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Kiss the Mezzuza

By on September 3, 2018

Written by first time Jewrotica contributor Saul Silver, “Kiss the Mezzuza” is a Jewish version of “The Graduate”. This short story invokes questions about youth, sexuality, and the relationships between generations.
Rated XXX

Kiss the Mezzuza

Part 1

We got married to young. Everyone in our community does. 2/ 3 shapparoned meetings; then yes or no. Too many “nos” and you get a reputation. I didn’t want a reputation. Not good for my future prospects; not good for my 7 sisters. With two brothers, a  medium sized family in our community.  So I married him, pleasant looking, good conversation, values the same. Education and work for boys and girls. He’s in diamonds; I’m in high-tech.; both surrounded by a religious atmosphere; both close to Beni Brack.  The house and family are cared for. The boys learn in Yeshiva; the girls in ulpana. Heaven, or close to it?

I liked raising children; we had plenty of money and help. I started enjoying sex; my husband is big; I tightened up by doing those exercises I found on the internet when no one was in my office. I started enjoying sex, and my husband stated traveling more for work. I learned to touch myself.

It’s okay for girls (no seed to spill). Two finger inside; the other hand running up and down tinny wet lips, pinching and tugging gently. Only when I was home alone. Too much noise even with my panties stuffed in my mouth. Giggles!

But I needed more. Is it a sin if my husband has stopped sleeping with me? Is it a sin if we have become strangers? Okay, but who, but how? I started looking at  one of those websites for having affairs and watching “Hollywood” romances.

Part 2

He’s older then me, a lot (experienced); widower (lives alone) and security expert (has a business with a private office). I made an appointment for a consultation towards the end of the day. (my husband is away a lot).

I showered twice, sprayed scent between my legs and got ready to let him think he was seducing me. Girls always choose, that’s what I learned, boys think it’s their choice, but it never is. Maybe if he were famous, like Cobe Bryant.  Maybe.

I listened, really, I should get an alarm system, but I was more interested in closing the distance, erasing personal boundaries, letting him feel he was in control. I’m a good student. 20 minutes of touching my hair, leaning forward and brushing my legs with my fingertips. When It came time to close, he didn’t show me out, but into his private office, and into a cushioned armchair.

Part 3

Then he just sat there, looking at me, eating me without moving. Was I wasting my time, or was  he just even shyer they I had thought. I leaned in, breath on his face; slowly let my fingers rest on his thighs, stirrings. My fingers undid his zipper, giggling. Hard, but tinny. Oh, this will never do!

Giggling, I bent forward, sucking his little boy cock into my mouth; (just like a teenager) just like my husband when we were first married: pumped me twice, and mitzva over. I liked it better in my mouth though. I could keep sucking him even soft; I could play with my pussy.

As he started getting hard again, I pushed him back, and lifted my skirt around my waist. I put two pussy soaked fingers in his mouth, and then wiped them across his face. I took his beard; leading him slowly to me. His confused look. He had never done this before. Spreading my pussy lips, I leaned back, tugging gently, wispering,  “Kiss the mezzuza!”

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