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The Purim Party

By on November 2, 2012
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Purim Piece 1

Written by Chaim Durkheim.  Chaim is a first-time Jewrotica writer.PG-13

Moshe walks into the hotel ball room for the annual Temple Shalom Purim party. Everyone is wearing masks. He sits in a chair at a corner table and observes the festival. Three women stand next to him, involved in deep conversation. They are wearing colorful silk dresses and masks. He finds the mystery of the masks very exciting. He begins to fantasize about kissing and massaging one of the women, but as he cannot construct her complete face, he begins to fantasize about having sex with all three. They suddenly turn toward him and Moshe thinks, oy, oy, they know what I am thinking. In an effort to buy time, he glances at his Israeli Defense Forces watch and pretends to find it fascinating.

One of the women, whose face is hidden by a blue mask painted with swirling silver trails, approaches him.  “Excuse me, are you alone?”

“Yes,” replies Moshe, taking her in. She is tall, and her black hair hangs halfway down her back.

Another woman, this one in a mask of crimson and bronze, coos softly.  “That is so sad. Why don’t you hang out with us and maybe we will let you taste our Hamantaschens.”

Moshe nods his head, shocked but excited, and his kippah slips forward, falling on the floor. The third woman, who is wearing an ivory mask edged with gold sparkles, smiles. “I’ll get that.” She bends over to pick up the kippah, offering Moshe a view of her luscious breasts through her low-cut black dress, and straightens slowly to place the kippah back on his head, throwing him a wicked grin that tells him she knows exactly what he is thinking.

Moshe feels a tingling in his body that is either anxiety or arousal. He thinks oy vey, what have I done?

After dancing with the three women for several songs,  Moshe is invited up to their hotel room. The walk is fraught, and Moshe’s palms are sweating into the women’s soft, perfumed hands.

“Relax,” breathes the woman in the ivory mask. Her breath sends shivers up Moshe’s spine, and his skin tingles, aching to be licked and caressed and devoured.

As one of the masked women runs the large tub, Moshe  imagines the three mysterious women undressing him, massaging him, spurring him to climax.

The women begin to undress. The blue-masked one has a “chai” tattooed on her lower back; the bronze-masked one wears a Star of David around her neck. The ivory woman pulls down her dress to reveal a blue thong with “Shalom” written across the front. Moshe revels in the connection he feels to these beautiful Jewish seductresses.

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