Susan. There is a petrol station next to the ZIPPY, next to the petrol station is a small shop, in front of the shop is a small mobile hamburger stall, that’s where I got to know her – at about four in the morning. “What’s your name?” “Susan”. She is something special, she is not that young or pretty, but she is temperamental in another way. I was about 100% certain that she was some sort of a gypsy, full blooded, a real animal. I reckoned I would have one of the best screws for the past few years with her. I bought her a beer and we ate hamburger whilst sitting on camping chairs. A bit of snogging. She was wearing about 50 – 80 bangles on one of her arms.

I could just imagine her clobbering someone with that arm, I imagined the clattering of the bangles and immediately got a hard-on, am I perverse? There are also a lot of people there, seem to know each other. I ask her how much she wants, she said 40, I quickly agreed. After a while, her girlfriend asked her how much I was paying: Proudly she held up four fingers, which she was still nearly hiding under the chair. ID check as always in the apartment, a first sample on the stairs, no, she’s not shy. Fire is burning in her dark black eyes. She jumps on top of me in the room, then she tries on all the different clothes, she poses all the time, uses all situations well, she is having a lot of fun. She gives herself the large black one, we shag like mad. A couple of hours later she leaves with 40 Reais, I stay back with one more souvenir, one of her bangles, it’s a pity that I never met Susan again.

This evening we had decided to do something special. The Swede had hired a car, and proposed going to some event that took place once a week on some mountain. One was supposed to be able to pick a girl up quite “normally” without any problem. We didn’t need to be told twice. The place was quite a way above the town; one had a lovely view, and there are some more pics of the lads. Some of the time I wanted to do other things than just take photos, see below.

Anyway, we travelled through the town for about 20 – 30 minutes. I took the first photo whilst travelling though the town, a golf full of pissed up party guests. They were in a very good mood and during the journey wanted to shake hands and start a conversation. Well, it’s not Germany. The next pic is of a slightly plump streetwalker from somewhere on the journey. We stopped for a short time, and the Swede had a chat with her. Those who like that sort of thing will have no problem in Fortaleza. On arrival, it started pissing it down again, it rained so hard that one was automatically washed. So, more or less soaking wet, we made our way from the car park to the premises.

Tables, a dance floor, music of course – and, table telephones. Wow, I felt like I was at home back in the seventies. We sat down, and ordered a few bevies (reasonable prices as always). We sat there and checked out the situation (many lonely hens), the telephone rang. M, of course, was the fastest and grabbed the phone. “Call for you”, and gave me the phone. “Ahh….” I couldn’t get very far with this type of conversation. The friends helped out with the translation, with sometime myself, sometimes M, and sometimes the others taking the phone.

SHIT, why the hell can’t I speak a work of the language? We found out that the very nice hen a few tables further on wanted to get to know me, of all people, me? I was supposed to go over to her but was too shy. I used my lack of knowledge of the language as an excuse. In the end, she came over to us. Of course, I had been observing her from a distance, and now…. GOD, what a sweet thing!!! I was overwhelmed and fell in love on the spot. She had a bit of Asian in her, later she explained that she was supposed to have a bit of Indian in her, the people from the Amazon area (that’s why I most definitely want to go there?!?).

First of all I imagine myself to be in Asia. I’m not really that shy at all, and as I realise that she wants me, I start my attack. She sits on my lap, we snog. Such a young sweet thing (just my weight class), and she chooses such an old bastard like me, and that in a pub for a “normal pull”. They can’t really be whores…. Well, that’s Brazil!!! Everything is possible here…. Boy oh boy, I haven’t been chatted up myself for more than 20 years now! Will put that down in the records for my friends.

I even thought that I saw a bit of jealousy in the lads eyes. After a short time, I got down to business. I definitely wanted to take her with me, the butterflies in my stomach are increasing at the same rate as E-Coli bacteria, and it felt like that as well. I don’t really know why, but I make the suggestion (with the Swede as an interpreter), nip off to a motel for a couple of hours. She agrees! The butterflies in my stomach have now spread to the breast area. No, I only have one tiny problem. Good, this here is no brothel, no CAFÉ DO MAR and it’s not the Copa. Anyway, the people here are poor, and I’m completely new here. How should I behave after the screw?? I decided to ask our friend first.

“Should I give her anything?”

He didn’t seem to know and just asked her. The answer was yes, and she wanted 150! Disillusioned, I collapsed, my head became clear, no, 150 I’m not forking out 150 for a quick poke, he translates, 100 is the maximum I am prepared to pay. She arrogantly turns the offer down. I have never come back down to earth so fast in my life before. How did things carry on? They didn’t, I sent her packing. It was her who chose me, maybe because I was wearing a “proper” shirt. For her choice, she didn’t even have to notice that it was tailor made.

The lads in their T-shirts didn’t look like they had much cash, or not stupid enough. In the end, we realised that the whores running around there were the same ones as in the Bermuda Triangle at Iracema. The sweet one had soon got over things, I saw her trying it on with another bloke of my category: Serious age, well dressed, he was happy as well. M saw her later that night in CAFÉ DO MAR, alone. She was probably trying her luck again, whether she would have gone with for 80? She didn’t want my 100. We have talked about logic earlier on in the report. All in all an amusing and informative acquaintance, and for the rest of the holiday we had a new saying, from now on at breakfast we didn’t ask each other the question:

”How much did you give her” but:

“did you give her anything?”

Haaaaaa Haaa. How funny.

Hello lads, here are the girls! More beach, more sun, one should decide about the fun factor oneself. I met my “spewer” a few times. Once she went off for a short time, as she came back I new that something was wrong with her, her breath smelt of glue. I still find her wicked though. However, puking really does go a bit too far. BTW, she once offered M less to go along, instead of 50, only 30, yes, for 20, yes, for anything!!