Aisha's Lament
The night before her marriage, a young Muslim bids farewell to her true love.
I'll be in bed with him tomorrow, Thinking of you, my love, in deepest sorrow. We agree, I cannot give you what I wish, My hymen; But I can give you this. Give me your hand, sweet Salman, close your eyes. And ope them not for naught. You'll hear some rustles as I undress for sport. Tis done! Now, let me guide your hand to me I've bared my breasts for you, now see! Caress them now, imprint them on your palm. Squeeze gently...