tagErotic CouplingsA Date With Tamar Ch. 4

A Date With Tamar Ch. 4

bymiskeivitch©

I waited in the interrogation room for what seemed like an eternity. My sense of time told me that it took me half an hour to pee, thanks to Livshitz' Uzi in my back. My interrogator, Daniellah Argov, was taking even longer. Random thoughts flashed through my head as I waited. What was this delay all about? Was she ordering up a thumbscrew to help with my interrogation?

Finally Daniellah returned. I noticed that she was a bit red and flushed underneath her nicely-tanned skin. "I must be handling this interrogation well from my side," I thought. "My interrogator got so horny from my confession that she's been beating her meat in the bathroom." Pleased with myself that I had, in my own way, reached out and touched someone, I flashed Daniellah a smile. Daniellah responded with a wink, then resumed her stern visage. As she opened her note pad, her foot resumed playing with my ankle. These Israeli women are very well co-ordinated, I thought.

"Now that we're all refreshed, may we resume the interrogation? I believe you said that you were in Haifa? Where did you go the next day?

There they were arrayed before me, my four interrogators. Lieut. Ze'ev Kinnor was a cop secure in the belief that I was a pervert on a mission to seduce Israeli womanhood. Shlomo Galil was the internal security spook who wished he were James Bronstein of the Mossad, hobnobbing with fellow CIA and KGB agents, rather than interrogating mere tourists. Sgt. Dov Livshitz was just a garden variety psychopath, totally happy in a profession, where he could inflict maximum pain and humiliation on his fellow man.

Daniellah Argov was the hard one to figure out. She had a sisterly wholesomeness about her, if your sister happened to be Jewish. Yet, she could display roughness and hardness when interrogating. Obviously, she took her duties seriously about running a clean, safe airport. Also, her footsie game wasn't sisterly and she definitely had a healthy interest in the sex life of the tourist. Since Daniellah was the one in charge here, I decided to pitch my story to her obvious interest in sex.

"Fine. Tamar and I showered and had breakfast. By now, I was enjoying the white cheese and tomatoes for Israeli breakfast. Tamar obviously was enjoying getting Canadian zain every night. Let's say, we were adapting to each other. At breakfast, I told Tamar that I had had enough of talking to urban Israelis about the monetary crisis and that I wanted to talk to rural people like kibbutzniks. Tamar said:"

"'Are you sure you know what you're doing, Chris? Kibbutznikim never carry money. They're shielded from real life by the way the kibbutz owns everything except for their underwear.'"

"'I'm surprised at you, Tamar. You were the one that said we should make the most of our expense account living. I agree that kibbutzniks may not contribute much to my story but the Canadian image of Israel is that of a farmer on a kibbutz with a pitchfork in one hand and an Uzi in the other. So the first reason is that my editor will be looking for an interview with kibbutzniks. The other reason is that I want to make love to you somewhere it's quiet. Somewhere in the country would be great."

Livshitz started fingering his Uzi and growled at me: "Are you making fun of my mother because she was a Pioneer on a kibbutz? Dani, can I take this shmuk outside for a few minutes and teach him some respect for my mother and the Pioneers?"

Daniellah glared at Livshitz as her foot rode up the calf of my leg and along my thigh. "Be quiet. I think he's telling the truth. Foreigners think all Israel lives on a kibbutz. Please continue. Did you have the opportunity to make love to Tamar in the back seat of your car when you drove through the countryside? I have heard that foreigners like to make love in the back seat of a car."

"No, Ms. Argov. Have you tried to find a secluded spot in the north of Israel? Tamar wouldn't give me any details on where we were going, so I had to concentrate on her directions on the drive north from Haifa. The car climbed until we finally entered a narrow valley. The road sign said Metullah and it didn't look like a kibbutz at all. In fact, Metullah was obviously a resort town from all the hotels, motels, chalets and restaurants. I complained to Tamar:"

"'This is just a resort town. I mean, it's the nicest resort town I've seen in all Israel and maybe the world. But I'm sure that there's just beautiful people here like in downtown Tel Aviv. Why did you bring me here?'"

"'Just keep driving, Chris and you'll find out soon enough.'"

I drove past the hotel strip. At the end of the main street was a large building, the reason for Tamar's mysterious demeanor. I was dumbfounded: 'Would you look at that? It's a real hockey rink. I thought that Israelis didn't play hockey.'"

"'We don't. Canadian Jews donated this facility to Israel on the theory that 'If you build it, they will come.' That unfortunately only works for baseball fields. We have no hockey team in Israel and it's used mostly by figure skaters. Since I knew that Canadians were so crazy about hockey that Only a Canadian would try and play the game in a desert country, I had to show this to you.'"

"We drove past the hockey rink, as close as we could to the Lebanese border. There were a few Arab workers straggling through the maze of barbed wire that constituted the Customs/Army post. Tamar explained that Israel is chronically short of workers and that these workers drove for hours to work In Israel. They had to leave Israel every evening, by law."

"We had coffee in one of the chalets with a view of Mt. Hermon. There was no snow at this time of the year but Tamar assured me that Israelis skied on Mt. Hermon in the winter. I thought that this might be the right time to intimate to Tamar that I was after something a little more long term than a night in Tel Aviv or a few days of her leave. I told Tamar that a Canadian would only give up hockey for a woman like her. Whether she didn't understand the importance of hockey or just wanted to avoid commitment, she just smiled."

Daniellah interjected: "Did you screw Tamar in Metullah? Remember that you are still under suspicion and this place is close to the Lebanese border."

"No, Ms. Argov. Metullah was too expensive, especially for the cheap newspaper I work for. We drove towards the Golan Heights. Tamar pointed out that we were passing through the Hula Lakes. I was a little bit late for the lakes because they had been drained and were now under intensive cultivation. We arrived at the kibbutz and I could hardly contain my disappointment."

"'Tamar, this is just a four-star hotel out in the country. You promised me a real kibbutz.'"

"'Chris, the hotel is run by the kibbutz as a sideline. You must trust me that you'll get to talk to real farmers.'"

"We checked in and Tamar got into a long conversation with the clerk, presumably about my mission to interview the kibbutzniks. The clerk called in a rather ordinary-looking guy in an open collar white shirt who introduced himself as the secretary of the kibbutz. Tamar had another animated Hebrew conversation with the secretary. It was obvious that she did a complete number on him because he just raised his hands in defeat and waved us out a side door from the hotel lobby."

"We seemed to have the run of the kibbutz thanks to whatever Tamar had told the secretary. Man, was there ever a variety of people on this kibbutz. We talked to farmers as they were returning their machinery to the kibbutz' machine shop. We found teachers on their way to pick up their toddlers from the beit yeladim. We even interrupted artists welding up who knows what the sculpture was meant to symbolize. 'Probably, their application to work in the machine shop was rejected,' I ventured to Tamar."

"After interviewing the kibbutzniks, I started to write my story in our room. Tamar sat in the side chair watching me for a few minutes and finally said: 'Chris, your typing is painful to watch. Can I type and you can tell me what to write?'"

"Typing never was my best skill so I let Tamar take over. As I told her what I wanted to say in my article, I noticed that Tamar actually wasn't paying any attention to my dictation. In fact, she was writing the story herself. My ego was deflated as I looked over Tamar's shoulder and discovered that Tamar's work was better than mine. What could I do but sit down and watch Tamar's fingers fly over the keys and do all my work."

"'Why should I worry if Tamar takes over', I thought. 'This is a real soft touch for me having someone else do my work. The newspaper is getting a better story, thanks to Tamar and, by the time I get back, I'll be so well-laid and happy that I won't be the same problem employee that I was when I left. In fact, when I marry Tamar, I should be so well-adjusted that I'll be in line for the "Lord Golliwog Employee of the Year" award.'"

"I was lost with my thoughts and fantasizing about our future life in Toronto, working together, writing together and living together. I didn't even hear Tamar tear the last sheet of paper with our story out of the typewriter. The first clue I had that Tamar was finished was her hot, sweet breath in my ear as she spoke the words I had been waiting for all day. Tamar displayed her best Sabra personality and proceeded directly to the point:"

"'Let's fuck.'"

I couldn't help noticing that I now had a narrow Israeli foot firmly in my crotch, toes caressing my growing woodie. At least there were two of us in the room enjoying the interrogation.

"'Sounds like a good idea, my love, but shouldn't I read the story first? Then, we should fax it before my office closes.'"

"'You keep forgetting the six hour time difference, my foreign lover. Do you think you can keep fucking me for six hours straight?'"

"Without waiting for my answer, Tamar unbuttoned my shirt and began caressing my chest. She reached all the way around to my back. As her hands glided up my rib cage, I lost all my willpower. Any responsibility I had for my story or loyalty to Lord Golliwog's publishing empire evaporated. My zain was now my boss, not my editor with all his goddamn staff meetings. There was only Tamar, me and our relationship in my world."

Daniellah interrupted. "Would you characterize your relationship with Pvt. Ya'akov as one where she was dominant and you were submissive?"

"Not at all, Ms. Argov. It was a relationship of perfect equality. I like the personality of Israeli women that they know what they want and they aren't shy to ask for it. They also like a man who knows what he wants as well but they respond to gentleness. I think we demonstrated to each other our respective masculine and feminine sides, just like two modern people of the 80's. If I may continue."

"Tamar undid my belt and I undid her jeans. They just slid off her slim hips, dropping to her sandals. Tamar tried to climb out of her jeans but her sandals caught. I thought the moment would be lost but Tamar quickly undid her sandals and pulled my pants off in one motion. I stood up, climbed out of my pants and held Tamar as close as I could without crushing her."

"My stiff zain pressed against Tamar's furry beaver, sex to sex, through two layers of clothing. We stood there and kissed for minutes and then removed each other's shirt/halter top as if we were a beautifully choreographed ballet. Tamar's huge tits bobbed as I pulled her top off. As she pressed her tits into my chest, I could feel her erect, hard nipples."

Kinnor yawned: "You think erect nipples prove something? You just had the air conditioning turned too high. Is this foreign pervert trying to show that he can't work masgan?"

Daniellah glared at Kinnor this time. "Would you please be quiet and let the suspect finish his story. Then you can charge him with sexual crimes, if you have the evidence. Now the suspect can continue."

"Simultaneously, our hands went to each other's hips and we let the last vestiges of clothes slide to the floor. Without taking her eyes away from mine, Tamar managed to get my briefs off without hooking the elastic on my stiffy. Tamar's high cut panties clung to her thighs from her dampness. Tamar's bush tickled the underside of my zain as we hugged and swayed back and forth. We clung to each other, as if we had some sense that we would soon be torn apart."

"Tamar moved me towards the bed and we fell together on the sheets. Our lovemaking may have looked like two bodies randomly squirming on the sheets. Trust me, it wasn't anything like that. Our hands had plans, working around each other's body, arousing each other to new heights of passion. I thought I would shoot my load just from Tamar's hands on my back and listening to her moans of passion as I caressed and kissed her big tits."

As I worked my way down Tamar's body, I noticed that I could trace Tamar's career in clothes from all her tan lines. Tamar's hands and face were darkly tanned. Less darkly tanned were her arms, shoulders, stomach and feet. You could clearly make out the straps of her sandals she had been wearing the past two days. Inside her halter top and below the waist of her jeans, you could see the faint outline of a bikini. I guessed that some of her leave was well spent on the beach showing off that dynamite body."

I could see from their smiles that the three male interrogators agreed with my assessment of Tamar's body. Daniellah looked jealous so that was my sign to get on to the good part. "I digress. As my hand started to caress her mound through her big bush, Tamar panted:"

"'Chris. I want you to kiss me there like you did in Jerusalem."

"'And I want you to kiss my dick the same way you did in Haifa. The only way everybody gets what they want tonight is if we do a 69. Turn over on your side, my love."

The Secret Agent in Galil suddenly woke up. "What are these numbers? Livshitz, is 69 a secret code for Zahal? Is Pvt. Ya'akov revealing secrets"

Daniellah glared at Galil. "Be quiet Shlomo. It's not a secret code. I'll explain it to you some day. Let the suspect continue." Livshitz looked puzzled and Kinnor just snickered.

"Tamar took my zain in her mouth and I simultaneously got my tongue into her soaking wet pussy. Tamar tasted clean and feminine, even though she hadn't showered all day. Healthy woman always smell good there. I let my tongue slide up her slit, wet tongue gently caressing wet pussy whilst tickled by curly long hair. Tamar licked my zain as if she had been trained from birth for oral sex. The woman was a fast learner."

"Tamar had, under most circumstances, unshakable concentration. I had tried to turn her on while she was typing but she was as cold as Livshitz' Uzi when she was working. Let me give her some tongue in the beaver, and Tamar's mind would halt as she felt her orgasm building. So, I wasn't surprised when my dick popped out of Tamar's mouth and lay loosely in her hand. Tamar was now groaning as was about to come. I kept working my tongue up and down the groove until Tamar's whole body convulsed in my arms. Tamar's groans became screams but I wouldn't stop until she was utterly drained. When she had finished, she said:"

""Oh Chris, that was so great. I simply must take care of you now. Let me on top of you. That was the way we first made love. I want to show you how much better you've made me as a lover.'"

"Tamar held my zain in her hand and squatted until the tip was pressing against the opening of her vagina. Even if we hadn't done a 69, I think we would have both been wet. The tension had been building all day and now we were about to get as close as a man and woman can get physically. Tamar was tight and it took her a bit of effort to get me in a centimeter."

"Tamar had another orgasm just from the tip of my zain. I thought she would fall off, her head tossed and eyes rolled so much. Tamar's orgasm subsided enough that she turned to the job at hand. She slowly slid me in, rising slightly when I pressed her too hard inside. Tamar worked me in slowly, and it was work, she was so tight. Tamar said she wanted to take care of me but I could tell, the way she stopped at certain points that she was taking care of herself as well."

"When Tamar had me totally enveloped, she dropped to her knees , threw her head back and started to grind up and down on my zain. Up and down she went rhythmically, slowly at first and then picking up tempo, as if she were fucking me in time to the music of a hora. If I may Sgt. Livshitz, I would like to compliment the Israeli Army on the physical training they give their soldiers. Tamar was inexhaustible as she slid up and down on my zain."

"Really, I thought that Tamar was going to grind my zain into a pulp. She had orgasm after orgasm as she worked my zain in and out. Her internal muscles became ever tighter, a further tribute to fine Zahal physical conditioning. Finally, there was no way that I could stand this treatment any longer. I came and came, I felt like I was filling Tamar with buckets of male hormones. I think I screamed and Tamar screamed as we came together, long and intensely.

"Tamar collapsed on top of me, panting and letting my now-limp zain slide out. Sticky, hot liquid poured over my stomach. 'I thought I would die trying to make you come. You really can last a long time can't you?' Tamar was so exhausted that she didn't even try to clean the mess between her legs. She just slid down my left side and lay with my arm as a pillow, her eyes staring dreamily at me.

"'Chris, I am so much in love with you. You are such a great lover.'"

"'I love you, Tamar more than any woman I've known. I want you with me, working, playing, screwing, every moment of my life.'"

"Tamar didn't answer me. Slowly her eyes shut and she fell asleep. I slid my arm out from under her head, cleaned up a bit of the sticky mess on my crotch, dressed and took my story downstairs to the hotel fax. When it was confirmed sent, I went back to the room, climbed in bed beside Tamar, curled up beside her and covered us both."

"When we got up, we showered in silence. Normally when a woman gives you the silent treatment, it means that something is wrong. This time was different. Everything was right between us and we were savouring the moment. Tamar and I were in love and we only had to work out the details. I decided to set out my plan at breakfast:"

"'Tamar, I meant it last night when I said I love you.'"

"'I meant it as well, Chris.'"

"'Then, what are we going to do about it? You have to break up with Mossi and I have to get you a visa to Canada. You have a real talent for writing and it won't be any problem for you to find work. As soon as you do, I want us to get married.'"

"'Chris, it's not all that easy. My family is very orthodox and they follow eastern customs even though we're Israelis. Love is not a reason for marriage in my family. Mizrakhi Jews are fond of arranged marriages and it's a given that they would never arrange a marriage with a goy for their daughter. Trust me Chris, even someone like Mossi is very hard for my family to take. If I decided to run away and marry you, they would sit sheva for me, in other words, treat me like I was dead. Strange to say, Chris, but I do value my family despite their faults.'"

"'Well, Tamar, can we try and work this out when I get back to Canada. Can I call you at the Army Censor's office and we can plan this out.'"

"'Please don't push me, Chris. Just try and enjoy what we have on this trip. I don't even know if I'll be alive when you get back to Canada. Israel has enemies that can strike at any moment. If that happens, I must leave all my makeup and skimpy underwear behind and go to the front, just like the men. All I can promise you is that we will stay in touch through the Army Censor's Office. If I'm still alive when I get out of the Army, we'll work something out.'"

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