The Happy Marriage

On the first day, she focused on the parts of him that were easiest to swallow. On the second day, she helped send him off to sleep by stroking him for a long time, and licking his armpits and genitals. Despite the sedatives that she’d put in a glass of almond milk, her husband would wake up from time to time. He let her carry on, and with his eyes half-shut he smiled, his penis fully erect. Habiba was so excited that she hummed to herself, pleased. She enjoyed being able to do whatever she wanted to her man, and couldn’t believe her own prowess.

Her friends had filled her with horror stories from their own wedding nights, and she’d been afraid of the violence of the sexual act, and she’d been especially terrified by the notion of those bloodied sheets. Especially since she used to touch herself as a little girl, and had found out after a doctor’s visit that she’d broken her hymen. As she’d never slept with a man, she’d refused to have her hymen restitched.

On her wedding night, she’d offered herself up to her man, just like a traditional woman should, acting submissively and shy, keeping her gaze lowered, and letting him be in charge. Whereas in fact she had a plan: she would lure him into a sense of false security so she could prepare him for the following day. Her husband had ripped her satin sarouels off, spread her legs, and penetrated her unceremoniously. In pain, she’d pulled him closer to her and kept his member inside her for a moment, preventing him from moving. He quickly ejaculated and pulled out, proud of himself. They didn’t exchange a single word. Which was not the done thing in those cases. When she’d gotten up to go to the bathroom, he’d seen her in all her splendor and had gotten hard again. Then he’d pounced on her, grabbing her by the arm, and tossed her onto the bed. Then, once more without stroking her or kissing her, he penetrated her and came, emitting a groan which she thought sounded like he was thanking God and his mother for having given him that woman. It was at that moment that she’d slipped the sedatives into the big glass of almond milk, which her husband had drunk in a single gulp. By the time she came back, he’d fallen into a deep slumber.