During the evening, the three of us ate out down the Copa. In front of the MABS there are interviews at each table. A small cocoa mix sitting at the next table caught my eye; I find her sweet, exchanged glances. Unfortunately, she wasn’t just sitting there with another couple, but also with a very pushy “cameleer”. Later on, as we set of towards the BALCONY, she got up just before us, and as she realized in which direction we were going, she slowly carried on ahead of us. The couple and the nearly rioting Arab tramp remain seated – well take a look at that, she doesn’t belong to them…. I took control of the situation and grabbed the sweet little thing by the hand. She beamed at me, without saying a word I took her with me into the BALCONY. We hardly speak a word at all, and what we do happen to say is not understood by the other. What the hell is there to say anyway?…. An hour later we’re in the hotel. Her name is Elviera, reaches just about to my nipples, and later on somewhere completely different. I find here extremely sweet, and am as exited as a six year old. It was a nice night. In the picture gallery, you can see her transformation from “no photo”. Through “am I horny, please take one” to “I earned that”! (money in her handbag the next morning, 150 stones). Yes, the night was long, and we had a lot of fun.

Read more…

The next morning after breakfast, I thought about going up Sugarloaf Mountain thus making use of the nice weather. I decided not to in favour of a tour through the old town, and reserved the mountain trip for the next tour. Tick, trick, and Track have separated for the time being. Both the others went up there at some time or other, and also to the Corcovado, that’s the statue of Christ, they were very impressed. The view is supposed to be very nice. However, I say to myself, so little time and so many hens, one just has to get ones priorities right. So, into a taxi and down to the old town. I intended visiting the Brasi-brothel that we had found during the first few days with Carioca, after that the thermal.

With the help of a flyer, a taxistas, and his mobile, I managed to find the place. There was nothing going on there, I waited for five minutes, then an older lady came up the stairs – with lunch for herself and Mr “Barkeeper”. No, I hadn’t imagined it to be like this, and walked around for a while. Down at a small market I had a couple of flyers pushed into my hand. Supposed to be brothels nearby. One in the RUA Buenos Aires 113, open from nine in the morning until eight at night, entrance free. So, into the corner house down near the market, a very long extremely small passage reminded me of American drug films. Up a flight of stairs, three Negros are sitting on the steps having a chat.

I hope their topic was about some whores or whatever and not how to rip a lone chalky off. Then a room, a few Brazilian men had arrived before me, meaning that the hens had already positioned themselves. I didn’t like the atmosphere. Nobody spoke, nobody laughed, they only stared. As far as I could make out from the second row were I was standing, the quality of the hens ranged from “yuk” to “not too bad”. So I left the place again and decided to take a look and see what the other place was like. First of all I went into a bistro for a Caipi and a carbonated water to loosen myself up. Rua Buenos Aires 85, fifth floor. “Discrete ambiance and cold beer” – what more could one ask for. In front of the house (there were two entrances, one has to use the smaller one, either that or end up in a jewellers shop) I saw the ty pical Brasi customers leaving.

I used the ancient lift to travel up, it was like those in old Ami gangster films of the thirties, those with double lattice doors which had to be pulled open and closed, the rear wall is partially rusted through, enables one to take a look at ancient technology, which I reckon is not in the best of conditions, what the hell am I doing here? If there is somebody at the top with a knife or shooter, there is only one thing I can do, just be friendly. At the top along the tiny corridor, there is just one door to be found. I go in and find about ten whores either seated or standing around, quality ranging from, “no way” to “not bad at all”. My eye caught a black one; she must have been around about 30. OK, good, then I’m a granny fucker. Nevertheless, for me the main thing is how a hen is, what’s the performance like, she was good, very good. She was always laughing and I didn’t regret my choice at all. Just to tell the truth, she opened a few new doors, new areas of sex…. I don’t know anymore, just that she licked my tonsils, but from the other end.

The conditions: One minute costs one Real. My first minute brothel, an ice cold beer for a couple of smackers, so, of we go. The starting time is carefully entered in a book by the chick at the cash desk. Down the corridor, there are cabin doors on the left and right, altogether there are six or eight of them. In each cabin, there is a bed, a bin, and a sort of a shelf in the corner large enough for three cans of beer, two cigars, and a tenner packet of tissues. We go for a shower in the small toilet room. What I experienced there, simply great. My towel wrapped around my waste, my jeans with my cash and camera rolled up in my hand.

In the room with the bog there is a sink and a lose pipe poking out of the wall, the shower. I like it rough, well, I am the natural type. At first it was engaged, she knocked; her black girlfriend is in there having a shower. We went in as well, she uses the bog, we shower. A woman who had probably seen better times years ago came in an cleaned her teeth. A further white hen of about 20 years of age came in and immediately fell in love with me. “Grinnnngooooo!!!” was cried out every time I met her on visiting the place, or sometimes when I went to the bog. The atmosphere in the place is boisterous, not only down at the reception, but also here where the action is, and in the shower of course.

I love such things, the action turned out to be very successful. We have a few beers, which she had got from the fridge out front, nice and cold. I smoke a cigar and let them doctor me. Afterwards another amusing shower. Strange, I never met any other punters in the shower. Maybe the Brasis can’t afford to shower here, well; the time is running during the whole process. At the end of things, I had to fork out 69 smackers for an hour of fun and a couple of beers. I arrange a threesome with the hen and her girlfriend for the next day. So, the place is correct, no sign of ripping off or trying to get more than agreed upon afterwards. And they are all real sluts, I love sluts. Went back down in the “Elevator of death”. I was very proud of myself.

If one crosses the road in Rio, or in Fortaleza, or maybe anywhere in Brazil, they always attract ones attention, the bundas or sexy asses. The 10er. The super figures that could make it straight away as the title picture in any fashion magazine. On average, one falls in love every 50 to 100 metres, an unbelievable strike rate, and when after a few days, one comes to ones senses and compares things with Germany or anywhere in Europe; one becomes very aware of this.

God is a Brazilian. In this country, one probably meets a woman who really catches ones eye maybe every few days – but not just that, one even has a good chance of getting to know them, in any case if one lives or works here, or at least speaks a bit of the lingo. For amazed sex tourists like me who can’t speak a word of the lingo and just walk around with gob and eyes wide open, there are still the whores, and theses are just as good. I don’t need to lose a word about the accressability of the bitches in this country.

There is a sentence: If you wolf-whistle a woman in your country, you will probably end up with a slap round the face. In Brazil, you will get one if you don’t wolf-whistle… Of course, that is a little exaggerated, but in general, it is a little like that: The girls are proud if they please the men, and enjoy the effect they have on us. At home, they get all tarted up, and if one then happens looks at them, they pull their skirts down and look at one as if one is a sex offender, well, that’s what happens to me anyway.

Brazil and the women – part II

If one crosses the road in Rio, or in Foraleza, or, maybe in any part of Brazil, they are hard not to notice, the fat arses, floppy tits, flabby guts. Of course, there are the super women as described earlier on in the report, and enough of them as well. But after a time, when one has gathered ones senses, one starts to take a look at the others, and they are, as around the rest of the world, average or even ugly.

Brazil has it’s own fashion, girls trousers are tighter than tight, the minis shorter than short, it doesn’t matter whether the 40 year old black housewife’s backside seems to be like a barrel, or the legs look a couple of tree trunks. The gut must always be uncovered, even if it looks like three rubber rings placed on top of each other, the Brazilian women don’t give a monkeys. If ones got it, then ones got it, and if one has, then it is shown, no ifs and buts. I find that attitude ok!!!

The sunny side of Fortaleza

Fortaleza is not what one would call a small village – but a city of over a million inhabitants. However, the part of the town that we stayed in was quite straightforward. It’s the beach at Iracema, that’s where most things happen for people like myself; this is the area where sex tourists can find whores and would-be whores. Everything can be reached on foot from the apartment – everything from the beaches to nightlife; everything is a stones-throw away. Hereafter a few pictures taken on the beach – or the action that originated there. There is also a little something for “friends of hot sports”.

I met her during the very last afternoon down at the beach. All three of us had been travelling around in a taxi, and had taken a look at the beaches. There was nothing happening anywhere, and we ended up on the beach near our apartment. I noticed her straight away and immediately fell in love. We waved her over, I bought her a Caipi. She seemed to be a bit of a wreck, as if she was on drugs or was drunk, no, not drunk, the Caipi was too strong for her.

We discussed for a time, wondering what was wrong with her, and whether we should risk taking her with us. I really felt like a quickie, what else was I here for?? She seemed to have everything under control, a sort of “boss of the beach”, the other hens had respect. Of course, all my alarm bells went off; however, I still came to an agreement. M translated for me, I was still too shy, and apart from that, I couldn’t understand the language. Nevertheless, things went all right so we took a taxi to my apartment.

Once there she posed for a few pics, well, she was wearing a very nice dress, what do you think? I thought it was like a fishing net, with the difference that she wanted to catch tourists in it and not fish, this made her laugh. However, plenty of action followed, but I only wanted a blowjob, which of course she made a good job of. After the shot in the gob she went to the bathroom, I followed her with the camera; I saw her bent over the sink washing her mouth out. A brown liquid coloured the water.

First of all, I thought she had spilt my good old Fahrenheit…. But then I found out what was wrong. She had puked up in the sink, luckily only liquid. She didn’t seem to have eaten any solids that day. OK, shit happens, but that’s no problem. I gave her 50 smackers; of course she tried to get more. But even on the first day, I don’t pay any more for a quickie. A little less would have also been enough. She was satisfied and off she went…. A pity about her spewing up, I found her quite good looking and nice. Of course, I cannot tolerate such things, so it was just the one time with her.

The whole world knows that Brazilian women are jealous, full of temperament; give it fuck all in bed, blow like hell, and love anal. I don’t know whether this is prejudice, or whether I only know other women who are anomalous. However, it was my first holiday in Brazil, and I cannot claim that my experiences are representative. I cannot confirm all this anyway, in fact apart from one or the other thing; I must say I have been able to experience the same sort of things elsewhere.

Jealousy: Well, when I had paid the hen and she had no illusions of a continuous source of money, then there was no trace. Maybe if one lives or works here, or at least tells them that one does. Expats are always a chance of earning fast and easy money, and lots of it as well, this also being on a regular basis. It’s just the same on other continents. Or maybe when one is a young, dynamic, good-looking bloke with “donating trousers”. Doesn’t apply to me, unfortunately.

Full of temperament: Oh yes! They can waggle their backsides, not many can do so as the Brazilians can, the main temperament comes out during dancing. The pleasure of life and celebrating during the daytime. Some of them also in bed, but unfortunately not with all of them – The hit rate of “dead birds” as far as I am concerned is significantly more than in Thailand, good, some really do give it fuck all, but unfortunately I have experienced that in the morning, the girls can’t really be bothered at all.

In Thailand, some try to do the disappearing trick, but with a bit of talk, one is able to drive this bad habit out of them. Not so in Brazil, if the hens can’t be bothered, then the hens can’t be bothered. Nothing helps, no discussions about less payment. Sometimes I get the impression that they have no idea about life’s reality. For example: Some of the Forteleza hens want 150 for the night (none of us ever paid that much in F). Even if the rate of whores – punters is 5 : 1, they would still rather sleep alone instead of being satisfied with less money. There follows reports about girls that are all go during the night, but in the morning are good for nothing. It’s better to get rid of them straight away with a reduction of payment; well that’s what I think anyway. Or maybe if one is a good looking dynamic bloke with “donating trousers”?

Blow like hell: Some do, some don’t. To compare things with Thailand again, I have not noticed much difference at all; will go into this later in more detail with a few examples.

Anal: Yeah. The blond in RIO ANTIGO was good. Well, it’s not as if I really need that sort of thing, if things result in this, ok, if not, also ok. Never really demand it. On top of this, I am mainly “Bare footed”, so this sort of fun should be thoroughly though about beforehand. But now back to the “special night” with the old casket from CAFÉ DO MAR (dictionary), she liked it anal. After taking a shower and after she had given me a nice bit of head for a few minutes, she started to talk about this topic; as far as I could make out, she found it very arousing to push things into the arsehole. After asking a few times, she however confirmed, which at first I didn’t want to believe, that she meant my arsehole.

Well, to cut a long story short: I let her talk me into it, and gave her my bag of “utensils”. I was just able to talk her out of using the large strap on dildo. Instead she had the idea of using the small battery one, seemed a bit of a better idea to me. Ok, what shall I say; she gave me the works for just over half an hour. She gave me a cracker of a blowjob as I lay on my back and she got to work on me with the thing. It was quite a fierce shot. After the second shower, she got dressed and told me she had to go because she had a kid to look after, I said Ok, and pressed 50 Reais into her hand. She was astonished, and said that 100 would be more appropriate. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to pay any more for an ST in Fortaleza. She went of grumbling. Actually, she had all the qualities described: Temperament with the equipment, a good blowjob, and her qualities of playing around with the “back side”. I couldn’t say she was jealous though. But if one was a young, dynamic, good looking…