This post recounts my itinerary of activities the night of the recent monger party. If you’re looking for information useful on a future visit to TJ, or for steamy sex you’ll be disappointed. It would earn barely an ‘R’ rating from the MPAA if released on celluloid. If you’re suffering from a bout of insomnia, read on.

After a three-week layoff from TJ I headed south on the first of December with plans to attend the Holiday Fiesta. I’ll take a moment to thank Sampson and Amo for organizing and sponsoring the event. If others were involved behind the scenes I thank them as well. It is gratifying to know that merely by participating in a raffle I have helped a few young lives. Milkman (who was there) and Ben (who was not) also have put in time and energy over the years to organize get-togethers that have helped create a sense of community among us. Again, there may be folks I am not aware of who have contributed. I thank you all.

The night ended up with a pleasant surprise. I like to think that it was God’s way of thanking me for the minor contribution I made to the orphanage fund-raiser. I'll leap ahead to the (literal) climax...I got jerked off in a lap dance booth at Peanuts & Beer. Yes (lest you wonder) by a girl, and yes she was naked. This isn’t SOP at P&B. Hence my suspicion that she was acting on behalf of a supernatural, benevolent deity. But let me go back and start from the beginning...

I rolled into TJ and went straight to Azteca Massage. My one claim to fame is the fact that I originated the Azteca discussion thread back on the RedSnake web site, and resumed it here on Club Hombre. Lately it is a very quiet corner, with sporadic postings. This is due to the fact that there is generally NOTHING new to report. I hadn’t stopped in for a while and was curious as to the current talent. There was a new receptionist, who reported that Claudia (my favorita) was ocupada for TWO hours. So I chose Georgina. I had her once before and I thought I had detected the potential for some precociousness (which is the most one can hope for). It turned out to be a standard Azteca massage: competent, relaxing. Enough to ignite the pilot light of my libido.

I chose the direct northerly path along Revolution as my route to La Tropa. As I crossed Articulo 123 at the Arch I was accosted by a crew of TJ's finest. They had a commercial van (no windows, sliding door on the curb side) parked at the northwest corner. They seemed to be packing up and about to move on, but couldn't resist the middle-aged gringo in the goombah tracksuit. With shouts of "guero, hey GUERO!" I was escorted to the van and patted down. (For a microsecond I thought they were going to toss me through the open door into the back and drive away with me). All the shakedown crews seem to have one woman nowadays, and she did the questioning in broken English. They had fun with my fanny-pack, which was chock-full of massage accoutrements (I bring my own soap, oil, etc. when I visit Azteca. Viva Mex, on the other hand, has generally nicer toiletries. But I digress).

La Policia Femenina peeked and poked her way through my wallet, but did not remove anything, i.e. money. She passed it to a dude who was standing off my left shoulder. I noticed that he removed all the bills, and (I hoped) returned them as he made his inspection. They eventually got bored, and cut me loose. I counted my rearranged money and found all of it was still there. Thankfully, I had broken a C-note at Azteca and only smaller bills remained. The Ben Franklin might have been pretty tempting. Although, I must admit to this day I have never lost a single dime during my various rousts.

I arrived at La Tropa around 8pm to find Sampson, Amo, and maybe two other mongers. The party was scheduled to start at 7:30, so it looked to be a small turnout. TJ was quiet in general for a Saturday night. The weather was not inclement, but the threat of precipitation probably kept the crowds away. I chatted with Sampson long enough to say hello and buy three raffle tickets, and then split for Hong Kong to kill some time until the party heated up. I was disappointed to find what I consider to be the 'B-Team' dancing at HK. I was hoping to see one chica that I had spied about three visits ago. She was not present, and the one or two reasonably hot chicas were too severely enhanced and lipo'ed for my taste. I kicked it for about 45 minutes, did a couple passes though the mezzanine, got bored and left. No sign of a LIVE! SEX! SHOW! while I was there. BTW I have been assured by a distinguished board member (Erip) that I was there too early to expect to see the A-Team. And the Coed Nude Shaving Cream Wrestling show likewise typically happens later in the evening.

I was back in La Tropa by 9pm where I found perhaps 25 mongers. I verified that the raffle draw was to happen at 10pm and wandered off to the taco stand at the corner near Chicago Club. I downed two tacos, paid a visit to AB (not crowded at all) and made my way back to LT. I chatted with Sampson again, spent a few minutes with Milkman, was introduced to Maximus743 (if memory serves) and it was time for the raffle! This year the prizes were: 30 free Viva Mex massages (redeemable Mon-Thur), two bottles of booze, and two chica dates. There were only about 45-50 guests, so almost everyone won something. Although a few dudes who had bought a block of ten tickets won multiple prizes, and a few guys won nothing. I won a massage. (I have made only a half dozen or so visits to Viva Mex, and this will be the impetus to get me back over there. We must encourage the opportunities to find legitimate massage close and convenient to the Zona, as far as I’m concerned.) Strangely (to me) some of the massage winners wanted to give the coupon back so their ticket could go back into the draw for one of the two chicas.

At this point I decided to head straight to P&B. It's now 10:30 on a Saturday night and the upper bar is perhaps half full. Again the dancers seemed to be definite 'B' level talent- and beauty-wise. I was beginning to get quite discouraged until (finally) a hottie hit the stage. Young, slender, with boobs way too big for her body. They still had a reasonable shape, but gravity was calling them to Mother Earth's embrace. While I was manhandling them stage-side I whispered a question into her ear and yes, she reported that she is 'natural'.

Next a more mature, but well-preserved chica took the stage and I began to narrow down the candidates for a privado. Eventually I began to notice a few additional chicas bonitas wandering about the premises. Perhaps they had been relaxing in the shadows until then. But no bailarina was getting any lap dance action. Even Miss Jugs did a full circuit around the stage with one of the lap dance touts after her floor show and didn't receive a single nibble (literal or otherwise).

And then...a real beauty came out of the dressing room. She was making her way down the row of stools, whispering in each guy's ear. After a dozen negative responses she reached me. She was cute, young, with a bodacious bod, freshly perfumed and glittered. I deduced that she had just come on duty. I asked how much for the privado and she said two songs for $20. You know it is a slow Saturday night when they start the negotiations at two songs for $20. The Friday/Saturday Hotties typically are adamant about ONE song for $20.

I decided to go for it. I figured if I waited until after she did her stage show I would end up licking the detritus of many handprints as I nibbled her tender flesh. We went straight to the booth and she was out of her 'Wicked Weasel' bikini in about 30 seconds. I lifted up my shirt so she could rub her naked rump on my chest and abdomen. In the meantime I am giving her chi-chis the once over. At her age I guess they could have been real, but they were so perfect and firm that I think they were man-made...and my compliments to her world class surgeon!!

I spun her around to nurse on her. While I was giving attention to the twins she reaches down for my crotch to verify that Bosquito is alive and well. A couple squeezes later she is fumbling for my waistband. Sacre Bleu!! At P&B it is standard procedure for the chicas to give a good amount of attention to the verga. But in my experience it always has been manual attention through the pants, or they plant their booty in your lap and enthusiastically squirm around. She had her hand halfway into my pants (as previously mentioned, I had the foresight to wear my goombah tracksuit... plenty of room in the crotch and an elastic waistband) and it felt like her hand was inside the pants but still on top of the underwear so I hooked my thumb into my FTLs and pulled everything several inches away from my belly to give her ample room to...reach right in and grab Bosquito and begin to stroke me.

After a few moments I could feel a rapid approach to countdown so I pulled away from her. Our conversation in Spanish over the loud music went something like this:

Chantal: I can do it for you.
Bosco: Huh? How much?
Chantal: $20
Bosco: Ha, ha, I don't...
Chantal: $10
Bosco: (inaudible)

I was quickly trying to decide if I really wanted to experience the thrill of victory in such a semi-private place. A group of rowdy bar patrons was hooting and hollering literally 4-5 feet away from the curtain. And even if we weren’t noticed I was faced with the possibility of walking back through the border check with a load of semen in my pants, or on the outside of my pant leg, or somewhere else. I prolonged the ordeal as long as I could, alternately turning her away from me to make out with her scrumptious booty, and then spinning her around to squeeze the chi-chis. Each time she faced me she reached for Bosquito.

About the time the second song was winding up I decided that yes, I wanted the HJ. I tried to ask her, "when I come where will the leche go?" But in my delirium I screwed up the verb tense and I think I asked, "when I come where did the leche go?" She looked at me weird, maybe she thought I had already splooged. I started to stand and she put her suit halfway back on, as if to leave. I pulled my pants down to mid-thigh and when she saw Bosquito still standing proudly at attention she realized I wanted to go for it. Once again I said "la leche?" She sort of pointed to the corner of the booth. I thought "does she really intend to jerk me off onto the back wall/floor of the booth?"

Just in time I remembered that I had stashed a couple napkins from the taco stand in my jacket pocket, plus I had a couple kleenexes as well. I improvised a sperm-management-device, which I held in my hand as she jerked me to a happy ending. She waited for me to wrap up and suit up before she reached for the curtain, whispered "thank you" into my ear and left with no money changing hands. In retrospect I think I just happened to be there on a slow night when Chantal had to put out a little extra to generate some lap dance business. Even so, a hand job was above and beyond the call of duty. And she was easily the sexiest one there, so I would naturally expect her to be more selfish with her attentions. Or…she was an angel sent straight from heaven to anoint me.

I have to say that the fantasy of being jerked off by a sweet, gorgeous, naked chica in a lap dance booth is better than the reality. Leaning with a shoulder against the wall, with one hand caressing a pert breast, while holding a wad of napkins in my other hand to catch my orgasm, and trying to stand at an angle that allowed her good arm action isn't the nicest way to enjoy a release. It wasn't exactly tantric sex with a yoga instructor, if you know what I mean. But what the hell, next time I'm in town I may seek out my new amiga Chantal.

Bosco

Nicely written. Congrats!