I am not simply bi-curious, I'm bi-compulsive. I have bisexual tendencies which swing deep into the lesbian zones.
One of the most exciting explorations of my inclination is in collaboration with various partners who would commit social suicide if their cooperation was to be discovered.
This is why I am so good:
EVE: Housewife, previously part-time accountant; mother of four ranged between 2-11 years of age. Loves baking, hosting dozens of guests on Friday nights, and Leonard Cohen. Auburn hair, honey eyes, dimpled buttocks, skinny legs and arms. Otherwise known as Brandy.
ADAM: Yeshiva high-school teacher, escorts the 2-years-old to nursery daily, returns home for lunch 3 times a weeks, for late supper (around 9:00 pm) four times a week. Also known as Dovid.
EDEN: 3-bedroom-flat on the second floor of a building located across from Tzvi's Minimarket in a Jerusalemite Ultra-Orthodox neighbourhood.
THE SERPENT UNDER'T: Eve/Brandy home-schools degenerate or ignorant young women, tutoring them some Halachik tips.
FORBIDDEN FRUIT: Eve/Brandy likes it rough. Although I love my lace, organdie and chiffon, for Brandy I shed feathers and grow scales, rough leather and denim scales, threadbare at the thighs. Bright purple wifebeater, shin-high biker boots and heavy eyeliner. Cheap black skirt and arrogance to fit the my-Orthodox-parents-disowned-me-but-I’ll-respect-you profile. Dovid has met me twice, always on his way out to evening prayers and classes. I’m sure he appreciates his wife’s contribution to the grand social proclivity towards the blacker zones of the Jewish spectrum.
Tonight, Brandy and I chat a bit as she stacks the dishwasher, wedding present from an American aunt. The younger children are asleep, the 11-years-old sleeps over at a friend’s house. This is one of my only prerequisites. We have a little over 2 hours to ride dirty.
As she lines the ketchup-stained plates in the racks, I step forward swiftly, slap her buttock and leave my hand there.
Regularly, I am not aggressive, and never slap, kick or bite fiercely. Yet as my fingers rest there I feel the warmth rising, glowing about the handprint through the thin housecoat fabric. She remembered to remove her panties: it was my suggestion last time we met, which enables her to excite herself throughout the evening’s anticipation.
Soon after we hit the master bedroom, lock the door and roll on her bed. In this ghetto the beds tend to stand apart most of their furniture lifespan, so as when Suri pads in the morning to cuddle with her parents, no questions arise.
AFTERMATH: None, no dramatic exodus from Eden. After playful licking, serious finger-thrusting and glorious kissing, we climax and lay snuggled together for a short while. The apartment clicks and whirrs, the dishwasher hums, Hassidic tunes float in from a neighbouring window. I stroke her shoulders and torso lightly, lulling us into drowsiness.
Then we heave up, collect our clothes and I check for any smears of eyeliner.
We kiss once against the locked door, followed by a swift lick oh her lips and I slip out, adjusting the skirt and racing downstairs, twirling behind me the smell of her sweet auburn crotch.
One of the most exciting explorations of my inclination is in collaboration with various partners who would commit social suicide if their cooperation was to be discovered.
This is why I am so good:
EVE: Housewife, previously part-time accountant; mother of four ranged between 2-11 years of age. Loves baking, hosting dozens of guests on Friday nights, and Leonard Cohen. Auburn hair, honey eyes, dimpled buttocks, skinny legs and arms. Otherwise known as Brandy.
ADAM: Yeshiva high-school teacher, escorts the 2-years-old to nursery daily, returns home for lunch 3 times a weeks, for late supper (around 9:00 pm) four times a week. Also known as Dovid.
EDEN: 3-bedroom-flat on the second floor of a building located across from Tzvi's Minimarket in a Jerusalemite Ultra-Orthodox neighbourhood.
THE SERPENT UNDER'T: Eve/Brandy home-schools degenerate or ignorant young women, tutoring them some Halachik tips.
FORBIDDEN FRUIT: Eve/Brandy likes it rough. Although I love my lace, organdie and chiffon, for Brandy I shed feathers and grow scales, rough leather and denim scales, threadbare at the thighs. Bright purple wifebeater, shin-high biker boots and heavy eyeliner. Cheap black skirt and arrogance to fit the my-Orthodox-parents-disowned-me-but-I’ll-respect-you profile. Dovid has met me twice, always on his way out to evening prayers and classes. I’m sure he appreciates his wife’s contribution to the grand social proclivity towards the blacker zones of the Jewish spectrum.
Tonight, Brandy and I chat a bit as she stacks the dishwasher, wedding present from an American aunt. The younger children are asleep, the 11-years-old sleeps over at a friend’s house. This is one of my only prerequisites. We have a little over 2 hours to ride dirty.
As she lines the ketchup-stained plates in the racks, I step forward swiftly, slap her buttock and leave my hand there.
Regularly, I am not aggressive, and never slap, kick or bite fiercely. Yet as my fingers rest there I feel the warmth rising, glowing about the handprint through the thin housecoat fabric. She remembered to remove her panties: it was my suggestion last time we met, which enables her to excite herself throughout the evening’s anticipation.
Soon after we hit the master bedroom, lock the door and roll on her bed. In this ghetto the beds tend to stand apart most of their furniture lifespan, so as when Suri pads in the morning to cuddle with her parents, no questions arise.
AFTERMATH: None, no dramatic exodus from Eden. After playful licking, serious finger-thrusting and glorious kissing, we climax and lay snuggled together for a short while. The apartment clicks and whirrs, the dishwasher hums, Hassidic tunes float in from a neighbouring window. I stroke her shoulders and torso lightly, lulling us into drowsiness.
Then we heave up, collect our clothes and I check for any smears of eyeliner.
We kiss once against the locked door, followed by a swift lick oh her lips and I slip out, adjusting the skirt and racing downstairs, twirling behind me the smell of her sweet auburn crotch.
6 comments:
Gosh !
wow! i want more!
OMG! Damn it!
You got me so hot and bothered. You're a great writer. Just found your blog & I am lovin it.
I am also married (Orthodox/Frum hard to believe i know i curse to much)and openly Bisexual yet I am American. I am sooo curious what it will be like To meet an Israeli hottie who will flirt the hell out of me in Hebrew. Can you imagine me being attracted to her and not understanding a word she said.
OH shit! Fantasy! I hate it...Israeli accent is so freakin hot!
XOXO
American Bisexual Stranger
Your writing is truly awesome. I'll be back.
holy crap - anon just came on to you...
this post made me horny.
Actually am not finding the right words to describe the way I feel reading about the article/description you have given here. All this while I was fantasizing about the webcam girls who I thought to be the best sex exploiters. But this was one good encounter for me to read on.
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