Simran shares her true Indian sex story
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RejuvenatedChapter 8 free porn video
Glossary:
Chevra Kaddisha: Ritual burial society. The members wash, dress, and place the body in the casket.
Mazel tov: Congratulations
Schvantz: see schmuck [but more vulgar]
On the way home the night before, David had stopped at a supermarket and bought tubes of both hydrocortisone and anti-fungal cream. He showered at home after using the gym the next morning and used the medicine liberally. It seemed to help. He remembered the guys in high school talking about crotch rot. Maybe this was it.
He ate a light breakfast, anticipating an early dinner. At 9:00 he left a message for his doctor asking for a referral to a urologist. David repacked his gym bag with a half dozen water bottles and a box of tissues anticipating they would be needed and spent another half-hour touching up a project.
Five minutes early, he pulled into the driveway and found Abby waiting. As he hugged her, she held up a cloth bag for him to take.
"What's in the bag?"
"Just some water and tissues. I thought we would pick up everything else we might want."
"Good thinking."
They stopped at a small deli two blocks from the park. Twenty minutes later they had sandwiches, chips, peppermints and sundries to see them through the day. Though not usually one to believe in luck, he led her with a touch of apprehension to the bench beside the water fountain. With a mixture of gratitude and guilt for not cleaning it up himself, he saw that his mess of two days before was gone.
He handed her down to the bench and sat down himself. Putting one knee on the bench, he turned halfway, draping his other leg over that foot so he could look at her. She seemed nervous, but he supposed that he did also.
Both started to speak at the same, evoking nervous laughter.
"Let me start. Ladies first, after all," she said mock-imperiously.
'I hope I've read her correctly. Otherwise, I'm going to have to think really think fast.'
"OK, on one condition. When it's my turn, I want you to listen to what I have to say all the through before you make any comments; I mean any comments."
"Alright." On auto- pilot, she reached into her bag and took out the box of tissues. "I guess we both want to talk about the divorce. Whew, this is hard. I've done this a thousand times in my head and now, when I need to say it out loud, to the one person who matters, I'm struggling to find the right words.
"Oh, my David. I need to apologize for putting you through this."
"You don't..."
She put her hand softly on his forearm. "Remember. Your rules."
"Sorry."
"I need to apologize. I'll try to say what I started that first time, weeks ago. I don't think this anymore, but I want to explain what I was thinking three years ago. I need for you to understand that I acted for a reason, good or bad, and I wasn't ... capricious when I said I wanted out.
"We always had a good connection. Not everything went our way; we certainly had our share of arguments, fights even. But we never lost our tempers and we were always moving in the same direction. We always, it seemed, had such a good time living life.
"Your focus was forever on me, and on Nathan when he was born. After Nathan, I saw you became a little more serious. 'This is good, ' I said to myself. 'He's growing up some more, becoming a father. He's living up to his increased responsibility.'
"When Aaron was born, you changed more. I worried some, because you stopped joking. Your focus shifted away from me and the kids, and I felt lost. And then I complained that the apartment was too small for four people. We bought the house and you changed so, so much.
"You were working too many hours and, even when you were home, your mind was at your desk. It was almost like you weren't there at all. I talked to you. I pleaded with you to relax, to play more with the kids, to spend some time with me, but you were wrapped up in your own world.
"I'm not a doctor, but I think you may have had depression. I've begun to think that you hated yourself, hated the life you were living. You became a moper-drone. You went about your life like a robot instead of a man.
"I became angry with what you were doing to yourself and I was hurt because of what it was doing to me and to the boys. Every day I would try to talk to you and every day you would ignore me. It was just so frustrating."
David had started when she mentioned self-hatred, but held his peace. She was getting her wind up now and he knew it would be cathartic.
"Finally I decided that, if your mind wasn't going to be here, then your body shouldn't either. I thought or hoped or prayed that hearing the word divorce would shock you enough to change, or at least to realize that you had to change.
"It didn't work. You were hurt and I saw it, but I couldn't back down. I wouldn't back down. You seemed angry and lost, but I kept going.
"I'm so, so sorry."
The tissue she had been twisting in her hands was now scraps in the breeze. She leaned on his chest and wept. This time, he held her tightly and softly soothed her soul. In time, she hushed and turned away to blow her nose.
"I broke faith with you, David. For richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, but I pushed you out the door. I knew it was wrong at the time, but I did it anyway. I never should have brought up a divorce and definitely shouldn't have carried through with it. You weren't beating me or cheating on me. You weren't hitting our kids. A divorce was wrong.
"I should have done what you do for the one you love. I should have cared for you and seen you through a troubled time. I should have tried harder and longer to reach you. I was angry and frustrated, but I loved you and I still do.
"I was wrong and I'm sorry I put everyone through this."
Several people had walked by as she spoke. All saw the scene for what it was, a couple having a serious discussion, and politely gave them a wide berth as they hurried by. Abby again wept on his chest for a while as he held her tight.
After her nose was dried, he handed her a bottle of water to wet her parched throat. Talking and crying can do that. He leaned over and gently touched his lips to hers. The two once, and perhaps future, lovers parted. He moved back a few inches and whispered, "My turn.
"I'm not going to comment on what you've said. Some of it I knew, some was new to me, and the balance, I suppose I guessed. I'll say this as if I was going first. OK?"
Abby smiled and nodded her assent.
"I hold nothing against you, Abby. I believe you were doing what was right in your eyes. You were acting in what you felt was your and the boys' best interest. I think you acted correctly."
She gasped the word what, but said nothing more.
Emphasizing the word 'was', he continued. "I was angry when you asked - no, told me you were divorcing me. I was hurt and I was confused. I saw nothing wrong with what I'd done, with the way I'd acted.
"Every week I would look at our bank balance and at our bills. Every week I saw that we were just getting by. We weren't saving for the boys' education; we weren't saving for our retirement. I was only bringing in enough to handle what we needed. Now I can see that you were pushing me to spend less rather than earn more, but it went completely over my head then. My father was my yardstick and I felt I had to provide at least as well as he had. I had a financial responsibility to my family and I was going to meet that responsibility. Nothing else was as important and nothing else could be.
"Well, several months ago, things began to change. I ... began to change. Like, if you turn the steering wheel just a half an inch, eventually your car drifts out of your lane. Well, I began to drift out of the express lane - and then I was fired.
"A few weeks ago, a friend and I made up a list of things, mileposts or goals if you would, that you'd need to meet before I would think about getting serious with you. A couple of days ago that same friend kicked me in the ass.
"When I looked at the situation without a rectal-cranial inversion..."
She giggled.
" ... it was like I was a circus ringmaster holding up these flaming hoops, expecting you to leap through. I took that same list and turned the tables. I looked at myself in the years after Aaron came and after the house, using those same criteria.
"I wanted to make sure you would be reliable, but, except as an ATM, when could you ever rely on me? I wanted you to be open, but I locked myself away. I locked you out of my life.
"I needed you to be trustworthy. No, I was never anywhere near unfaithful to you. Have no fear of that, but how could you trust me? How could you? Always working late? Never available to you? Sending your calls to voice mail? Shall we say, inattentive in bed? I sent you every sign that I was having an affair, but you never doubted me, did you?"
Abby shook her head.
"And I wanted you to prove you were trustworthy!
"I said any girl I got serious about..."
He answered her raised eyebrows. "Well, it was purely speculative at that moment. We were looking at my future in the abstract; if I would ever have a woman in my life again.
"Anyway, there would have to be shared interests. I looked back at those years and you could have taken up competitive speed chewing and I wouldn't have noticed. Only one thing held my interest and it had a 25" glowing screen on one side and a paycheck on the other. I was uninterested and uninteresting. How could I ask you to jump through hoops when I failed at the most important jobs in the world. I was a terrible husband and a terrible father, and I understand why you would have wanted me out of your life.
"When this friend and I were discussing my future a few weeks later, what I couldn't understand was why you would want me back in your life. It didn't make sense. I couldn't understand why someone as smart and good-looking as you hadn't found another man. To be honest though, the thought of you with another man made me ill, physically ill."
Involuntarily, he glanced at where the puddle had lain.
"Three years ago, I was angry and hurt. I wanted to find a way to punish you. Now, I see I started it all and I'm angry with myself and I wish I could find a way to punish myself for my utter stupidity.
"I'm the one who was responsible for our marriage breaking up. I was a fool, a blinkered imbecile who thought only about himself. I'm the one who needs to apologize, Abby. I'm the one who killed our marriage."
"Don't call the man I love all those names. No, you weren't the perfect husband, but you're not the one who called a lawyer. I'm the one who..."
"Abby! Stop! This is crazy. Most people fight and say it's the other person's fault. Here we are, trying to blame it all on ourselves. We're nuts!"
They stared at each other and, like spring ice melting outward from the pond's edge, began to grin, them smile, and then laugh at themselves and each other.
Catharsis required tissues as they recovered from the drama and the comedy. David recovered first.
"We don't need to, pardon the expression, whip it out and see whose is bigger. We should say that I did things wrong and you did things wrong and they add up to 100%. Can we do that? I don't want to fight with you anymore. Let's leave the past as a bad time, and see what the future will be."
"You always were a brilliant man."
This time, it was she who arched into him. Abby looked up into his eyes, stretched and lightly brushed her lips across his. He shifted and leaned into the kiss. His lips parted slightly and he captured her lower lip between his, stroking it twice with his tongue and gently nipping it. They slowly parted and again gazed at each other. This time they held bright thoughts of the future on their faces.
"Was there anything else on your list?"
"One more, actually. That was fit; do we still fit together."
"I'll show you how we fit, lover."
"Abby!"
"Do you want to see whose is longer?"
"Let's slow down, Abby. We need to be serious. Trust me, I'd like nothing more right now than to get you back between the sheets."
As he stared at her for a long several seconds, he slipped into a brief memory; his nostrils flared as his eyes glazed slightly. Finally, he visibly shook himself and addressed his beloved again.
"Yes, I still love you. I know you still love me and I would still hurt if you were with another man. But you and I both know that's not enough for a marriage. How many friends do we know who were deeply in love and are now divorced, for real and for good - people who can't stand each other anymore?"
He stared directly into her eyes.
"I couldn't take it if that happened to us. It would devastate me and absolutely destroy the boys if we got back together and it didn't work."
"What does that have to do with us having a little reunion to celebrate? I've really missed you."
"It wouldn't be a good idea. We need to walk before we run; we need to spend more time talking first."
"Daaaviiiid. I don't care. Please. I thought I'd lost you and now you're back. Please. Please. Please."
"I can't, honey. I just can't."
"Nnngggg. I hate you. No, no, no. I'm sorry. Oh, how could I say that? David, I'm so sorry. Why do I keep saying things like that? I was thoughtless and immature. You know I didn't mean it. How could I say that? And so soon after we made up."
He took her hands in his and pulled her lightly into a hug. "Enough apologizing. I know you said it without meaning."
"We wouldn't let the boys get away with that and I'm supposed to be a grown-up. No. No free pass for me. I was wrong and I'm sorry for saying that. I'll work hard to not say things I don't really mean."
She punctuated her apology with another light kiss.
"I think I know, but what do you mean by fit?"
"We need to make sure that our values are still aligned, that we still want the same things out of life. We have to be sure that we have enough common interests for comfort, and that our differences add spice and not conflict."
"We go back to dating, in other words?"
"Yeah. Pretty much like college days, except we're older and hopefully wiser. I'll be around the house most evenings and, what, maybe two, three times a week we'll go out and spend time alone together. Let's see if we can go the long haul."
"That's why you're saying no sex yet. Once we start, we won't spend that time relearning about each other. My David, we need to be certain we don't lie to ourselves, just because we want it to work."
"You're right, we do."
"Well, you're right. I'll be devastated if I lose you now, but I don't think I'd want to live if we remarried and I lost you again."
They hugged again and kissed lightly. They knew the time was not right for their growing passion to flare.
"What do we tell the boys?" David asked.
"We tell them nothing. If it doesn't work out, they'll be none the wiser."
"They'll work it out themselves."
She thought back to the bit of theater they'd performed three weeks ago. 'Three weeks? Only three weeks?'
"You're probably right about that, but let's just keep it low key around them."
"You were always the smart one, Abby. I'll try to keep it easygoing and non-committal."
"So we don't sit together in shul yet, do we?"
"No, you'd better stay in your present seat."
David had been fidgeting. The hugging had restarted the itching and it was becoming distracting.
"Is that itching bothering you again?"
"It's more like still than again. Last night was miserable. I'm trying to set up an appointment with a urologist. While I'm thinking of it, would you excuse me while I see if I can get that referral?"
She snuggled in close to him while he called his regular doctor's office again. After five minutes with the office manager and ten minutes with the specialist's assistant, he was the proud possessor of a just-canceled appointment. He only had to survive the next five days until the doctor could inspect his privates.
"Is there anything I can do?" she asked as he disconnected the call.
"Just help me take my mind off of it. I think it's well past time for dinner. How about we see to those sandwiches?"
They settled in to eat and drink and the mood of their conversation lightened. They were now a thirty-something couple enjoying a meal together.
He slept late the next morning, not getting up until after 8:00. Abby and he had stayed in the park until late in the afternoon, and she had to get home for the boys. David dropped her off, declining to stay; the itch was so severe that he just wanted to take a warm soothing bath, or a cold numbing shower, or anything that would stop the agony.
Food didn't interest him that night and he couldn't sit still to draw. TV helped a little, as did the creams. He turned in early, and tossed and turned until, miraculously, the pain abated around 3:00 and he could finally sleep.
It was a bleary-eyed and disoriented David who walked into the bathroom to begin his morning routine. 'Thank God that itching is gone. I don't know how I'm going to survive if it comes back. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.
'Cancel the doctor's appointment or keep it? I think I'll wait until Monday morning and decide then.'
David sat on the toilet. When he reached down to aim, something just felt wrong. 'What the hell?' With a gathering unease, he pushed and prodded and he pulled.
Finally, he forced himself to lower his eyes and found the source of the itch, but wished he hadn't. Some strange things had been happening to him the past few months, but there really ought to be limits, because this went far beyond them.
Perhaps you've seen one of those science-fiction or horror movies where a character looks in the mirror and sees a face that's not his own. It wasn't an altered face that caused his horrified expression, but his penis.
For the first time in his life, when he looked at himself, he saw a foreskin. The view overloaded his senses and his mind went totally blank. When he came back to himself, he was slumped on the floor. His head hurt, so he had probably hit it, and his ass was cold, so it had probably been quite some time.
While being uncircumcised may not mean much to the majority of the world's population, it means a lot if you're Jewish. It's a rite of passage and failure to do so, a major sin. If parents don't take care of it for their child, the responsibility falls upon the now adult. Failure is equivalent to separating yourself from the Jewish people for eternity and losing your share in the world-to-come.
David's mind raced with the implications. He was dizzy and nauseous and his head was pounding. Focused thought was beyond his ability, though it didn't stop him from trying. 'Is this the curse that follows the blessings? Is it just my rotten luck that everything is going back the way it was? I can't let anyone see me like this! I'm not a nudist, but I shower at the JCC. What the hell am I going to do?'
Realizing he was panicking, David put his head on his knees. Feeling dizzy, he fought hyperventilation by dropping his head further and breathing calmly. The position left him looking straight at his penis, which stared back tauntingly. He slowly regained enough control to recognize he was not entirely rational and needed help. There was only one person who could help, so he stood and made his way to a phone.
Fighting to project calm, he said, "Hello, Lila," to the woman who answered the phone. "It's David Stein. May I speak with Jack, please?"
"Certainly, David. Just a minute. He's in the backyard."
After a couple of minutes, the phone came back to life.
"Hello, David. How's the business? What can I do for you?"
"Jack, I'm sorry, but I need to talk to you ... now. Please. It's important."
"You sound panicky. What's going on?"
"It's about ... that thing we've talked about. Please."
"Sure. Where are you?"
"Do you know where my apartment is?"
"Right. I need a few minutes to straighten up here, so I'll see you in twenty minutes."
"I don't know how to thank you enough."
They hung up and David decided the best thing he could do was finish in the bathroom and take a shower.
David answered the knock on his door, and ushered Jack into his half-pint living room.
"You definitely don't look good. Let's sit down and you tell me what's going on, OK?"
"I'm better than when I called, but I've a major problem. You know about the eyes and the teeth and the scar. I'm sure you guessed about the ears."
Jack nodded.
"I've been having a problem with itching, uhm, in my crotch for the last couple of weeks. It was so bad last night I was actually whimpering. When I got up this morning and I went to go to the bathroom, I found, that is I saw ... oh, hell. Jack, my bris is gone, or maybe I should say, it's back."
"I don't understand."
"It grew back. Just like the teeth, just like the scar disappearing. It's back."
"You mean, you have a, a foreskin again?"
"Why don't you open the windows and announce it, for God's sake."
"Sorry, David. You surprised me. It's not like I've ever heard that statement before."
"Yeah, well, it kinda surprised me, too."
"And you want to talk to me to see what I think about this?"
"Not exactly. I want you to tell me what I should do about it; what it means."
"I don't know any more than you do, and I can't and won't tell you what to do. I'll listen to you and tell what I think. Why don't you start there?
"Wait. I'll bet you haven't had breakfast yet. I'll make us some coffee while you get something to eat. Meanwhile you get your mind working on the questions."
Over coffee, David asked, "Does this mean that God is rejecting me?"
"Why do you think that?"
"Well, if we discard the fringe theories, the aliens in UFOs, and government black experiments, wizards from other dimensions, what are we left with? The only sources for the gift I can think of are God and random mutation. Let me start with God being the source.
"We're taught that circumcision is a visible sign of the covenant between God and Abraham. If what's happening to me is from God and not just a random variation in my DNA, isn't this God saying, 'I don't want you'?"
"Well, my first thought would be to ask, 'What makes you so special that God would single you out and reject you?' However, we've already seen that you are special, so that argument doesn't hold water. My second thought is, 'Why would this part of your gift be different from the other parts.' I mean, perhaps the others are more clear-cut; your vision is back to normal, your teeth are new and strong, your skin is fixed. But why would you receive a curse after all the good things? It doesn't make sense."
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