, he liked you so much... You know, Fedya doesn’t drink or smoke. He works in the city in a private company as an electrician.

- Ideal. Aunt Lucy, where did the ideal Fyodor see my photos? - I asked, trying to tone down the harshness of my words.

- That's what I showed. Klavochka gave me two. I sent it. Fedechka will soon come on vacation and bring her back. He's my nephew.

- Why does such an ideal guy want to marry a girl with a child, whom his aunt looked after for him? He can't find a bride for himself?

- Because Fedya... is shy. You see, he almost drowned when he was little. Since then he has stuttered a little.

“Aunt Lucy,” I sighed, “I understand your concern for your beloved nephew, but I’m somehow used to meeting men myself.” Moreover, I have never even seen him

- Sama-sama! - Baba Klava intervened in the conversation. - There’s your “sama”... She’s pulling Tuzik by the ears! Fedka is an independent, serious guy. And he can’t perform in concerts! By the way, he wrote you a letter. Lyuska, why don’t you give it to me? Here, read it.

Well, matchmakers! I widened my eyes and opened the envelope. “Dear Ruslana! Aunt Lucy told me everything about you. It’s not easy for both of us in life, so I think I would be a good husband for you, and a father for your son. I love children. I read a lot and enjoy spending time at home, I dance terribly, but I cook well. Let's meet! Fedor."

God! I can imagine what these intriguers told the guy! However, this letter, not very well written, but sincerely touched me. Just one unsuccessful love experience is enough. I have everything in life for happiness: a son, an apartment, a good job, where I will return after maternity leave.

And I'm not going to change anything! I looked at the old ladies. They awaited the verdict with obvious impatience. - Granny, and you, Aunt Lucy, thank you, of course, for your concern, but I beg you: don’t marry me. Never!

They immediately pouted and proudly walked away. I considered this topic closed. I underestimated the strength of their desire to help me, regardless of my desire...

One day I was sitting on a bench in front of the house, peeling ripened beans, which Baba Klava had an enormous amount of. She kept one eye on Lenka. My son, groaning, stomped around me, constantly falling on his fifth point.

Summer was coming to an end. It's time to think about returning home and settling into life in the city. The boss called and asked when my vacation would end... I couldn’t help but think and didn’t notice that Lenka wasn’t around. I woke up hearing him “Pa!” ya!” somewhere by the gate.

What I saw made my eyes widen. My son, swaying, hobbled uncertainly along the path, stretching out his hands to the unfamiliar guy. First steps! I jumped up. Lenka took another step, exhausted, but with a satisfied exclamation of “ha!” fell into the arms of a stranger.

- G-g-g-good g-g-day! - the guest said, looking at me. Dimples appeared on his cheeks. Lenka, grinning with all four teeth, sat in the guy’s arms as if that was where he belonged. Like your own.

And I looked into the gray eyes of the stranger, and all the barriers between me and the world of men, and all the firm decisions on the topic “I myself” collapsed in an instant.

“I brought you milk, Aunt Lucy sent it,” the guy said, as if apologizing, pointing to the can standing at his feet. - Ruslana, please forgive me for that letter. I'm Fedor...

- Thank you for your letter, and there is no need to apologize at all. It’s just that dear old ladies decided everything for me, and I...

“And you’re p-p-used to living by the p-p-principle “I myself,” he smiled.

- And my Lenka liked you. And you hardly even stutter.

We immediately started saying “you” to each other, as if we had known each other for a thousand years.

Our wedding, which took place six months later, was very modest. The main character at the family celebration turned out to be Lenka, who was given a real men's suit and bow tie for the occasion. My one-and-a-half-year-old son, along with all the guests, shouted: “koko!”, which meant “bitter!”, and constantly demanded that everyone dance with him in turn.

Our parents gave us a large sum of money. Mom beamed because she really liked Fedya. Dad was pleased: finally, everything was according to the rules in the life of their eccentric daughter. Almost.

“We’ll take Lenechka for a couple of days,” mom said. - May you have a honeymoon... at least a week.

However, Lenechka flatly refused to go to her grandmother. He grabbed onto Fede’s neck and started yelling at the slightest attempt to tear him off. Exhortations and promises to show the cartoon had no effect. Still, I had to give in.

Our wedding night was a nightmare. Lenka became overexcited and did not want to sleep at all, and was very capricious. In addition, my son was clearly teething. Fedya and I took turns carrying Lenya in our arms almost until dawn. The first wedding morning has arrived...

We fell asleep exhausted only in the morning. The tired little guy lay between us, legs and arms spread out freely. At the slightest attempt to move he began to whimper. I don't know how long I slept. When I opened my eyes, I saw Fedor smiling. Lenka, curled up, snored peacefully in his crib.

“Come to me,” I beckoned to my husband, putting my finger to my lips.

Then Fedya and I laughed more than once that instead of our first wedding night, it turned out to be our first wedding morning. We were afraid to wake up Lenka, and this gave the caresses an extraordinary poignancy. My husband’s eyes spoke to me more than words, his touch was so gentle that it seemed like the touch of an angel’s wings.

Our bodies were perfect for each other, no one was the winner, no one dictated our will. No words or love confessions were required. Understanding came from the very heart, and the earth spun with us in a whirlwind of passion and tenderness. The pleasure came at the same time. I didn't think it could be this good.

Smiling mysteriously, my husband, still in silence, brought me breakfast. Wanting to thank you for your concern, I reached out to Fedya with my lips...

Breakfast had to be postponed for some time. And we were not at all surprised that exactly nine months later our Marinka was born.

2014, . All rights reserved.

First night: what to do?

But here's a young bride

They lead you to the wedding bed.

The lights went out and the night

Lel lights the lamp...

I will just express a little in verse -

I don't have the authority to do anything.

I was conceived as it should be: in sin,

In the sweat and nerves of the first wedding night...

I belong to my beloved, and my beloved belongs to me...

Few people know that the word “Lel” itself, so often found among Russian poets, came into the Russian language from a much more ancient Hebrew and is derived from the word “layla” - “night”.

Night is considered in Jewish tradition the most favorable, most desirable time for intimacy.

And there are, according to Jewish law, only two nights when intimacy between a man and a woman is not only desirable, but also obligatory - this is the night after the wife returns from the “mikveh” (such a night in the life of Jewish spouses happens once a month) and the wedding night .

As we have already written, on the eve of the wedding, the newlyweds are warned that, no matter how unusual and difficult it may be for them, they are obliged to achieve full sexual intimacy that night.

In this case, the newlywed is instructed to help his young wife undress naked, then undress himself and try to arouse her by whispering tender words of love in her ear. At the same time, he must caress her body, seeking to awaken desire. But the newlywed is also prescribed to excite the groom with caresses, achieving an erection of the penis (the recommendations say this: “until it hardens”). If an erection does not occur, then the young wife is recommended (but nothing more) to try to arouse her husband’s phallus with kisses and tongue.

When an erection is achieved, the newlywed should help her husband in every possible way (who, as already mentioned, is often as inexperienced as she is) and guide his penis into the vagina with her hand.

Then, no matter how painful it is for the bride and no matter how profuse bleeding may be accompanied by the rupture of her hymen, she and her lover must complete sexual intercourse, wash their genitals and resort to washing their hands.

From this moment on, the young wife is considered forbidden for her husband (for at least four days), since the blood of the hymen is equated to menstrual blood. This means that after the first sexual intercourse in her life, a young woman immediately becomes a “nida”* - ritually unclean.

She should check for any bleeding over the next four days. Only if it is truly absent, even to the most minimal extent, during the already mentioned four days, can the spouses resume their relationship again, of course, before the young wife starts her period, meaning that she has again become a “nida.”

To some, this law may seem too harsh, limiting the sexual desires of young spouses and preventing them from enjoying each other. But it is curious that the famous German sexologist Robert Neumann, author of the classic “Book of Marriage,” also recommends that young people abstain from intimacy for at least three to four days after their wedding night. At the same time, Neumann most likely had no understanding of Jewish tradition and did not intend to encourage all his readers to observe its rules. No, in issuing such a recommendation, he was based solely on common sense: from his point of view, a rupture of the hymen entails trauma to the vagina, and new sexual contacts immediately after such an injury can slow down its healing. And therefore, the time will be delayed when a woman begins to receive genuine pleasure from intimacy.

Jewish tradition takes into account that the first wedding night is associated with enormous physical and psychological stress for a young couple. In this regard, a man who marries a virgin, the day after the wedding, is freed not only from the obligation to go to the synagogue, but also from the obligation to read in the morning the main Jewish prayer “Shema, Israel” * (“Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord – one!”), which according to Halacha, every Jew must read twice a day and again before going to bed. At the same time, if a religious Jew married a widow or divorced woman, no one relieves him of the obligation to recite “Shema, Yisrael.” But, of course, he does not need to wait four days after the first intercourse, since it was not accompanied by rupture of the hymen and, accordingly, bleeding.

A young couple finds themselves in the most unpleasant situation when the bride unexpectedly starts menstruating right at the wedding. The groom is informed about this in a whisper while he is waiting for the bride under the chuppah - and this means that after the marriage ceremony they will not even be able to hold hands. And in general, they should forget about any, even the most innocent, caresses until the young wife’s period ends and seven mandatory “clean” days have passed after them.

Of course, it is extremely difficult for a young, newly married couple to observe all these prohibitions (especially if the marriage is for love). And so that, due to their mutual attraction to each other, they do not violate the laws of ritual purity, in many Jewish communities a 6-8 year old girl, usually the bride’s younger sister or niece, is assigned to the newlyweds. This little chaperone is ordered to closely follow the newlyweds for almost a whole week and even sleep in the same bed with them, for which the parents of the newlyweds promise her, respectively, sweets and pocket money.

Analyzing this common life collision for a Jewish religious family, we are again involuntarily forced to return to the already mentioned story by Esther Bar-Chaim “Why the Bride Laughed.” In it, the role of duenna is entrusted to the bride's younger sister; Moreover, they explain to a 10-year-old girl that she must sleep with young people in the same bed in order to protect them from robbers.

By the way, the whole plot is based on the fact that the bride is ignorant in matters of intimate life, does not know where children come from, and her husband’s attempts seem wild and depraved to her. On her wedding night, nothing happened between her and her husband, and at first she is quite happy with the fact that her little sister is constantly in her new home. But the purpose of the story is precisely to show how (largely thanks to the delicacy and subtlety of the young husband’s nature) a strong and deep feeling arises between two newlyweds who had barely known each other before. In a word, tell how a real Jewish family is born. “So you are no longer afraid of robbers?!” - the girl asks her sister at the end of the story when she sends her home to her mother. “No, we are no longer afraid!” - she answers, dreaming of the moment when she will be alone with her husband.

However, the “Sheva Berachot” ritual, which literally means “Seven Blessings,” is also intended to help young spouses more easily endure the abstinence necessary after the wedding night. It consists in the fact that within seven days after the wedding, a festive meal is held in the house of friends and relatives of the newlyweds, accompanied by songs, jokes, games, charades, conversations about the Torah and ending with the reading of seven traditional blessings in honor of the young family. Such a meal usually begins after sunset, and can end well after midnight, so this, without a doubt, helps to sublimate sexual desire. Well, these days themselves are designed to prepare the newlyweds for everyday family life, when they will be prohibited not only from having intimate intimacy, but even from touching each other for twelve or even fourteen days a month, which we will discuss below .