That night I took Miss Bubble Lips out to an upscale restaurant in Copacabana and it was very entertaining watching the other customers watching us. This was like catching John Kerry in an illicit affair with Tyra Banks. Curious glances, hushed whispers between tables appear to be the norm wherever we go and the more it happens, the more I enjoy it just to see the reactions we get. Tonight was no exception. It was great watching the women catch their husbands glancing over at Miss Bubble Lip’s tits. It was gratifying to see someone else getting into trouble other than me. The two of us manage to really fuck up the snobbier restaurants in a matter of minutes and I’ll explain how later in another part of this epic. After dinner we went to Help to meet a friend of mine who was flying in from Miami. Around midnight he met us and, this being his first trip to Brazil, he was naturally quite taken by the scenery in Help. A mutual friend had arranged for him to meet several girls the next day and, since pictures of each had been sent to him, all he could do was talk about which girl he might choose.
Each girl was beautiful but there was one fly in the ointment and that was none of them spoke much English. My friend’s proficiency in Portuguese is exactly 12 minutes behind mine and this is where Miss Bubble Lips came in; she was going to be his interpreter whether she liked it or not. My friend is on the board, his previous handle was Fish41, but after this trip I made him change it to "Felix." No, it's not for Felix Leiter, it's more like Felix Unger. I met him last September during a hurricane in the Dominican Republic and we later made a trip together back there last December. He's a great guy who prefers to spend all this time with one woman and we hoped that he would find someone suitable the next day when he met the girls. I had my fingers crossed.
After leaving him around 2 a.m., we went back to our hotel and, yes, I got laid again. God, I just love Brazilian women, they're so sexual, sensual and eager to please and Miss Bubble Lips is no exception. I got a towel from the bathroom so that she could put in her mouth to stifle any screams during her orgasm because I didn’t want her chewing on the bedspread anymore. They’re nasty, real nasty. This time she wanted to expand my sexual horizon so she asked me to spank her which I was delighted to do. I guess I got a little carried away because after a few minutes I heard someone banging on the wall telling me to go to sleep. Since this was a Saturday night coupled with the fact that families often invade the hotel during weekends, I decided I'd better cool it at least till the morning. Sure enough, the next morning as I was leaving my room at 7 a.m. I saw two kids run out of the room next to mine and give me a funny look. God, I hope they didn't hear the screaming and spanking last night, but if they did I would certainly enjoy listening to hear their parents explanation of what was going on next-door. Ah, the joys of childhood innocence! Once again, I walked down to the beach to crush the sand castles, and then back to the room for another round with Lara Croft.
Eleven o'clock rolled around and I was able to finally get Miss Bubble Lips up and about, but as she climbed out of bed she complained about her under arms. "What's the matter honey?" And that's when she told me that it hurts to put her arms down by her side. Sure enough, her arm pits were slightly swollen and tender to the touch and I asked her she'd done anything different in the last couple of days in this area. No, nothing except use my Mitchum industrial strength deodorant, she told me. Are you fucking nuts, I remember thinking. That stuff is almost too strong for me and I don't shave under my arms. Obviously, the sweat glands under her arms got blocked by the deodorant and are all backed up and engorged, making them extremely sore and tender. Unfortunately, the only way to cure this is by not using any deodorant at all for several days till the ducts to the glands clear themselves. In other words, she's going to stink. This didn't seem to bother her at all, but I wasn't too keen on the thought of sleeping with Sasquatch for the next several days.
After she showered, we strolled down to Sandman's apartment because I wanted him to meet Miss Bubble Lips to see what he thought of her. Fortunately he had never met her before which means she doesn't programe too often and, I must say he was quite taken by her beauty, wit and charm. He then told me that I "chose the right girl," this trip. What he didn't know is that I wasn't the one making the choice -- she was. I had five fucking hours of freedom in Rio and now I'm handcuffed, hog tied and out for the count. Why do these things happen to me? No, I didn’t think any of you knew why either. Guess we’re all stumped, huh? I keep getting off track, where the fuck was I? Shit, I’m lost! Oh, yeah, we invited him to join us for lunch at Terraco so we could all meet Felix's new girlfriend. She was a delightful girl initially that is, not particularly bright so I nicknamed her Bimbo, but very nice and Felix seemed quite happy.
Her English was extremely limited and Felix asked Miss Bubble Lips to translate every word he said. Unfortunately, he speaks in paragraph form, reeling off sentence after sentence, then turns to Miss Bubble Lips and says, "Tell her exactly what I said.” Unbeknownst to Felix, Miss Bubble Lips is back on word six of the first sentence of an eight sentence paragraph and, consequently, her translations tend to be somewhat short. This confuses the shit out of Felix, and I enjoy seeing somebody else in the same state of mind that I’m usually in: confused. You know my language skills so I just stayed out of the fucking mess, which is probably the smartest move I made the whole vacation.
The waiter brings menus and as we're perusing them I notice Miss Bubble Lips looking around and I asked her what she wants. "Boobs," is her answer and I think, yeah, I love boobs too. I asked her to repeat it again and sure enough she says “boobs" again. Where the fuck is this conversation going, I began to think. Then Sandman pipes up and points next-door to the fast food restaurant which is named Bob's' -- now I understand. I give her a R$ 50.00 note and she goes next-door to get a burger. While she's gone Sandman asks me why I have a preference for girls with decidedly darker skin tones. He's met Fawn, Miss Bubble Lips and a few of the other girls and, come to think of it, there is a somewhat consistent theme there -- I somehow missed that obvious fact.
As I thought about it two large breasts came to mind and I knew I had the answer. I was born in the late 40s, lived down south and when I was approximately 3 months old my mother could no longer breast-feed me so they solved the problem the traditional Southern way. Get the kid a wet nurse. For those of you that don't know what a wet nurse is, well, it's a woman who is always lactating and she rents out her tits to little kids. What a great tradition, huh? My wet nurse happened to be black (milk is milk, fellas) and her name was Seabird Ritz. Sandman asked me if that was her real name. Of course it was! If I was going to make up a name I certainly wouldn't choose Seabird Ritz would I? Beyoncé, Alicia Keyes, Halle Berry or, perhaps, even Queen Latifa would certainly come to mind before Seabird. Sometimes I think he's trying to drive me crazy, but enough of his mind games, it’s time to get back to my story.
My mother actually had pictures of Seabird breast-feeding me showing Seabird reclining on a bed with me on top of her chest happily sucking away. Remember that Romulus and Remus statue in Rome, the one with two boys nursing under a wolf, well we were in the exact opposite positions; I was on top of Seabird. Now that I think about it, perhaps somebody at Kraft saw my mother's photos and that's how they came up with that famous marketing slogan: "Everything tastes better on a Ritz." I couldn't resist using that line! Believe it or not, the whole story is true except the Kraft part. Hey, Miss Bubble Lips, where’s my change from “Boobs?”
Gentlemen, I need to take a little break here and I thought this was a good time to tell you the story about how I taught my son who was eight at the time, all the curse words he would ever need in his lifetime. It started innocently enough with my four-year-old daughter saying, "Daddy, Austin said the S. word." I was driving with my son and oldest daughter in the backseat and you know how kids can get bickering and whatnot so I didn't pay much attention. A little while later she said, "Daddy, he said it again, The S. word." I was starting to get pissed off because I knew he'd been exposed to some bad words, Christ, I once caught him watching Scarface on HBO and now I was afraid he was incorporating them into his daily speech patterns. Every parent's nightmare, your kid goes somewhere and drops the F. or S. words.
I was determined to put a stop to this so when we got home I took my son for a little walk. You know how when you were a kid and your parents overreacted in a situation, well that was me on this day. I told him that if he was going to curse, he should know what all the words mean. "Do you know what shit means?" "No, I didn't think you did -- it means poop!" His eyes open widely! "You know what fuck means?" Of course he didn't so I went on to explain exactly what it meant in rather deep and graphic details. I had the same routine for every other curse word you can imagine. He stood there absolutely still, his eyes wide open, soaking up every word I was saying like a sponge. After about half an hour we walked slowly back to the house and I told him to never, ever use any of those words till he was 18 years old. He nodded his head and slowly shuffled into the house. Not 15 minutes later, my daughter comes running into the room and tells me that her brother has dropped the S. word again.
With all my negotiating skills I somehow couldn't manage to convince an eight-year-old not to curse. Was I losing my touch or was I just going crazy? My son came running in the room saying that he didn't say the S. word, my daughter said he did they were bickering back-and-forth and all of a sudden my daughter says "Daddy he said it again." He did? I didn't pick it up when they were fighting and that's when I decided to ask my daughter to repeat exactly what her brother said. Sheepishly she looked at me and said, “Daddy, I'm not supposed to use bad words like that." Well, at least I've gotten through to one of my kids I thought. "Go ahead Honey, you won't get in any trouble," I said in an effort to get her to open up. Finally in hushed tones she whispered something that I could barely hear so I asked her to say it louder. "Shut up, that’s what he said!" Oh shit!
Where did I leave off? Oh yeah, we're finishing lunch at Terraco and decided on the beach for a little fun in the sun, if you know what I mean. Once again I have a hair clip on my suit. As we approach both Jorge and Fernando come running up and another fight ensues. Jorge feels he should have my business today because he's a greedy fuck. Fernando believes a deal is a deal and today I'm his promised victim. Once again the verbal battle takes on a life of its own with hands flailing and feet stomping to emphasize salient points. Suddenly it turned as ugly and bitter as my fucking divorce despite the absence of any huge financial incentive to each party. They were more like our lawyers; they just loved to fight each other with the meter running.
I'm getting sick of this shit so finally I yell at both of them. Stunned silence on the beach. Everybody looks at me like I'm crazy; come to think of it, they might not be far off. I shouted, "Fernando, you have my business today and Jorge you have me tomorrow, and we will switch back and forth each day -- no more fucking arguments." I make them both shake hands which they reluctantly do then each gets a grin on his face. The promise of a guaranteed victim to each for the next 10 days brought crooked smiles to their little criminal faces. Jorge then informs me that I should call him Josey today. What the fuck is this, but I decide to let it slide, I’ll find out later. After all the commotion subsided, I thought about how I settled this dispute then realized I felt like a dimwitted Kofi Annan at the UN because rather than having all the money flowing to myself like Kofi arranges, I have it all flowing out to Jorge and Fernando. Bubble Lips, Felix and Miss Bimbo are sitting there taking all this in and then I see Travelsrr and Evil Twin laughing their heads off as they watch me fleece myself. What a bunch of sick bastards getting enjoyment out of watching me create another financial disaster.
Travelsrr decides to take me for a walk down the beach in an effort to calm me down and also to enjoy some of the beautiful thongs on the beach. As were walking, I see one of the sand castles up ahead and I'm ready to go and thoroughly crush it when Travelsrr says, "Do you know what they are?" Of course I do, they’re sand castles but I decide to humor him so I say, "No, what are they?" "They're little voodoo altars." Oh shit, I think as I'm trying to count up how many of these little suckers I have crushed during my last several trips to Copacabana. He then explains the symbolism of some of the items placed in each such as bottles, feathers, candles etc. and I'm just standing there totally numb at the prospect of having pissed off the entire voodoo nation of Brazil. Yup, I can’t count the number of “friends” I’ve made on this trip so far.
Now to add insult to injury Travelsrr reminds me that tomorrow is Namarada day and I better buy some chocolates and flowers for Miss Bubble Lips. As soon as he has finished telling me that I should buy something every fucking vendor on the beach comes over to me figuring that I'm a soft touch. They don't bother anybody else, only me. Travelsrr points this out to anyone who will listen. Then one starts to approach me and I go ballistic, I jumped out of my chair and run down to the ocean. Travelsrr sensing something's wrong follows me down to the ocean's edge and ask me, "What's the problem?" I tell him that I have a little difficulty with clowns and that the last vendor to approach me was dressed up in a clown outfit, carrying a guitar and singing songs. He wants a full explanation and once again I crack under the stress, blurting out a horrible tale of one of my childhood experiences.
When I was about five or six my parents took me to the circus, which in those days was in the big top, and since I was little my dad got seats in the first row so I'd be able to see everything. During one of the breaks on the action, the clowns came out in one of those funny little cars they have and grabbed a midget they had planted in the audience. Unfortunately, I was dressed in exactly the same outfit as the fucking midget and they grabbed me by mistake. Actually, it was quite fun for about the first 30 seconds then they threw me in the car and all the clowns climbed in with me. We rode around the ring in Flintstones style, and I distinctly remember a horrible smell in the car. Apparently clowns are not the cleanest of performers because either they stunk themselves or their outfits did, but I can only tell you that it smelled like an NFL locker room in that car. Within seconds, there was a loud explosion, the car collapsed and I was left standing in the center of the ring screaming in peeing in my pants, leaving a large puddle around my sneakers. You may think this story is funny but I can tell you it has scarred me for life. From that day on the stench of strong B O brings back memories of that horrid and frightful experience. Enough of my warped life, back to my trip report.
Where was I? Oh yeah, running away from the clown. Travelsrr is terribly sympathetic and runs up to the clown and explains that it's nothing personal; I'm just terrified of clowns. He gives a clown about R$20 and tells him to avoid contact with me at all costs. He gives me one of those vicious clown smiles, departs and it is obvious to me that he's waiting for another opportunity to torment me, preferably some time when I'm all alone. Travelsrr then starts a lengthy description of his favorite termas and suggests we visit one together. Miss Bubble Lips is on the other side of me and suddenly get very agitated. The bitch has ears like a bat and she was listening to every word he said. He noticed her change in demeanor and wondered why. Unfortunately he’s only heard her speaking Portuguese with Miss Bimbo so he didn’t know her English skills. As she was getting more and more pissed upon hearing about various termas, Travelsrr turned to me and asked, “How much does she understand?” “Every fucking word,” I said, happy that someone other than me was fucking up. “Oh,shit,” he says as he inches his chair further away from us.
As the five of us are sitting there sunning ourselves, Felix mentions Hooker Beach and this grabs my attention. “Where’s that?” I asked. “Here,” he quickly replied. “I know it’s in Rio, but where is it exactly, you dumb fuck,” I said, knowing that he’s read every freaking report and would know its precise location. “You’re sitting on it,” he said with a shit eating grin on his face. “No shit,” was all I could manage to say. He then launched into a tirade about how I should read every report just like he did. He’s right but after all that’s why I met him here, he’s got all that knowledge locked in his brain. Why duplicate the effort, I thought. Guess he’s right; I’m just a lazy fuck. Right before we’re getting ready leave the beach Sandman comes down to join us and whispers to me and Felix that he has arranged for flowers to be sent to both girls for the big day tomorrow -- Namarada day. He's such a fucking romantic, isn't he!
After I settle up with Fernando and get financially raped, Miss Bubble Lips and I go back to the room for some quality sex time. She's happy that we're back in a room because she was getting a little embarrassed about me sprouting wood all over the beach. I was getting kind of used to it. That fucking cialis is still my system and I can't wait for it to leave. As I rolled off her, she picked up the remote and turned on more God damn cartoons and I just fell asleep. When I woke up, I told her that I was going to the supermarket to get some soda, water and a few other things and she asked me to buy her some olives and soap. When I returned I handed her the olives and she smiled then I gave her the bar of soap and she frowned. "What's the matter Honey?" "What's this for?" "You told me to get you some soap, didn't you," I replied. "No I asked you for soap," she said. That's what I got you, Miss Muppet Mouth, I thought. She then proceeded to explain to me that what she wanted was soup not soap. This fucking Portuguese language is still tripping me up!
I told her not to worry just eat the olives, take a long invigorating shower using the scented Palmolive soap I just bought her and then I would take her out to a nice dinner with Felix and the Bimbo. She ate all the olives and fortunately that satisfied her enough. Later she took a shower and we met Felix in the Bimbo for dinner at Terraco which turned out to be almost uneventful. Felix got me aside and said that the Bimbo fucked his brains out, twice if I recall correctly and he went into great detail, far more than I needed to know. I remember thinking, well that's off to a good start. As we started to eat, Felix suddenly grabbed his chest and my first thought was that he's having a heart attack. Apparently he has a hiatal hernia and sometimes food lodges in his esophagus and, to clear it he has to go the bathroom and throw up. No, the bastard’s not bulimic!
Are you now getting a clearer understanding of why I made him change his name to Felix? Picture this, he has asthma, a hiatal hernia, talks in paragraphs and wants to know what we're going to do every fucking minute of every day. To better describe him, I'll give you a composite picture: he kind of looks a little like Barney Fife and acts exactly like Felix Unger -- that's him in a nutshell, no pun intended. During dinner he asked me when I was getting up tomorrow morning and when could we get together for breakfast? I agreed to meet him at 9 a.m. for breakfast and this was to become our daily routine for the rest of his trip.
Namarada Day
The next morning at 9 a.m. Felix calls my room letting me know he’s in the lobby ready for breakfast. I was done my early morning walk on the beach and, no, I did not crush any more sand castles; I was hungry and ready to eat. He told me that after they left Help he got laid again and he's very happy he selected her. It was wonderful seeing a man over fifty in love with someone twenty-one. You guys know that can only happen in Brazil, Hollywood or a trailer park, don’t you. Unfortunately, this love affair was not to last! After breakfast and more daily planning (him not me), I told him I was going to the beach and he decided to go back to his hotel for a little quality sex time with the Bimbo.
The day before Travelsrr told me that he goes down to the beach each morning for an early swim so I decided that I would go down and meet up with him and have a little guy time together. He's really a great guy and we had a lot of laughs together and, after all, he kept a fucking clown away from me, so he can't be all bad. I figure to spend about an hour with him on the beach, have a few laughs and then back to the room for a quickie with Miss Bubble Lips. Walking out of the hotel room I notice she somehow had attached that ubiquitous hair clip to my suit. Oh well, she must love me to do that, I remember thinking. I lost my fucking train of thought, where was I? Oh yeah, I now remember- back to the report.
What a perfect plan for the morning! As is often the case, something goes terribly wrong within an hour. Jorge approaches us on the sidewalk and informs me that today he is going by the name of Moloch and I asked him, "What happened to Josey?" He wouldn't tell me but I'm starting to wonder what the fuck is going on, this guy has more identities than Jason Bourne. When I ask for an explanation he mumbles something that sounds like he changes his name for insurance purposes. God, I hope he has AIG, it would be great to know that Jorge's getting screwed by some big American company. We all know that AIG fucks everybody, at least that’s what I’ve read in the newspapers. Fernando comes running up and the typical battle between the two of them starts over the gringo victim then escalates into almost a blood feud.
After about 15 minutes of this drama, I put my foot down again and tell them that if they don't act like gentlemen and shake hands I'll let someone else ripped me off. This was kind of like telling the Mafia to go "fuck themselves" because I'm going to hang with Gangstars from now on. Both smirked at the thought of me dealing with their criminal counterparts than the realization that they could lose the ability to fuck me over and fleece me for the next nine days hits them right between their beady little eyes. With the magnitude of their financial blunder looming on the horizon, they have second thoughts and finally shake hands. Ha ha, I outsmarted the little fuckers, bluffed them completely. I felt like I was ready for the World Series of Poker with that slick maneuver then it struck me that all I did was once again guarantee them the daily prospect of picking on my financial carcass for the rest of my vacation. Who outsmarted whom? Oh fuck, I always lose at mind games!
After that little bit of entertainment, I decide to read my book and wait for Travelsrr to emerge from his swim. Come to think of it I don't see anyone in the ocean. Why, I wonder? Oh well, he'll be along any minute I thought. I'm thirsty because it's about 10:30 a.m., 30°C and I've been yelling at Jorge and Fernando for the last 15 minutes. I gently raise one finger, which as you now know is my unique method of ordering drinks regardless of whether or not I am cognizant of that fact. Within seconds both Jorge and Fernando appear beside my chair each with a Coca-Lite in their hands. Oh fuck, another battle unless I come up with a quick solution. Come on brain, wake up and lend a little assistance here -- it tells me to take both sodas. What a great solution and real fast too. As they're walking away I hear them laughing -- fuck, I only wanted one soda but now have two. I would love to give both of them the "finger" but don't for fear that two more sodas will instantly appear. The bastard's have me checkmated!
I quickly chug down both sodas, sit back and relax; pretend to read my book but really I’m watching all the thongs stroll by. After about 45 minutes I have to take a wicked piss so I walk down to the ocean's edge for a little bit of private time in waist deep water. As I step into the surf, it hits me like a ton of bricks -- the fucking water is about 10°C. I'm only up to my ankles, but I can feel my dick shrinking inch by precious inch. Now what do I do? On my way back to my chair I see a Brazilian taking a leak on an orange garbage can right next to the blue Rio 0thon tent on the beach. Well, if he can do it so can I, right? I wait for him to leave then I stroll up, lift up my suit from the bottom and start to piss on the garbage can in exactly the same spot the Brazilian used. Within seconds someone is tapping me on the shoulder. I slowly turn my head hoping it's not Fernando or Jorge with another Coca Lite and suddenly I'm confronted by someone in a dark blue uniform with an extremely displeased look on his face. "Nao Senior," he says. "Nao finito," I reply, which for some reason he takes offense at and as his voice got louder, he once again says, "Nao Senior." I reply, "Desculpe, nao fucking finito senior." See how good my Portuguese is getting.
I'm only half finished and you all know how difficult it is to stop in midstream and now I am just trying to keep him at bay till I finish my piss. This bastard's persistent so in my very best Portuguese I try to tell him another Brazilian just pissed here and I don't take too kindly to the fact that he's picking on me because I'm a Gringo. Somehow he understands me and holds up three fingers. I'm not falling for that trick again so I put both hands in the waistband of my suit and he looks at me like I'm nuts. Ha, I outsmarted him, the dumb fuck. Then he says, "Brasiliare tres anos." Okay, so the Brazilian was only three years old but the little bastard was hung like a horse and I have only about a half-inch of stubble on my hand after stepping into the cold water. Once again he looks at me like I'm thoroughly crazy but by then I'm finished and want to I shake it off but the damn thing is a long enough to shake. I turn and give him the same novocain grin that Gecko used to give me (by the way, I haven't seen him around lately) and start back towards my chair. He just shrugs his shoulders, mutters something in Portuguese and walks away. God damn fucking cops! Namarada day is just starting off great for me.
It's about 11 a.m. and I figured I have gotten into enough trouble at the beach already so I decide to head back to the room to get laid. Before I leave I call Fernando over and tell him to keep a close eye on my two chairs and get two more for Felix and the Bimbo. He nods his head signifying his agreement and gives me the thumbs up. He always gives me two thumbs up regardless of what I say, so I just shrug my shoulders and walk away hoping for the best. When I get to the room I find Miss Bubble Lips up and walking around the room clearly distressed. "What's the matter Honey?" I ask, not really paying attention to the answer. "My Puss hurt!" I do know about you guys but when a girl tells me her pussy hurts she's got my undivided attention for as long as she needs it. Either that or I run for the door. This time I stayed put and quickly turn towards her and said,” How does it hurt?" "Just like under my arms," she says. I asked her to let me take a look at it and sure enough, wherever she shaved is swollen and red.
Apparently that Palmolive soap I bought for her last night only irritated her more. Put another way, this was like trying to extinguish a fire by throwing gasoline on it and hoping for the best. Unfortunately, this little problem will keep me from getting laid today and by the time we go to bed tonight, she’ll smell like one of those god damn fucking clowns in the car. Although the day was going badly for me, it was going much worse for Felix. Somehow he had pissed the Bimbo off and she wouldn't give him a blow job, hand job or anything else all day. I'll go into the details in a minute.
After convincing Miss Bubble Lips to take a shower using the hotel soap I was able to coax her down to the beach for a little bit and we walked arm in arm with that little hair clip once again on my suit.. As we are getting close to Avenue Atlantico, there standing in front of the Rio 0thon is Fernando anxiously pacing back and forth. Clearly something’s wrong but before she can get an answer out of him, he's to run completely across all six lanes of traffic and the fucking bike lane and is standing on the sidewalk by the ocean. I could swear I heard a faint “Beep Beep” as he darts through traffic, but it must be my imagination. Because of all the traffic, we catch up to him about five minutes later and he rapidly starts explaining to Miss Bubble Lips that something is terribly wrong.
Before he can complete his explanation I see what the problem is -- someone's in my chair. You'll never guess who it is, shit, you're smarter than I thought -- that's right, it's none other than Evil Twin. I expect to get fucked by the Brazilians but not by day fellow board member, and then Evil Twin puts my mind to rest as he points at Fernando walking up the beach with two chairs behind him. As I lay down on my chair I asked myself, why do my days always turn into disasters? First, I have a long fight with the chair guys, next a three-year-old almost gets me arrested, my girlfriends got a hurt pussy and now a fellow monger is lounging on my god damn chair. I take comfort in the fact that it can’t get any worse and then Felix and Bimbo show up and quickly change my mind.
I told you things move fast in Brazil and I can give you a number of concrete examples outlining this phenomenon. First, when I met Miss Bubble Lips 2 1/2 months ago she told me she was 28 years old, but when she checked in three days ago she was now 30 according to her ID. At the rate she's aging; she will be my age in a little over two years. Oh, what a horrid thought! You need more substantive examples, here they are. I saw four girls at Help the other night who were A cups in March and now have blossomed into C’s and D’s. Tits grow fast in Brazil! Like the above referenced physical examples, things on an emotional scale here develop rapidly and deteriorate at a faster pace. Girls will fall in love quickly, giving you all the sex you need initially and then over a period of several days this can diminish to about the same level as a 20-year marriage back in the states. That's fast, isn't it! It probably has something to do with crossing over the equator or something like that, but I'm sure somebody will post an explanation as to exactly why it happens. I’ll leave the science to others. I’m still trying to figure out that toilet stuff we’ve all been discussing in the threads after my last report.
Unfortunately for Felix, he experienced this phenomenon over the course of two days, which I think is a new record. He’s now at about a 35 year marriage. He tells me that the Bimbo woke up in a bad mood and that when he went back after breakfast she wouldn’t screw him. Actually she was, but I didn’t tell him that. “Why don’t you get rid of her,” I told him. “I’m not dumping her, I’ll show her,” he replied. “How,” I asked, figuring she held all the cards. “I’ll just keep her the whole time I’m here.” I think I was missing something in his warped logic because he would be paying her to stick around, but I figured I’d just let it pass and see what developed. He was also getting pissed at her because she was always on the phone he rented from Sandman. Get this, Felix doesn’t have a cell phone in the states, but down in Rio he’s got one and she’s burning up calling cards faster then the loggers go through the rain forest. Another thing that pissed him off was the fact that whenever we went to the beach a couple of her girlfriends always managed to somehow show up and mooch off of him. Newbies are so naive, aren’t they?
Later, after Fernando's done picking me clean, we decide to go to Meia Pataca for a burger and then back to the room for some adult entertainment. I remember thinking, where is everybody, the place is practically empty and sure enough there was hardly anybody in there at four o'clock in the afternoon. Where had everyone gone? Oh yeah, they were going on that boat ride. It's such a beautiful day; I bet they're having a great time. Right about now, I wish I was with them floating on the ocean, drinking pina coladas and fishing, but I wasn’t invited. Oh well, sometimes you don’t get lucky, I remember thinking as I devoured the hamburger. As I was eating I couldn't wait to get her back to the room so I can get laid only to find out that, "her puss still hurts." Now I'm getting pissed and suddenly I find myself in Felix's shoes -- I can't get laid but I am going to keep her around to punish her. The sick bastard’s rubbing off on me! When I press the issue of perhaps her taking care of me in other ways, she says, "All you want is sex." To which I replied, "Of course not!" I lied but she didn't have to know that. Then she asked me that if I didn't want sex, what did I want?
She totally stumped me with that question so I went in the bathroom, turned on my electric toothbrush and pretended that I didn't hear what she said. Then a few minutes later she came in the bathroom to demand an answer. "What was your question, Honey?" "Oh yes, that question you asked about what I want from you. Well the answer is this; I want a lot of sex from you, a lot of love and companionship. How's that for an answer," was my thoughtful and somewhat honest reply. She said she had significantly different feelings and outlined them as follows: "First, I want love, next companionship and babies and finally, some sex." Fuck, she was way out of step with me and I was paying for everything -- what's wrong with this fucking picture! Man, I hope her pussy feels better tomorrow because I want to bang the shit out of it whether she lets me or not. By the way things are currently going; I think we just celebrated our 10th anniversary. There’s a knock at the door, her flowers arrive, she’s delighted and I’m only more pissed. Why you might ask? Because the fucking things cost R$80 and I’m still not getting laid today. The hole just keeps getting deeper, doesn’t it?
