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.

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I pulled this lady here at some time in ZIPPY. Before I had saved her from her punter free misery, she was dancing in front of the mirror as if she was in love with herself. Her dancing was probably the reason why I fell for her, she who dances well, fucks well, sheer prejudice, you can tell I am. I took her to the AFRICA, another disco down the Iracema Bermuda Triangle. There I met both the other lads who were having fun with their momentary spouses. Had a drink, a waffle, a beach holiday whores-disco evening with nice company. First of all she asked me if she could have a cocktail, as far as I’m concerned, ok. She ordered something that looked like whisky mixed with something else, she poured it equally into two glasses, said that one was for her girlfriend.

I’ll never know whether she had ordered two drinks, well, my fault. Even though it doesn’t happen very often, there is always one there who will take the piss. On paying the bill when leaving, I realised that it was quite out of proportion. The dringo had cost about 30 Reais. I decided that in future I would only render accounts according to performance. Back at the apartment, the performance was only so so, afterwards she wanted to go, but we had agreed on LT without prior price agreement (had deliberately avoided that). So, after a bit of persuasion she stayed for the night. In the morning she had to leave at nine to look after her baby.

I was tired as well, so we went to sleep until 08:55hrs. I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and hopped back into the pit. In the meantime, she had also woken up and was getting dressed. I mention that we hadn’t had the early morning screw yet, no, she couldn’t, she had said that she had to leave at nine. I didn’t known that Brazilian hens were so punctual. I said ok, opened the curtains, got dressed, put her money under her handbag. When she was ready she saw the 50 Reais and looked at me in astonishment, held the notes in front of me with a gesture, and asked why the hell so little. I explained that I wasn’t prepared to pay any more for a middle of the road short time shag.

A hard discussion followed, she had to leave urgently, there was nothing that she could do, I asked her if she expected me to pay more for her using my pillow for the night. I finished the discussion like this: The discussion for her was completely fruitless, and ended at exactly 09:27 hrs. As she left, I told her that instead of carrying on with such a hopeless discussion, she could have shoved El Grubis middle leg into her gob and gone home with a bit more cash, it would not have even taken that long anyway. Her final sentence was, “always problems with German boys!” nice praise. We just happen to be the best sex tourists. At least she said “Tschau” on leaving, and the next evening she danced for me again, I wasn’t interested. 

Serena. Met her in the massage parlour in the number 104. Was out early that day, asked whether they were still closed, no, they were open, I take it that these types of brothels are open 24 hours a day in Brazil. Three of the girls turned up one after another to introduce themselves to me. Serena’s way of laughing and her tits were quite nice, also her temperament and willingness, as I was soon to find out. I booked her for a couple of hours, cost 100, payable in advance.

The people there are nice and correct, Serena had turned 18 three months ago. On taking a guess, I would have said she was about 22 years old. M took a photo of us on our way to the apartment, the lads are sitting in our restaurant and having “breakfast”, Serena is in a very good mood, she is good for all sorts of things, and we have a very nice party. She can take her drink as well. First of all I let her give me a blowjob, what else! A bit of in and out followed by a shot in the gob. Subsequently she tried everything I had with me on, and we took a load of photos and did a few vids. I sat in the armchair in the corner with a beer and cigar; she took a look at what utensils I had with me.

She is so excited that she does a complete strip, she uses the strap on whilst on the stool, I take pics and film like mad. Finally, she gets me so horny that I chuck everything aside and got stuck into her like a sex maniac; just have to call it that. After the sweat-inducing action, we sat together and took a look at a few of the photos and vids, she thinks it’s great. Serena belongs to the type of women who can really finish one off. Suddenly she was in a hurry, we had been gone for three hours, I gave her a tenner. 

During the afternoon, down to the beach again. Both the boy scouts are trying to drink the place dry of beer. “Deborah soandso” the carthorse from the TROPICAL, is doing a bit of promotion with a few other whores and waitresses. Leaflets are being handed out. We were recognised, a bit of fun at a distance. During the evening down ZIPPY, T and I notice a pretty hot bride, she is playing billiards, is wearing an extremely short dress and T nearly passes out. Unfortunately she is there with her Italian stud.

Both the scouts are out and about with their “wives” again. They say goodbye in AFRICA. I was to follow later. First of all I wanted to try things out with the bride. Something, maybe her professional look was impressing me and told me things could be possible here. She was standing at the bar with her stud. I stood very close to her and ordered a beer. No, I didn’t really want to chat her up. We smile secretly at each other, her hand is on the bar, a few centimetres higher than the edge, I take hold of her from below so that the stud knows nothing of it.

We both act as if nothing is going on, the stud is a bit uncertain, the contact remains. She goes off to the washing rooms; I stand next to the exit with my beer and wait for her. I ask her in English whether she could come outside for a moment. We meet in the lobby. She explained that her boyfriend is with her and that she can’t get away. I told her how nice I found her and asked her if it would be possible that she tells her boyfriend that she must leave for an hour to see her sister or some bullshit like that. Where do I live? Near by, ok, just for a half an hour…

…then the holiday really gets going!

One should be fresh. Have slept well. If one goes down to a brothel or for a massage straight after the early morning shag, then things are a great deal harder during the evening. This is the order of events. Midday on the beach, then off to the restaurant for a gigantic steak. Oh God, we still have to talk about food, this report is going to turn out to be a book. With the steak a caipi and a beer. The mood is mainly good; one doesn’t want to miss anything. At this speed, one is knackered by eight in the evening.

Thank God there’s Fortaleza! One doesn’t have to go out before eleven in the evening – everything happens later in the night. So, first of all a few hours sending Zs. ZIPPY gets going at about ten in the evening, AFRICA at eleven, CAFÉ DO MAR at around midnight. All places shut at about four in the morning, but things are still happening out on the street. Set off too early at the beginning of the holiday, don’t you go making the same mistake – for what reason are you reading this report? That was a day, set off much too early, started much too early, drank much too much, and was finished much too early. Must have been about three in the morning as the small billiard bitch from ZIPPY grabbed me in CAFÉ DO MAR. She had given a wink of the eye; I sat down next to her. We stuck our tongues down the back of each other’s throats. She is a bit plump, but not to be despised.

Another blond! Hey, you’re in BRAZIL! Too late. Back in the apartment a great performance. Thank God that one is rested and relaxed when on holiday, one can always make an effort and the atmosphere is always good enough. The small blue wonder pill does its job; we celebrate until the early hours of the morning. I take stacks of pictures and do a bit of filming with the EXILIM. The girl is in a party spirit, one should take advantage of such situations. She left in the morning with 50.

The pictures were taken in the CAFE DO MAR, late in the night, most of the lads are completely bogging. Downstairs the rest of the whores are gathering and trying to get someone for the night. My little plump one doesn’t have that problem any more – Fortuna let me get caught up in the net, and of course, I’m a willing victim…. On taking a look at her in the light, I saw that her body was a little out of shape. Early or mid twenties, but the gut – well, doesn’t matter – one only lives once, and that’s only for a short time. God, one thing was certain, the girl was willing.

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!!!