In Search Of Tamar Ch 7

In Search of Tamar Ch. 7: Chris facilitates female bonding in Jerusalem

The Jerusalem Express pulled out of the new Tel Aviv Central Station. The new station was a lot cleaner than the old open-air station, and air-conditioning was a definite plus in an Israeli summer. The new toilets lacked the bouquet of the old ones. Still, I missed the charm of the shops and restaurants around the open bus stands that contributed to the charming Middle Eastern chaos of the old

tachanah merkazit

.

The bus laboured up Highway 1 to Jerusalem past the wrecked armoured vehicles from the 1948 war, now painted in gorgeous primer. Since the war of independence, Israel was still trying to find a national identity, the same way Canadians have been since 1867. Take the three major cities as an example. Jerusalem and Tel Aviv were just a hundred kilometers apart but they could just as well be on different continents. Haifa must be on the moon on that scale. The Israeli rhyme “Jerusalem prays and Tel Aviv plays, while Haifa works” (hey, the whole thing rhymes in Hebrew) was absolutely the truth. People in Tel Aviv are big city, rude and crude, like Parisians or New Yorkers. Haifa is strictly blue collar, as friendly and practical as most of the working class. Jerusalem is subdued, conservative, very old-world and reeking of its religious connections. Call it a side effect of Jerusalem being the capital of the world’s only Jewish State but that’s the reality my bus was heading for.

You can see these urban differences in the way women dress. Haifa women wouldn’t look out of place in a small-town trailer park. Otherwise, Israeli women dress stylishly but the styles are far more conservative in Jerusalem. For example, Tel Aviv women wear their jeans cut so low that I assumed they kept them from falling down with a piece of Velcro snagging their bush. Crack-of-young-woman’s-ass is such a common sight in Tel Aviv that I gave up staring. Too much female plumber’s bum creates indifference. The point I’m trying to make is, if I woke up from a coma in Israel, I could immediately tell if the hospital was in Haifa, Jerusalem or Tel Aviv just by looking at the nearest woman.

In Jerusalem, I checked into the same hotel where I once fucked Tamar. Call me sentimental or just a believer in fucking luck. As I waited while the desk clerk took down my registration details and copied out my passport, I noticed that my clerk seemed to take extra interest in my case. I believe in equality, so I started to take an interest in my desk clerk. Her nametag stated that she had the wonderfully redundant name, Taliah Tal. I think I’ve already mentioned to you that Israeli women are world class champions in the chest department. Taliah’s chest was even bigger than the typical Israeli woman. Her gigantic boobs jiggled up, down and from side to side as she went with my passport from the copier to the reservation files, to the computer and back to me.

As Taliah explained the hotel’s amenities at length, I pored over Taliah’s amenities. Taliah had red hair almost touching her shoulder blades. Red hair in a Jew betrays an Edomite milkman somewhere in her family line. Below a conservatively low Jerusalem hemline, I could make out shapely legs. Some guys might assume that Taliah was unattractive just because you wouldn’t find many of her features, such as her padded hips, prominent jaw or her heavy eyebrows, on the body of a high fashion model. Well, I’m different. True, Nobody would call Taliah a raving beauty, yet there was something appealingly wholesome about this woman. Taliah was the kind of woman you’d take home to Mother, especially if Mother happened to be Jewish. Of course, when Mother was away in the kitchen making the hummus, you’d get your hand under Taliah’s sweater and play with her juicy

avatiach

(watermelons).

Taliah concluded the verbal hotel tour with a winning smile and a very open-ended question: “So, Chris, may I be of any further assistance to you in your stay at the XXXXX Hotel?”

As with everyone in Israel’s tourist industry, Taliah spoke flawless English, especially if you compared it to my halting Hebrew. Yes, Taliah could help me a little bit. I pulled out the envelope with Tamar’s return address and pointed it out to Taliah.

“I don’t read Hebrew handwriting but I want to look up an old friend at this address. Taliah, can you tell me how far away this is and about how much the taxi fare will be”

Taliah’s eyes opened wide. “Are you

meshugah?

This is in Mea Shearim, near the Old City. Why would a nice foreigner like you want to go there? Mea Shearim is a ghetto for the

haridim

(ultra-orthodox). I’m Jewish and even I don’t meet their standards. Dressed the way you are and without a

kippah

, they’ll probably stone you to death at the Damascus Gate.”

“Thanks for the advice, Taliah but I have to go there. It’s my reason for coming to Jerusalem. I need to look up an old friend who lives there. Don’t worry, I have a change of clothes for the occasion.”

“Can you take a little advice? Don’t go to Mea Shearim. It’s no place for a goy. Look, my shift ends at 3:00 this afternoon. Why don’t I show you how secular Israelis boogie here in Jerusalem? I’ll make you forget all about those

zonot

(whores) in Tel Aviv and the

burkhas

in Mea Shearim. Tell me, I’ve heard that you Canadian men have deadly tongues. And is it true that all Canadians are circumcised, even the Gentiles?”

Isn’t Israel a great country? I hadn’t even checked in to my hotel room and a horny young woman was already checking out my tongue and my

zain

. Any guy with an IQ above the room temperature and all his parts working will never be lonely in Israel. Besides, Taliah’s big boobs were tempting me. I was halfway to accepting Taliah’s proposition when my conscience reminded me that my prime directive on this trip was supposed to be finding Tamar. My apparent ambivalence didn’t escape Taliah’s notice, so she put a little more on the table.

“Maybe one Israeli woman isn’t enough? I’ll ask my girlfriend Gyula to join us. Gyula’s boyfriend, Gideon Katan is in

Zahal

reserves. Gideon’s unit was called up for three weeks of service in the Territories. She’s so desperate for a few centimeters of

zain

after just one week that she can’t go near the

melafafon

(cucumbers) at the

super

. How does that sound, Chris? You, me and Gyula? You’ll have one Israeli woman at your nose and another at your toes.”

“Taliah, I hate turning down an offer like that but….”

Taliah switched on her pouty look. “Then, it’s me, isn’t it? I think you don’t want me because I’m just not pretty enough for you. Don’t you know that plain girls like me work harder in bed than the pretty ones? Don’t you want to see what a plain girl like Taliah can do for you?”

Obviously, Taliah had superb Jewish Guilt skills and wasn’t shy to pour it on. She also had a bit of female intuition that I really wouldn’t mind getting into her pants. Taliah played my male horniness off against my basically kind nature. I had to buy some time here.

“That’s not it at all, Taliah. Under different circumstances, I could really go for you but I hope someone in Mea Shearim is still waiting for me. I can promise you this, at least. If I don’t find what I’m looking for in Mea Shearim, we’ll go out together, I promise. And maybe I’ll even solve Gyula’s problem for her.”

Taliah seemed OK with a conditional offer. I decided to accept her advice and change my clothes and grab my

kippah

before heading to Mea Shearim. The taxi dumped me on a corner and motioned that the address I wanted was “up there, somewhere”. I looked up the warren of narrow alleys and then at the sign that announced in Hebrew, Arabic and English that everyone entering the area should be modestly dressed, etc., etc. It wasn’t a particularly friendly, “Y’all welcome” sign but I suppose it was better than “Abandon hope all ye who enter.”

Finally, I found the address near a place where one narrow passageway made a fork with another. It was one of a series of Jerusalem stone row houses that originally looked alike but successive owners had given some individuality with distinctive doors and flower boxes on both floors. I didn’t know what to expect when I knocked on the door. I waited impatiently for several minutes.

The door opened slowly, revealing my lost Tamar. She stood there in a long-sleeved ankle-length baggy 18th century dress that covered all body parts except her hands and face. That was enough for recognition purposes. I could never forget her olive skin, dark eyes, Semitic nose and black hair, even if it was now shoulder length. As for her luscious body and big chest that I had ravished, forget it. Tamar was dressed just like any ultra-orthodox Jewish woman you could find in Mehane Yehuda.

We stood staring at each other speechless. I can only imagine what was going on in Tamar’s mind. As for me, did Tamar’s clothing indicate that she got religion in the five years we were apart? If not, did she still want me if she knew I fucked both her friends and her foes along the way. Another woman’s voice called from the upstairs floor in Ashkenazik Hebrew:

“Who is it, Tamar?”

“Just some goy who’s lost, Rebuttzin Avigail. I’ll be right upstairs as soon as I give him directions.” Tamar lowered her voice; “I can’t be seen talking to you here. Go back to your hotel and wait for me in the lobby tomorrow morning. We need to do some serious talking, Chris.”

Tamar smiled and closed the door. I walked back to the spot the taxi had left me looking just like the misplaced Gentile I was. I didn’t like the thought of waiting another day to get together with Tamar but I learned the hard way to accept Tamar Ya’akov’s Israeli street smarts. With the rest of the day and night ahead of me, I hopped the number 4 bus back to my hotel.

There’s not a lot to do on a city bus tied up in a Middle Eastern traffic jam except to think. At first, I was happy that I was going to get laid tomorrow. Or maybe not. What if Tamar got religion big time and all she wanted to do was convert me? Now I regretted being so blasé with Taliah’s proposition. And what if that guy with the knapsack who just got on was the suicide bomber? That’s what happens as a result of too much thinking. The first thing I did when I returned to the hotel was to ask Taliah if her offer still stood. She grabbed her

pelaphone:

“Gyula, do you remember that good-looking foreigner I told you about?…You don’t. Then, do you remember what I told you about Canadian men and tongues?….So now you remember….Yes, Gyula, this Canadian foreigner wants to do us both tonight….Just meet us at Albergo Finkelstein and let me take it from there.”

Like any Jerusalemite, Taliah was quite proud of the ethnic restaurants in her city. Albergo Finkelstein managed to be Italian and still keep a kosher license. I ordered a bottle of Kibbutz Hagafen Cabernet Sauvignon

Casher

from Finkelstein’s wine card. I loved that vintage ever since my encounter with Rimona Katz on the kibbutz. As I swirled the wine around my glass and brought it to my lips in my best wine snob manner, the “nose” of the

casher

wine reminded me of my “nose” in Rimona Katz’

casher

pussy. If my Hebrew was any good, tonight I was going to get my nose and my tongue into, not just one, but two sweet Israeli pussies.

As I was refilling Taliah’s glass, I felt a soft, small hand on my shoulder. I turned to find a gorgeous blonde who said in Hebrew,

“Shmi (I’m) Gyula Gal. Atah (You must be) Chris. Shev. (Don’t get up.)”

I was about to answer in Hebrew when Taliah jumped in. “Chris, you must understand that Gyula didn’t exactly come out at the top of her high school class. In fact she flunked English. She can’t speak a word of it. I’ll have to translate everything for you.”

Then Taliah and Gyula launched into a rapid-fire Hebrew conversation, excluding me, supposedly the night’s main attraction. For all their respect for Canadian tongues, they couldn’t fathom a Canadian speaking the Hebrew tongue. I didn’t mind this little misunderstanding by the two women. Listening to people talk when they thought I couldn’t understand somehow appealed to the voyeur in me. To tell you the truth, the two women talked so fast that it was all I could do to follow the thread of their conversation while pretending I didn’t understand a fucking thing.

The gist of their conversation, I gathered, consisted of Taliah attempting to convince Gyula to try oral sex. Apparently Gideon Katan had never had his Hebrew tongue into Gyula’s pussy, something that Taliah was convinced that Canadians were best at. Of course, Canadians

are

world-class when it comes to muff diving. How Taliah gained this knowledge working behind the desk of a three-star Jerusalem hotel was a fact I probably didn’t need to know.

If Taliah was tongue deep into oral sex, Gyula was equally reluctant to try a licking. She had prissy hang-ups about whether she had gotten herself clean enough for oral sex and whether I would like how she tasted. As the conversation wore on, I had to agree with Taliah. Gyula wasn’t too bright. As for me, I learned a lot of new words for feminine hygiene matters in Hebrew.

The other thing that fascinated me was the relationship between these women. I sensed that Taliah didn’t like Gyula an awful lot but Gyula was too blonde to figure this out. However, Taliah hung around Gyula just to have a crack at the guys that a blondini in Israel attracted. Taliah had an industrial-strength inferiority complex when it came to her looks. Tonight, Taliah was lording it over Gyula. Taliah had discovered me and wasn’t she great for bringing me to Gyula’s attention. I let Taliah take her power trip. I played dumb on Hebrew and let Taliah translate or ignore me as she saw fit.

While I was expanding my Hebrew vocabulary and investigating female relationships, I took the opportunity to look Gyula over. Gyula was quite pleasant on the eyes, almost cutsie-poo. She dyed her hair blonde and her makeup and nails were impeccable. She could have been a high fashion model if it wasn’t for her big Israeli hooters. Gyula had a rack on her almost as big as Taliah’s. The fashion industry doesn’t want spectacular boobs to compete with the clothes. Gyula’s job as a clerk in a fashion boutique was as close as she’d get to the fashion runway. From her stylish clothing, she obviously believed in her product.

Eventually, Taliah convinced Gyula to come along for the, umh, ride and try out oral sex. Taliah basked in her newfound power as the three of us made our way back to my room. Taliah also hadn’t figured out yet that I had a slight command of Hebrew. She talked incessantly how the hotel was a bottomless pool of foreign zain, both circumcised and uncircumcised. All of this was in aid of impressing Gyula. Finally, the three of us were in my room. Taliah did all the work, taking my clothes off. Gyula stood there as if she never saw a naked goy in her life.

“See, he’s circumcised, just the way I said he would be.”

“Ben zonah! You never said that he was this big. What am I going to do with this log?”

“What are you saying, Gyula? They don’t lay their zain on the desk when they check in. How was I supposed to know that he had this monster between his legs? If you don’t want to eat this hunk of meat, then I’ll have it all to myself. Just leave now.”

“No way, my friend. I need a bit of zain so much that I’ll even jump this stump.”

“So you see it my way then. First, I’ll let his beard tickle my thighs while he eats my pussy. You don’t appreciate how good foreigners are at eating pussy. Did you remember to bring the galoshes for some protection?”

They both pushed me on my back on the bed and started to undress in a businesslike manner. If they were intimidated by the size of my zain, I was just as awed by their tits when they finally removed their bras. I was so impressed by these four round masses bobbing back and forth that I completely ignored their pussies when they dropped their panties.

Taliah and Gyula started out on my chest, kissing it and licking my nipples. Taliah moved up on me, kissing my chest and shoulders, ending up thrusting that tongue into my mouth. Gyula moved down on me and ended up with a hand on the zain, kissing and licking the sides. Since I first saw Taliah, I had to get my hands on her tits. Gyula was out of reach but Taliah’s tits were handy. They were soft and big, too big for one hand. Taliah’s nipples rose immediately, either from my touch or due to expectations about the Canadian tongue.

Taliah interrupted my explorations of her Hills of Judea and plunked herself on my face. I grabbed her hips to make enough space so I could get my tongue through her red bush and between her pussy lips. Gyula hand was shaking as she licked my stick. Gyula’s licking was redundant as Taliah’s pussy reeked of pheromones that went instantly from nose to zain. Gyula got a rubber from somewhere and rolled it down the

zain

. It snapped like a pair of doctor’s latex gloves and felt just as thick.

Gyula mounted me and started to carefully work my

zain

in or at least I think she did. I was too occupied with red-haired pussy in the face. I think I’ve told you already that Israeli rubber is the best defense against premature ejaculation. I started licking Taliah slowly at first below the clit and lightly between her inner lips. Then another stroke, never touching the clit until it was well swollen. At the right moment, I lightly licked Taliah’s clit on the top until she came.

I had to come up for air after eating so much Israeli pussy. I took a quick glance over at the full-length mirror on the hotel room wall. Taliah embraced Gyula, rubbing their tits together. I felt Taliah’s hand slip into Taliah’s slit and start playing with her clit. Sometimes it takes a woman to know what another woman needs and Taliah obviously knew what it takes. Gyula overcame her fear of big

zain

, or else forgot about me entirely, and let the whole thing slide in. I suspect it was the latter because Gyula started to play with red-haired pussy, leaving me with nothing to do but watch the two friends become even better friends.

After the two women made each other come, Taliah got off me and told Gyula to get off so she could get a bit of zain now. No response. I looked at Gyula. Her eyes were rolled back in her head and her full weight rested on my hips. Gyula was already all fucked-out or all played-out or dead. Gently, I rolled over and Taliah and I put Gyula on the side of the bed to recover.

Taliah got on her back, knees up, thick thighs in a V formation. Surreptitiously, I peeled off the rubber. I wasn’t getting any feel with it on. I got in the missionary position and Taliah grabbed my zain. She was so eager to get fucked that she didn’t even notice that I was bare. She spread her pussy wide open and placed the tip of my zain exactly on the right spot. Without any hesitation, I shoved my zain past a wet mass of red pubes and soaking wet pussy lips deep into Taliah’s interior.

Tonight wasn’t the night to take my time teasing one woman while another one was waiting. Taliah was tight but so well lubricated I slid in and out without any trouble. Man, did this woman ever feel great, tight enough to give a great feel but not so tight that I couldn’t get it in. Fucking Taliah was just like putting on and taking off a comfortable slipper. I easily slid all the way in, the tip slamming up against the end of her cunt.

The whole operation was aided by Taliah’s well-padded bottom. A big ass might not be aesthetic to some people. It may be just my opinion but a big ass aligns cunt just right for the missionary position. Sarah Liebowitz, Tamar’s full-figured friend, taught me that. I’d fuck Sarah missionary any time if she didn’t have such a big stomach to go along with her big ass.