In Search Of Tamar Ch 6

In Search of Tamar Ch. 6: Miriam cuts it short when Chris explores the African bush

As the taxi driver wove his way through the morning traffic screaming assorted curses at the other drivers, I took the precious envelope that Miriam had entrusted to me out of my pocket. Tamar’s handwriting was neat and precise but I was never any good at reading Hebrew script. I made out “Jerusalem” but I couldn’t figure out the street and district where she now lived. Well, if worse came to worst, I would just hand the envelope to a taxi driver in Jerusalem and let him take me there.

Back in my hotel room, I put the envelope on the bed beside my still-packed travel bag. Checking my watch, I figured that I could grab a shower and still have plenty of time to check out and grab the noon express to Jerusalem at the

Tachanah Merkazit

(Central Bus Station). So, I undressed and showered as quickly as I could. I could hardly wait until I would have my long-lost Israeli girlfriend in my arms and my dick between her legs.

As I was toweling off, the cramps in my stomach signaled that Tammy Fink was quite right about Ethiopian food. All those lentils and red-hot sauces had made their way through my digestive system and were about to embark on the process of removing the hair around my asshole. Fortunately, I was already in the bathroom. I’m not sure I could have put ass to porcelain in time otherwise.

With the paperwork done, I opened the bathroom door. Shit, the chambermaid was cleaning the room. I hoped she hadn’t heard all the embarrassing noises I was making in the can. There I was standing biff naked with a strange woman in my room. It’s not my custom to flash the chambermaids so I was about to close the bathroom door when I noticed that she was bent over the bed looking at the envelope. Miles of skinny black legs extended below a uniform that was meant for a much shorter Israeli woman. The hem of her uniform rode up over her ass, exposing a lush African snatch covered with thick pubes, as the tall grass covers the savanna. Could there be any other Falasha woman in Tel Aviv who didn’t own underwear? Could there be any other black woman that skinny? My chambermaid was Miriam Kessim, the fastest woman in all Israel. Somehow, chance had brought us together again.

The sight of Miriam’s tight little pussy gave me instant woodie. I tiptoed up behind Miriam, and gently placed my hand on her half-exposed ass. She shrieked in shock and stood bold upright. I grabbed her rigid form and placed a kiss on her ear as she tried to see her attacker. I guess the envelope in her hand gave me away, or had she figured it out from a familiar woodie playing on the back of her thighs? Miriam relaxed almost to the point of melting in my arms. I released my chambermaid/lover/African Queen and she turned, kissing me passionately.

“It really you, Chris. Quick. We have little time. I want you know me one more time.”

Miriam didn’t have to ask me twice to fuck her. I just turned her around and, as gently as I could, pushed her face down on the bed, her knees on the floor. A doggie was just what my hard aching dick needed help and it needed it NOW. It looked as if Miriam needed it too. Miriam pulled her dress over her ass without any ceremony, exposing her clam in its full glory. I tried to part her lips as fast as I could but she had a big tangle of damp hair that I had to get through. Finally, I opened Miriam wide. Her inner lips were purple and glistening wet.

I put my dick into the opening of her cunt and pushed gently. It wouldn’t go in. Damn, Miriam was even tighter than she was the night before. I slid the tip of my dick between her inner lips, picking up pussy juice that was flowing at a good rate now. This time a little push on my circumcised dick and her cunt parted around the flared end. Miriam gasped and let out a low moan.

I was just a few centimeters in when it felt like I had reached a dead end. I grabbed the shaft of my dick and pulled back slightly, playing my dick inside her opening and trying to loosen her up. It seemed to work because when I pushed in again, I got almost 6 centimeters in. I pulled back and that seemed to grease things up because my next thrust got me in two more centimeters. I had to keep Miriam s spread wide so those damp black pubes didn’t wrap around my cock. I kept working my dick in, back and forth and Miriam’s moans kept getting louder and louder. The woman gave good feedback.

Finally, I got my full length in after I don’t know how many thrusts and retractions. I grabbed Miriam by her narrow hips for some leverage. I slowly backed out and just as slowly worked my way back in my whole length. Every so often, instead of a slow poke in, I would just thrusts as fast as her tight cunt would allow. Every time I gave Miriam a fast thrust, she would scream and grab my clothes or the sheets, until she had a pile of linen and assorted menswear under her chin. I think her nose was buried in one of my socks because she said in nasal Hebrew:

“Chris, I no come. You stop.”

Normally I’m an obliging sort of guy but no way would I let Miriam go without complete satisfaction. I leaned forward, got my hand in the wide gap between her thighs and found Miriam’s swollen clitoris. One tiny little touch of my finger on the top of her clit was all it took. Miriam’s body shuddered, she screamed and my clothes scattered in several directions. My dick can take only so much. Miriam’s writhing body sent me into orgasm as well. In my excitement, I pulled Miriam off the bed and we both squirmed on the floor in ecstasy. As we quieted down, Miriam was the first to speak.

“Last night, you take long time know Miriam. I think you slow like Tamar say me you be. But you no slow. You one fast shmuck with Miriam today.”

There it was again. Well, at least Tamar told a consistent story about me, even if she couldn’t be flattering. Miriam unplugged me and ran to the bathroom, trying not to leak on the rug. She cleaned herself quickly and just as quickly assembled her cleaning equipment.

“I want see you tonight. Tamar make me feel I want to live. Chris, you make me want to be ishah

(woman)

. I run home, dress good clothes. You show me how to be ishah. Meet you here 1800. OK?”

“But I go Tamar in Yerushalayim. To place you give me. I go takanah merkazit take bus. I must pay hotel.”

“No, too late. Hotel make you pay for tonight if you go now. Tamar safe and she wait for you. You stay one more day. Make Miriam woman. You show me how to get good man.”

Miriam’s logic was impeccable. I agreed to stay one more night. Miriam was right on time for our meeting in the lobby. She hadn’t learned that everything in Israel starts late. She also hadn’t learned that a woman is supposed to keep her man waiting. Now, there’s a thought. Israeli women must keep their men waiting for ever.

Somehow, Miriam had convinced Tammy, her roommate, to lend a party dress and to give some quick lessons at makeup. The dress was too short, which served to emphasize Miriam’s long legs. Tammy had done some quick alterations so that the dress wasn’t too baggy. To divert attention from Miriam’s lack of chest, Tammy had loaned a gold

Magen David

pendant. I didn’t think that Tammy was at all religious. Well, maybe I was too quick judging the woman.

Tammy’s only failure with her makeover was to lend Miriam her heels. They were too big and, the way she hobbled awkwardly, Miriam looked like a basketball player in drag. Miriam protested but I took her straight to the

Shouk Carmel

and found a nice pair of fancy sandals that a Yemeni woman was selling. They went well with Miriam’s skin colour and with the colour of her borrowed dress. Best of all, they didn’t elevate Miriam to an embarrassing height. Despite her protests, Miriam beamed with pride as she walked on my arm in her party clothes down towards the beach.

As we walked along the beach, Miriam seemed to look at the falafel stands and the souvenir shops as if she were exploring another foreign country. Then it hit me. She worked so hard and trained so intensely in her spare time that she never realized how Israelis lived. Miriam had never boogied in Tel Aviv. A Canadian boy had to show her how to be an Israeli.

The first stop was a fast food stand serving

shwarma.

Miriam looked at the lamb, turkey, lettuce, tomato and

chamoutzim

curiously. Then she bit in and gave me an approving smile. Our next stop had to be the

glida

(ice cream) stand. It was a hot evening and Israeli ice cream has to be the most underrated substance in the food world. More smiles from Miriam. The ice cream was going down well. To anyone Jewish reading this, I know already that meat and dairy doesn’t rate as kosher dining. First of all, most Israelis don’t keep kosher. Secondly, it wasn’t my duty to be Miriam’s lover and her rabbi at the same time.

We wandered down the beach area further until we arrived at a disco called the Dolphinarium. I remembered it as an aquarium on my first trip to Israel five years before. Being early in the week, there wasn’t much of a lineup to get in. The bouncer looked curiously at the 30-ish foreign guy with the tall, young black woman. Miriam didn’t have a handbag so we obviously didn’t pose a security threat. I was glad we passed security because I never saw a bouncer with an Uzi before.

I went over to the bar and got myself a Gold Star and watched Miriam dancing. She threw me her sandals, dancing barefoot, swaying that tiny ass of hers with rhythms only a young African woman can produce. I felt just like an old tight-assed white guy.

A few not-too-good looking but twentyish women grabbed my arm and pulled me to the dance floor. They way they looked at my dancing didn’t need to be translated from the Hebrew: I was a lousy dancer. Then when they tried to chat me up and heard my basic Hebrew, they knew I was in Tel Aviv for a good time, not a long time. Has it ever struck you that, the uglier the woman, the longer the relationship they’re after?

So that’s how I spent my last evening in Tel Aviv. Watching Miriam, drinking beer, getting hauled out to dance, getting rejected and going back to my beer. After being picked over by all the bottom-feeding women in the Dolphinarium, Miriam finally came over and took pity on me.

“Chris, we go now. I have pelephone number of two nice guy. They want take me home but I say them I got date. OK, finish birah of you and we go hotel.”

I was the envy of the disco as I left with my six-foot plus black woman in tow. Miriam was swaying her ass and flashing her ebony legs in her best “gonna get laid tonight” manner. She had traveled a long way in just 24 hours. Last night she was a rape victim, scared of men and now she had transformed into the fastest slut in Israel. I just hoped that her newfound interest in dick didn’t divert her from her running career.

Every head turned our way as we waltzed through the hotel lobby. I’m taller than the average Israeli male and I still had to look up to her. I wondered how a shorter male’s ego would take this.

I closed my room door and we stared at each other for several minutes. Miriam was so beautiful, a child and a complete woman simultaneously, that I said the Hebrew words that I vowed that I would save for Tamar:

“Miriam, ani ohev otach.”

(Miriam, I love you)

Without a pause, Miriam replied,

“Ani ohev otchah gam, Chris.”

(I love you too, Chris) Then it dawned on me what we’d just done. We both betrayed Tamar, whom I loved and Miriam respected, with our profession of love. I felt as guilty as O. J. Simpson. A Jewish woman like Tamar can make a guy feel guilty without even being in the room. Miriam’s emotions went beyond mere guilt. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“No good, Chris. You belong Tamar. You no say you love Miriam.”

I agreed and just held Miriam until her feeling of betrayal of a Jewish sister abated. The tears stopped and Miriam started to savor the familiar, knowing that the other knew the inner secrets and how to unlock them. As for me, just lust, telegraphed on my part by a growing woodie in my pants. A woman doesn’t show anything as obvious as bulging pants but the way she acted, I knew that Miriam wouldn’t let me go without a poke.

There wasn’t any trick to getting my hand under Miriam’s dress, it was so short on her. I caressed her tiny bum with Miriam sighing in time to every stroke on her bum cheek. Miriam was so horny that she was making her panties damp. I reached up for the zipper on Miriam’s dress and took a sniff of horny black pussy dripping from my fingers. Geez, it was just pouring through her panties. I found the zipper and took a good grip, hoping that it wouldn’t slip from my well-lubricated fingers. Miriam let her dress drop to the floor, answering the question I had all night. Yes, Miriam owned underwear and fairly skimpy at that.

I tried to hide my eagerness, unbuttoning my shirt with shaking hands. I undid my belt slowly and let my slacks drop to the floor beside Miriam’s dress. We stood staring at each other’s bare skin, a contrast in colours. I embraced Miriam, bringing her full lips close to mine with one hand while I unhooked her preteen brassiere with the other hand. As her brassiere slipped down her arms, I felt her erect nipples caress the hairs on my chest. With my free hand, I cupped one tit in the palm of my hand. Miriam sighed deeply, opening her mouth to receive a full kiss. Keeping Miriam occupied with my tongue as it explored her sweet mouth, I slid her panties over her small, solid ass. Her panties were soggy.

I moved slightly away to see the pièce de résistance, Miriam’s gorgeous big bush. African bush. It was not to be. Somehow, Tammy’s makeover included a bikini shave. All that black hair was gone, exposing Miriam’s black clam. She was shiny from lubrication and smooth, except for the odd bump where Tammy’s shaving was less than expert. Miriam sensed the disappointment on my face.

“You no like? Tammy say men no like hair. Tammy say she know what men like.”

So, maybe I was disappointed but I lied and said it was fine. No way was I going to postpone screwing Miriam until her bush grew back. I don’t know if Miriam believed me or if she was too far gone to care whether I really liked bald beaver or not.

Miriam took my dick in her hand as if that was the way Ethiopian women shook hands. As she knelt, Miriam examined my dick as if she was afraid that she might have done it serious harm the night before. How could my dick come to any harm Miriam in the sack. My dick grew so fast that the tip poked her in the eye.

Without a further word, she took my dick in her mouth and began furiously sucking, her head bobbing back and forth. Miriam was no longer the shy village girl but she hadn’t yet learned the finer points of a blowjob. I had to stop the amateurish work before her white teeth shredded my dick away. I grabbed her head and forced my dick to the back of her throat, triggering a gag reflex. Miriam coughed out my dick, as I hoped she would. Despite her inexperience, she produced a fine woodie on me.

I stood Miriam up and gathered her in my arms. Placing her ass on the edge of the bed, I pushed her on her back and cracked her thighs wide open. I knelt down and got my dick head between her thighs before she could close them. Gently, I parted her bare pussy lips. They must be still sensitive from their first shave. The powerful perfume of African snatch filled my nostrils, making my woodie ache with each beat of my heart. I got my tongue right in the slit above her cunt and slid my tongue slowly up her slit to just below Miriam’s swollen clitoris. Miriam tasted much as I expected, like fine roast lamb, liberally seasoned with salt and garlic.

Miriam sighed and placed her bony fingers on the side of my head. Despite the novelty of oral sex, Miriam clearly meant me to continue the job. Of course, I never ate black pussy before. I ate lots of bald pussy but I was still naive enough to think shaver equaled white slut. It was a first for the eater and the eaten. Obligingly, I kept my tongue working up and down her slit. Up and down I licked her pussy, slowly at first and then increasing in frequency, stopping just below the tip of her clitoris every time. Miriam’s breathing kept up with my tongue movements until finally she was gasping for breath. Then I moved my tongue right on top of her purple, swollen clitoris.

Miriam writhed on the bed in ecstasy. Her arms flailed vainly for something to grab. I had my arms around her thighs, keeping her business parts in place. I was unrelenting, the way I slid my tongue over her clit, again and again but not pressing too hard. Finally Miriam stopped thrashing. That was the time to stop the tongue job and slip my dick back into that sweet black pussy.

I had my dick in hand and was ready to take the plunge but Miriam sat up and said:

“On back. I want do same thing Tamar Fink do to men.”

I was so intoxicated from the taste of African snatch that Miriam could have told me to stand on my head with my feet in the toilet and I would have done it – flushing even. Miriam got on top of me like a pro and squatted over my dick. She worked my dick in and out exactly the way she wanted it, teasing and pleasing the tip of my dick. I lost track of time but Miriam wasn’t in a rush, in full knowledge that this was to be her last taste of my dick.

I got the full benefit of Miriam’s intensive training. Miriam went up and down on my shaft relentlessly, pacing herself like a marathon runner. Slowly at first, she held her strength in reserve and let my dick feel her tight pussy lips caress the sides of my shaft and the tip of my dick slide over her cervix. Miriam picked up the pace in the middle of the race, passing the average woman in speed and squeeze. All I can say is that Miriam must have had muscles everywhere, the way she put the squeeze on.

Miriam saw the finish line in sight and put on her final spurt. Her hard bum cheeks were furiously pounding the tops of my thighs. The bed made high-pitched squeaking noises in time to Miriam pounding on my dick. The way Miriam writhed, twisted and turned, I was positive my dick would fall out but it never did. Miriam’s tight snatch kept me right where she wanted. Finally, Miriam came one more time, squeezing the juice out of me.

The aftermath of all the athletic activities was surprisingly peaceful. Miriam curled up and let me hold her. She was so relaxed that I forgot how hard and toned her muscled really were. I was tired, sore and completely fucked-out. I quickly fell asleep.

By morning, I had slept off my exhaustion. Miriam had worn me out but not herself. She left quietly in the night, but taking the time to pack my clothes and lay out some clean clothes to take me to Jerusalem. Miriam never talked too much but her message was unmistakable: On your way to Jerusalem and find Tamar.

I stayed in my room as long as I could without incurring another day’s charges. It wasn’t reasonable to expect Miriam to clean my room again. After all, we had made a sticky mess of the bed. This morning my chambermaid was a plump, sweating Russian woman with a kerchief on her head. She looked like a typical Politburo wife with a disposition to match. I know that beauty is only skin deep but sometimes ugly goes all the way through. She glared at me when she saw the mess in the sheets. Her eyes said it all: “You’re dead if you don’t leave a tip.” I threw everything into the travel bag, left babushka ten shekels, headed downstairs, and paid the bill.

The Jerusalem express bus left right on time. Hopefully, Tamar was still at the address Miriam gave me. Hopefully, Tamar still wanted me.