In Search of Tamar Ch. 4

As soon as we entered her room, Rimona handed me the wine and whimpered, "Chris, I don't feel well." She stumbled towards her bed and fell face first on the bed. "Chris, the room's spinning out of control." All the signs of an imminent hurl were present. I scooped Rimona up in my arms, thankful that Sarah Liebowitz didn't get puking drunk, and ran to the can as fast as I could. Just as I was getting the lid on the toilet up, Rimona started to upchuck a multicoloured combination of recent vintage, tomatoes, eggplant and turkey guts. I grabbed her hair and pulled her over the toilet but I couldn't prevent her dress from being redecorated. She honked so violently, her glasses flew into the bowl. I was amazed they didn't break. They make good glass here in Israel.

Rimona spent a long time honking up supper and probably most of lunch and breakfast. When she was finished, she just collapsed on her bathroom floor. I took off her dress and petticoat, put them in the sink. I removed her shoes, garters, thick stockings and bra. Then I pulled Rimona into the shower, propping her up against the cement wall. I cleaned her up as best I could, making sure that her bush and pussy were squeaky clean. I managed to get all the puke out of her hair with some shampoo I found. Finally, I toweled Rimona dry and combed her hair into some semblance of order. OK, so I didn't like Rimona but I had to do something to thank her for giving me another clue to Tamar's whereabouts.

I carried Rimona over to her bed and gently laid her on the bed. It felt like I was carrying Sarah Liebowitz, even though she must have been 30 kg less than Sarah. I've always wondered why someone unconscious seems to weigh more than someone awake and co-operating. Had Rimona honked up everything so she wouldn't choke? I decided to stick around for a few minutes to make sure she'd be OK. It never looks good on your resume when a woman dies while you're supposed to be looking after her.

To pass my time, I went to the bathroom and fished Rimona's glasses out and cleaned them off. Looking on the floor, I noticed Rimona's dress and petticoat. The dress was quite soiled and that took most of my laundry skills to clean. The petticoat was just stained. While I was washing the petticoat, my dick started to stir. "What the hell is causing that?" I thought. Then it struck me. It was the thrill of discovering what an orthodox Jewish woman has under all those clothes. It must be the same thrill that a woman experiences when she discovers "what a Scottie has under his kilt."

I decided that I should check on Rimona instead of getting off on her underwear. She was still lying on her back but now she was snoring loudly. That was a good sign that she wasn't dead. She lay on the bed with one arm over her head, her legs stretched out with her feet hanging off the end of the bed. I pulled Rimona up onto her bed and turned her head towards me so she wouldn't swallow her tongue. This was irresistible, so I slid down my zipper, pulled out my now-stiff dick and stuck it in Rimona's wide-open mouth. Without a co-operative tongue, the thrill of a good blowjob just wasn't there for me. Just the same, I was compensated by the feeling of revenge I got from humiliating a woman who dissed me badly.

The sight of Rimona's big tits lying on her chest like over-raised pancakes caught my eye so I started massaging the low mound. To my surprise, the nipple popped up. This was too good to resist so I yanked my dick from Rimona's mouth and started sucking on Rimona's erect tit and massaging the other one. It popped up as well. Rimona was still out of the picture even though I was thoroughly licking her tits and rubbing my dick between her cleavage. I was having fun and learning that a nipple erection is entirely involuntary in a woman. It doesn't mean a thing.

How much I could get away with? I decided to push the envelope a bit and kiss Rimona on her stomach to see if I could tickle her awake. Absolutely no response. Of course, I've had my share of flatbackers but none of them were quite as quiet as Rimona. As I kissed my way down her stomach, I caught a whiff of pussy, mixed with soapy perfume. I admit that I'm a perverted muffer and I go crazy at the scent of pussy. Right now I had a nice clean one inches just inches from my nose. So, I did the natural thing and ran my nose through the forest of dark, curly pubic hair right up to her slit. I cracked Rimona's legs and got my tongue between her inner pussy lips on the first try. I must have done a great job of cleaning her up because Rimona tasted as good as any pussy I had eaten. I don't know if it was me giving the licking or if Rimona's subconscious libido had kicked in but her pussy got deliciously wet and I was getting a nice rise out of her clit.

I assume you think I'm totally debauched at this point of my story but things got even worse. I took off my pants and gaunches and got on the bed, between Rimona's outstretched legs. My dick was so stiff and aching from kissing Rimona's pussy that just couldn't take it any more. R-E-L-I-E-F in my dictionary that night was spelled F-U-C-K. I crawled up towards the tasty object at the top of the V made by Rimona's legs. I held my dick in one hand and pulled up her legs with the other. Rimona's legs flopped to each side so that she opened up with her cunt at just the right angle.

I ran the tip of my dick up and down her slit between her inner pussy lips to give my dick a little lube job. She was still wet from me going down on her. Finally, I found her cunt and pressed in the tip. There was a slight resistance at first because my subject really wasn't the co-operative type, conscious or unconscious. However, the further I worked my dick in, the easier it became. Finally, I was all the way in. I withdrew a little and slid back in. Yes, Rimona was nice and wet so she wasn't sandpapering the tip of my dick away. I started to stroke a little faster and then faster still until I was pounding pussy as furiously as I could. Here's the interesting part. My dick couldn't have been less interested in the job. I suspect that it was because Rimona was so quiet. Even perverts like me need a bit of feedback.

Finally, I did come after a lot of work. As the last twinges of my dick pumped Rimona full of male hormones, my ears perked up. Faintly, over the silence of the night, I heard the rhythms of the Kaddish. "Yitgedal v'yitkadash shmey rabah…" That meant the service was nearly over. I was well on my way to becoming dead meat, if religious kibbutzniks discovered me with my dick firmly embedded in one of their unconscious sisters. And on Shabat, no less. I yanked out my dick, stuffed it in my pants, turned out the lights in Rimona's room and ran back to my room as fast as I could.

Back at my room, I slung my travel bag over my shoulder and ran to the main road without looking back. I didn't even bother to take Rimona's panties for a souvenir. I'm not sure what I had on my mind, whether I was going to walk to Katzrin faster than a bunch of angry kibbutzniks in a farm truck. Maybe I did think I would beat them on foot because they couldn't come after me until the sun went down on Shabat. Whatever my reasoning, my plan was helped by the timely arrival of a sherut (shared taxi) full of Druze villagers heading the same way as me. They all eyed me suspiciously as I tossed my luggage on the roof along with their market items. Well, I smiled back as one should to people who've just saved you from a pitchfork in the back.

The sherut stopped at every Druze village on the road to Katzrin. I never realized that there were so many small villages up on the Golan. Sullen villagers piled in as others piled out. It was slow but I was going to get to Katzrin and hop a bus to Tel Aviv in plenty of time to escape. Nobody in the sherut said a thing to me but I definitely had that old outsider-in-the-wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time feeling. I was uncomfortable but I'm sure it was more comfortable than lying face down on an Israeli highway with a pitchfork and tire marks on my back. Actually, I welcomed being left alone with my thoughts.

Did I really rape a woman back there on the kibbutz? After all, Rimona Katz never actually said "no". On the other hand, Rimona never said "yes," "ani ohev otchah" (I love you), "Fuck me, baby, with that magic stick of yours," or anything else of a positive nature. So the best I can do is, maybe it was rape and maybe it wasn't rape.

I never heard from Rimona, the kibbutz or the police after that. Probably she was so hung over the next morning that she never noticed her crotch was a little stickier than usual. Well, even if she did notice a mess and complained about me, nobody would believe her with her panties lying incriminatingly on the floor of my room. Sometimes there are benefits from having to leave in a hurry.