Erotic stories about parents taking a bath with their children. A story about a winter bath with my wife

Quite a few stories have been written about the bathhouse. Among them are wonderful stories classics of Russian literature: L.N. Tolstoy, A.P. Chekhov, M. Zoshchenko, V. Shukshin and others famous writers. Therefore, I do not in any way claim to be anything special. At the same time, somewhere in the early sixties of the last century, a very unusual and funny story, associated with visiting the bathhouse, which I want to talk about. It happened during one of my geological expeditions in the North Caucasus, in the Cossack village of Pregradnaya.

We settled on the very outskirts of the village in a small but clean and tidy house, located on a gentle slope of the Urup River. Our hosts were local old-timers of the village, kind, modest and decent people quite respectable in age, whom we simply called grandfather and grandmother.
In the village there were two or three shops and a good cheap market, where we purchased all the necessary agricultural food products. As for the bathhouse that will be discussed, there was no public, state bathhouse, as such, in Pregradnaya. Some residents of the village had their own small family bathhouses on their plots. The bulk of the population used the services of two or three private small (for 5-6 people) baths located throughout the village, along the Urup River. In them, as our hosts told us, for a small, almost nominal fee, it was possible to wash and steam normally.

And so, one Saturday, I headed to one of the bathhouses closest to our house. Spring that year in the North Caucasus was ordinary, with continuous fogs, prolonged rains and rare on sunny days. So today, in the morning, it was drizzling, and by noon the clouds cleared and the sun came out. I was in a good mood. And what could be better than taking a steam bath on a cool and cloudy day in a hot, fragrant bathhouse.
Approaching her, I saw an elderly woman sitting on a bench near front door. This must be the hostess-bathhouse attendant herself, I thought.
“Hello,” I greeted her, can I come to you?
“Please, young man,” she replied. – You’re welcome, would you like to take a steam bath? – Although our bathhouse is old, it’s vigorous. There will be enough water and parka for everyone.
- Apparently you’re not one of our locals, are you from town?
- Excuse me, what is your name?
“Yes, son, just call me Ignatievna,” she answered.
- Well, Ignatievna is Ignatievna. I came to you in Pregradnaya on a survey expedition. I stopped in the outermost house of the village.
- Isn’t it with the Korneevs?
- Yes, they seem to be the same.
- Well, of course, I know. Daria Petrovna and Vasily Zakharovich, our dear village pensioners.

That's how I met you, son. However, they don’t feed the nightingale with fables, go to the dressing room, undress, take a gang, a broom and go take a steam bath. Nice to meet you. We'll talk again, God willing, later.

In the cozy dressing room there was a jug of kvass, prepared by a hospitable hostess, and on a good-quality wooden bench along the wall, elegant bath brooms made of birch and oak. Everything, it would seem, was conducive to receiving that indescribable pleasure that can only be obtained in a real bathhouse.

Having undressed, taken the pack and chosen the birch broom I liked, I finally headed to the steam room. However, when I opened the door there, I was literally dumbfounded. In the steam room, on the first bench, women washed themselves. Moreover, one of them sat with her legs spread wide apart, completely unashamed and not paying attention to anyone. Behind her, somewhere in the depths of the bathhouse, on the floors, on the very top shelf, sat an elderly man with a boy of about twelve or fourteen years old. The man was fiercely whipping himself with a broom on his hot purple-pink back. At the same time, he frowned blissfully and quacked.
The women who were washing in the bathhouse respectfully made way for me... Strangely, there was no screaming or squealing. I only hear a small rumble and the gangs rattling a little, and nothing else.
“Come in, dear man, don’t be afraid, we won’t bite,” said one of the women, about thirty – five – forty years old. She had large, lush breasts, a thick, slightly sagging belly, and large, full hips. The other women were a little younger, but just as curvy.

The space hummed loudly, water splashed out of the gangs, splashes flew into the air, on wet benches covered with soap suds, in the dim light light bulb, shrouded in clouds of steam, sat shamelessly wide open, women's bodies, and I still stood rooted to the spot, not daring to budge.

The heat was terrible. The heat washed over my face, and then my whole body. I felt chills and even felt nauseous. I immediately wanted to go back out of the stuffy room, but for some reason I didn’t. After standing for a while and hiding behind the gang, I made my way to the farthest corner of the steam room, and, having collected water, turned away and began to soap my body.

- “That’s good guy. Well done! Don't be timid! Don't pay them any attention? - the voice of a man sitting on the bed suddenly rang out.
- The women in our village, I’ll tell you, are arrogant, khush and Cossack women. There she sits, her vigorous mother. Khush would move her crooked legs. I would cover up my shame. No shame for you, no conscience.
“What are you doing there, the old horseradish is jangling,” the woman answered. “He himself, I suppose, spoiled more than one of our girls.” I would sit and keep quiet.
- It’s khush and so. And you’re a shameless woman, you see with your eyes and snort, so that he could shuffle your clumsy back, or maybe isho faq.
“Stop talking with your tongues, you fools from the village,” another woman shouted at them. “It’s sickening to listen to you.”
There was a temporary lull.
Someone threw a ladle of hot water on the stove, and the smell of pine and mint became more distinct. Huge splashes scattered all over the place.

Opposite me, not far away, a young woman was sitting sideways. Her proximity made me feel completely intimidated. The woman shook her head, and from the dry hot air, she Brown hair scattered all over the face and shoulders. At the same time, it seemed to me that I even felt how they moved in time with her movements. How did I endure all this? I do not remember.
One of the women hovered her daughter with a broom and said: “The bathhouse soars, the bathhouse rules, the bathhouse will fix everything.” The girl squealed: “Oh, mommy, it’s hot!” - Be patient, the mother laughed. Finally she washed her and sent her to the dressing room to get dressed. The bathhouse immediately became quieter.

Having sent the girl out, for some reason she asked me: “I’m not bothering you.” She probably wanted to say: “I’m not embarrassed.” Yeah, what a thing! Of course, I answered: “No, what are you talking about?” “Well?” she was surprised, I’m pleased that the men still don’t turn away from me? - and laughed loudly.
At this point, our dialogue was suddenly interrupted, since at that time the door opened and two more people entered it.. Despite the fact that there was only one dim light in the steam room, and steam obscured the eyes - there was no visibility, but still In the bath mist I saw the silhouettes of the newly entered people. It was two girls. “It’s Natalya and Katyukha,” my neighbor announced and called them: “Come, girls, here to us.” The girls came closer. But, suddenly seeing me sitting in the corner on a bench, they immediately retreated back in the other direction, embarrassedly hiding behind the gangs.

These are the times. I don’t know which one was Natalya and which one was Katyukha, but, despite the poor visibility, I managed to see them in full detail. They were sixteen or seventeen years old, slender and thin. One of them especially caught my eye, with a long, waist-length brown braid and a surprisingly well-proportioned figure.

She was an amazing girl. Her body literally glowed with silky skin, and droplets of water on slender legs, made her even more attractive. True, despite the fact that she was only 2-3 meters from me, I could not see her face. Yes, I didn’t even look, no. I tried to look somewhere into the distance. But I still remember her figure. There are such hips, such moles. My dear mother! A kind of Kuban Cossack girl from feature film. And the second... The second girl was significantly inferior in appearance, although she also looked okay. She is short, very petite, with a perky round face and shoulder-length red curls.

Just a few days later, unexpectedly, I suddenly saw them in a company of teenagers walking towards me. I recognized her immediately. Our eyes met and our gaze lingered for a moment. And when we caught up, I saw that her face immediately turned red. It's obvious that she recognized me.

White steam puffed upward from the hot stones, it became even hotter, as they say - the ears began to curl up. I took a broom and started whipping myself. Yes where there! Now not only were my ears burning, my fingers were burning from waving my arms. Steamed and crazy, from the bathhouse and from everything I had seen, I finally pulled open the door from the steam room and jumped out into the dressing room.

My first thought was to complain to the bathhouse attendant Ignatievna for not warning me that women wash in the bathhouse. However, having cooled down a little and drinking some vigorous kvass, I thought: is it worth offending a good and conscientious woman? Moreover, my apartment owners didn’t tell me anything about this either? Or maybe this is the order of things here? Then I immediately remembered, apparently I read about it somewhere, that in general in the territory ancient Rus' For many centuries, baths were common, and both men and women washed there at the same time.

True, in Peter’s time a ban on washing together was introduced, but in many places people continued to wash together. Perhaps the residents of the village of Pregradnaya still adhere to this tradition? And what actually happened? And then, to be honest, I won’t hide the fact that wasn’t it intriguingly interesting for me, a young guy at that time, to look at different naked women? Therefore, when leaving, I thanked the hostess for the warm and good bathhouse and went outside.

It was already getting dark. Having walked some distance, I involuntarily looked back. The bathhouse, as if nothing had happened, stood in its place, on the river bank, among huge burdocks and fragrant currants, like a fairy-tale hut, full of magical secrets, mysteries and mysteries, like the entrance to the other world.

The sun had not yet risen, but Mishka was already on Badger Forest. There, about three kilometers from the village, stood an empty Serogon house. Mishka made another walk to the village, brought fishing gear and, returning back, covered his tracks with spruce branches.

Now he felt safe, he lit a hot potbelly stove, boiled some potatoes, and ate with appetite.

The sun was already high when he went to the river to set the tops. From the high bank one could see the indescribable beauty of a forest river covered with snow. The bear stood for a long time, enchanted, admiring the sparkling winter world. On the opposite side of the river, on a steep bank, stood a snow-covered dacha, cut into two floors from selected timber. former director timber industry enterprise, and now a cool businessman and timber merchant. Its windows were decorated with ornate carvings, and a spacious bathhouse was located below the river. The dacha was not yet inhabited. When Mishka left for St. Petersburg, craftsmen from the city built a fireplace in the upper room and were decorating the rooms. Now there was no one here. And Mishka even thought that it would be nice for him to live at this dacha until spring. All the same, until the snow melts, the owners will not get here. But he was immediately frightened by this thought, remembering that the police were supposed to be hunting for him.

He went down to the river, cut the ice across the riverbed with an ax, filled the hole with spruce branches so that the fish could only pass in one place, and cut out a wide wormwood under the top.

Soon he finished his work and went to the hut to rest from his labors. The hut was small and cramped. But there was a special forest comfort in it. Mishka threw spruce branches on the bunk and collapsed in all his clothes on the fragrant, resinous bedding, rejoicing at the peace he had finally found.

Mishka woke up from strange sounds filling the forest. It seemed that a landing force of aliens had landed in Badger Forest, producing incredible, rumbling sounds that shook the hundred-year-old pines. The bear fell off the bunk and stepped outside the hut doors.

Prostitute, prostitute, prostitute! - thundered and howled in the forest. - Night butterfly, but who is to blame here?

The music came from the direction of the river. The bear carefully walked towards the shore. There were cars parked at the director's dacha, thick smoke rising from the chimneys to the sky, the bathhouse was heating up, doors were slamming, music was blasting at full blast, and every now and then the sound of boisterous girlish laughter could be heard.
Mishka's heart began to beat anxiously. He hid behind the bushes and, holding back the excitement that rose in his throat, began to watch what was happening...

He saw how she went down to the bathhouse funny company. The director of their timber industry enterprise walked heavily ahead, followed by three long-legged girls, stumbling off the beaten path into the snow and squealing, followed by some other large, thoroughbred men. Soon the bathhouse was filled with steam.

From inside she could hear the gasping of a heathen, muffled laughter and groans.

Finally, the doors of the dressing room swung open, and the whole cheerful company spilled out naked into the pure virgin snow. Mishkin's director, shaking his saggy belly, was like a wild boar breaking through the fluffy snow with his steamed pink body, dragging the company to the river, right into the wormwood where Mishkin's top stood.

Three beautiful girls found themselves on the ice, just opposite Mishka’s hiding place. It seemed as if you could stretch out your hand and take out each one.
From this proximity and the sight of naked girls’ bodies, Mishka, who lived involuntarily in severe abstinence, became dizzy, and his face glowed with the unbearable heat of shame and unknown forbidden passion.

As if drunk, he stood up and, staggering, wandered to his wretched shelter. And from behind, excitingly girlish laughter and joyful squeals teased and beckoned...

In the hut of the tar smokers, he again lit the stove, drank tea with lingonberry leaves and lay down on his bunk, sighing sadly over his dissolute, worthless life, which now, after the morning statement on the radio, had become completely devoid of any meaning.

Mishka was left without parents early. The mother drowned while rafting, the father became a drunkard. They say that the wrong coil was installed on the moonshine still. It was supposed to be stainless steel, but Bartholomew installed copper. That’s why the moonshine turned out to be poisonous.

No one in this life loved Mishka. After the craft, he walked with the girl and even kissed, and when he went into the army, his love immediately jumped out to marry a coven who had come from Transcarpathia and drove off with him forever.

And after the army there was work in the forest, and drinking on weekends. He was a prominent and kind guy, but there were no girls around, only guys remained in Vyselki, the girls all went to cities. You will inevitably get drunk here! It would be better for him to be born Sanya’s goat! I would sit on the stove and eat peeled potatoes. Look, it’s freezing in his office!

Mishka felt so unbearably sorry for himself that a burning tear boiled in his eyes and fell into the spruce branches.

At night he left the hut, the same song thundered in the dacha and echoed a hundredfold throughout Badger Forest:

"Prostitute, prostitute, prostitute,
Night butterfly, but who is to blame here?

Centuries-old pines trembled under the blows of decibels and snow sparkling under the light of the moon fell from the tops. The moon shone like a spotlight. In the vast abyss of heaven, radiant stars shone, and the night was as bright as day.

The bear, like a magnet, was drawn again to the dacha, music and fun. And he went there under the pretext of rechecking the top. She could have been knocked down while diving into the ice hole, or even pulled out onto the ice.

The director's dacha sparkled with lights. shore, Mishka saw through the wide windows her fabulous feast, filled with all kinds of dishes. Someone was dancing, someone was already sleeping in a chair. Suddenly the doors of the dacha opened, spilling a flurry of music and electric radiance into the frosty purity of the night.

Mishka saw someone jump out onto the porch in a fiery halo, rush down into the darkness, the steps on the hill creaked, and then in the ghostly moonlight on the ice of the river he saw a girl, one of the three who had been here during the day. She ran up to a blackened hole, in which the icy streams of a waking river curled, and threw herself on her knees in front of it.

Mishka has never seen anything like this in his life. beautiful girls. Her hair was loose over her shoulders, her high chest was heaving heavily, and tears were streaming down her beautiful face.

The country doors opened again, and a man came out onto the porch:

Margo! - he shouted imperiously. - Do you hear? Come back! Apparently, he was calling to the girl who was now kneeling in front of the wormwood.
- Malya! - he repeated insistently, - Malka! Get home. I'm tired of waiting.

The girl did not answer. Mishka heard only quiet sobs. The man stomped on the porch, swore and went back. The girl whispered something and made a movement towards the hole.

Mishka felt unbearably sorry for her. He jumped out of the bushes and in an instant found himself next to the girl.

No need! - he said in a wooden voice. “It’s deep here.” The girl raised her head.
- Who are you? - she asked distantly. She smelled of expensive perfume, wine and foreign tobacco.
“Teddy bear,” he said worriedly.
-Are you local?
- I live here. “In the forest,” Mishka answered in the same wooden way. The girl lowered her head again.
- And I'm Margot. Or Malya. Prostitute.
- Is this a stripper, or what?
-Not really. Prostitute.

Mishka did not know the meaning of this word and decided that prostitute was the girl’s surname.

“Don’t stand with your knees on the ice,” Mishka warned. “Otherwise you’ll catch a cold.”

The girl suddenly began to cry, and her shoulders trembled slightly. Mishka, suppressing his embarrassment, took her by the elbows and placed her next to him.

Do you hear, Mishka,” she suddenly said and raised her full of grief beautiful eyes. - Take me away from here. Somewhere.
And Mishka suddenly felt that the old Mishka was no longer there, that he was now completely at the mercy of those sorrowful eyes. And that he is ready to do whatever she says.

“My feet are cold,” she said. “Warm my knees.” Mishka crouched down and wrapped his stiff arms around his elastic knees.
Mali. Her legs were bare and cold. The bear bent over them and began to warm them with his breath.

Let’s go,” she said quickly. “Get me out of here quickly...

They climbed the path to the hill. Unexpectedly for himself, Mishka easily picked her up in his arms and carried her to his forest winter hut. And she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed herself tightly against Mishka’s chest, clad in a sweatshirt that smelled of smoke and pine, and fell silent.
When Mishka reached the hut, the girl was already deeply asleep.

He laid her carefully on the bunk covered with spruce branches and sat by the window, listening to the unknown feelings that had settled in his soul half an hour ago, but had already taken root as if he had lived with these feelings forever and would continue to live just as forever.
Malya breathed barely audibly. The night was as bright as day. The moon was shining like a spotlight outside the window.

22.01.2016

I think that every person living in Russia will be very interested in listening to the history of the Russian bathhouse. After all, we go to it, but we don’t know where this tradition came from, who brought it to us. In this article we will try to tell you about this.

The Russian bath originated from very ancient times. Herodotus himself also said that the Scythians who lived in Ukraine used a bathhouse. They installed three sticks inclined towards each other, and covered this “structure” with felt. Then, they installed a vat in the middle of the resulting “room” and threw hot stones into it. Having climbed into this bathhouse, they threw hemp seed into the vat, which caused intense heat to rise.

Among all nations, the bathhouse was considered a special, sacred place. The saying that after washing in a bath it is as if you were born again goes back to ancient times. Below we will consider which peoples and countries began to introduce the bathhouse into their culture.

Certain tribes of America still use the “ancient” bathhouse to this day. That is, a cone-shaped hut was built, in the middle of which a small depression was dug. Stones heated over a fire were placed in this hole and water was sprinkled on them. Now this method is used by tourists, forwarders, geologists and others.

Procopius of Caesarea, a historian who lived in the 5th century AD, wrote that the bathhouse was an integral part of the life of the ancient Slavs. In the baths they celebrated all the celebrations, washed the child who had just been born, and in the same way escorted the deceased to the other world. At that time, the bathhouse was “built” something like this: in the corner (in the house) a hearth was built from stones, and somewhere a window was opened to allow smoke to escape, and there was also a container of water with which hot stones were sprinkled. Each person took a broom in his hands and, waving it around, attracted heat to himself. In this way, people cleansed their body and soul. The bathhouse is a combination of four elements (as the ancestors believed) - fire, water, earth and air. A person who took a steam bath became stronger and healthier. There was even an opinion that if the patient was not cured after the bath, then nothing would help him. East Slavic myths mention that the bathhouse was used by the Gods themselves.

In Russia, a steam bath in the 5th century was called mylnya or vlaznya. Already at that time people enjoyed this grace. Regardless of whether a person is rich or poor, he could afford to cleanse himself in the bathhouse. The bathhouse was a consolation from problems, evil eyes and adversity. A little later, inviting a person to the bathhouse became the basis of hospitality. To begin with, the guest was called to “cleanse himself” and only then was he treated to drinks and food.

For the first time you could read about the bathhouse in the inventories genius man monk Nestor the Chronicler. His “Tale of Bygone Years” says that the bathhouse was first mentioned in the 1st century AD. This happened when the Holy Apostle Andrew, after preaching the gospel teaching in Kyiv, went to Novgorod, a “real miracle” appeared before his eyes. People entered the bathhouse naked and “warmed up” there until they were the color of boiled crayfish, after which they doused themselves with water and beat each other until exhaustion with brooms. This ritual took place daily. For St. Apostle Andrew this was savagery; he commented on it like this: “people joyfully torture themselves.” Also, based on Nestor’s description, you can find out that in 906 an agreement was concluded between Russia and Byzantium, which dealt with... a bathhouse. It was stated there that upon the arrival of the Byzantine merchants they should be given water, food and allowed to steam in the bathhouse as much as they wanted. Eat interesting fact, which occurred in 945. After the death of Prince Igor, Princess Olga took revenge on the Drevlyans three times, and when the Drevlyan ambassadors arrived to negotiate with the princess, she ordered the bathhouse to be lit for them. The unsuspecting ambassadors were calmly washing themselves off the road when Olga’s servants locked them outside and they burned alive.

The first baths were built exclusively from logs, but in 1090 a brick bathhouse was built in the city of Pereslavl.

At that time, visitors from other countries (Germans, French), having experienced first-hand what a Russian bathhouse was, began to build similar ones in their countries. But these baths were very different from real Russian ones. Few travelers could withstand such a high temperature (in some baths it could reach up to 100 degrees), and they could not imagine how Russian people accepted such hot air masses. Smart foreign doctors knew that steaming in a bathhouse is very useful, as a diaphoretic for the body, but since Russians steam, it’s not only not useful, but even dangerous. They argued that this caused brain and muscle tissues to relax and function worse, and for female skin and youth was extremely detrimental. But even foreigners knew that the Russians had such a day - “bath”, it was a Saturday day on which it was customary to take a steam bath.

Those who did not have a bath could steam directly in the oven. They swept the floor clean, covered it with straw, and as the foreigners said about this, “they steamed so hard that the breath flew out of them.” But nevertheless, these methods are still used to this day, albeit rarely.

At that time, using the healing methods of Hippocrates, Russian healers (having learned about the benefits of the bath) began to help sick people. In the charter of Prince Red Sun (as Vladimir was popularly called) there were baths for the “infirm.” These were the first in Rus', a kind of hospital. At the beginning of the 12th century, the granddaughter of Vladimir Monomakh, the famous healer and healer Eupraxia, lived in Rus'. She, one might say, preached visiting the bathhouse. Already at the age of 15, she was wooed to the Tsarevich of Tsaregrad and moved to live with him. Having quickly studied Greek language, Eupraxia read the ancient recipes of powerful healers - Hippocrates, Asclepiad and Galen. Becoming, over time, a healer, thanks to a large number studied recipes, she preached personal hygiene. Eupraxia said about baths that they strengthen the body and spirit of a person.

The history of the Russian bathhouse is associated with many interesting events, which, like history, it would not hurt to know to contemporaries.

Regardless of who it was, the king or the commoner, everyone had to observe the “wandering” custom at that time. After spending the night together, people had to go to the bathhouse in the morning, and then bow before the images. Devout people were afraid to go to church even a few days after spending the night together. Such people succumbed to light ridicule and jokes (after all, it is quite strange when several people stand in front of the church and do not go inside). Until the beginning of the 18th century, everyone exclusively underwent the following ritual. Before the wedding, the groom had to take a steam bath, and after the night the couple went there together. The bride's mother, on the eve of the wedding, baked bread, which was called "bannik", thus blessing the newlyweds for happy life. She wrapped this bread, two fried birds (most often chicken) and two cutlery sets in a tablecloth, sewed them up and gave them to the matchmaker. This was done so that after the newlyweds left the bathhouse, the matchmaker would treat them to this blessed lunch. People firmly believed that the bathhouse would wash away all their sins.

Every rich and poor person had a bathhouse in their home; as for the very poor, there were common bathhouses for them.

The bathhouse was the place without which not a single Russian person could imagine himself. She gave peace, pleasure, relaxation, cured illnesses, and rejuvenated the soul. It was a ritual that could not be ignored. Before entering the bathhouse itself, a person was given a radish, and in case of thirst, there was always cool kvass in the dressing room. Very important role mint and other aromatic herbs played. Mint was put into kvass, the benches were covered with mint, dominique and other fragrant herbs. Mostly birch trees were used.

After the Russian bathhouse became common in virtually every country, different peoples made their own adjustments to it. For example, Islam correlated cleansing in a bathhouse with religious thoughts, just like that.

Now no one can reliably say where the Russian bathhouse originated. Some say it was brought by the Spartans, others think it was brought by the Arabs, but it is quite likely that the Russian bathhouse was invented by the Slavs. Why not? This assumption is confirmed somewhat interesting moments. Since Russians washed in bathhouses, no one had ever washed, that is, their ancestors had their own “style” in this matter. The fact how foreigners praised Russian heritage and the fact that only after contemplating it in Rus' they began to build the same ones in their own country. Who knows, maybe the Slavic forefathers really are the founders of this wonderful ritual.

In general, anyone who had land for it could build a bathhouse. And in the middle of the 17th century, a decree was even issued on how far from a residential building a bathhouse should be built. This was done solely for safety. In home baths, both women and men washed together, without any embarrassment, but the common ones were divided into men's and female half. And only in 1734 there was a ban on the entry of men into the women's baths, and women into the men's baths.

In 1733, permission was issued to build medicinal baths. It was forbidden to keep alcoholic beverages in them. As a rule, such baths were built from logs. The art of construction was passed down from generation to generation, and people did not use any drawings or graphics. The ancestors approached the question of where to place the building very important and scrupulously. This was no less important than establishing a site for the construction of a church. In the Russian bath there were no rooms with different temperatures, as in the Roman thorns, but they had a room with lavas of different heights, that is, the higher, the hotter.

During the time of Peter I, the chamberlain cadet Berkholz lived in St. Petersburg, who in his notes about Russia described all the charm of the Russian bathhouse and the level of service in them. Russian women knew how to set the desired temperature correctly, how hard to “brush” with a broom, and at what point to throw cold water on them.

Peter I then lived the life of a simple carpenter, and he, like other Russian people, had a bathhouse, without which he could not imagine his life. It was he who, as a result, became the first organizer of medical resorts in Russia, built on the basis of a bathhouse. Having visited many foreign resorts and hydropathic clinics, Peter I ordered that these healing waters be found in Russia. Thus, “marcial waters” were discovered for the first time. They got this name due to the fact that the water turned out to be ferrous, and therefore they named it in honor of the god of war - Mars. Peter I contributed to the fact that Russian baths became more common in Western Europe. He ordered the construction of baths for his soldiers in Paris and Amsterdam. And after the battle with Napoleon, baths were built in all liberated countries.

The Russian bathhouse - its history is quite interesting, and it begins to change a little with the coming to power of Peter I. At that time, “fashion” and inclinations to ancient culture. They began to erect buildings similar to Roman houses. A replica of Roman thorns was built indoors Grand Palace in Tsarskoe Selo.

As you can find out from sources, many people liked to visit Russian baths famous personalities. Suvorov organized a “washing” for his soldiers in whatever city they were in (the main thing was that there was a Russian bathhouse there). The de general himself withstood very intense heat, after which he took on about 10 buckets of cold water. Denis Davydov often came, as did the singer and actress Sanduna. It is important that after the singer’s arrival, a type of bathhouse was named “Sandunovsky baths” in her honor. They differed from the rest in their buffet and a large number of drinks, including champagne.

In 1874, in St. Petersburg alone there were about 312 bathhouses. All of them were supplied with Neva water. These baths were divided into “trade” and “numeric”. A visit to the commercial bathhouse cost from 50 kopecks to 10 rubles, which was quite expensive, and not everyone could afford it. In the “numbered” baths the prices were more moderate, that is, they were made for poor people. They were divided into 3 classes: 1st class - 15-40 kopecks, 2nd class - 8-15 kopecks, 3rd class - 3-5 kopecks, which was, in general, available to everyone.

In order to make the process more pleasant for the “soul and body,” the Russians furnished the bathhouse with various attributes. But still, every family sauna differed from each other in their design, temperature conditions and approach to the treatment of diseases.

Video about the history of the Russian bath:

Sasha entered the steam room without knocking, with his torso wrapped in a sheet, two brooms in one hand and a mug in the other.
- Oyk! - I blathered and quickly turned over on my stomach.
The hot air from the rapid movement burned my knees. I carefully straightened my felt hat and began to stealthily watch Sasha from over her shoulder, from under her half-closed eyelashes. The guy turned out to be well-built, well-built, with curly hair on his chest and stomach. My lips shamelessly stretched into a smile, and I hid my face.
- Well, how? Eh, Irinka? - Sasha asked.
-Are you going to hit me? - I asked slyly, raising my head.
- What did you think?

Sasha put on roughly sewn mittens, poured kvass from a mug into a ladle of water and splashed it into the hole at the top of the stove. Transparent steam rushed up and to the sides with a sharp noise, and washed over me with a hot wave. The small steam room was filled with the tantalizing smell of bread. Sasha lightly patted me with two brooms, waved them, driving the hot grain spirit around me. The harmless pats became stronger and more persistent, the air burned the nostrils, and it became difficult to breathe. I asked for mercy.
“Lie down,” my tormentor ordered.
- I... Oh... Oh...
I moaned, unable to say a word. The owner gave in to the couple again.
“Turn over,” he said.
- Uh!
- Turn over, who did you tell!
It was an order. I obediently rolled over onto my back and covered my nipples with my palms, not because I was embarrassed - I no longer cared - but because they burned unbearably. I was suffocating, there was not enough air. The lungs contracted almost empty.
- Oh...

Only one thought raced through my head in panic: “I’ll die... I’ll die...”. Sasha laughed quietly and continued to lash me mercilessly with brooms. What was happening seemed unreal to me, the walls of the steam room looked cartoonish and drawn. I couldn’t think of anything when Sasha put the brooms aside, grabbed me tightly by the forearms, lifted me off the shelf and set me on my feet. I caught a glimpse of water boiling in a kettle. The guy, still holding me by the forearm, took me out of the bathhouse - what I was wearing, naked - and pushed me into the bathtub with spring water, which poured there from natural source. The water is clean, cold, blue-colored, and sweetish in taste. I didn't feel cold.

I got out of the bath on my own, Sasha delicately returned to the bathhouse. In the dressing room, she somehow threw a sheet over herself and collapsed on the bench in complete helplessness. She stretched out on it as far as the length allowed. Thank you, I’m still alive... Just now I discovered that I’m still wearing a bath cap. She pulled it off and put it under her head. The body was flooded by a hot wave - a consequence of the ice bath. It felt like I was breathing fire. From the steam room came the sharp blows of a broom - my bath attendant had now taken charge of himself. There is no comparison with the city bathhouse, with its crowd, cold locker room and unpleasant smell in the stuffy steam room.

Sasha jumped out of the steam room, passed the washing room in two steps and rushed past - burgundy, steaming, with a birch leaf on his buttock. A powerful splash and a valiant hoot came from the street.
He returned, hiding his dignity in a fistful, hunched over like a penguin. He pushed his butt behind the washroom door and called:
- Let's go, Irish!
- Where?
- How to where? Wash.
Water dripped from his steamed face, one eye blinked, the other rotated. I suddenly realized that I was embarrassed by nudity, both his and mine. I was surprised - why did I suddenly become shy?
- Not...
- As you want. Drink kvass and go wash yourself, I’ll rest for now.

So we washed ourselves - taking turns, belatedly embarrassed by each other. Sasha went to the steam room again. The bathhouse exhausted me so much that I didn’t know how to get out of the washroom or how to get dressed. She wandered into the country house, where she fell on the bed.

I prepared dinner in advance, before the bathhouse, in the summer kitchen. The kitchenette is neat, with a landscape painted on the entire wall, with curtains. There was a guitar on a stool in the corner. Now Sasha and I had dinner and told each other about ourselves. We met two years ago. More precisely, they only saw each other on the ship, where Sasha was the third mate at that time. I brought it to the captain customs declarations. Then I saw him at a corporate New Year’s party; he had just left the ship. We even talked about something. And from then on they began to say hello if they saw each other on the ship or on the street.
Now he admitted that he was afraid to approach... I was surprised:
- Why?
- Well, you're so... So...
- Come on... to the bathhouse. You’re already the second assistant, and you’re talking such nonsense,” I laughed.

Sasha is a prominent guy. At the New Year's party, the girls from the neighboring department “hung” on him like dogs on a bear.
- Shh! “Don’t make noise,” he hissed. - If you disturb a brownie at night, he won’t let you sleep, he’ll scare you.
- Yah?
- Do not believe? The brownie lives here. When a brother comes to rest with friends, they make a noise, and then all night long they listen to the brownie walking around the dacha and dropping everything.
I laughed and didn’t believe it. But brother - this is already interesting.
“I also have a brother, three years younger,” I said.
“Mine is also three years younger,” Sasha rejoiced. -Have you noticed that the moles on our hands match? These four things?
The moles really did match, and that seemed important.
- You know, I always liked you. Smiling as the bright sun.
“And also kind and aggressive like a man,” I added mentally.

The guy reached for the guitar, but I stopped him:
- Sasha, I’m barely alive after the bath. Let me wash the dishes and go to bed. Tomorrow you will sing to me.
He laughed:
- Did you like the bathhouse? Go, lie down. I'll wash the dishes myself. You still have time...
I ignored the last remark and trudged to the second floor, where there was an old, old sofa, forever laid out. I liked the dacha. The village is small, quiet, with neat dilapidated houses, mostly two-story. There was silence, only a restless bird whistled outside the walls and the muffled clanking of dishes could be heard from the summer kitchen.
Sasha arrived about twenty minutes later. Hastily undressed in the dark and climbed under the blanket. I hid in the very corner, turned away from him, scared and happy.
- Where are you? - Sasha asked in a broken voice. He found me, grabbed me with his hand across my stomach and pulled me towards him.

I was floundering in a thick web and could not get out of it. I'm half to death afraid of the web, how did I manage to climb into it?! Gasping with horror, I frantically waved my arms. Sasha came up from behind and pulled me out of the snares. A scream of horror escaped from my throat, I heard it from the side and did not recognize my own voice - there was nothing human in the scream. She sat down on the bed, breathing heavily, covered in sweat, cold and sticky. Sasha woke up, sat up too, and hugged me.
- Dream, Sasha... I had a dream...
- Brownie, brownie, why did you scare her? This is my wife... Don't scare me anymore.
Which wife?
- This is a brownie, don’t be afraid, Ira. He's harmless, just scary.
Now I was ready to believe in anything.
- He won't scare you anymore?
- Will not be. One time and that's it. I told him...
- I never scream in my sleep. I watch my nightmares in silence. For the first time, honestly!
- That's it, that's it, don't be afraid. Sleep.

We settled down. Sasha immediately fell asleep, and I lay awake, wondering why he called me his wife. He's only been caring for me for a week. All this is not serious. Of course, it was time for me to settle down, to decide something with my chaotic, stupid life. I enjoyed my personal freedom and used it as I pleased. I didn't like life in a civil marriage. Deep down in my heart, I wanted to get married - “for real”, because I didn’t value an “unofficial” marriage one bit. I broke up with my roommate, got sad and forgot. I no longer wanted to fulfill the duties of a wife. The kitchen, dishes, and cleaning made me sad. What kind of wife am I? If I marry Sasha, I will have to not only cook, but cook deliciously, there will be twice as much dishes, and there will be twice as much cleaning. You will have to wash his socks and iron his shirts, adapt to his preferences, shortcomings and endure a lot. I don’t know what exactly yet. And he also said yesterday that he wants two children. It's horrible. From the thought that for several years I would not belong to myself, every cell of my body protested. No, I don't want to.

I listened - was there a brownie wandering around the dacha? There was such silence that it was ringing in my ears. I snuggled up against Sasha’s hot back, still unfamiliar, and fell asleep.

The Sakhalin June night chilled the air, the morning came suburban village fog. I woke up early. She lay quietly under Sasha’s side, listening to the birds chirping and chirping. Smiled. I didn't want to think about anything. The bones and muscles steamed in the bath were still languishing in bliss.
Sasha woke up. I hadn’t opened my eyes yet, but I went in for a kiss - Ira, Irishka... He crushed me under him. There is a joyful smile on his face. The sweetest intercourse of love is in the morning, when the body is only half awake, the blind passion has been slightly extinguished during the night, but the sighted tenderness does not sleep.

Tired, Sasha reluctantly released me and stood up:
- The stove needs to be lit.
I threw back the blanket with the intention of getting up, yelped from the cold and darted back.
“It’s not the month of May,” the owner joked, quickly got dressed and went down to the first floor with a roar. I lay in the warmth, listening to him fire the stove. Thoughts wandered nearby, sensible and not so sensible, I lazily drove them away.

When it got warmer in the house, I got dressed and went to wash. She went out to the threshold and stood there. The fog shrouded the birch trees and fir trees around the dacha, covering the massive table with benches and long beds. Gray smoke from the chimney mixed with whitish fog. Lilies of the valley grew next to the porch, and a little further away there was a huge carpet of forget-me-nots. “If I marry him, I’ll plow these beds,” I thought, spoiled my mood, shivered from the damp cold and went to the bathhouse.

It was warm and dry there, and I washed my face with pleasure. I couldn't comb my hair. Hair from spring water They became soft, fluffy and did not want to obey. “Why did I decide that he was going to marry me? - I thought. - We're not in a fairy tale. He calmed me down at night so that I wouldn’t be afraid, that’s all. Yes, and you have to marry for love. But the heart is silent." Satisfied with this thought and completely upset, I wandered into the summer kitchen to prepare breakfast.

The stove was already burning there too. I started making croutons. Sasha came, possessively grabbed my sides so that I squeaked, and sat down on the dry stool.
- What did you dream about?
“Oh,” I waved it off. - Web. It’s like I’m flopping around in it, and you pulled me out. I'm so afraid of her that my legs are paralyzed.
- I found something to be afraid of. I'll laugh - I'm afraid of geese. When I was a child, I was attacked by a goose in the village, and the fear remained.
- Why did you call me your wife? - I couldn’t resist.
- So you’re here for a long time!
- Why?
- The brownie only scares his own people. When we bought the dacha, we did it all at first scary dreams watched. They took turns yelling. Then they stopped. How many guests spent the night with us - no one dreamed of anything. So, Ir...” Sasha spread his hands and laughed. - Think what you want. When should I look after you? In a week - at sea. Will you wait?
“No, Sasha, think what you want. Your brownie was mistaken. And why would you want a prostitute? Not only is she a prostitute, she’s also a greedy, drunkard and show-off.”
- I’m terrible, Sasha, you just don’t know.
- Nice, kind! And you cook deliciously.
Sasha drank tea and toast and strummed his guitar.

Well, what can I tell you about Sakhalin?
The weather on the island is normal.
The surf salted my vest,
And I live at the very sunrise...
(Words by Mikhail Tanich)

I was acutely aware of the thin, ghostly thread that had stretched between us a week ago, and I was afraid to move so as not to break it with a careless movement or a sigh. And Sasha sang, looking at me with loving eyes - velvet and butter, and his strong, free voice lifted me from the ground...

A year later, in May or June, I talked to the brownie. I thought I was talking to Andreika, Sasha’s eight-year-old cousin. A light bulb burned out in the house on the second floor. In the evening, in the semi-darkness, I sorted out the laundry, who should lay what, and chatted with Andreika, who got up after me. Or rather, I spoke, but he didn’t answer, he just smiled slyly and silently walked back and forth. As it turned out later, all this time my cousin was communicating downstairs with his aunt, my mother-in-law.

But it was not without reason that the brownie’s face was so cunning - after all, he turned out to be right.
Well, and the bathhouse... It hasn’t gone anywhere and hasn’t lost its sweetness. One of the joys of a difficult married life.

Today I want to tell you one funny story which happened to me in the village.
In the evening in our village before the holiday, it is customary to heat the bathhouse, but no one likes to go alone.
The four of us gathered in the bathhouse: me, my cousin, her husband and my brother. And our bathhouse consists of three sections.
The dressing room, there we have chairs, a table, an electric kettle, tea leaves and, most importantly, playing cards.
The steam room is small, but there are two shelves: one higher, the other lower.
And the bathhouse, they only wash there.
So, the four of us came to the bathhouse. We looked at the degrees in the steam room, it seemed too low for us, and we began to play cards (we all sat dressed). And then our boys decided who would go for a steam bath and who would wash when.
The boys went to take a steam bath first, and we remained sitting in the dressing room. My sister and I got bored, and we went to the bathhouse - there is a window that looks out onto the steam room. We wanted to scare the boys. We slowly went into the bathhouse, went to the window, and there it was a bummer. They hung a towel on the window. They screwed us over, in a word. Well, then my sister and I went to the dressing room and began to think new plan laugh at them.
While we were thinking, the guys left the steam room and immediately went to the bathhouse. And we go to the steam room with her. Accordingly, they took the towel. We
hung theirs. And we decided to laugh at them in a different way - look out the window, and then scare them. But they screwed us over again. They hung a towel on that side too. Well, we got completely bored, and we were lying on the shelves, warming up, when suddenly a towel fell from the window. And there were two faces in the window... She and I managed to crawl under the benches so that they wouldn’t see us naked.
Well, here we were in a good mood, and we went to the dressing room to cool off a little. I told my sister to sit quietly and I would make fun of the boys. I slowly left the dressing room and walked up to the door that leads to the bathhouse. I suddenly open it and run into the steam room. All you could hear from the bathhouse was screaming and yelling.
I left the steam room as if nothing had happened, our boys came out of the bathhouse, both angry. And they said:
- Well, hold on, we will take revenge on you for such a joke...
Hmm, we won't be able to take revenge. My sister and I went to the bathhouse in towels, and the boys remained sitting in the dressing room; I made the dressing room door a drawer. ® Well, so that they definitely don’t do this to us. Entering the bathhouse, I hung a towel on the window.
And we began to wash, calmly listening to every rustle. When suddenly the door to the bathhouse opens. However, we did not hear them move the box away from their door. Olya (my sister) grabs a basin and covers herself with it; she was lucky, and the basin turned out to be small. And she is plump for me. And I stood behind the stove. I only had a ladle in my hand, since at that moment I was pouring hot water. A
They, the pests, stood and watched as we covered ourselves, and laughed at us; we ourselves almost died with laughter.

They left and said:
- Wash calmly...
Well, yes, you can easily wash yourself with them, my sister and I put a stick in the door so that they wouldn’t open it. ® But outside the door we hear a rumble, that they are moving something there. Well, we spat on them and began to wash ourselves calmly. We decided that we would open the door later. And they shout to us:
“You won’t leave the bathhouse and you won’t get into the dressing room.”
We didn't take their words seriously. We washed ourselves and began to open the door, we both wrapped ourselves in towels, Olya wanted to open it with a run
the door, but it turned out that there was nothing at the door - it flew out of the bathhouse like a champagne cork. From the dressing room we only heard laughter, my sister was already laughing herself, I didn’t even have the strength to hold a towel. We safely entered the dressing room and tried to kick the boys out so we could get dressed. They didn’t let us get dressed, so we then took our things and went to the steam room to get dressed. Sister held the door
and I got dressed, and then vice versa. Well, here we decided to laugh at them too. Since they were both pulling the door, my sister and I will let go of the door one, two, three....
We let go of the door, the guys fall onto the chair.
This is how we took revenge on them for the fall of Olya.
That's how we had fun going to the bathhouse.

The story is real 😀