La Mer Morte / Mussa /The Dead Sea. E->

English translation below. gs

Quelques Extraits...

''Il y avait la Mer morte. Un endroit que je découvrais pour la première fois quelques semaines après ma première arrivée en Israël. Et qui allait devenir une place hebdomadaire familière durant des années. Je croyais connaître le monde et ses océans, je n'avais encore rien vu de tel. La Mer morte, un lac. Celle qui de toute la planète m'éblouissait à chaque seconde de beauté sous ses cinquante degrés aussitôt aperçue de la plate route au centre de la vallée du Jourdain. Les chameaux du désert de Judée me saluaient avec les bédouins et leurs chèvres de grands signes et de béguètements à mon passage sur la route qui m'emmenait de Jéruralem à Jéricho et les vieux taxis Mercedes peints en jaune à la plaque d'immatriculation verte de Palestine me dépassaient à toute allure chargées de messieurs barbus portant le keffieh et de dames voilées. Sur le haut leur galerie, ils transportaient des tonnes de valises en carton calées tant bien que mal par de vieilles cordes et de vieux tendeurs aux ressorts rouillés. Je roulais à chaque fois lentement pour jouir de les voir me doubler et de l'air brûlant qui rentrait dans la voiture. Je me pâmais de 'Ah' et de 'Oh' à la vue phénoménale de ces montagnes de sable rosées et jaunâtres, fières impassibles et solides en face de moi sur le sol de Jordanie, saluant à mon tour de grands signes et d'un bref bonjour en arabe les bédouins dans leur djellaba marchant au bord de la route. Je passai deux check-points israéliens où les soldats contrôlèrent mes papiers en me demandant le pourquoi de ma visite dans ces territoires occupés pour me laisser passer. Puis j'arrivai à l'oasis du désert. Le premier chemin de sable à gauche au tout début de la Mer Morte sur la route d'Eilat et d'Aqaba. Une route des mille et nuits qui faisait frétiller toutes mes envies. Je me précipitais de courir tout au bout des dunes de sel y enlever mes vêtements légers d'été pour me mettre nu sur la plage devant l'oeil aux aguets des bites de mâles bédouins et palestiniens visant déjà haut le sommet des montagnes d'en face, et là, je me dissolvais. Et là, et là! Précisément là, Oh! Paradis! Ce n'est pas le feu à mon cul qu'elles allumaient. Elles ensorcelaient de leur ardente incandescence et beauté tous mes génies fondants sous cette exclusive chaleur torride. Le long chemin de boue noire pour y accéder rapprochait ce grandiose et sublime décor à mes yeux et m'imposait implacablement la sensation d'être un minuscule élément du désert devant tant de majesté. Une particule de l'infiniment petit devant l'infiniment grand. Les messieurs de Jérusalem et de Ramallah me scrutaient de loin dans l'attente de la prochaine ombre qui ébranlerait leur repos fumant le hashish et le narguilé aux senteurs de pomme. Aussitôt déshabillé et revenu de ma flottaison aquatique avec une peau neuve et douce de bébé, j'allais me doucher me déhanchant nu sous l'arrivée d'eau fraîche en haut d'un monticule y retirer de ma peau le sel et les huiles de cette mer sous le soleil de plomb qui accroissait magistralement mes désirs. Ils s'asseyaient lentement pour regarder la pantomime de mon nettoiement bien réglé à caresser de grâce mes fesses et mes aisselles sous le jet du tuyau, puis ils se levaient doucement pour marcher le pas lent me montrer d'un regard insistant un lieu isolé des autres regards. Je les suivais nonchalant à chaque fois derrière un gros bloc de sel ou derrière un palmier me languissant de ce qui m'y attendait. L'appel de leur queue d'âne en pleine érection me faisait louanger le soleil de bonheur. Mes orifices frontal et dorsal devenaient d'une joie immense le calice à soulager leurs désirs accumulés de ces heures de feu sous l'astre adulé. Ils forniquaient avec zèle. Toujours rapidement à vite se débarrasser de leur abondant suc aqueux qui leur montait à la gorge peu importe le trou qu'ils avaient choisi pour s'y encastrer. Ils n'en pouvaient plus de cette fournaise. Puis je passais au prochain. Le temps d'attendre qu'ils revinssent une fois leurs désirs à nouveau rechargés par les Dieux. Ma liturgie était protocolaire. Ma peau noire et brûlée, mes fesses couleur chocolat de leur peau lisse et si douce les affolaient, animal, de besoins répétés. Je devenais la putain favorite de l'Arabie. Et le devins avec orgueil. Un orgueil qui continuellement s'accentuait d'honneurs et de gloires à mon culte. Il allait être couronné. Il allait être béatifié.''

''The Dead Sea. A place I was discovering for the very first time and whose I was about to become familiar through the following years. The only place in the world I knew well that dazzled me of beauty under its hundred and thirty degrees. The proud and vain camels of the Judea desert were saying hi to me as well as the beduins and their goats along the sands from Jerusalem to Jericho where dozens of old Palestine green plated Mercedes Benz painted in yellow were overtaking me driving like mad carrying on their roofs tons of old suitcases and inside the cars, beard men with a keffiyah on and veiled women. I was driving slowly to enjoy in the car the burning hot wind I adored to feel on my body and the breath taking view of the Jordanian sand mountains standing proud and big in front of me. After two Israeli check-points where the soldiers would control my papers and ask me the reason why I was in the East Bank Territories, I arrived at the desert oasis parking the car anyhow in the middle of nowhere, just marvelled by the scenery. I then hurried. I hurried to take my clothes off at the nudist beach. Alone on earth facing its grandness. That's where men from Jerusalem and Ramallah were waiting for me smoking hashish or narghile or both,. They would later follow my steps once back from my buoyancy in the waters after I showered in order to get rid of the salt on my body to be lovable under the burning sun. The idea of it as I caressed my skin away with the fresh water increased my desires just like a lover greedy for immediate action. And they did follow me to make the action come true. My day of glory had arrived. Slowly, walking about debonnaire, tired under the heat, searching for some isolated place I would easily spot before they did behind a big salt rock or a palm tree. I was ready to be used by their as big as donkeys' cocks the way they fancied to meet happiness in my front or back orifice to satisfy their long hours of waiting under the sun arisen desires. They were all treating me like a godess, a woman of the world, a Lady of royal blood with consideration and panache until they started discreetely but so willing, to fornicate zealously until the next one's turn arrived. I decided to wait there to be done by the next one in the row. Their virile beauties were irresistable and raised beyond words all of my weaknesses. One after the other. Until they came back for an other round when their balls were full again. My soft baby skin was black and burnt, and my chocolate color butt were driving their animal needs wild. I was becoming the favorite whore of these Palestinian guys as the news were getting spread fast. And I became it with pride. My insides were being glorified. My holes rewarded with pure gold nuggets blessed by the God of the Sun. A pride that reached the highlight the day I met the young and beautiful Mussa whose black beard and enormous hanging giant member seduced me on the second he appeared out of nowhere from up a dune. He came to sit straight away next to me as if we met before and started to speak Arabic to me which was a delight to my ears. Then as he switched into English chatting away, he wouldn't take his eyes off my lips. Minutes later, he woold not take his eyes off my nipples. That is when he started to caress with franc and firm gestures my shoulders with his dark, shining, deep and gloomy eyes. He asked me to put my silk underwear on to go for a walk to show me the desert around he knew well since his childhood. I followed him along the Dead Sea blocks of salt beach walking south across the bushes with little lions walking behind us till he found some shadow two shrubs provided. He lighted a fire there to let the lions go and laid my body down on the sand, ready to make love to me, gently, slowly, to the rythm of the desert silence, his prestigious dick between my legs as his glorious lips were invading my hot and passionate nipples burning of femininity under his black skin and his sighs of an invading Arab male. I was totally, completely feeling weak and weakened under the influence of his sensual strength he knew with his tong and his hands exactly how to emphasize of salaciousness to weaken me even more as time and space did not count anymore. I was reaching the skies above groaning and calling his name. Then he lift up my legs to kindly put them on his shoulders, and, man to man, eye to eye, his dark and violent look facing mine, he introduced his huge and determined stick into my little hole grabbing my shoulders to make one. With a hundred yes and 'Mussa'' whispered from my fragile lips, I begged him, implored him to get me pregnant. Which he did. And did with love. He just contravened his religion. And he had previously said me to me we were living the Ramadan weeks. No word could express then the amount of pride and vanity I felt as an immortal, deified woman at her peak. The paradise he just had taken me to made me tell him in Arabic that I loved him. Since that very day, I came back to the Dead Sea several times a week to meet him in that magical place under the fire of the sun to be loved and scream my weaknesses. And that was what his masculinity liked. Weeks later, he had to leave Palestine to go and live in Cortina d'Ampezzo in Italy as he had received his papers to go and work there. My world was devastated. Every time I was going back to the Dead sea I had to avoid the place where he married me and where I became his spouse, only thinking of his hard black beard on my dark and hot skin while other passer-bys would do me. I could breath him every where. He called me once from the Dolomites to ask me to be his wife. To be his was not only a fantasy of mine. I was being glorified one more time. And I went there to see him on the spot. In two days, I was in the snow. And he knew just as good as soon the moment I got in his little room to make my feminine happiness being fully alive. But I came back to Israel. The taste of his refugee worker's life did not have the same exotic taste of the one thousand and one nights delights of the Judea desert. Though at each of my steps walking along naked on the same beach where we met, followed by some other men in need to get rif of their desires, Mussa was there, in front of me, just the way the strong and impressive Jordanian mountains were facing me under the grandiose blue skies. He was standing there, grand. overwhelming me. At every moment. I had been loved by the entire greatness of Arabia. And still was. My passion for the Arabic essence had no limits.''