Barry and I were talking about a month ago, and he said that he was thinking of going to Cali in a couple of weeks. I said “Wow I could probably do that. If you decide to go, I'll go.” We talked another couple of times, and he decided to go, so I was going to Cali.
Barry had spent some time there before, so I was comfortable going along to a new place with him as a guide, since I don't speak Spanish very well. I had been to Medellin several months before (see my TR), and had determined to learn Spanish as a result of a wonderful experience there. So, I had been studying Pimsleur Spanish since then, and had completed all three segments, repeating each lesson a number of times.
Still, I did not think that my mastery of Spanish was particularly good. What I learned was, that when they say at the beginning of the lessons "Welcome to speak and read essential Spanish," they don’t say that you’ll be able to understand Spanish. What I found was, that although I could talk to people in Spanish to some extent, and they could more or less understand what I was saying, I could hardly understand what people were saying in Spanish. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
I was very excited, especially after re-reading Infanticide's report, and I was raring to go. Barry had made reservations at a place he had stayed previously (he had spent several months in Cali on several occasions) and we had arranged to sit together on the flight from Miami to Cali. Then, two days before we were to leave, he cancelled. His wife was returning from Brazil shortly, and he had too much to do to get ready for her return.
Undaunted, I decided to go it alone, since I am an adventurer. It was only for three days and four nights, so I figured I'd be able to handle that. I’m very glad I did. I was very, very satisfied with the experience I had.
It started off poorly. TSA confiscated the four tubes of Victoria’s Secret creams in my carry-on that I had bought as gifts for my potential lovers; I suspected that I could probably bribe casa girls for BBBJ with a $5 cream better than a 20,000 peso note ($10.70). I also had one special (expensive) cream for the girl Barry had arranged TLN for me for the first night. They told me that I could check my bag and keep the creams, and escorted me to the ticketing counter. By the time I got to the agent, it was 44 minutes until flight time, so I missed the 45 minute cut-off for checking baggage and they would not help me out. I was pissed at American; United made an exception for me once before at 35 minutes before flight time.
Otherwise, the flight from LAX to Miami was uneventful; I had had to get up at a pretty early hour to get to the airport in time, but the flight was smooth, and I found myself a "preferred traveler" on American Airlines, even though I was cashing in frequent flyer miles and had not flown on American recently.
The flight to Cali left Miami over an hour late. We were sitting on the plane just about to leave when the captain announced that a woman had lost her passport and they had to offload her luggage and her two children’s luggage. Bummer. But eventually we got underway, and I chatted a bit with a Miami resident sitting next to me who was originally from Cali. Then I dozed off.
When I got to Cali and zipped through immigration and customs, the driver was waiting for me with a sign. Barry had arranged everything. We drove from the airport through Palmyra to Cora Aparta-Suites, where Barry had arranged for us to stay. The driver didn’t speak any English, but we attempted communication off and on during the trip. He told me that a girl was waiting for me in the hotel.
Indeed, a beautiful chocolate Colombian girl awaited me. Monica didn’t speak any English, but that didn’t matter. I showered and shaved, and we started making out before I got as far as the bed. Her body was perfect. Her breasts that were a little larger than my hands could hold, she was a spinner otherwise. She pulled me onto the bed and went down on me until I pulled her into 69.
She had long labia lips, the kind I like to suck on and see how far down my throat I can pull them. I could hardly get enough of that, it had been a long time since I had savored such flesh. After a lot of making out and watching her give me BBBJ, we started trying different positions, with making out in between. After the second pop, we were exhausted. This was lovemaking the way I liked it, she was a total GFE.
But I wasn't able to sleep very well at all. I wasn’t used to sleeping with a warm, affectionate body cuddled up with me. After I turned away, I was tossing and turning, and my shoulders were hurting a lot (I will be getting shoulder replacement operations sometime before too long, as degenerative arthritis has removed the tissue between the ball and socket in both my shoulders; the condition is becoming increasingly painful, especially when I sleep). Finally, shortly before dawn, I fell asleep.
Monica woke me up early with her affections, and we made delicious love again. But then she went home, before I could spend much time with her (especially bed time). I hadn’t been able to talk with her much, she wouldn’t use (or wasn’t comfortable with) the translation program on the computer. I gave her 250,000 COP, which included 70,000 for taxi fare (she lived far away, although she probably took the bus). She made me erase the pictures I took of her.
I went back to sleep, and slept until well after noon. After refreshing myself, I discovered a lot of work in my emailbox, so it was a couple of hours before I set out for Dr. Amor. The hotel called a taxi for me, and I arrived at a nondescript place with a bunch of guys hanging out and a doorman who patted me down before letting me in—no problem with the camera.
The entry was a typical office reception area with a desk, and nobody there, opening onto an adjacent room with a half dozen couches and a lot of guys sitting around. Saturday afternoon was not a good time to visit casas, I decided. I sat down and waited. Scantily-clad girls were coming around to introduce themselves to some of the guys sitting around, and soon a woman dressed in street clothes came over to talk to me. I apologized that I only knew a little Spanish, and she gave me the rates, which I don’t quite remember. She asked what I wanted to drink, and a guy brought me a water, and then the scantily-clad girls started introducing themselves to me as they paraded through the rooms.
When they had finished, I decided on one named Valentina, and beckoned the woman over to tell her my choice. We went up to the cashier window, and I paid 86,000 COP, either 75,000 or 80,000 COP for an hour with the girl and the extra for an air-conditioned room, plus 1,000 for the water. Close-up, her face had some blemishes that the makeup couldn’t hide, but otherwise she was quite pretty—she had been an easy choice for me. She stood about 5’6” with enhanced C-cup breasts that fit her frame beautifully.
But she wouldn’t accept a bribe for BBBJ, it was CBJ only. And no kissing, of course. Or pictures. But her CBJ was quite good, and I let her go on for a while before pulling her on top of me for some delicious Y-dining while she continued to delight Little Hunterman with her oral abilities. Then she climbed on top, and rode me skillfully until I switched her into mish for a few more minutes before I finished. There wasn’t much of the hour left, and we sort of talked and cuddled until the end. I left happy, a B+ session overall.
Back at the hotel, I discovered more work in my inbox, and when I finished, I was ravenous. The guy at the desk recommended a restaurant on Ave Sexta, a few blocks away. That is a 4 or 5 block area of restaurants, bars, discos, and I don’t know what else, teeming with activity, mostly young Colombians.
I was pretty hungry, and I was focused on finding the place. So while I was walking along Ave Sexta, and a couple of cute young girls outside a bar said something to me, I walked on by with only a single backward glance three doors later; I was more hungry for food. He had said it was two blocks down, and I went two, three, four blocks without seeing what I thought the restaurant was called. I found out later that I had the name wrong, since I had trouble understanding Spanish pronunciation to transliterate to English, and more. So I turned around.
On the way back, the cuties were still there (as I was kind of hoping), and they started talking to me (sort of—they didn’t speak English). Turns out they were “door girls” for the bar, although they didn’t really try to get me into the bar, they just talked/flirted with me. Anny was fairly aggressive but very cute and innocent-looking, and I liked her looks and her personality. She said she was 22. After half an hour, I was hungrier than ever. I was becoming interested in seeing her, so I asked when she got off work. She said she worked all night, but I could pay 60,000 COP to release her from work.
I had heard that it was possible to pick up young Colombian girls and maybe get them into bed in a day or two, and I was thinking that at least she’d be good company for dinner and maybe more, so after a little more flirting I agreed to barfine her. Her cute friends were saying they were hungry too, so I thought I’d impress Anny and buy them some chicken from the place down the street (for 19,000 COP). It turned out that that place was the one the desk guy was recommending; the chicken smelled good, but Anny had other ideas (lots of them).
After we took the chicken back to her bargirl friends, we hopped in a cab and went to Chipichape shopping center, the central commercial institution in Cali. It’s a huge place, full of shops and restaurants. She took us to a place called Leños & Carbòn, which was a grill that she said was the best in town. It was indeed good. We ordered at the counter and got a marker with a number to put on a table we chose; a waiter brought the food to the table. I ordered a mixed grill, Anny got filet mignon.
When the waiter brought her steak, a large dish with two pieces of meat smothered in mushroom gravy, I asked where’s the trimmins? Upon which the waiter appeared with another plate—one for each of us—with a grilled plantain, rice and a baked potato (fries for her instead), salad—a LOT of food in all. We each finished half, and I had a taste of her filet—I wished I had ordered it. Afterwards, we went back to her bar for a bit, and had the Caleño equivalent of Red Bull. Anny spent quite a bit of time on the phone out of sight behind a car, which unsettled me a bit—I thought it was pretty rude. But she apologized, and made nice to me.
After we finished our drinks, we were ready to leave, and they gave me a bill for 36,000 COP for 3 Red Bulls. I protested that I had ordered only one for Anny and one for me; when her (very) large-busted friend came up to me earlier and asked me to buy her a drink, I told her “No, I already bought you chicken.” And my Spanish isn’t that bad that she could have misunderstood. So I refused to pay. Anyway, I only had 25,000 left, so I gave that to the bar and told Anny that we had to go to an ATM and I’d sort it out later.
We took a cab to a nearby ATM at Davivienda bank. I withdrew 520,000 COP, and the bank nicked me for 40,000—$21+ (Wells Fargo only got a $5 fee). The exchange rate was 1,871.6 (according to my Wells Fargo statement), approximately the official rate midday on the following Monday. The cab continued back to my hotel, and I took Anny up to my room so we could talk on the computer.
I had decided to see what was going to happen, and not push having sex, even be OK with not having sex but seeing if I could nurture some sort of relationship (hence the “tame” label). We started talking, using translate.google.com; fortunately, the hotel had a good internet Wi-Fi connection. After a while, she told me that she was quitting her job and needed to support herself while she took advantage of a scholarship to study accounting. So it developed that she wanted money from me, but not tonight….
We kept talking, and started working out a deal where she would come over in the morning the next day and “please me” all day for 500,000 COP. But nothing too far out (whatever that meant to her). We would also have an ongoing business relationship with me sending her Victoria Secret products that she would sell. She would try to get a visa to come to the US and be my girlfriend while visiting. But this all took an inordinately long time to work out. And then we started discussing the extra drink, and she eventually told me that she had ordered it and I should pay for it. And then she wanted money to show for herself for the evening, since she hadn’t worked.
I had been hoping to get through with her early enough to get to a casa, since there wasn’t going to be any sex with her that night, but all this discussion took so long that it was close to 2 AM when I finally took her back to her bar and paid the tab for that extra drink. To add injury to insult, I mistook a 2,000 note for a 20,000 note and overpaid for that extra drink; I guess they thought it was a tip. I do have to say that I enjoyed most of the evening with Anny (not the hassling part), talking back and forth with a very cute young girl, negotiating the fantasy of her becoming my mistress. The pictures don’t do her justice.
Photos: Anny 01 02 03 04 05 06
So I got in a cab and headed for Olimpus Billiar, only to find out that it closed at midnight. It was an expensive cab ride, too, about 65,000 COP both ways. I was pretty tired and it was pretty late by the time I got back to the hotel, so I just went to sleep.
In the morning, I considered what to do about Anny. I had really enjoyed interacting with her the night before, but there was a lot of hassling. I didn’t think it would turn out well for either of us if I went through with the deal we had worked out.
There are two kinds of fantasies. One is the kind you enjoy while the girl is telling you how handsome you are, that you’re such a good lover with that big dick of yours. Then you leave (or pay them to leave). The other is when believe her after that, you think she can be your girlfriend, and you try to make it happen. This is much more dangerous and troublesome, as many a Hombre has found out the hard way (including me). Neither type is reality.
I’ve been doing this a long time, and would hope I’ve learned to tell the difference—through hard experience, and that of friends (plus the combined wisdom of the CH board). So in the morning, the Anny fantasy was pretty much gone. I went to Juan Valdez, a coffee shop two doors down from my hotel, my new morning coffee place. I did a little reading there, and when I got back to the hotel Anny had called. I asked the guy at the desk to call her and tell her I had changed my mind.
I went back over to Juan Valdez, and thought about my upcoming date over another cup of coffee.
I had signed onto ColumbianCupid.com in anticipation of the trip, and had written to several women in Cali in hopes of meeting one or two of them. Barry had met quite a few civilian women in Colombia and Brazil that way, and got most of them into bed quickly. He had lots of numbers of girls he had met and ones he hadn’t met yet, so the technique interested me.
He had been sending me pictures for years of his conquests, ones who took the bus for hours from some small town to meet him and such. I decided to take a walk on the tame side and try to meet and date civilian women, even though I’m old and not so marketable, instead of just trying to screw as many as possible. That had factored into my decision to do what I did with Anny—have a “date” the first night without trying to bed her, a new experience.
I only wrote to women from 18 to 32, because any more than half my age was too old. The one response I got was from a woman with the unlikely name of Mabel, 31 years old and fairly attractive, but no English. We had agreed to meet Sunday afternoon about 1:00, and I had the man at my desk call her to confirm that.
When she arrived at Juan Valdez, we ordered drinks and sat down. She was good-looking, not beautiful, and had a very nice body. We tried to talk a bit but it was awkward with me using a dictionary and not understanding much of what she said, so I invited her to my room where we could use the computer to talk. I had been hoping to have a normal date and get to know a lovely Columbian woman, but it did not go very well. The first two pictures are off the web site, the third is what she looked like when she showed up.
After a little chatting, I asked her what she wanted to do. She said she wanted me to take her to the mall and buy her some things. I was a little surprised at that but figured, well, maybe the normal date here in Columbia with a much younger woman involves spending money on her and getting something in return, like with Anny. I asked her “and then?”
She only had enough time for me to buy her stuff, and not enough time for her to return to the room and show her gratitude. In that case, I wasn’t going to buy her things. I told her that if she didn’t know what I wanted from her, I wasn’t going to insult her by telling her (gentleman that I am). I don’t remember exactly how our conversation went, but she told me that she was a woman of principles. Very shortly after that, she left.
She sent me a very nasty email a little later: “Never in my life I had been so humiliated as now, I seek the truth sir older men waiting for different things, and I ask the favor that you delete my picture and I do not rewrite. In his country there are many prostitutes do not have to come to Colombia to look ...” is how google translated it. (Funny, she “sent interest” to me five days later, could it have been a mistake? Or maybe she decided she could use some money?)
So, I went out to get something to eat, came back and did a little bit of work, and pondered what to do next. Barry had given me some phone numbers, and I had the desk guy call Sandra. He said she was expensive, but that she would do everything—he hadn’t met her but she was hot. There was no answer, so I went down to the next one on the list, Yolanda.
Barry had a chat relationship with Yolanda and planned on meeting her. He said she seemed horny, and had asked her if her father would mind if she spent the night with him. When he bailed on the trip, he had told Yolanda about me, told her my real age, and asked her if she was okay with that. She had said yes. So, he thought that she would be a good prospect for me. I looked at the pictures he sent and agreed.
Photos: Yolanda 07 08 09
I had Raul at the desk call Yolanda; she answered, and agreed to come meet me in an hour. I went back to the room to do some more work, and about half an hour later the phone rang. It was Sandra calling back the number that had showed up on her phone, and Raul rang it through to my room. She told me that she could be there in half an hour. I was a little confused at first because, well, I don’t understand Spanish too well. I asked what number she was calling from to confirm that it was Sandra and not Yolanda, and told her that I would see her tomorrow.
Yolanda arrived pretty much on time, and came up to my room where we talked for about one minute on the computer—again, no English. She said she wanted to go dancing. I immediately decided, well, this could be another regular date, I love to dance, let’s see what happens. We got into a cab and headed for a club called “Salsa,” which was somewhere not close to the hotel.
We bought tickets into the club for 5,000 Pesos each, and sat down at a table. There was a two drink minimum, for 36,000 for both of us; she got beer and I got water. I think if you order a bottle of liquor the minimum doesn’t apply (of course, more $$).
Even though it was a Sunday night, the club was not at all empty at 7:00, and it kept filling up as the night progressed. There were a lot of stocky, scary-looking Columbian males and attractive young Columbian women. I only saw one other guy there anywhere close to my age.
But we danced and danced; I had a great time dancing with Yolanda despite my ignorance of specific salsa steps. The dance floor was crowded at times, a lot of happy people. I was watching the dynamics of one attractive, very sexy girl seated at a table next to the dance floor with her less-attractive girlfriend. She danced with a number of different guys of varying degrees of physical attractiveness, some of whom held her quite close. A couple of guys then sat with her, one even had his arm around her, but not for long. Don’t know if it would be a good pick-up place (if you’re young, handsome, and speak Spanish), I saw lots of couples but lots of pairs of girls too.
After a while,she asked if I was hungry. When I said yes, she said let’s go. We took a cab to a restaurant near my hotel, which turned out to be closed. She directed the cab to another one a few blocks away. It was completely empty, and appeared to be closing (after all it was getting late on Sunday night), but the chef was glad to see us. It was a seafood restaurant, and they brought out pictorial menus that showed delicious-looking dishes.
I ordered a mixed seafood dish that cost 55,000 COP, and she ordered a pork dish. When the food came I realized that the seafood was breaded and fried, which was not obvious from the picture in the dim light. Not my favorite style. The food was okay, not great, especially for the price. But the restaurant was very attractive, very romantic, very peaceful, and I enjoyed the meal thoroughly. Yolanda drew a pictorial representation of the city, where she lived, and where she worked as well as where she had to go the next day, to Buenaventura. Buenaventura was quite a distance away on the coast, but her job as a forestry engineer required to travel all over the province. She said she had to get up very early. So it looked like it was going to be a regular date after all.
We took a cab back to my hotel, where I got off, gave her money for her taxi ride home (she said she lived far away, and needed 100,000 COP). She also said she wanted to go out with me the next night, my last night in town. I told her I wasn’t sure, that I had a lot of work to do (I really wanted to hit the casas). When I went to kiss her goodnight she turned her head so I got a kiss on the cheek; that confirmed my suspicion that sex was not in the picture in the near future. I went upstairs to bed, and she continued on home in the cab.
The next morning, after I woke up and refreshed myself, I went over to Juan Valdez for some coffee and after a couple of cups, came back to the room to do some work.
After a bite of lunch, it was time to go to a casa. I took a cab to Dr. Amor, which only had a couple of guys sitting around inside. Better, on a weekday, some of these guys must actually work. But there were only four girls available, and none of them was interesting. I waited a little longer to see if anyone else would come out, and left.
Infanticide had reported on a casa around the corner, so I walked around the corner to find it. I had the name, but hadn’t written down the address, and there were no signs with that name on the block. I walked a little further, up an adjacent street, but no sign of “Distribuidora Commercial;” I thought that if they had such a good cover that they’d have a sign. Finally, I asked a couple of guys on the block, and one pointed at a stocky guy with a shaved head eating something a few doors down. I went up to him and said “La Officina?” and he led me into the adjacent doorway where I was met by another gentleman.
The “host” ushered me past several couches in a room at the entry, into a small room with one short couch. I sat down, and the parade started. The host was actually solicitous, concerned that I was getting the names of the girls as they presented themselves; he saw that I had taken out my piece of paper to write on, and offered me a pen. I took down several names of prospects—acceptable, but not ones I would jump at.
The last girl to come out looked good, and I asked my host her name as I didn’t catch it enough to write down correctly—Ankle? I thought. He said “Ain-gel” and I immediately got that it was probably the Angel that Infanticide had enjoyed; I had written her name down next to the address on my crib sheet. He confirmed that she had an angel tattoo, and so I pulled the trigger. Nothing like a recommendation to help me make up my mind.
Angel was as delightful in bed as I had expected. I asked permission to take pictures, which she denied, but she let me take a picture of her tattoo. Her body wasn’t the type I prefer, and nipples that were “innies” (I’m more of a nipple man than a breast or leg man). But that all didn’t matter when she started giving me BBBJ, after a very brief negotiation for 20K not to use the preservativo. She was really good, and I let her go on for about 10 minutes.
Then I got hungry, and turned her around on top of me, and when I parted those closed outer lips, they were hiding the kind of long labia that I love so much, the kind that when I suck on them, they tickle my tonsils (or at least, they would if I still had tonsils). She was very sensitive to my ministrations. I have a way of telling how effective my sucking is that works with most girls: I keep one finger on her asshole, gently enough (usually) that she doesn’t mind even if she’s not into anal play. The contractions tell the story; it’s a pretty good indicator, especially of orgasm. She came within five minutes, but I didn’t stop for a while, because I was enjoying it all so much, and so was she. I know I’m not the only Hombre who gets off on getting the girl off. But then I did stop so I could watch her do me.
I loved her technique, with a lot of licking up and down the shaft as well as around the head, and a lot of ball sucking. Wow, I almost didn’t want to stop, ever. But after about 20 minutes of this ecstasy, we put on the raincoat and she got on top. What a talented girl. She rocked back and forth very nicely, and I was in another heaven. I turned her over for some doggie, which felt all to good, so on her back for mish, which is how I like to come, and I told her to look me in the eyes as we continued. She did, and that was even more of a turn-on.
She started stroking my balls and I had to slow down a couple of times to prolong it. It felt too good to keep going with that sexy girl looking me in the eye, and I let myself explode. Dripping with sweat by this time, we both toweled off and rested for a few minutes. Then I had her suck on me some more until the fateful knock on the door. I asked her for some pictures with clothes on, and she assented. I gave her a 30K tip, an extra 10K for stellar performance.
Photos: Angel 10 11
I walked around the neighborhood a little, but it wasn’t particularly interesting, just a commercial/office area. So I hopped in a cab to go back to Leños & Carbòn in Chipichape (love that name), and got that filet mignon that had tasted so good. I ate half, and took the other half home.
I had the desk guy call Sandra earlier before I left, and tell her I wanted her to come over at about 6:00, and would call her at 5:30 to confirm. When I called her at 5:30, she said she could come over at 7:00, so I did a little more work on the computer, and waited. At about 6:30, she called and said that she would be over at 8:00 so I did some more work on the computer. At 7:30, she called and said that she was really too far away, and wouldn’t be able to come over at all. Bummer, and she wasted a lot of valuable time, since I had been ready to go again a lot earlier.
The desk guy called a cab, and I hopped in. Jorge, the driver, spoke no English, but understood what I wanted after a few moments. First we went to La Piscina. He suggested that he wait, to which I agreed. I thought I’d try Playboy Club next door first and see if the Stephanie that Infanticide liked was available.
The smell of marijuana wafted through the air as I walked into an empty room and sat down. Four girls were presented, and none was particularly attractive to my tastes. So I went next door, but La Piscina wasn’t much better. In an open room next to a pool (la piscina), only three girls were presented. Glad that Jorge had waited, I exited and we set out on a quest for a suitable beauty.
We tried a number of clubs, but none had much to speak of—just a few girls. If I had been a better reporter, I would have recorded some information about them, as Jorge said that Monday night was not a good night for variety, and I’m sure some of the m would have been worth a return visit. Kaliente had six girls, and one almost floated my boat. She was tall and thin, very thin, with a dark sexy look. But she looked disinterested as she introduced herself, and anyway, I was looking for some breast meat.
Still, after stopping at another couple of places with no luck, I was ready to go back. Jorge had other ideas, however. We stopped at a bar that had seven or eight girls inside; I immediately noticed a large-chested girl in the seat by the door. A little heavy, I thought, as I looked around. My eyes fixed on one cutie who started sticking out her enhanced chest at me as walked further into the bar. There was some nice stuff here!
The host started explaining to me—in halting English—what the deal was, but I’m not sure I heard him right as the subsequent negotiations didn’t go as expected. He showed me a room—they had two on site—that was basic, two beds with a fan and an adjacent bathroom. Most of the girls were passable, but I came back to the one who was trying to attract my attention—she succeeded.
Sitting down next to her, I asked her if she’d like to come to my room for an hour (50K exit fee) for 100K. She said 300, at which point I found out that the on-site fees typically negotiated directly with the girl was 130K for a half hour (I think), 150K for an hour. I had been stroking her back, and she had the smoothest skin I can remember, along with her nice full chest, but I passed.
Jorge pressed on, I asked him to return to Kaliente for the flaca, but he stopped at another place. I walked in and immediately saw what I had been looking for. Three girls were there at the bar near the entrance, and Cristal had exactly the body I lust after—spinner with big tits. She licked her lips suggestively at me and played sexy. Great, a slut too. I asked Jorge if he wanted to wait for an hour, and he did.
I paid the bar 83,000 and upstairs we went. Another basic room with a queen bed, a bathroom, and a fan that was either full speed and loud or off. Cristal took off her clothes, although not much was left to the imagination to begin with. She preened a little in the mirror, squeezing her tits as I undressed. I went to put my arms around her and exercised my usual try-to-kiss maneuver and wow! She opened her mouth and kissed me. Great, first time in a Cali casa (not that I’d been to many, this was my third).
After a few kisses (she wasn’t 100% into DFK), she lay down on her back and spread her legs, inviting me to examine her very attractive pussy. I did for a few moments, giving it a few suggestive licks, and told her I’d give here a tip if she didn’t use the preserativo. She said OK, and we went right into 69. Another jackpot, she had those long labia lips I love so much. She wasn’t as demonstrative as Angel, but sure let me know that she was enjoying it with moans (fake? Who know? Who cares?) I was busy swallowing those tentacles, and trying to get the contractions, while enjoying her skills. She was almost as good as Angel, but much sexier-looking for my personal perverted tastes.
She put on the armor and we went into mish, followed by cowboy, some doggie, and back to mish. God I loved to look at that body giving me pleasure, and a mirror was well-placed for it. I came, and collapsed into a sweaty heap. We turned on the fan, and she looked to see who had called while we were at it (thankfully, she hadn’t interrupted to answer her phone). It was her 7-year old son; she spoke with him briefly and turned her attentions back to me. We talked for a bit, and I felt I had connected with her. That means she was really good at what she did, good at creating the kind of fantasy I seek.
After a brief rest we started in again, and I knew we didn’t have much time, she got me hard and put on the rubber, but after only a minute there was the dreaded knock—10 minutes short of the hour by my watch. I tried for a few minutes to finish, but it wasn’t possible, even with such an arousing sexpot like Cristal. I got her number and email, but I was so high from her skills that I didn’t even get the name of the place.
Photos: Cristal - Calenas 1 12 13 14 15
I still wanted to take the advice to go to Billiar Olimpus, so that was my next destination. It was getting towards 11 PM, and they close at 12, but I wanted to see it—after all, my last night, why not stay up a little, I can sleep at home (or on the plane). Jorge drove us there—it wasn’t too far, and again waited for me.
I paid a 5K entry fee for the armband, and found myself in an L-shaped room with a single pool table and a bunch of naked ladies. One caught my eye for reasons I couldn’t put my finger on—she was tall with tiny but pointy breasts, not much nipple, not particularly slim or stocky, characteristically Hispanic-looking. But that long black hair, bright red lipstick, and a certain look distinguished her from the others, some of whom had the kind of bodies I prefer. A few were passable even, but nothing made me spring to attention.
She asked if I wanted a drink, and I ordered water. Amazingly, it cost 38,000 pesos. Then the one girl in the whole place who was wearing a single article of clothing—a bra—came over to me and sat down, and pretty much right away asked if I wanted sex. I said no, I just had some; she didn’t turn me on at all.
My server girl noticed that I kept looking at her and came over to chat, and I decided what the hell, I didn’t finish with Cristal and it was my last night. The sex cost the same as the drink (for a half hour), and we went upstairs to a bare room. A sign in the stairway said don’t even try to negotiate the preservativo away, and I didn’t.
Elleni (?) got right into it, a few minutes of CBJ—very few—and then mounted me. She switched to RCG after a few pleasant minutes, and did that very nicely, looking back at me in a way that I found very sexy while she slowly moved up and down with long strokes. My inexplicable attraction was being justified by her skills. We went into doggie for a few minutes, then into mish. She started kissing and sucking my nipples, and I came quickly. Too quickly, I didn’t use the whole half hour, but what she was doing felt so good I didn’t try to hold back.
Jorge took me back to the hotel, and I gave him 45,000 COP—much less than it should have cost, I think. He had stopped the meter before at 18,000 something—many stops previously.
I packed my suitcase, and tried to go to sleep but I couldn’t. I was too restless and was still too excited from the evening’s activities. I kept thinking of Crystal. Her last name must have been Meth because that kept me from sleeping (although maybe I had OD’d on Viagra too, taking that last little piece when I saw Elleni). I tossed and turned for a while, got up and did a little on the computer, came back and tried to sleep, tossed and turned, and nothing happened. The alarm was set for 3:30, so I could leave at 4:00. At about 3:00, I just gave up on trying to sleep, and finished off the filet.
The driver arrived at five minutes before 4:00, and I was almost ready. I put on my shoes took the suitcase down paid my bill and got into the cab. We drove through the dark to the airport; the American Airlines terminal hadn’t quite opened up yet, and I was among the first in line. When I checked in, they sent me to the customs window to get a release that I wasn’t exporting anything, then back to the ticket window to get my ticket officially stamped.
When the scanning line opened up a few minutes later to go through security, they confiscated a pair of manicure scissors that had been through at least five security checks previously. At another security check on the way to the gate, operatives opened up everyone’s suitcases and went through them thoroughly. At the boarding gate there was one more security check where airline agents did such a thorough check that they discovered my toilet kit had liquids and gels–oh horrors!–that were not in plastic bags, and wanted to confiscate them. I had one baggie with some dried fruit remaining, so I put half the gels in the bag while throwing a fit with the American agent. She said just walked off. So half my dangerous fluids were in a plastic bag and they didn’t bother me after that, and I certainly had no problem back in the United States with the other dangerous creams and toothpaste still unprotected by plastic in my kit.
The flight was again uneventful, and in my Miami airport getting off the plan the Columbian man that I had been talking to on the flight to Cali said hello and we chatted on his way out of the airport. I had a decent lunch at a Caribbean-style restaurant in the airport and started writing this until the plane left. I had hoped my old friend Rick would be able to meet me for a couple of hours between flights, but he had gotten on a friend’s boat for a one-day trip to the Bahamas and was still there, so I didn’t hear from him until after I got back to Los Angeles. Oh well, next time.
And there will be a next time – soon.
), they garner some respect for you, as customary in their culture. Like i said , I have never been rude , rough, crude or abusive in this "mauchismo" just firm and confident and in control and most chicas feed on it, this applies to all women everywhere to some degree.