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I did not stop any more looking at ZahrA, as if I had chosen
her, and the others seemed to accept that choice and to make
it their. I had chosen ZahrA and the group mysteriously
complied to that choice and regroup us together as if we
formed a couple. Then the group re-formed surrounding the
couple that we where ZahrA and me, as to protect us from any
inquisitive look, to assure us of a suitable discretion so
that we can assume, with serenity, this sudden and
inevitable union.
I had chosen ZahrA, ZahrA had chosen me, she who belonged,
without knowing him, to someone else. We formed henceforth a
couple, a short-lived couple, chastely protected from the
avenging of the mob, by a human wall formed by these
beautiful and desirable girls that accepted our union with
detachment; we remained there silent, ZahrA had taken my
hand and squeezed it softly.
I got closer to her enough to touch her, smelling the
flavors of her body. I leaned on her feeling all the
ecstasy of a sportive exploit; she let herself go, she
docilely embedded herself on me without saying a word. She
took my hand and drove it slowly towards her face sliding
it chastely on her flesh easily tangible through the tissues
molding her body, the undulations of this body that woke in
me, sudden sexual impulses, I felt my senses ignited.
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I approached my face to her face, she did not evade me. I
deposed a kiss on her forehead as a father to her daughter,
chaste, indistinct and clumsy. She accepted without
restraint, raising her opened mouth towards the object of
this timorous approach; she offered herself to my mouth and
I dived into it with fervor, loosening her tongue, striving
the smooth saliva's that moistened her palate, smelling the
warm breath that sprang off her over-excited breast.
I still hear the sudden rumbling, as if the rustle of the
city got closer. The girls stirred. Rustle grew, grew until
it surround us. The monster was there, immovable, booming,
with its two big lighted headlights like those of impetuous
eyes; small spotlights perched height on the metallic
fuselage splashed the group we formed with an intrusive
light. Metal jingles, deaf rumors over the hard-packed
surface, the sudden raid of the "concrete heads", those
militias charged to apply the diktats of the "ministry of
the Islamic behavior", raised proudly their kalash as
provocative banners, we where deftly surrounded.
The group of girls tightened on us, until they melt us
together, ZahrA hold tight to me, as to be linked in search
of an ultimate protection. We heard the sudden rustle of the
throat moaning of the girls that echoed on the mazes of the
park as imaginary messages of distress; those coming close
by, from the throats of the other women, in what seems to
be, a gesture of solidarity, all around the scene,
accompanying the sound of metal to metal, the absurd growls
of the soldiery and the apocalyptic messages spat by the
noisy radio coming from the metal monster.
I felt like fingers crossing through my loins; was it the
fingers of an other one of the girls, attracted by the
spectacle of our overlapping bodies, and who panted with
envy, supporting with approving interjections our carnal
raids? Those fingers with sharp edges nails, decorated with
incisive stones, with fine sharpened metals, travelled
downward, skillful and passionate like sneaky weapons,
lifting my shirt to rub itself there, caressing my clammy
flesh, drawing burning furrows in my fragile flesh.
They were ZahrA's fingers.
I had begun also, my own investigations. My hands travelled
passionately towards her croup, infiltrated into the sinuous
mazes of the veils meanly arranged around her body, reached
the erogenous zones of her flesh, lingered over them, making
her body vibrate with erratic spasms.
During that time, my penis swelled. As a passionate
spermatozoon, it instinctively looked in ZahrA's clothing
meanders, the way to perform the ultimate rite. It
effortlessly achieved the magic crossroads from where it
perceived the imperceptible cavern that opened on the vulva
of ZahrA; it senses it, already humid through the slender
tissues that veiled its access. It desperately looked for
the way in, when a subtle hand came to release the shameless
lingham in full erection and to loosen the secret yoni from
its veils; it sank into it with passion, quietly waiting for
ZahrA's orgasm before bursting into her womb.
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The men of the militia attacked the opaque wall formed by
the mummified bodies of the girls, knocking down some of
them, forcing the others with the butt of their weapons,
finally breaking the opaque line that isolated us from the
others. A militiaman deftly caught my arm while the others
pushed ZahrA apart from the scene.
They dragged me with vigor towards the immovable monster,
the militiamen held with difficulty, the girls suddenly
transformed into pathetic Amazon's, they beat the men with
their fists, with their feet in pointless attacks which only
increase the power of the Titans. They understood that I
would be the only one arrest, that they would not be
worried, which increase their instinct of warrior.
We approached the howling monster, the militiamen got ready
to embark me for an unknown destination. Suddenly, a shadow
intervened between the steel monster and the group of
militiamen who encircled me.
It was ZahrA.
In a decisive gesture she removed her chador, she slid her
veils on the ground pushing them aside with her foot as of
futile and cumbersome accessories. She appeared in full
light in all her Aryan femininity, beautiful in her plastic-like short skirt rising very high and which hardly hid her
still humid underwear. The tips of her tiny bosoms pierce,
outrageously, her transparent blouse like the peaks of the
mounts Elbourtz whose worrying shadows, shaped themselves
northward, sinister. Her ebony fleece races out under the
sudden evasion of the chador and came splashing her elastic
body with wave-like and gleaming strands.
She was immovable as a goddess of marble. Her feet planted
on to the ground, she maintained balance on the fragile
needles of her heels. Her hands to her hips, she seemed to
provoke, to challenge the fury of the kalashnikovs, her
croup lifted itself up slowly, as to defy the howling
monster that splashed with its dense light her magnificent
body of beautiful Andromede. She had a lively expression in
her eye and a provocative lip and she seemed to offer
herself in holocaust, lascivious, sensual, impetuous beast
to make in his grave, the Ayatollah Khomeiny have a hard-on.
- "Mach Allah"
Bagh-E-Meli
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