Then she called Olga, the famous masseuse, for me. I hoped Olga was available right away, but she was busy, and made an appointment for 3 PM. Paulina texted her the address information. Although I thought it would be a bit tight schedule-wise, what with my advanced age, I decided to get in a session before the one with Olga.
I took a taxi to Energy, arriving about noon. The mamasan sat me down in a nicely appointed room, and the presentation began. This time I was prepared with pen and paper, and was writing down names (as best as I could understand them). I wrote down three names, two were very busty girls with larger frames—not fat or even heavyset, just taller and more voluptuous—and one silicone-enhanced spinner.
At the conclusion of the parade, I asked to see the first two again. There was a bit of confusion since I had written down a totally wrong name for the first girl, but that got straightened out, and the two presented themselves again. I was starting to trust my gut now, in this new country in a new type of venue, so I went for the third—the spinner.
Marianna had a look about her that intrigued me and made me choose her over the more voluptuous chicas. Boy was I right. Although her face was not beautiful, her body was a knockout. Tall, slim, breasts perfectly enhanced to fit her frame—pretty much a 10 on my scale (although other shapes can also get 10s). And she had a great personality.
Unfortunately, she wouldn’t do BBBJ, even for a tip. I learned a new word: “malo.” And no pictures, either. I tried—I really wanted to take a picture just of her breasts to show LAguy how nice silicone can be. Still, her skills were excellent, even with the condom. And the way she rode me got me close enough to make her stop to change positions, and we went through a lot of position changes so I could prolong it. An excellent session.
After I came, she gave me a nice massage—then I massaged her. All the while, we were communicating as best we could, which was fun for me. Sweet girl, 26 with two kids, said she was a nurse. I got her number and email address, and said I would like to see her again. (After I got back home, I wrote that I’d like to see her when I return. She responded that she’d love to see me outside the casa.)
So, I took a cab home and did a few things while waiting for Olga. And waited. And waited. After two hours and a couple of voice mails, it was time to move on. Didn't hear a thing from her, which was not like her.
Sexy Massage was on my short list because they had duplas for 50,000 pesos (although they apparently have raised the price to 60,000). I had checked the web site on the card Infanticide posted for Sexy Massage, and it was available—i.e., not Sexy’s web site. I had called in the morning, and got no answer, but I figured that it was just after their 10 AM opening, and maybe they weren’t there yet. So I called Sexy Massage again, and they answered the phone and said they were open.
The address on this card I picked up there is masajessexy.net, not .com (as on Infanticide’s card), but that still is not an actual web site.
Took a cab to Sexy, it was raining and the cab driver had a hard time with the address—he stopped on a main street and pointed to the door with the number on it, but indicated that he was not sure it was right. “Casa?” he asked. I said yes, and he said wait a minute, I’ll check. He got out in the rain and went across the street from where he had stopped, and rang the bell. Nobody answered, and he showed the address to a cabbie who was stopped there. Turns out the “D” in the street number meant it was on a parallel street one block over.
There was a bit of a language barrier, possibly because the guy was trying to explain some things to me that I mostly already knew, but he did get across the price hike. When the ladies came out , they were a little too fast—I saw one I knew I wanted (Carnella), but didn’t see an obvious second pick. So he brought out all the girls for a line-up. On instinct, I picked Valentina, just because she seemed beautiful.
I soon realized that she had an absolutely beautiful face, although her body was nothing special (I’m not a good enough photographer to have captured that beauty properly). Carnella I had picked because of her prominent bust and cute face, although she seemed to have a little extra weight. That didn’t matter, nor did the fact that her breasts sagged somewhat because they were real big boobs, not silicone. The girls were all over me as soon as we got into the room.
Their hands roamed all over my body, and they started undressing me. It really felt good. When they went for the condom, I asked for BBBJ, and we negotiated 15,000 apiece. They worked on me together, and it was very very nice. Then I went down on them, Valentina first—she didn’t seem to be getting into it particularly, so I switched to Carnella, after she motioned me to wash out my mouth. Carnella got into it, and I think she came.
After that, they put a condom on me and asked me “who first?” I picked Carnella, who then climbed on top and gave a very good ride. We changed positions a couple times so I could keep from coming, and then it was Valentina’s turn. New condom first, of course. Carnella tried to just lie there, I had to try to get her to caress me. Valentina hadn’t been that active while I was doing Carnella, either—but I couldn’t verbalize my wishes easily. I was a very enjoyable dupla overall, even though I didn’t come—holding back for so long does that to me. I loved looking at Valentina’s face in missionary.
Photos: Carnella & Valentina - Sexy 16 17 18
Photo: Carnella - Sexy 19
Photo: Valentina - Sexy 20
When I left it was raining lightly. I caught a cab and gave him the address (Jack had written it out with some instructions). But he couldn’t find the address in the rainy darkness, and drove around looking. Finally, when we went by a couple of police standing on a corner, I suggested he ask them. They gave directions—we were only a couple blocks away. The meter said 12,600, but I gave the cab driver 6,000 pesos (which was the correct fare without driving around lost), and he accepted it.
Later, I decided to go to Mangos after starting to write this report. I got there at about 11 PM. I had no problem getting a cab. Mangos was not exactly what I expected. It is a western-themed bar, with waitresses dressed in cowboy boots, mesh stockings, short dresses with white blouses and little jackets, with sexy lace-trimmed white tubes on their forearms, wearing cowboy hats and also packing toy guns. A bunch of male cowboys roamed around.
I sat down a table with a good view of the stage, and a cowboy came up to me and put down a basket of fruit slices (pineapples, oranges, limes, and a lot of something unidentified that was crunchy and had a green skin) and a bucket of French-fried sting potatoes (I think they were potatoes). When he started speaking Spanish, I told him I didn’t understand, and he said “AH!” and went off with a big smile on his face. A moment later, another cowboy came over and asked me what I wanted in English. I told him I wanted a soft drink, and he told me that these tables had a minimum consumption, and maybe I should go sit at the bar. He showed me to a seat behind the stage and assured me it was a good seat.
There was a guy I’ll call the MC on stage. He was obviously a trained dancer, but was dressed in a pinstriped suit (sans tie), and was talking into his mike and moving around. Of course, I had no idea what he was saying.
At 11:15, the famous Mangos dancers came out. Six females and two males slid down a pole onto the stage. They were wearing clown-type wigs, either black or white plastic strips sticking out. Each danced for a minute, then went to another “stage:” there were at least five other areas that were wide enough for them to dance on besides the main stage. Two dancers to each stage. After a few minutes, I moved to the other end of my bar, since a post was blocking my view of one of the dancers. This turned out to be right next to the stairway on which the dancers entered and exited the stage, so I got a lot of close-up looks. Too bad I didn’t bring my camera.
They were incredible. Supple and sexy, their moves were very energetic and well-choreographed. Many of their body movements were sexy/suggestive, but their hands were always moving, in wide arcs. Their skimpy outfits revealed well-toned, muscular bodies, and at least four of the six had the kind of silicone enhancements LAguy hates so much. After about 12 minutes, the two dancers on each of the four stages moved to the next, so all eight danced on the stage in front of me (including, unfortunately, the two male dancers whose bodies would have made me feel inadequate if I were into feeling inadequate beyond my lack of language skills).
Then, at midnight, they disappeared. After fourty-five minutes of frenetic movement, they deserved a rest. People started dancing in the aisles. The place was actually pretty empty for a Saturday night, the night it was supposed to be packed. But it was no more than a third full by the time I left at 2:15. The MC took the mike and skipped through the crowd, shouting “Arriba, arriba, riba riba riba” (as best as I could understand). He was also a good host, stopping to chat with patrons for just a moment. At some point, he started a line dance, which snaked around in front of the main stage.
Then I found out what the set of drums was doing in the middle of the floor across from the main stage—the non-cowboy looking guy who had also been wandering around with a mic (presumably) exhorting the patrons to dance started drumming. And he was as animated as the dancers.
All this time, an incessant bass beat reverberated throughout the place, kind of techo-latin music (I am so unfamiliar with different genres I wouldn’t begin to characterize it). All I know is that I loved it. It was happy music, I found my body moving to the beat. Even though I was there alone, I was really enjoying myself. The only break in my delight was when they put on a couple of old American songs. But they got back to the techno-rock quickly.
At one point, the dwarf came back on stage with a mask that covered his head and shoulders—the mask was actually as big as he was—of Mono Jojoy, the FARC rebel leader who had just been killed when I arrived, much to the delight of the Colombian people. (Jack said it meant as much to them as if Osama bin Laden had been killed would mean to Americans.) He danced around on stage with this huge head on his tiny body, it was hilarious. I wouldn’t have recognized the mask except that it had been all over TV the day I arrived--and the mask was a dead ringer for the guy.
Meanwhile, when would the dancers reappear? I was wondering. I was tired to begin with, and hadn’t intended to stay long. But after the first dance set, I determined to stay through the next. But it didn’t start and didn’t start…. Still, I was enjoying myself so much it didn’t matter. Finally, at about 1:15, they came out and started milling around near where I was sitting; they took the stage at 1:25 for another 45-minute set.
At one point, the dancer I had my eyes on the most (i.e., the one with the most prominent silicone tits) was dancing on the section of bar right in front of me, which was behind the main stage and not one of the other main ones. I got an eyeful of her over-full bra-like top, and felt like she was my private dancer (since I was the only one sitting at that bar).
It was such a delightful experience, I am looking forward to going there with a date next trip—and there WILL be a next trip. It will be fun to dance.
