April 2000
I had pretty much written the Dominican Republic off my list of countries to visit, based on a number of reports last year describing the “fast-ass whores” of Boca Chica. But a few weeks ago I read a well-written report by Blakbart detailing his recent first trip to the DR that made me reconsider my decision. After a disappointing trip to Cancun, I was ripe for a good experience and bought a ticket to the DR the next day. Since this was to be a reconnaissance mission, I decided to spend two days in Santo Domingo, the capital, and two days in Boca Chica, the famed beach resort.
I flew American from Orlando to Santo Domingo through San Juan, Puerto Rico. It’s only about 2.5 hours flying time from Orlando, 4 hours with the layover. Since I had an hour or so to kill in San Juan, I walked through a few stores in the airport and fell in lust with two Latinas who worked there. I decided this was a good omen, since the normal airport employee in the US would have been rejected for the Jerry Springer show.
I landed in Santo Domingo (SD) about 9:45pm Thursday night, paid the $10 entrance fee and cleared immigration and customs in 5 minutes. The immigration inspector was a fox, told me she hoped I enjoyed her country. Hell, if she would come over for the night, I could leave happy and consider the trip a success. I considered this an omen too. Walked through the door to find Taxi Dave waiting for me, right on time. It was a short 25-minute drive to downtown Santo Domingo. I asked Dave all the virgin questions he’s heard a hundred time recently, but he was happy to provide the answers. It’s amazing, though, how much I already knew about the place from the reports I’ve read here and elsewhere…. what an advantage when visiting a new place.
I had arranged with Omega to use his apartment in Santo Domingo during my stay. He spends a couple weeks a month in the DR, and wasn’t going to be around. Taxi Dave had the key for me, and drove me right to the apartment. It’s in a great location, just a few block from El Conde, the main tourist street in SD, in a fairly quiet area with good ice-cold AC and cable with CNN. I dropped my stuff off, and Dave and I headed out for a brief orientation tour. I needed to get some pesos before doing too much, so Dave dropped me off at the Jaragua Renaissance Hotel and Casino, pointing out a couple spots for later that I had inquired about. Dave wrote down his cell phone number and the address for Omega’s apartment, told me with a grin to have a good time, and drove off.
The Jaragua was in full tilt. There were people everywhere, all of them very well dressed. I had gone straight from meeting a client to the airport this afternoon, so I was still appropriately dressed. Good thing, or I’d have felt really out of place here. Saw a couple beautiful girls sitting out front on the curb, and I took this as another omen. So far, so good….. I walked in and found the cashier’s booth, and traded some dollars for my first Dominican bills. Why is it that all the rest of the world has different colored bills, so that you can tell them apart readily, and we make all of ours look the same? Oh, I forgot, we’re the country that invented the bleached blonde.
I pocketed my new stack of multi-colored funny money (currently 16 pesos = $1 US) and looked around a bit. There was a band playing Caribbean music (later found out it was Bachata, which along with Merengue makes up the sound you hear all over the place) on a small stage near the back of the casino and lots of people were on the small dance floor in front of the stage dancing and laughing. As a matter of fact, as I walked around the place, EVERYONE seemed to be laughing and having a great time. Quite a contrast to the desperate faces I’m used to seeing in Vegas casinos. There were a few American faces around, but the crowd was decidedly Dominican. The gaming tables appeared inviting, but I had other games on my mind, so I ventured out into the night. One the way out, I passed the two cuties outside again, and cast an “hola” in their direction, which was returned with a couple great smiles. I think I’m going to like it here. I have always found the first few hours in a strange land to be invigorating – new sights, new faces, new smells, new words – all blend together to form that mystique I love so much about foreign travel. But nothing is better than a smile from a beautiful, exotic woman. OK, almost nothing, but the smile usually comes first.
Across the street from the back entrance to the Jaragua are two bars I had read about, Lapsus and Tabu. They are right next to each other, and you can’t miss them. Of course, if you do, don’t worry. Start walking in that general direction, and at least 4 helpful fellows will come up to you asking “You want girl? Very pretty, you come” as they herd you towards the doors. Not sure if they are aware of the double-meaning there, but it was going through my mind…
TABU
I walked into the Tabu at around 11:30pm and was immediately greeted by a very friendly albeit slightly large-boned girl who escorted me to a table. I don’t like being cornered like that, as it’s usually the house pig that has first shot at you, so I set my hat on the table next to the one she indicated with a better view of the small stage and asked where the bathroom was. By the time I came back, you guessed it….she was sitting at my table, guarding my hat for me. What a sweetheart. I sat down, and it took a minute or so for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the club, but once they adjusted, all I could think was that somehow, American had let me board the wrong aircraft. This couldn't possibly be the DR I had read about in those posts last year. Sure, there were a few with larger build than I prefer, but WOW – there must have been 8-10 I would have jumped on the spot right on the little stage. No 9’s, but definitely a bunch of 7’s and 8’s. With curves in all the right places. And all smiling.
I had read something in Blakbart’s report that stuck with me – that Dominicanas were like “Latinas wrapped in dark skin. Really nice dark skin.” I discovered in an instant, and would rediscover over and over again, that he was right on the money. These women are HOT! I found myself a little overwhelmed – so many to choose from, how could I possibly pick just one? Fortunately, one of these lovelies volunteered to help me make a decision. A true public relations professional, she sat down next to me and as I surveyed the staff administered a slow, highly targeted massage, which caused the effect I’m sure she intended. Noticing this, she proceeded to sit on my lap facing me with her legs wrapped around me. She was on my “short list” of possible takeout items for the night, so when she stuck her tongue in my ear and whispered “vamos” (let’s go) I decided to quit shopping and make a purchase. We agreed on 1000 pesos ($62) for the night, plus the house “salida” (leaving fee) of 350 pesos, for a total of $84. I had read a few recent posts, so I knew this was the going rate for Tabu. I’m sure one of the regulars could have saved a few poses of the price but like so many others before me, I have found that too much bargaining can affect performance, so as long as the price is in the ballpark, why risk a bad attitude over $5?? Besides, would you fuck an old, fat, wrinkled American bag with tits that hang to her knees for $62? If so, please call my ex……
At this club, you pay the entire fee on exit, which I knew about before going. There was a taxi waiting outside the club, and we negotiated a $5 rate to the apartment. It was a 10-minute ride made excruciatingly longer by the fact that my bride-du-jour was back to her massage. Once inside, she wasted no time shedding her clothes. I was surprised to see that she looked almost as good with the clothes off, expecting the wrong things to grow and the right things to shrink. About 5’4”, nicely proportioned, with medium-sized breasts that had yet to be destroyed by gravity and an ass that must I’ve seen before – in pictures from Rio. Without getting too graphic, I had a great first night and a repeat performance in the morning. Good but not spectacular BBBJ, and on with Mr. Condom for an hour or so of enthusiastic exercise. Sent her on her way about 8 am with another 100 pesos for cab fare.
Condoms
Non-paid advertisement – if you haven’t tried them, do yourself a favor and buy some Avanti condoms. They are made of polyurethane instead of latex, are much thinner and stronger than latex, and best of all, transmit the body heat that doesn’t get through latex. They also have some baggy spots built-in, allowing for motion. You still know you’re wearing one, but they are much better than anything else I have tried, and I’ve tried them all because I hate them so much.
Exploring Santo Domingo
OK – time for food. I took a quick shower before setting out to find some grub. If you ever stay at Omega’s place, look for the switch in the bathroom that fires up the hot water heater – you need to turn it on about 20 minutes before a shower. I didn’t find it until I was leaving. The girls in the DR don’t seem to mind, most don’t have hot water and are used to cold showers. Given the choice, they seemed to choose to use the cold water even when the hot was available. If she’s looking really good in the shower and you decide to join her, check the water temperature first!
I strolled out the front door into the sunlight. There were a few people in the street, obviously on their way to work. I walked the 3 blocks down to El Conde, the shopping area down near the historic old buildings that Bogey loves so much
The street is blocked off to vehicular traffic so the tourists don’t get hit by the cars. People in the DR drive about as the same way as Filipinos, Koreans and Mexicans do in their countries. I turned left on El Conde, away from the river, in the direction Taxi Dave had told me would lead to Paco’s. Paco’s is a small sidewalk café where all the ex-pats hang out. I wound up there a few times over the next couple days, and there were always a few of them sitting around frinking beer or coffee. Mostly beer. At 9 am. I found Paco’s at the very end of El Conde, and there was Taxi Dave and a bunch of the other retired guys. Since it was only 9am, I opted for the coffee option with Dave and sat and chatted with them about the DR and life outside the US while keeping an eye on foot traffic past the café. Quite a few real babes walking by on their way to work or shopping. My new friends got a kick out of the newbie watching all the girls go by. After about an hour, I decided to have a look around, so I bid the Paco’s crew farewell and headed down El Conde. There are tons of stores selling all sorts of stuff, and I wodnered in and out of quite a few looking at the goods. Quite a few babes working in the stores, also. I’d smile and say “hola”, they’d smile and say “hola”, and then proceed to follow me around the store, about 5 feet back, until I left. This experience repeated itself in every store. Now, I’m not good looking enough to think they were just dying to get a chance to speak to me and maybe give me a quick blowjob in the dressing room. And I don’t really fit the profile of a shoplifter in a third world country. So I assume this is just their idea of good customer service. Who knows, I might fall over backwards and need someone to catch me. I found it rather annoying, but quickly learned to ignore it. In one clothing store I accidently bumped a shelf, and a nicely folded shirtmoved about an inch. My shadow quickly moved it back into place. I decided to have some fun with her and took a shirt off the rack and replaced it about a foot from it’s original location. As soon as I moved to the next rack, she moved it back where it had been. So at the next rack, I slid a hanger a few inches with one finger and turned to look at her and smiled. She giggled, walked over and slid it back. I’ve invented a new game! Funny what little things can amuse you when you have the whole day free with nothing to do…. I spent a couple hours walking up and down El Conde, bought a few of the requisite trinkets, and looked at girls. They are everywhere, mostly young (18 to 22-ish) and very cute. A hello and a smile usually got me the same, and I have to agree with a couple other recent posts that a little patience and good Spanish skills combined with a nice smile would go a long way here with the “good girls”. I’ll have to hang around with Newt Gingrich some time for some pointers…..
It was now around lunch time, so I wandered over to a restaurant the ex-pat crowd had suggested. It’s called Bariloche, and it’s on El Conde right near the corner of Duarte. It’s cafeteria style, with a half dozen or so of the local entrees to choose from. The food was good and cheap. I tried a local chicken dish in a dark sauce and a fish stew, both of which were very good. With both entrees, a big plate of rice, salad and a Coke, it cost me around $8.00 US.
Since I was right at the corner of Duarte, the main commercial avenue in SD, I headed up the street towards town (coming from Paco’s, take a left, from Bariloche it’s right) to work off a little of lunch. The road goes up a decnet sized hill, and immediately widens and turns into a busy commercial area. The streets were packed with street vendors and locals, and I spent the entire time walking in a crowd. I stopped at a bunch of local stores including a huge department store. I could have brought my ex-wife on this trip, she could have shopped all day and never known why I was so tired at night…..
HOW TO SPEND THE ENTIRE DAY AT D’BLANCA
It was around 2:30 pm, and I decided it was time to check out one of the massage places. I was intrigued by one in particular, D’Blanca, as it hadn’t received a whole lot of writeups. I wandered back up to Paco’s, hoping to find Taxi Dave. He wasn’t there, but I met Ronnie (from Ronnie’s Bar in Boca Chica) and Bargain Basement Joe (BBJ, not to be confused with BBBJ), who were up from Boca Chica for the afgternoon. I sat down and had a beer with them and mentioned my plans for the afternoon. BBJ was enthusiatic about D’Blanca, and urged me to go. Well, hell, that did it. Just before I left, his wife stopped in. She’s an absolute doll with a smile that could melt steel. We chatted for a while, and I excused myself to go “get some rest”.
Since Dave wasn’t around, I grabbed a taxi, and handed him the business card from D’Blanca that BBJ had given me. About 20 minutes later (traffic was bad), and after stopping for directions at least 15 times, we arrived at D’Blanca. Now, this was not what I expected. It was in a quiet residential neighborhood, and simply said “D’Blanca Beauty Parlor” on the tiny sign. The cab driver assured me I had the right address, so I handed him 80 pesos and headed inside as the cab drove off, hoping I hadn’t been stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but get a haircut.
I walked in and… I’m not sure how to describe it. You open the security gate which hides the yard from the street, and walk up to a small porch with a few couches on it. Inside is a small bar and a couple more couches. And seated around the couches, with the two clients who were there, were about a dozen angels. All 7’s and 8’s, and a couple who approached the 9 rating I so rarely give out. I quickly scanned the group and realized there wasn’t one there who I wouldn’t do in a heartbeat. A couple of them greeted me and brought me over to one of the outside couches to sit down. I introduced myself to the two American clients, older guys who were regular visitors. They travel around together frequently, and gave me a tip about a place in Bangkok which I hadn’t seen mentioned anywhere – we’ll see how it pans out this fall. They weren’t familiar with any of the websites we all frequent, so I filled them in. Anyway, they said they have been everywhere in Santo Domingo, and thought this place was the best. They come every couple months, and always bring stuff to make a barbeque and feed all the girls. This place amazed me, because there was never any pressure to hurry up and do anything(I am getting to that, I promise) and I literally hung around until 11 that night, an hour after they closed. (it’s only open from 2-10pm) It’s owned by a Swiss ex-pat and his wife, a Dominicana. Everyone was fantastic. I was sitting around talking with these guys for about 45 minutes and the whole time one particularly fine girl kept staring at me with those “fuck me” eyes. I finally couldn’t take it anymore, and walked over to her and said “Vamos”. She smiled and led me to one of several rooms in the back, with the regulation massage table about 3 feet off the ground. A massage is 300 pesos, anything else is between you and the girl. BBJ told me they would take 400-500 for full service, won’t tell you what I gave her because he’d never talk to me again. She took off her clothes, and I thought my teeth were going to fall out. Perfect body, not an ounce of fat, just plenty of curves in all the right spots, and not a hair anywhere but her head. Oh my. Now, if you’ve read my Tijuana report, you’ll recall that shaved pussies and my tongue have a way of finding each other. It just happens. Well ,it just happened. She returned the favor, then my favorite two digit number just happened. Damn, I hate it when that happens. I walked out thoroughly satisfied after about 45 minutes, totally exhaused and ready to rest after my relaxing massage.
Silly idea in retrospect, I have to admit. I spent the rest of the afternoon “resting”, while several more of the girls came over to see if they could tempt me. One I had been admiring, a tiny little thing who looked like a fireball came over, introduced herself, put one hand on each side of my head, and stuck her tongue down my throat. Oh, maybe just one more….. after she about killed me, I came back out to the porch to find the BBQ had started. The other guys had invited me to stay, and I had worked up quite an appetite by ths time, so I agreed. A third guy had showed up, apparently another regular, a NYC police officer. The food was good, and I was starving. After eating and talking for a while, I noticed that two of the girls, both 18, were sitting together with one on the other’s lap. The girl on the bottom was busy rubbing the other one’s nipples through her shirt, and they had become rather uh…turgid. One of the original clients told me these two really liked to work together, and spent time together when there were no clients. I grinned and took her hand and put it inside the other girl’s shirt, and she started giving herthe full massage treatment. Oh my….I really started contemplating whether there was any chance that round three was in the cards without a shot of Vitamin V, when the cop took the two of them back to the massage room, probably for a discussion about world affairs. Just as well, I need to save something for the next trip, and Mr Happy probably would have put up a fit anyway.
Finally, about 9:30, just before closing time, one of the girls who had been fairly shy all day started making eye contact. She had been doing it all day, but I was either with someone else, or I would return her gaze and she’d look away. I actually had most of the girls in the place in my lap at once point or another, and they were just hanging out having a good time. Try that in the Philippines….. anyway, Miss Shy must have felt the end of the day coming with no monetary reward in sight, and decided to put on a blue light special. I really hadn’t intended to play any more, but her tactics were good – as were her minstration to Mr Happy after she convinced me to take her back. We emerged around 10:45 (they closed at 10), and I hung around for about 15 minutes waiting for the cab they called for me. What a day – went back to the apartment and crashed for the trip to Boca Chica in the morning.
To get to D’Blanca (the cabs can’t seem to find it) either get Taxi Dave or Chris from Trippers to take you, or call the cab company D’Blanca uses – Aero Taxi at 685-1212. D’Blanca is at Calle 3RA, No. 8, Villas De Alma Rosa (594-8047), just over the bridge toward Boca Chica off San Vicente.
ON TO BOCA CHICA
I packed my stuff, Dave picked me up right on time (this guy is punctual!) and we headed to Boca Chica.
It takes around 25-30 minutes to get to Boca Chica. I knew I was going to like this place before we even got there. The Caribbean was all around as soon as we got out of Santo Domingo. The water is amazing – aquamarine in some places, dark navy blue in others… why don’t we have beaches like this in Florida?
We roll into town, and Dave points out the spots I had been reading about – the various massage places, the hangouts along the beach, the restaurants. We pull up to the hotel of choice in Boca Chica, the Costalunga. I had Dave make my reservations for me. Check in was quick and speedy ($20 refundable deposit for the key to the safe in your room, everything else paid at checkout) and I was unpacked in no time. The Costalunga is brand new, so all the rooms are unspoiled, with good remote control A/C, American cable in the rooms, reliable hot water and a good restaurant downstairs that offers room service, and no problem with bring chicas back to your room. I’d stay there again in a heartbeat. They will change your dollars into pesos, but the rate wasn’t very good (about 15.10, as opposed to 16.0 in SD) so I’d use it only as a last resort. Still, it’s pretty convenient, and only a 6% difference.
I threw on some shorts and a t-shirt, and of course my PI-Runner hat, and headed towards the beach. I was pretty hungry by this time, so I decided to head to Portofino's. It’s run by a Boston native named Darrin, and I’d had it on my list of places to stop. It turns out it’s real close to Costalunga (Costalunga is only a few blocks off the beach, a 5-minute walk, and Portofino's is right near the intersection of the beach and the road from Costalunga). I went in and was greeted by a friendly younger guy from Boston behind the bar (not Darrin – his son maybe?) and ordered a Presidente. If you haven’t had it, it’s the native beer, very good, and as Blakbart pointed out in his report, served ice cold – always. I ordered some clam chowder and a burger and headed out towards the beach patio with my beer. They have quite a number of tables beachside, and it’s a great place to sit in the shade and eat while watching the parade go by. And it’s quite a parade. Tons of pasty white (American) tourists who obviously needed to be there far worse than I, touts trying to sell something who stop by every minute or so, other strange life-forms dragging their drunk asses up the beach – quite a freak show. I loved it. And then, while I’m trying to enjoy the clam chowder (excellent, much better than the burgers by the way) a 50-ish pasty white guy with a Boston accent at the next table asks me if I know where he can find 13 year old girls. Now, the clam chowder at Portofino's is served as hot as the beer is cold, and it does tend to cause problems when it comes back out through your nose. After I found the ability to speak again, I told him I had no idea. A few minutes later he wandered off to the men’s room, leaving his friend, a basic physical carbon copy of himself, at the table alone. I leaned over and made up a story about someone getting thrown in jail just a few weeks ago for the same thing, and that perhaps his buddy should keep his mouth shut before the same fate befell him. I suggested that at his age he wouldn’t know 13 from 18 anyway, and that his asshole friend should seek counseling or commit suicide, whichever was more convenient. What really got me was that there were families sitting at tables all around us, and someone could easily have overheard him. It’s sick freaks like that that give us whoremongers a bad name.
They left shortly after his friend returned. Hope it wasn’t something I said.
With my hunger sated, I decided to take a walk down the beach and see what Boca Chica was all about. I walked the length of the beach, brushing off the touts like a veteran. I’ve been studying Spanish some since my trips to Mexico last month, and a quick “No, gracias, no quiero nada” (no thanks, I don’t want anything) seems to disarm them, especially if you practice saying it really fast so you sound like a native. I was admiring the view along the beach, when who do I see at a beachside table but Taxi Dave! I had stumbled into (and almost missed) Ronnie's, the infamous hangout on the beach owned by the guy I had met in Santo Domingo the day before. Dave was talking to an American at the table, and introduced me to Parrothead, also from Florida. We had exchanged a couple messages prior to the trip, and I knew he was going to be there during the weekend. We talked for quite a while, really nice guy, and someone I would run into again many times during my trip.
After a while we decided to head up to Ronnie’s bar, and there she was, on the porch. Not sure exactly what it was - she wasn’t a beauty queen, but she was really petite, about 5’2”, probably all of 90 pounds soaking wet, with a Barbie doll waist and a great smile. Now, I had been pretty well taken care of the last couple days, and really wasn’t up for any action at the moment. I planned to spend the day hanging out at Ronnie’s, and hit the strip around 11pm. So I ignored her.
There were a bunch of other guys at Ronnie’s. During the day, and the next, I ran into DR Dude, AlanFL, Digger, BBJ again, and Chris from Trippers. If I forgot anybody, I’ll buy the first round of Presidentes when I see you again. Had a great time just listening to stories from those who have been around a while, and stowing away advice. Digger broker out a batch of pictures from Thailand, and reaffirmed my decision to get there before the year is over. Talk about some beauties….
Well, little miss thang was still there and we finally got talking. My shitty Spanish didn’t help a whole lot, but we did manage to find something to talk about. I got her to give me a back massage on Ronnie’s recliner, and after walking all over town, it felt great. Apparently DR Dude knows her pretty well, and he told me she was a “buena chica” although somewhat sensitive. Hell, I can do sensitive, I was married to their leader for 2-1/2 years. We hit it off pretty good, and I decided to go get some merengue and bachata CD’s for those cold Florida evenings. I figured she would be the best bet to pick them out, so off we went to the CD store. I sent her in by herself, thinking that would save some money on the “tourist prices”. I was impressed when she came back out and told me their prices were too high. We found another store, and although she told me their prices sucked also, I really didn’t want top spend the whole afternoon CD shopping, so told her to get them anyway. Cost about $12 each, won’t break the bank. Besides, I got a great deal on some cassettes in SD for $2.50 each, thanks to BBJ’s bargaining skills with a street vendor while we were sitting in Paco’s.
We wound up back at Ronnie’s, and it was getting close to dinner time. I had agreed to meet Parrothead for dinner at an Italian restaurant that was highly recommended, and needed to get back and get changed. I asked my little petite princess if she’d like to go to dinner with us, and she agreed to meet me in the Costalunga lobby in about an hour.
Well, it appears that not only does Mexico run on Filipino time, but the DR as well. Parrothead and I met exactly as planned at 6pm, but the “buena chica” was nowhere to be found. At 6:20, I decided that she wasn’t coming, so off we went to DaNancy.
Really good food
DaNancy serves great gourmet Italian food. It’s located down by the end of Duarte, the main drag along the beach (go down to the beach from Costalunga, turn left and keep going). It’s run by a Dominicana who was married to an Italian restaurateur for years in Italy. When they split, she moved back to the DR and opened DaNancy. It’s not cheap, but it’s not really expensive, either. The Italian food is excellent, although reading their English menu can be a challenge if English is your first language (I really liked the entry for “rabbi with sauce drunk vodka”. Never did figure out what that meant.). They also have a good selection of free antipasti, if you get there early enough. We did; as a matter of fact, we were the first ones in the restaurant. Guess no one eats early down there. I had a linguini with lobster sauce that was outstanding. Parrothead seemed to enjoy the minestrone and lasagna, although the “cup” of minestrone was enough to feed an army of starving children. Full and with no room for dessert, we paid the bill and left a little heavier than when we arrived.
The Fiesta
There was a fiesta of some kind going on in Boca Chica for the weekend, and Parrothead said he had a good time down there the night before, so off we went to the park. We decided to take a stroll down the main drag first, and even at the relatively early time of 8pm, it appeared that the beautiful ones were starting to get out and about. DR Dude told me, incidentally, that the wiggle bar is closed while they break ground on a new disco to take it’s place. We made it over to t he park and there were people everywhere, and a band playing on a hastily constructed stage. We glanced over the crowd for a while, and saw a multitude of gorgeous women. Guess these little models must have killed all the “fat ass whores” for giving their town a bad name. We were there for around 10 minutes when I feel a tap on the shoulder. I turn around, and it’s Little Miss Black Barbie, decked out in a long dress with a Zanzibar ID on her chest. I struggled with the thought of fulfilling my mission and staying on the streets of Boca until 2am to watch the crowd, pick up a babe, and head back to my room for a short fling before dying of exhaustion. It would be the right thing to do. But the idea of being in bed for playtime before the clock struck 10 just grabbed me by the balls, and off we went. Playtime was amazing – this little spinner was exactly what I needed. After flirting all day, the built-up tension turned to serious heat that burned late into the night. I’d love to get graphic here, since it’s such a perfect writing opportunity, but the truth is this one’s a keeper and I’ll probably see her again on a future trip. The “I read about you on the internet” shit would surely rear it’s ugly head again and bite me in the ass, so…..I’ll leave it alone.
How the Hell Do You Get Up on Those Things?? Or, You Shouldn’t Be Doing That In The Water Anyway
It was a long night. We woke up around 11:00. Sometime around 12:00 we got up, she went home, I went to Ronnie’s. Some time after that, my ebony angel showed up at Ronnie’s in a bathing suit. Rut ro. Seems that somewhere in the throes of passion I had told her I’d take her to the beach. So I threw her over the railing at Ronnie’s : ) Actually, DR Dude was there and wanted to go waterskiing. His friend has a boat, and was out with some tourists, but would be back shortly. Not wanting my over-exercised chica to lose any weight, we went next door to the beach snack bar and ordered some fried chicken. I swear, I could have run out to the beach, found a chicken, killed the son of a bitch and cooked him with a cigarette lighter in less time than it took these guys. The food finally shows up about the time the boat does, so we get it wrapped to go, and board the boat. DR Dude is quite the accomplished skiier, and can do more with one ski than anyone I know can do with two. Now, you have to picture the beach. Along the water, all the families are playing in the surf. A little further out, the adults are swimmin in the deeper eater. And out past that, quite a ways from shore (there’s a very gradual drop off) are all these couples in shoulder high water, kissing and embracing. We, that’s what I thought. Silly me. DR Due let me know later that they all go out there to fuck in the water. Now, to each his own, but I’ve tried that before, and the lubrication has a tendance to get washed away…. Anyway, DR Dude’s favorite game is “splash the fuckers”. The idea is to head towards them on the skis and then at the last minute cut as hard as possible away from them, sending a veritable wall of water over them. Great fun.
After a couple hours in the water, it was time to dry off and get ashore. Didn’t last at Ronnies long, though, and I’m sorry to report that I can’t report on the downtown scene again tonight – after spending the day together, we decided to spend my last night in the DR together. All I can say is it was a good decision, the evening was even better than last night. The chemistry was just right.
Who wants to leave?
Bid my weekend bride farewell in the morning, and set off for the airport with Parrothead, who was on the same flight to Miami, and Taxi Dave. Getting out was as quick as getting in, paid another $10 to leave, and off we went. I will say that when we got to Miami, Parrothead came and tracked me down at my gate to let me know there were seats on an earlier flight to Orlando, and took me over to the gate. Great guy, and a perfect example of what I love about this group of ours. We have decided to hit Rio for Carnival next year. Anyone wants to join the world’s biggest party, let us know! Can’t wait to write that report…..
Final Thoughts
Well, hell. Another preconceived notion shot all to hell. I expected it to be an also-ran. I expected to spend most of the night searching for the ugly woman who was the least of the bad alternatives. I expected to come home glad that I had done it, so I could press on to something else. Guess what? I love the DR. As a matter of fact, I plan to go down once a month or so, and have already bought tickets for the next two trips. Talked to a bunch of guys who go down on a regular basis, including DR Dude who spends about 1 out of every 3 weeks there ( I need a job like that!). It’s a cheap flight, close to home, and a great place for a long weekend.
I still love Asia, and doubt I’ll ever find a place I like better. But there is a terrific playground in our backyard, full of hot women, warm sun, perfect beaches and lots of smiling faces. It’s called the Dominican Republic, and I think I’ll call it my home away from home for a while.
(Note: I made about 8 more trips to the DR over the next several months, then dumped it in favor of Thailand, where I have spent 22 of the last 52 weeks. See those reports under the Thailand section)
PakWaan
pakwaan1@hotmail.com