My week in Punta del Este came to an end Wednesday, March 21st, and I planned to spend a couple of nights in the capital city of Montevideo, Uruguay. I was going to have a day or so to explore Montevideo on my own, before my friends arrived on Thursday. Among other things, I wanted to explore the "night life" before "D" and his fiancee showed up in town.

Being a norteamericano, I'm not used to a siesta in the afternoon or even the early evening. I took Wednesday afternoon to ramble on the Rambla in front of Punta Carretas, and visit a museum that had been the home of my friend's fiancee's great-great-grandfather ... then after a shave and shower, I grew impatient to see the palces I wanted to go in the "ciudad viejo." Being not-so-good in Spanish, as well as very inexperienced in The Game, it made sense to me to seek out the whiskerias.

If you haven't run into that term, a 'whiskeria' is described in Ley 17,515 as a bar with bedrooms on the premises. The website "Urusexy.net" has a list of a few whiskerias in the Centro, close to the Plaza de la Libertad, and some more that are further to the west of the Centro. One that had gotten good mention in Ururelax.com was "Malibu's," and I asked my cab driver to take me there ... he advised me that there were nicer whiskerias closer to Punta Carretas, but took me there anyways. Something of a mistake on my part.

Malibu's is in a run-down neighborhood, and the place itself is pretty seedy - a small bar with a stage for dancers on one end, a narrow hallway with a rack of lockers, a pool table in one corner and - at that early time - just a couple of girls. The one who greeted me called herself Macarena, yeah, after the song; she isn't very pretty in the face (maybe a 6.5), but nice and slender with small breasts, a cute 'culo' and very nice legs. Her price was UY$400 for 1/2 hour - tourist prices I'm sure, but I am a tourist, after all. After I paid, she took me up a narrow, steep flight of stairs to a totally unsuitable room - saw my reaction, and we went back downstairs to get the key for an apartment across the street. This apartment was pretty barren itself, but at least the bed was full-size and had sheets on it.

After some preliminary kissing and caressing, we sprawled onto the bed and Macarena got me ready. She unrolled a 'preservativo' on me with her mouth - a charming habit - and gave me some preliminary "flute" work while I toyed with her goodies; then she climbed aboard and started riding while I pulled her cute little "golosinas" to my lips. (Yeah, I WAS a bottle-baby, dammit! And I could just-about pull her whole breast into my mouth - I like 'em small like that.) We swapped around a bit, from her on top to me on top, and after a suitable length of time (and well-practiced caresses, kisses and moans from her), I fired off after about 20 minutes. She wiped me clean-ish with a big wad of toilet paper, then the two of us went naked back to the bathrooms and I rinsed myself off while she did for herself next door. Then it was back across the street - "and by the way, it's 100 pesos more for kissing and another 100 pesos extra for playing with my tetas." 600 pesos total - about $25 U.S. - I'd had my money's worth. She wrote down her 'celular' for me, and invited me to call after midnight; but I was interested in finding someone different for my next round.

Despite Macarena's warning to take a cab, I walked the couple of blocks up to Avenida 18 de Julio, then west toward the Plaza de Independencia. It was quite a long walk. I was looking for someplace to have supper, and there were a few good places - but I wasn't all that hungry. I was also looking for the couple of whiskerias down on Calle San Jose, just south of 18 de Julio. I walked past "Baires Disco" (San Jose between Andes and Convencion), then around the corner and south on Convencion to check out Pykaros. Both had bright and inviting entrances, but not much sign of life from outside. Well, maybe it was still a little early still by local standards. I strolled a bit further down San Jose and found a parrilada which served me a good Paella Valenciana. Then back to Calle Florida to find a place called "Hot Nights" - there was no evidence of any such establishment at the address I'd taken from Urusexy.net.

So I stepped into Baires. It was much more like a discotheque ... nicely appointed and comfortable, actually. But the only men in there were me, the bartender, and a couple of bouncers. As for the girls, none of them gave me any inspiration in the least - just about all of them were quite pudgy, by my standards. Certainly not like the professional girls of Buenos Aires itself!

Pykaros, around the corner, was more like it. Most of the girls weren't to my liking, but there were a couple that looked pretty tasty. I ordered a Scotch and settled back at the bar, looking them over, until one of the tasty ones ("Vanessa") came over and invited me to buy her a beer. At least there wasn't a huge "girl drink" premium; UY$200, about $8 US, same as my Johnny Walker Black. Vanessa was cute, but I soon found out that my limited Spanish wasn't up to getting me what I wanted - especially with the loud music overwhelming her talk. She would have liked to come back to my hotel, but I was expecting to get my action right there or at least nearby. And I realized that it was the midnight of an active day; I was more interested in sleeping - "Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care" - than I was in Vanessa. So, "Ciao, baby."

There was no running of "the little bull" on the next evening. My friends showed up in the afternoon, and we met at the hotel bar before heading to their favorite parrillada about 21:00 ... we had a leisurely, talkative, long dinner with several bottles of Malbec and a final "complimentary" bottle of champagne. By the time we'd finished, it was 01:30 - and none of us were up for more late-night entertainment. (Besides, D and his fiancee had their own private progam to get into!)

This trip was about MUCH more than mongering. I don't miss what I didn't get. Perhaps I'll spend more time in Montevideo next trip, and be able to report on the casas de masaje and the out-call services. Then again, one of my friends that I met Thursday night is planning a week or so in BsAs next February or March. He's used to the game in South America, far more than I am, and he has spent many a delightful hour with the girls of the Cafe Orleans. And certainly the sporting life is obviously better when you go with, or as, a wingman.

Respectfully submitted,
Rakusan

It is always very exciting and interesting to hear about the unknown or little reported locales.

Thank you very much for your report!

Hot Nights does exist. I've been there a couple of times, but that was back in 2003. They had some talent there.

Huevon said, "Hot Nights does exist. I've been there a couple of times, but that was back in 2003."

Things can change in four years ... maybe they didn't have a sign, but I didn't see a sign of anything at all open on that block and the surrounding blocks of Calle Florida.

I may have missed Hot Nights, but hey, I found enough to keep me entertained ....

It may well have closed, but I tend to doubt it. It seemed to be doing well when I visited--lot's of locals. I think I was the only yankee in there. You may not have ventured far enough south to reach it. Like you said, you had a lot of fun anyway. I think the best looking workinggirl in Montevideo was working there at the time.