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Real Israelis

By on May 19, 2014

A36 semgirl8

When he put his mouth on my nipple it felt as if every nerve in my body were gathering under his tongue.

I took Sami’s shirt off after mine had already been crumpled and pushed into the legroom. His shoulders were high and strong, and I pressed my mouth against the handle of his sternum, my fingers tracing the crease of his spine with its knuckles of vertebrae. I thought of God, suddenly. Sami made an ocean sound in the back of his throat, a gentle rumbling, and I wondered if I was ever going to be punished for that moment, for the feeling of fullness I had with his body on top of me.

Time moved strangely then. The moments of awkwardness stretched and then disintegrated once our socks and underwear were off and there was nothing between his skin and mine. When he sat up to roll on a condom – an act that looked ridiculous to me, and made me realize why people didn’t like using them – it seemed like he was away from me for a long time. And then, when he moved between my legs, lowering himself into me, the pain held me still, reaching into my chest and forcing my mouth open. My eyes were closed, and Sami’s breath sounded distant until his hand reached down between us, slow and careful. The skin on his fingers was soft, and I felt myself emerging from the pain into a thick sweet pleasure. My back arched higher and higher, I felt his hipbone push into me sharply a few times, and then he was kissing my neck, both of us still.

An hour later Sami parked his cab on Mesilat Yesharim street, and we walked down to the small park on the corner of Ben Yehuda and King George. The park has a little pond and a fountain, and then a few steps lead to a small garden with some benches and a huge brass sculpture of a horse. We sat on the edge of the pond, and Sami took a new pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He peeled the clear plastic off and dropped it at his feet without crumpling it. I watched him open the box, tip out a cigarette, and reach into his jacket for a red plastic lighter. While he lit the cigarette I looked down into the pond. There was a thin crust of ice on the surface, but I could see the water moving below it, and I reached out with one hand, spreading my fingers and pressing down until I felt the ice begin to give. As soon as the water began to rush through the cracks I’d made I pulled my hand away and rubbed it against my thigh, shocked.

Sami looked over at me. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I cupped my hands over my mouth and breathed into them until I felt warm again. A dirty-looking yellow cat approached us slowly, making a low mewing sound and swishing its tail back in forth. Sami grimaced and shooed it away. Taking a final drag on the cigarette he exhaled deeply, and then reached for my hand to pull me up.

“I should take you home,” he said, and I nodded.

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Author of Jewrotica's Double Mitzvah column, Tamar Fox is a writer and editor in Philadelphia. She will try anything once, including open relationships, dating someone who is chalav yisrael, and going to Suriname.
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