During my recent trip to Rio in October, I had several nights alone so I decided to pull a few girls out of Balcony to gauge the current pricing structure of the GDPs there. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t cheating on Lucy or anything like that, I was just conducting needed research for you guys. The first girl I pulled out of there was six feet tall, with skin a deep milk chocolate color, and a fantastic figure. She was really stacked, had a thin waist, with long gorgeous legs that lead up to a perfect ass. In other words, she was perfect. She reminded me somewhat of a happier Miss Bubble Lips because she smiled when our eyes met. Bubble Lips never smiled when she was around me. Go figure? The only strange thing about her was the fact that she had rather long slender feet. She was about a man’s size twelve, so I nicknamed her “Thumper” after that rabbit character in “Bambi.” Now, I know what some of you are thinking, and the answer is no, she’s wasn’t a tranny.

Fortunately Thumper spoke English, which was a definite plus in my book, and, as my luck would have it, she was from Salvador. Two months earlier, I took Lucy to Salvador and arranged for her to have a relaxing afternoon in a spa. This gave me about five hours free to get into trouble. Right after she left I started searching on the internet for girls. I Googled “Salvador escorts” and got 1.1 million hits. I was in Heaven! That is until I started going to the various sites listed. Turned out that all but three of the sites were for a Ford Escort, which is some type of subcompact car that Ford manufactures in Brazil. No one at any of the other three sites I called spoke English, so I was figuratively “fucked,” not literally fucked as I had hoped. Adding to my misery was the fact that the spa I sent Lucy to cost several hundred reais.

Isn’t that just my luck; I fly a thousand miles to find a hot, sexy black girl in Salvador and can’t, yet venture twenty blocks from my apartment in Rio and find a real gem from there? Why’s that? If I didn’t know better, I would think that there was a message in there somewhere, but, then again, why worry about things I can’t control. Where was I? Oh yeah, picking up my Salvadoran beauty. Thumper had a delightful smile which she kept on her face the entire time we negotiated a price. She started off at R$300 for two hours and I countered with R$200. She came down to R$250, which I again countered at R$200. Despite the fact that things weren’t going her way, she kept on smiling as she came down to R$225. Before I could counter again, she went all the way down to R$200 because I think she feared I would go lower. Strangely, I hadn’t thought of that so rather than wiping the smile off her face, I jumped on her R$200 offer.

We hopped into a taxi and within minutes we were in front of my building. When we got into the elevator, she started kissing me passionately. Needless to say, it was a great ride up. I made several mistakes that evening, starting with opening my refrigerator. She saw that it was stocked with Lucy’s Red Bull. “Can I have one?” was her first question. “Of course,” I replied. She poured herself a glass of Red Bull, then excused herself so she could use the bathroom to freshen up and get comfortable. As she was exiting the bathroom totally nude, she asked another question, “Do you dress up in women’s clothes?” Stunned at her question, my off balance response was, “No, why would you think that?” “Because panties and bras hang in shower.” Oh shit, Lucy, like all women, turned my shower into a laundry annex. One where she could wash and dry her panties, hang them all over the place to dry, and then complain when I get them wet when I take a shower. Shit, if Lucy really expects them to dry, why would she hang them next to a fucking water supply--right?

I momentarily toyed with lying and telling Thumper that they were my daughter’s because she’s been to Rio twice with me. But, since the apartment had only one bed, I opted to go with the truth. “They are my namarada’s.” That turned out to be the most appropriate reply because now, in her mind, I wasn’t just a whore monger, but also a cheater as well. Which from the way she acted after I told her, was apparently a good thing. For some strange reason Brazilian women like knowing they’re taking someone else’s man. I’m not going to argue or try to change it, but rather just enjoy it, which I did.

Anyway, within moments we got down to business. Now, I know some of you complain that I don’t write much about my sexual exploits, but that’s to protect those who have personally met me. As one guy once said to me, “Thank God you don’t write about having sex because envisioning you fucking someone would turn my stomach!” If you think that’s bad, Lucy once asked if I would video our love making with my new camera that had HD capability. Afterwards I handed her the camera for her to watch. I think she’s a closet voyeur. After about a minute of watching me in action, she told me to destroy the camera. I refused so she took out the SD chip and flushed it down the toilet. She never said another word about the incident, but whenever I asked if I could record our sexual exploits, she would run to the bathroom and blow lunch. Go figure?

For some strange reason I have taken those experiences to heart and, consequently, have decided to spare you all. All I will tell you about the evening was that she was agreeable to everything and was fantastic in bed. Every time I asked her, “Can I put it here?” she would promptly reply, “Of course.” “How about here?” “Of course.” It doesn’t get any better than that, does it? And to make the evening even better, she wasn’t a clock watcher either. However, on the minus side, she had an extraordinary thirst. After a little over three hours I was exhausted and she had consumed five of Lucy’s Red Bulls. Guess she needed it just to keep up with me. Yeah, right!

Shortly after she left, I went through the apartment with a fine toothed comb, looking for any forensic evidence that might trip me up. I planned ahead and had a towel on the bed so that there weren’t any wet spots to give me away and I checked the bathroom and bed for any stray hairs--there were none. That left only one problem--replacing the five Red Bulls. Lucy knows I hate Red Bull, so I couldn’t very well tell here I had a sudden urge to drink five of them, which meant finding replacements. By then all the supermarkets were closed so I had to go to several all-night bars to find what I needed. Instead of paying R$8.50 a can like in the supermarket, I had to pay R$15 each at the bars. Okay, I guess all in she cost me another R$75 for the Red Bulls, but it was worth it.

As I climbed into bed, I began to reminisce about the wonderful preceding hours and suddenly found myself a little anxious, if you know what I mean. Shit, It was just after 2:00 AM, I was alone and Balcony was still open (BTW, it’s open 24/7), so, what the fuck was I doing in bed? Ten minutes later I was strolling around the perimeter of Balcony where I spotted a young, tall, cinnamon skinned beauty. Long blondish curls caressed her shoulders and cascaded halfway down her back--she was new and stunning! I approached, she smiled and said, “Oi.” I smiled back and said, “Do you fala (speak) English?” Sadly, she didn’t speak a word of English. But all was not lost, I could still communicate using broken Portuguese and sign language, couldn’t I?

First, I tried to ask her age by saying, “Quanto anos,” which is Portuguese for “how many years,” or something like that, I think. As soon had the word “quanto” passed my lips, she responded by saying something in Portuguese that I didn’t quite understand. When she saw the confused look on my face, she took my hand and wrote 150 on my palm with her finger. Her response pleased and surprised me; I knew she wasn’t 150 years old yet her pricing was very enticing. I smiled and replied, “Reais?” She smiled and said, “Sim,” which means “yes.” Okay, we had the currency agreed upon, all we needed was an agreed price. Now I had a dilemma; do I jump on her first offer, or do I negotiate to get the best price?

This where reading Club Hombre can help you novices out there. The guys on the board teach you to haggle for the best possible service at the lowest price without pissing anyone off. That way you don’t make mistakes by overpaying and fucking everything up for the rest of us. That said, my situation is a little different. Given my extensive background sealing deals on Wall Street, negotiating with this GDP would be like shooting a fish in a barrel. That’s when I took her hand and wrote 100 on her palm, she smiled and nodded yes. Can you believe it? I just negotiated the deal of the century; one hundred fucking reais! I immediately hailed a taxi before she could change her mind. See, I told you it would be like shooting fish in a barrel. However, since the night was still young, it was yet to be determined which one of us was the fish, and which the shooter.

As I was paying the taxi driver, I noticed that after buying all that fucking Red Bull, I had exactly R$80 in my pocket. Oh shit, now what do I do? That’s when I remembered that I had another R$50 stashed somewhere in my apartment, but where? Once again, I was amorously attacked in the elevator and suddenly the emergency phone rings. It’s the security guy downstairs watching us on closed circuit TV; he’s letting me know that he disapproves. Fuck him! Then again, maybe he knows about Lucy. Ah, fuck him anyway.

Right after we entered the apartment she excused herself to use the bathroom. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and shouted out, “Aqua?” Instead of the answer I anticipated, she shouted back, “Nao, Hedgie Bull.” As I was wondering how she could possibly know that I had Red Bull in the apartment, I put two and two together. She undoubtedly saw Lucy’s panties in the shower, knew they belonged to a Brazilian garota and then correctly assumed that Red Bull had to be nearby. Brazilians are so fucking predictable!

She came out of the bathroom with only a towel draped around her hips. Her youthful breasts were much larger than I imagined and I couldn’t wait to caress them. Before we got down to business we needed to clear up a few loose ends. I asked to see her ID, which she immediately produced for me. Turned out she was 22, her name was Roberta, she lived in Niteroi, and tonight was her first night at Balcony. Usually I wouldn’t believe that last statement, but since she was way off the market with her pricing, I believed her. Now, where the fuck is that other R$50? As I was pondering that point, I reached in the fridge and grabbed a Red Bull. I tried to explain with sign language that I had only one Red Bull, but I think she thought I meant she could have only one at a time. That is until I showed her my empty fridge. Just to make sure she didn’t deplete my supply, I hid the other four in a cupboard while she was in the bathroom.

She was fantastic in bed: very athletic, sensual and attentive. For three hours she kept me totally occupied by using her body to please mine. The problem with having nonstop sex is that you don’t stop to do anything else, much less think. I this case, I should have put more effort into thinking and looking for that R$50, but I had other priorities. As the sun was starting to lighten the sky in the East, she let me know that she had to go home.

Frantically I searched the apartment for that fucking R$50 note but couldn’t find it. That’s when I decided to call Lucy. Since it was 6:15 AM, you know I had to be really desperate to call Lucy at her mom’s house. She answered on the fifth ring. Holding a raised finger to my lips, I let Roberta know that she wasn’t to speak as I said, “Hi Honey, do you know where I hid my R$50?” “What time is it?” Trying to be as gentle as possible, I deflected her question by saying, “It’s early Honey and I want to go to breakfast; do you know where I put that R$50?” All she said was, “ In your sneakers,” then she hung up. Great, now I knew where I hid it, but there was one major problem--it wasn’t there. Roberta was getting anxious as I dialed Lucy again. “Honey, it’s not there. Are you sure that’s where I put it?” With total conviction, she replied, “Yes, you hid it there and I borrowed it to take my mom out to dinner last night.”

Oh fuck, now what do I do? I can’t very well short change this delightful girl and, at this hour, I can’t go to an ATM to get reais without getting mugged. That’s when I decided to bite the bullet, so to speak. You see I wasn’t exactly penniless. I had plenty of money with me, just the wrong kind. Of course, you guys realize that this kind of admission is difficult for me, so we need to keep it a total secret. In other words, I don’t want anyone to mention it when Lucy’s nearby. Got it? Okay, here goes. I grabbed my briefcase, reached into it and withdrew a crisp, new one hundred dollar bill. Yep, that’s right, all I had was hundreds in US currency and, with the current exchange rate at 1.75 to 1, I was forced into paying her a R$75 premium over our negotiated price. When she saw what I had in my hand, she smiled and indicated that she wanted to get together again. Rather than give her a definite answer, I momentarily winced, then forced a smile and handed her the C-note. She eagerly smiled back, kissed me and then explained that she couldn’t use the C-note to get a taxi. Defeated once more, I reached into my pocket, extracted R$20 and gave it to her. OUCH, my fucking gills hurt!

Two nights later Lucy and her girlfriends went to a Rave Party, which meant she would be gone for the entire night. She did me before leaving at 10:30 PM. I arrived at Balcony at exactly fifteen minutes later, anxious to do more research. No sooner had I sat down then I saw a beautiful brunette walk in. Our eyes locked and I asked her to join me at the table. I talked with her and we quickly hit it off. We agreed on a price (R$200)and departed. Moments after we got back to my apartment my cell phone rang. It was my good friend, Bedouin, asking me about the girls at Balcony. Naturally I couldn’t go into details about the other night, so I decided to tell him about what I had currently sitting naked on my lap. I described her, “She’s tall, full breasted and looks just like a celebrity who has the initials S. W.” You’ll never guess what he said. Without missing a beat, he replied, “I know, she looks like that tennis player, Serena Williams.” Fuck him!

“No, Bedouin, believe it or not she not black and she looks exactly like Sela Ward.” Incredulous, he said, “You mean Harrison Ford’s wife in “The Fugitive?” I smiled and said, “Yep, she looks just like her.” “I don’t believe you,” he replied. “Okay, I’ll ask if I can take a few pictures and, if she agrees, I’ll email them to you. Will that satisfy you?” I asked. The last thing he said before hanging up was,“ Yeah, but I don’t expect much.”

Five minutes later I was emailing him a few shots of her. Just to piss him off even more, I sent him a few nude shots of her lounging on my bed ready for action. By now the action had started and suddenly my phone rang--it was Bedouin. “Holy shit, she’s beautiful,” he shouted over the phone. I nonchalantly replied, “What else would you expect from me?” I won’t go into details of what he said, but let’s just say it wasn’t too complimentary. That’s when I got this great idea. I told him to hold on for a minute as the two of us started resuming what we were doing before he called. I don’t know how long he kept the line open because an hour later when I picked up the phone, the line was dead. I just hope he hung up before I started with the baby talk. I wouldn’t want anyone to know about that. Now that I think about it, he probably called using SKYPE, so he got away without too big a phone bill. At 5:30 AM Lucy returned to the apartment and wanted to fuck again. Oh God, when will it end?

I think Lucy suspected something because as soon as she was done fucking me, she wanted to do it again. I feigned a migraine which worked for a short while. That is until she started giving me an erotic massage that got me right back in the mood. At 6:30 AM I passed out from exhaustion.

I had to wait another three nights before I could do more research. Lucy and her girlfriends were off to another Rave Party, and I would have the whole night free. This time I planned things out a little better. You see, earlier in the day I joined Kj and someone whom I will call “Metro-man” for a drink at a local bar in the Lido district. As we were leaving the bar I saw this hot, petite, black girl walking towards me with an infectious smile on her face. I smiled back as we passed each other and turned around to see her watching me. She waved: I waved back. I motioned her over and asked for her phone number. She smiled, took out a piece of paper and wrote down her number. As she walked away, Metro-man said, “Wow, she’s got a tight little ass,” and I nodded in agreement. Metro-man looked at me and said, “Give me her number, you have Lucy waiting for you.” “Not tonight, I’m free as a bird.”

No sooner had Lucy left the apartment then I was dialing for sex. She answered on the first ring which indicated that she was anxiously awaiting my phone call. I gave her my address and she agreed to come over in an hour. That gave me just enough time to go to the supermarket and buy a couple of four packs of Red Bull which should last the whole night. Oh yeah, better pick up another bottle of vodka, too, just in case. Buying the vodka was a stoke of genius because when she saw it on the kitchen counter she said, “Vodka and Hedgie Bull makes me horny.” Before she even crossed the living room to sit down, I was at her side handing her a drink (80% vodka) and saying, “Here’s your Red Bull and vodka. It might be a little strong, but I’m sure you’ll like it.”

Normally, I like to get right down to business, but this time I decided to see where things would go. After the first drink she did a strip tease dance that was phenomenal. She had the greatest little tits. Nice and firm and absolutely delicious. As soon as all her clothes were off she jumped into my lap and said, “I’m getting horny.” She almost fell on the floor as I got up to make her another stiff drink. Seconds later, I was handing her the drink and saying, “Here you go, Honey, just the way you like them.” She climbed back into my lap and started to purr like a kitten. Consequently, I nicknamed her Kitty. Kitty was a breath of fresh air. She told me her life story as I plied her with vodka and Red Bull. I asked her why she smiled at me and she replied, “Because you smiled at me.” See, it pays to smile in Rio. She then went on to explain that I looked innocent enough and she thought, “Oh well, I’ll just fuck another gringo and make R$200.” “So, I’m just another R$200 to you?” I asked. She replied, “Oh no, I like you. Can I have another hedgie bull and wodka?” “Coming right up.”

After the fourth drink, she stated to unbutton my shirt and kiss my chest. For some reason this really turns me on so I let her continue. A few moments later she stopped kissing me and said, “Look at what I do.” Holy shit, she gave me a hickey--nobody’s done that in years. Suddenly a horrible thought raced through my little mind: How the fuck am I going to hide that from Lucy? As I was pondering an explanation for the unexplainable, she went down on me and for a moment I was in Heaven. That is until she stuck her finger up my ass. “Whoa baby, what are you doing?” “Relax James, you like it.” At that point, I was wondering whether she meant to add “do” or “will” to that sentence to make it a question or a declarative statement, but, strangely, in a few moments even those thoughts left my little mind. I think that was due to two things: I relaxed and I realized that she had small hands. By the way, that’s my primary criteria in choosing a doctor to check my prostate--he must have small, very small hands! How the fuck did I segue into the medical community? Man, I gotta stop drinking.

By now you guys have a clear picture of what’s going on. She’s deep throating me while checking my prostate gland and rather than enjoying it, my brain kept on rebooting to that nasty problem: hiding that damn hickey. As you know, I’m not good at multitasking so I eventually put the hickey problem completely out of my mind and concentrated on the blow job. Turned out that was the best course of action--in the short term at least. Long term was an entirely different matter. After love making I went to the bathroom to examine her handiwork on my chest. The hickey had a unique look, an almost star-like shape to it. Yep, that’s it ---a deep purple star on my chest that screams out---I’ve been cheating on you. Oh shit, Lucy’s gonna kill me! Oh well, since there’s nothing I can do about it at the moment, I went back to Kitty waiting in bed.

She got up on all fours and told me to make love to her ass. “But I hardly know you,” I replied without thinking. With a drunken smile on her face, she said, “You know me good enough,” as she slipped me inside her perfect bottom. Fortunately, I could relax a little when we were in this position because she couldn’t give me another hickey when I was behind her behind, so to speak. At one point, she reached around and pulled me out of her ass, turned around and started giving me a blow job. So this what’s called an ATM? Oh my God, that’s disgusting. That was my first thought, but as I watched how enthusiastically she sucked me off, I couldn’t help but ask her, “Can we do that again?” “Sure,” was her one word reply. She was fantastic! Sweating and exhausted I lay down on the bed to get some rest but found that I had to fight her off---she was trying to give me another hickey. “Look, I’ll make you a deal. No more hickeys and you can take the bottle of vodka with you. Okay?” Reluctantly, she replied, “Deal.”

By now it’s 5:00 AM, she’s drunk and horny and I’m going through her purse trying to find a makeup kit to conceal her handiwork. All she had was some blush, mascara, lip gloss and something that might work--foundation. Unfortunately, since she’s black her foundation is a color that matches her skin, not my Lilly white pallor. With her help we tried our best, but now instead of a purple star on my chest, it looked like someone smeared brown mud on it. This is not good. Oh God, I’m fucked!

Kitty asked for another Red Bull and Vodka and as I opened the bedroom door to go to the kitchen something familiar was standing there in the doorway staring at me. It was LUCY and she was looking right through me, like I wasn’t even there. For a brief second I thought Kitty’s foundation made me invisible, but then came to my senses and realized I’m not that lucky, so I turned around to see what she was looking at . Not much to see, just Kitty suggestively poised on the bed with her ass up in the air, mumbling something about fucking her ass again. I turned back towards Lucy and CRACK, everything went BLACK. In the 42 microseconds between the Crack and losing consciousness, several scenarios ran through my cerebral cortex at lightning speed. First, I could be having a mini-stroke. Plausible, but highly unlikely. Second, Kitty could have Ruffinized me, or in simple terms, slipped me a Ruffie. Again, highly unlikely because, after all, who would want to date rape me? That left just one more possibility, Lucy’s left hook. However, just before I hit the floor, I was hoping for a massive cerebral hemorrhage to put me out of my misery forever. I never wanted to wake up because I feared what awaited me.

By this time you’re probably as confused as I am. Honest, I wish I could give you some concrete answers to your questions, but I don’t have them. Instead, I’ll tell you what happened next. When I regained consciousness I was in bed next to Lucy who was sound asleep. And yes, my jaw hurt. How could this happen? My time management skills are way better than Andy Reid’s, so what the fuck happened? I couldn’t have run out of time, could I? Lucy must’ve come home early causing this whole mess. Oh well, rather than dwell on what was in the past, I somehow had to fix the future and do it fast. But what needs fixing first? Everything!!!

With this in mind, I crept out of bed to do some belated forensics, as if that would help at this late stage. Everything was as I left it except for another glass that smelled of Red Bull and Vodka. No doubt Lucy had one to calm her nerves before going to bed. But that didn’t explain the two roaches in the ashtray or her panties and bra on the couch. Again I rationalized them away by figuring she was trying to relax and forget whatever she might have thought she observed. Shit, within an hour of awakening, I’ll talk her in circles and have her so confused about last night, she won’t know what happened. Speaking of confused, when I was unconscious I had some really weird dreams. I could swear that I saw Lucy wrestling little Kitty, but why would Lucy do that? After all, she’s a boxer not a wrestler. Hey, come to think of it, where’s Kitty and my bottle of Smirnoff’s?

When I went into the bathroom to clean up, I noticed a large clump of tissue on the side of the sink that was stained a dark brown color. What’s this, I thought? That is until I looked in the mirror and saw a nasty purple star shaped hickey on my chest. Oh no, Lucy must have wiped off Kitty’s brown foundation and saw the hickey. I’m fucking dead!

Rather than face the music, I got dressed and went for a “Last Breakfast.” When I returned I heard Lucy stirring in the bedroom and tried to avoid the inevitable confrontation by doing the dishes. She came to the doorway and motioned me to follow her back into the bedroom. For a moment I thought, I want to die right here, but then I figured the bedroom was as good a place as any to die in, so I followed her. She threw me on the bed and started taking off all my clothes. Oh no, this isn’t good. Didn’t Lorena Bobbitt do exactly the same thing just before she did her thing with his thing? By the way, where’s my SOG knife?

It’s amazing the tricks your mind can play on you when you’re under stress. Suddenly things changed dramatically; It was like going from a nightmare to a fairy tale. She wasn’t going to hurt me; all she wanted to do was fuck with a little foreplay thrown in for good measure. Unlike American women, Brazilian women don’t consider hugging or spooning as foreplay, so instead of hugging for a half hour, we got right down to business. Despite the fact that I was exhausted from the previous night, I was determined to be romantic and enthusiastic. Lucy pushed me under the covers and directed me to the exact spot where she wanted me to kiss. I followed her directions and started kissing her passionately. After a few minutes, both of us started to get overheated so we threw off the covers. It was then that something caught my eye---something there on her left inner upper thigh, right near where I was kissing. I took a closer look and guess what? It was a star shaped purple hickey that looked vaguely familiar.

Indignant at finding this clear evidence of Lucy’s flagrant infidelity, I shouted out,”Where did this come from?” Immediately Lucy went on the offensive and said, “From the same place as that,” as she was pointing at the hickey on my chest. Totally confused, all I could say was, “Huh?” Then, moments later as I finally comprehended what she was telling me, I managed to cry out,”Oh No!!”

Jag

Jag:

Thanks for taking one for the Gipper. I know how important it is to do research for us.

I an sure if you were straight up with Lucy, and explained the urgency and importance of your research to her, that she would be most supportive.

Thanks for looking out for our best interests,

MM

Jag,

This is brilliant. Thank you for your research. I actually think you might want to have this translated and placed on GPGUIA. I think the Brazilian guys would love it.

BT

Jag, you do realize that Lucy interrogates the portero every single time she comes to your building, right? She clearly knows you had girls up. She also clearly knows that she has a private Pullman car on the big Jaguar Gravy Train, so to be honest, you could probably have the Balcony girls over when she's there and she wouldn't be too bent out of shape about it.

Jag:

You could even have a dupla or triple with them.

This would be have having your cake and eating it also.

Smart work young man.

MM

Jag

I stayed on the line and listened until I heard her say..."This won't hurt", and then I heard the sound of a surgical glove or a condom snapping in the background and I knew you were going to get more than the 200 reals you bargained for.

Congratulations for going outside the box, so to speak.
Bedouin

Classic! Only Jag could create such a clusterfuck and emerge with only a bruised jaw. Now, Jag, I hope you saved Kittie's phone number. It sounds like a dupla is in the offing very soon!

Funny stories. But if you were serious about hiding your adventures, why not take these girls to a love motel? Yeah, I know it brings up the cost but it's not like these girls were overcharging you, and it's really hard to hide cheating when you bring the girls right to your (shared) apartment.

Even if there isn't an incident with a Balcony girl (a common risk for all mongers but particularly with pulls from venues like Balcony), women are good at sniffing out the presence of other women who have stayed at your place. It doesn't need to be as obvious as broken/missing objects (or Red Bull cans, lol!). They don't even need to interview the portero, there's that sixth sense that activates soon as they come in.

In any case, I suspect this Lucy chick is playing you as well with all those "Rave parties" she goes to. But that's okay, and it's probably why she didn't kill you when she caught you red-handed. ;-) You might as well come out clean and propose an open relationship, or maybe have her help you recruit a girl for a dupla.

The prices you paid are encouraging as there's been a lot of complaints in these forums about current pricing in Rio freelance venues (before in Help, now Balcony). But I read a lot of reports here that the girls in Balcony are trending ugly. Would be nice to see what kind of girl you got with the low prices you negotiated.

Frankly I'm jealous Jag. You can get away with this with your namorada with few repercussions, and I'm hiding from girls in Rio just because I told them all they're my favorita.

You gotta love Brazillian women, they like sex instead of using it as a weapon to control us. If it was your ex-wife, you'd have ended up painted in Kitty's makup, dressed in her clothes, and rolled out to the curb as a present to the TVs.

By the way, please point out Thumper to me next time I'm at Balcony.

Glad to see the Dummy is still posting reports.

Regards,
Frogman

He doesn't go to a love MOTEL because wheres the adrenaline rush? Not to mention he is a cheap fucker.

Even though I bagged on Balcony, I still went there every night. Here is the thing, the talent is way, way down, the food isn't that good, it is crowded and they pretty much fucked up our bill every night. But, there isn't anywhere else to go and hang out. We taked about it, but you never know when that one girl could show up that rocks your world. Which is what happened for me the last night I was there. It was worth it.

ok, off topic now, I may post a quick TR on what happened.

Jag, when do we get to hear about the Pink Panther? waiting......

(Message edited by azguy on December 20, 2010)

PS No way Lucy does anything but party her ass off at the Rave. She is clearly crazy about Jag, which now that I think about it, would just make her plain crazy. Poor girl.

Here's a couple photos of Sela.

Jag

Sorry, I fucked up. Let's try it one more time.

Jag
Photos: Sela 01 02

wow those are some monsters! Nice!

Natural, too!!

Jag

BT,

Your suggestion about translating it into Portuguese intrigues me. However, the only person that I know who could do it is LUCY, and I'm not about to ask her. Do you know of anyone who could do it?

Jag

Cat,

The portero's know what side of their bread is buttered, because I fucking butter it with tips. In other words, my money trumps her money which is really mine, too. Got it!

Jag

I'm just saying, you're certainly not tipping everyone over on Favela Row. Lucy has most certainly interrogated every street bum, shop owner, military police, portero, neighbor, etc within a 2-block radius as to your activities when you're not there. Someone has surely ratted you out, long ago.

In fact, to facilitate this, I've added a phone line that forwards directly to Lucy's cell. It's 55(21)-RATONJAG.

(Message edited by catocony on December 21, 2010)

Cat,

You're wrong. I spread more money around that neighborhood than their Federal Govt. The favela bar is one of my pet earmarked projects that gets a lot of my attention. Shit, last New Years Eve I gave a R$300 party there, complete with leftover filet mignon, that lasted almost two whole days. What has Lucy done for them? I'll tell you what--SQUAT! Consequently, those guys would never rat me out because they know that I'll somehow fuck things up myself, so why take the chance of pissing me off. That make some sort of sick sense, doesn't it?

Jag

She is a hell of a lot better than Miss September!
all i can say is WOW!

Now this is what Im talking about. In reading the last few reports about tripping to South America, I got pissed. I thought the guys were lieing and were in TJ, but this lady definately looks like what I would expect. Good job!

Nice pull Jag. I always enjoy your reports!

Jaguar,

Now, that's a real beauty you pulled from Balcony, and soooo white! I didn't even know that such light skinned beauties frequented Balcony, But then - maybe it's me who's color blind.

What bugs me is that if I just look at a bunda or two at Balcony - I get accused of being a safado, a traitor, bla bla bla...

YOU, on the other hand, have the reputation of Mr. Pure, Mr. Reliable, Mr. Good Guy.. and even I belived that, until I read your Balcony report.

How do you do it?

Teach me, pleeaaaaaase!!!

You forgot to mention big spender!

Jag's back! A good old time, fun story I'm still laughing. Thx for the great read.

Skisandy,

Like everything in my life, I use misdirection to confuse and confound. Yeah, you stare at a girls bunda and get called a safado. I, on the other hand, just sit calmly in Balcony seemingly totally oblivious to what's going on there. This confuses the shit out of the girls and, consequently, they think I'm a good guy. Lucy sitting right next to me also plays a minor part in my lethargic behavior.

Jag

Jaguar,

You are so right. Misdirection and seemingly being oblivious to the scene is the key.

I not only stare, but turn my head in any and all directions so often and so quickly (to stare at bundas) that it also confuses everybody.....
.. they think I'm just shaking my head.

Unfortunately above is just wishful thinking, and it fools nobody...LOL.

This is Brazil...looking at a nice bunda is your given right and what any normal guy should do (Unless of course they have a GF sitting next to them). Embrace it.... When girls tell me I am safado, I tell them dammn right...this is afterall the Balcony Bar - keeping it real! What exactly is each girl and guy looking for there?

Overall, most good looking girls in Brazil expect to be stared at....the uglier ones appreciate the pity looks :-)

Lovingmarvin,
I agree with all you say, the problem IS that I sometimes have the namorada sitting next to me, from Minas Gerais, com muito ciume. The girls on the receiving end are not the problem, one of the great things in Brazil is in fact that the girls seem to enjoy a man's attention, whether they are GDP's or not.

Lovingmarvin and Skisandy,

I couldn’t agree with you guys more. Brazilian women with gorgeous asses practically demand that you turn around and watch them go by. Many will even turn their heads to make sure you are watching and, if you’re a gentleman, you accommodate them.

Okay, so watching women is a given in Brazil. I comprehend that, but what I still don’t understand is the meaning of the word “Safado.” Let me explain: Four years ago on the night I met Lucy, a guy named Nugget from the board joined us at the table for drinks. Mind you, this was Lucy’s first exposure to my friends and to complicate things, she had her well endowed cousin with her. Nugget had just flown in earlier in the day, showered, unpacked, and promptly made his way to 4 X 4. By the time he arrived at Terraco he was slightly drunk, overtired, and had just had a dupla at 4 X 4. He sat down next to Lucy’s cousin and started to recall his trip to 4 X 4 in vivid detail, very vivid detail. Lucy’s cousin didn’t speak English so Lucy translated for her. Nugget regaled the girls with his choice of women for the dupla, then described each sexual act, ending with fucking one girl in the ass. As Nugget was speaking, Lucy did her best to accurately translate his adventures.

When Lucy’s running translation got to the ass fucking part, her cousin opened her eyes widely and said, ‘Safado,” and then smiled slyly. I turned to Lucy and asked, “Is safado bad?” Her answer surprised me. She replied, “Yes and No.” Huh? She explained further, “Your friend, Nugget, is definitely a safado. Just look at him; his shirt is on inside out, he’s drunk, and he will fuck anything.” I looked over and, sure enough, his polo shirt was on inside out, he was more drunk than when he sat down, and, if I wasn’t careful, Nugget would try to fuck Lucy’s cousin. To make matters worse, Lucy’s cousin was inching closer to Nugget in the same anxious manner that a woman approaches the dessert table at an All You Can Eat Buffet. Oh shit, this is spinning out of control.

Lucy turned to me and asked, “Why you ask about safado? How many girls call you that?” Oh shit, I was afraid she would ask that question, as I replied, “None.” Indignantly she said, “No woman ever call you safado,” as she moved slightly away. “Nope.” She continued the questioning by asking how long had I been coming to Brazil? “Two years,” was my honest and pitiful answer. By this time I was expecting her to get up and leave, but instead she grabbed my hand and said, “Don’t worry I’ll make you a safado.” Guess what? Six days later while we were making love for the very first time, she stopped, kissed me passionately, and said, “James, you muito safado,” Then she said, “gustoso” as she screamed and orgasmed. Later I asked if safado is good or not and she replied, “Yes, safado is good.” After that explanation I was more confused than ever. Could someone, please clear it up for me.

Jag

The rules promulgated by Brazilian women, as I understand them, are that we can look (but not in front of them) we can touch (but only if they can touch too or again not in front of them) and we can never ever be seen in public talking, walking or standing with any attractive woman under the age of 80. I might be off on the age part by +/- 5 years.

Unlike in the US, having and exhibiting a healthy desire for sex is a good thing. Getting caught having sex is not necessarily a bad thing as long as none of her friends know about it. In fact, her findng out usually produces the “safado” comment followed by rough sex. For about the next six months count on BJs early every morning before she leaves as her way of making sure you are running on empty. I have found it best not to argue with this – just go with the flow.

Threesomes with her friends are encouraged, but she sure as hell better not find any of their numbers on your cellphone (contacts, outgoing or incoming). In other words, threesomes OK, twosomes, not OK.

As for ER drugs; unless she knows you well, she won’t tell you this, but most find them insulting and will start her thinking you must be seeing another woman on the side. These women are not stupid. Hard, soft, hard, soft, hard, soft is OK. Hard, pokes a hole in the sheet, hard, knocks over the table lamp, hard is not OK.

So, “safado” is a good thing if she says it before, during or after having sex with her. It is a bad thing if she says it during or after you have had sex with someone else unless of course she planned the event or was a participant.

Hope this helps because this is all I got.

Here are a couple of photos of Kitty.

Jag

Photos: Kitty 03 04

being called safado:

1) ....in the sack is always a good thing
2) ...followed by a punch or throw of an ashtray after being caught with another girl very bad
4) ...followed by awesome sex or a threesome after being caught with another girl, very good
4) ...while getting away with whatever misdeed you did (like getting something free or talking your way out of something) very good
5) ...followed by a smile or non agressive action on the part of the girl, good
6)...by a GDP, i.e. a girl in Balcony Bar, meaningless since this is decoder speak for "You should have spent that money on me instead of my competition".

Also keeping on the topic of looking at ass - a couple of those super über Ipanema girls that almost always seem to work out at Body Tech (easy to tell with their tights & shirts clearly marked) are almost impossible to ignore even when in company of a girl and your better sense is to ignore them. But, from what I have found, most girls at least understand that look - at least my girl is forgiving for me glancing at some super hot girl, maybe even throwing in a comment such as "you like that, ehhh???"". Alone, I almost walked into a kiosk after turning my head just instinctly turned hard after one passing (who just happened to also have super sexy long hair).

Two more pictures of Sela's great tits.

Jag

Photos: Sela 05 06

Jag

I know your secret....that is not the favela arms...you took her to a motel....

you know and i know you can tip the potero today, lucy can tip even less tomorrow and get the full story.....

Diversity,

Nope, didn't take her anywhere but back to my apartment. Some of you guys out there probably recognize the apartment.

Jag

I do indeed. 1104.

Nope, you are one floor off.

Jag

I know 1106, 201, 202, 801, cubetura. and then the apt by luomo's. heard there is another one avail a friend of our friend's. do not know the number.

besides, how do we know it is you jag...i do not see a pink shirt anywhere.....

KJ knows which apartment I was in back in October and it wasn't any you mentioned. BTW, I didn't need to wear pink around her because she had a pet nickname for me--Pink Panther! Guess she saw me around Balcony.

Jag

My bad; I slipped and typed Rosie's place (and that should have been 1106). The picture was clearly taken in that other Den of Iniquity: 1205.

BD,

Yes, that's the place and it has the most comfortable king size bed in all of Rio.

Jag

Thats a great story Jaguar , hilarious ! I can't believe Lucy punched you in the face and let it go at that . Maybe she realized she's got a good thing going on ? The photo's of Sela are pretty hot .

Cd,

Yeah, Sela's really hot and very affectionate; in other words she's PERFECT! When are you going down next?

Jag

possibly this fall . I'm looking forward to seeing you again sometime . You still sponsoring Fernando and half of hooker beach ?

Daze-
Hope to see you in the Fall. I expect I'll be there sometime around Halloween.
BD

Cdaze,
The guy on hooker beach was Fiscal, but he's not there any more. Jaguar actually was quite conservative with his money there, you can use the label "sponsoring" with me, who used to tip Fiscal as an extra "thank you" for charging me double.

Cd,

Skisandy's partially correct. Fernando used to work with Fiscal but went back up North to be with his family. I really miss him because he was such a hard worker without all the backtalk that Fiscal would give you. He was kinda like Gunga Din without the trumpet.

Now a days I use Marcus on the beach.

Jag

where you meet the sela girl.

Travel05,

I left clues all over the place. Why don't you start with the title of the report, it might give you a start at figuring out where I met the Sela Ward lookalike.

Let me know if you figured it out. Okay?

Jag

Spoken like a true Garota Whisperer...

Wow, Jag your back, I am just reading your entire cronicles for the second time as a diversion to my status in this God forsaken recession.
I could read your stuff over & over & never get board.
Stratone

Stratone,

Many thanks for reading and enjoying my Chronicles twice. Hopefully the US economy will start to grow before you are forced to reread my stuff for a third time.

Jag