Hossein had never been with a girl. I mean “been” as in even talked to one or dined with one. He only had two brothers, which pretty much made all girls off limit (Na Mahram) to him.
Growing up in the backward village of Sedeh (west of Esfahan); boys and girls were fire and cotton, and had to be segregated at all cost! His only window into the world of sexuality was through crude and cruel school yard jokes.
During the two years of military service, Hossein could see some of the soldiers jerk-off in the dormitory (Asayeshgaah). A couple of them even proposed to reciprocate, if he was kind enough to “give them a hand”.
But now, he was a 22 year old repairman at his uncle’s car repair-shop, and an eligible bachelor for the “Khostegari” of his cousin, Fatemeh. Cousin was younger (17) but a tad more experienced than Hossein. That’s because her girlfriends and married relatives actually talked about those things, rather than exchanging Rashti and Ghazvini jokes.
So the big night of the wedding, Fatemeh was expecting a strong, energetic and passionate man, who would take her breath away … while Hossein was nervously anticipating the Persian male fantasy of “ripping off the bride’s seven curtains”.
Widely conflicting expectations usually make a sure recipe for comedy or tragedy – depending on how we react to the silly outcome.
That night, after all the ceremony, the food and the traditional rustic dances – Hossein was lifted on the shoulder of two friends and taken to the upper floor’s conjugation room (Hejleh). Only some of the close relatives and friends still stayed in the yard, yelling encouraging jungle shouts, and waiting for the bloodied white handkerchief to emerge from the battlefield!
Inside, poor Hossein was confronted with the most astonishing sight of his life: a naked woman. The sexual creature who was forbidden for him to talk to, to dine with or even to see her hair; was now lying on the decorated bed of flowers … an exciting shape under a thin cover.
Hossein knew the theory of penetration, but that’s a long way from the actual practice. His erections in the bathroom usually lasted less than 30 seconds. But there, he was in complete control, whereas here; he had to lie down on top of this beautiful fleshy living thing, get his in the right position relative to hers, get through the barrier, and get on with the ultimate Darwinian assignment.
No wonder – the thingy couldn’t enter the dry and tight virgin – no matter how that poor Hossein moved and tried two and three times. Right there and then, the arousing smell of the bride, the touch of her breasts and the pressure against his sensitive circumcised member … all came together and did it. The cream was spilled – outside the tea cup!
Well, it happens to everyone, I suppose. But for the little man Hossein, it was a tragic sight … to see his expecting member and all his hopes of glory, go from bang to bust. Fatemeh looked at the mess, and as often is a girl’s natural reaction to a silly event, made a giggle. Noises from the expecting crowd downstairs, the pathetic sight of soft member at hand, and that giggle … that humiliating giggle – made the room turn round and round Hossein’s head. Then abruptly, the whole world stopped still, as he discharged a decade of sexual frustration in form of a backhanded blow to Fatemeh’s face. A stream of warm blood came flowing from her beautiful nose.
Six months later, the village elder (Kadkhoda) brought Hossein to see me – as the sole university educated “representative” of His Imperial Majesty army in Sedeh. By then, Fatemeh had already been admitted thrice to the infirmary (Darmongaah) for broken nose, arm and ribs – all due to unfortunate falls! I was astonished by Kadkhoda’s story, as I had only known Hossein a polite and quiet worker in the repair-shop, where my crappy Paykan was fixed on a regular basis. Could have never guessed him a wife beater.
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