www.CostaRicaTicas.com

18 yr old Macallan Single Malt, wishing I were still in CR.

As I have every morning I’ve spent in Rio to date, woke up on Sunday with a soft warm garota next to me. Wouldn’t have it any other way. “P” had definitely chilled a bit from the previous night – no longer was she the wanton vixen she had been in Help. Made a go at a session, but the three in succession the previous day in Centaurus had definitely taken their toll on my libido, and it ended up being a mostly oral affair.

Shortly afterwards she was off, leaving her phone number behind with me. RM and I convened in the living room for our normal daily strategy session. Termas options are limited on Sunday, so we decided we would just hit the best of what was available – these being L’uomo and Solarium.

RM then took off to the beach while I made a trip over to Don’s office to pick up a long overdue change of sheets for the bed and some fresh towels. He also came back with me to fire up the oven so I could cook a frozen pizza I’d had sitting in the frig a few days. While there, I had him try to call both Keity’s and Carla’s numbers from Centaurus, thinking I might want to set up a session for later (Don’s Portuguese is way better than mine), but it was no answer at both. I then chilled out at the apartment a few more hours waiting for my digital camera battery to recharge, then finally it was off to the beach.

Yet another picture perfect sunny, hot day. One cool thing about Sundays is they close the whole eastside of Avenida Atlantica (closest to the beach) to vehicle traffic – so I thought I’d try blading on the now open asphalt. But it was tough going – the sun is so strong that it actually softens it up to the point where at times it feels like going through mud.

Once again, an absolutely enormous throng out on the beach, and you could feel a certain festiveness in the air with the big New Year’s Eve celebration only a day away now. RM as usual had been out there a few hours already, and he was anxious to be on his way to L’uomo. As much as I wanted to hit L’uomo as well, I really needed to chill a while and get another massage.

Afterwards, I considered my options. Getting to L’uomo would involve a long cab ride into the middle of Copacabana in heavy traffic. Whereas Solarium was just on the other side of Lagoa Rodrigo de Frietas – just a quick six-block walk in from Ipanema beach - where I could then blade around the lake on the jogging trail and hop off for the two blocks over to Solarium. So as much as I hated to miss out on L’uomo this trip, Solarium it would be.

Unlike Thanksgiving, where I’d enjoyed a relatively clear jogging path for a great blading jaunt around the entire lake, it was now packed with both locals and tourists – mostly out there to view the famous 85’ Christmas tree. At times I had to slow to a virtual walk and poke my way through the assembled throngs. And despite having picked out some landmarks prior on my map, I overshot Solarium by quite a bit – deciding then to just ditch the blades and go out to hail a cab to backtrack my way over there.

Going into Solarium is always special because they have absolutely the best front desk person of any of these places. Her name escapes me at the moment (RM probably remembers) but she is truly a kick in the ass. They also have a “frequent phucker” program in place where they track each entry with a fingerprint device, which I think gets you either free cover or a free room upgrade after a certain number of visits.

Unfortunately, Solarium had nowhere near the talent level I’d seen in there on previous visits – in fact most of the girls there were completely unfamiliar to me. Guess the primo talent was taking some time off to prep for the holiday. But as always in the termas, that doesn’t mean there weren’t viable options. I was quickly approached by an attractive big-bunda’d girl of the type I’d already hooked up with many times on the trip. She sat down with me, but I was looking for something different this time, and she soon moved on.

Then Samantha came over – ah, that’s more like it. Great smile, great bod, pretty face that reminded me of an actress I can’t think of at the moment, fun and cool. Best of all, finally a termas girl who spoke good English (trying to communicate in Portuguese gets wearing after a while). Meanwhile RM cruised in fresh off another triumphant visit to L’uomo, and hung out with us. Fairly quickly pulled the trigger on what turned out to be a very nice session, though I’m hard pressed to remember any details at this point.

Then back out to the boite where I pulled another girl in fairly short order, attracted mostly by what appeared to be a substantial natural rack. But when we got to the room – ARRGHHH – freshly minted bolt-ons – for me the ultimate turn-off. But I soldiered on and made the best of it, though it was hardly the blowout monster termas session I wanted to close the trip with.

As usual, RM had already made his exit, so I hightailed it out of there to get back to Copa to freshen up for what would be our last TA/Help night of the trip, happy to be free and unencumbered. Of course, that didn’t last long. As I rounded the corner on to Avenida Atlantica towards Help, I suddenly heard someone call my name. I stopped for a moment to look around, and then I saw it was “N” – yet another girl I’d hooked up with in Help on my first trip.

“N” was a slender, outwardly shy country girl originally from Minas Gerais, with a curvy little spinner body and perky breasts. She had stuck around after our night together to go on a tour with me around the city and then up to Corcovado, then surprised me on the last day of the trip by coming over to Ipanema Towers and insisting on a freebie before I left. After I’d got home, she’d e-mailed several times, telling me on one occasion how she’d like to try anal with me next time I came down (one of the few I’ve met there that I could believe was still an anal virgin).

I walked over to say hi, and she asked why I hadn’t called her. She wasn’t coming to Help now, but apparently had been clued in by a friend who’d seen me in there. Wow, I thought - you really have to marvel at the efficiency of “garota net”. Not only did this girl know I was in town, but she knew exactly where to hang out to head me off at the pass on my way over to Help…

And she looked hot – dressed to the “9’s”. Well, okay – I wanted to be free tonight, but this will do. I took her hand and walked her over to TA to meet RM at the table he had reserved for us. Once again, awesome talent was all over the place, both standing on the perimeter and filtering through the tables. What a country!

And Help didn’t disappoint either – packed to the gills again. But “N” and I were pretty much wrapped up with each other the whole time dancing and making out, and I hardly looked up to check out any of the other talent. Pretty soon, we said goodbye to RM and headed back to the apartment for what I expected would be a nice tender reunion session.

Which we were about a half-hour into when I suddenly heard a knock on the door. Hmmm – had RM forgotten his keys? Maybe my music was too loud and it was a neighbor wanting us to lower the noise? I got up to go to the door, telling “N” to wait there in bed.

It was “R”.

My first thought – why the phuck had the doorman buzzed her in the building? Of course he had seen me with her earlier that week, but hadn’t he just seen me come in with the other girl?

And if I’d been smart, I would have immediately shut the door and dealt with it outside. But for some reason - half-drunk and not really knowing what the phuck I was doing - I let her in.

I walked back to the bedroom and she followed. In the meantime “N” had put one of my shirts on. I don’t think the girls knew each other, but upon reflection, I think “N” probably remembered seeing me going with “R” and her friend the last night of the previous trip when she was trying to hook up with me also.

Anyways, the girls shot a few verbal volleys back and forth, and before I knew it, these two sweet, unassuming girls – neither one with a hardcore bone in their bodies – were…

tearing into each other like two wounded tigers...

And I mean phucking whaling on each other. In fact, “N” – who weighed about 98 pounds soaking wet - got in a left jab that knocked out a couple of “R”s teeth before I managed to step in the middle and pull them apart – though it took some doing to get “R” to let go of the large chunk of “N”s hair she was still pulling on.

I dragged “N” into RM’s room, and then spent the next several minutes going between the still frantic girls trying to calm each one down somehow. At one point, “N” actually went out to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle out of the refrigerator - fortunately I was able to intercept her before she could reach “R” to break it over her head.

Back in my room, “R” was still fuming, pausing every few moments to spit blood onto the bed. As I approached to try and calm her down, she reached down and grabbed a candle in a glass casing off of the nightstand and smashed it on the floor, shattering it. And before I could do anything, she then picked up the ceramic coaster it had been sitting on and smashed that too.

Okay, that does it. She may be hurt, she may be angry, but I’ll be damned if I was going to let her break any more of my stuff - or tear the apartment apart. After all, she brought this on herself. I grabbed her and pulled her out to the living room and then tossed her out the door, her fighting me tooth and nail the whole way.

Still mad as hell, she said she would need R600 to get her teeth fixed. At first I balked – I’m not the one who hit her - why the phuck should I pay for it? Then I thought if that what it takes to get rid of her, I’ll suck it up and pay her. But then “N” came out to the living room and summarily slammed the door in her face, picking up the keys to lock it behind her.

But of course, she wasn’t about to go away at that point. She spent the next 15 minutes pounding away at the door and every other available surface, while in the meantime “N” was calling either an emergency service or the police – I’m not sure which. She got someone on the line, but I couldn’t remember the building address or the name of the street the apartment was on - in retrospect, probably a good thing. Don at Amerioca Tours told me the next day that if the police had shown up - notoriously corrupt in Brazil - I would probably have been taken to jail and had a lot more than the R600 she wanted extorted from me.

By then the building manager had been called in, and he managed to get “R” to come downstairs with him. Shortly afterwards, RM came back from Help to find an almost surreal scene happening in the lobby - “R” crying her guts out, missing several teeth, the manager trying to deal with it all somehow.

He came up to the apartment and I filled him in on what happened. We debated a few minutes about what to do next, and then the intercom phone rang in the apartment – it was the manager wanting to know what happened. I gave him the whole rundown – especially noting my concern that the doorman had let “R” in unauthorized.

Shortly after, he called back saying “R” wouldn’t leave without the money to get her teeth fixed, and no matter how it had happened, he thought it was probably in my best interests to give it to her. Desperately wanting the situation to be over and done with, I walked out and went down the elevator to meet them, finding “R” sitting in the lobby corner, sobbing heavily. After a few words with the manager, I reached in my wallet and pulled out the R600 and handed it over – he then got “R” up and escorted her out the door to find a taxi.

“N” stayed with me the rest of the night and all the next day until it was time to leave for the airport. Her left wrist was pretty banged up from the punch she had landed (RM later nicknamed her “Lefty”) but fortunately it didn’t affect her sexual appetites, and we managed to get in a couple of nice rolls in the hay before it was time to pack up and leave the apartment around 4pm.

I dragged my bags over to Don’s office where for my next trick I knocked over an entire Sparkletts water bottle as I tried to pull my large suitcase into the back area to store it while we went to get a bite to eat. (Of course Don and Ken - being the laid back cats they truly are - barely raised an eyebrow). When we returned, RM was back from the beach – I said my goodbyes to a tearful “N”, and we jumped into the van to take us to the airport – with the Copa New Year’s Eve celebration just beginning to gather steam behind us.

I could only wonder if the fireworks display later that evening would top what just happened in my room the night before…

Me gusta

Man!

I get another crack at Crackerass so soon? Excellent! Let's get shit-faced amigo!

PHX

Do these count too PR

Not that I pay any attention to my post count, but I think if you go back and search the archives GR and I have helped more than our share of newbies over the past 3 years with informative and well thought out responses....We all have our moments of smack talk, bit I think you should do a little more research...

But YES I did do a little research and here are the facts:

Month of Jan 2008:

El Silencioso: 157 posts
GetRhythm 49 posts.

In terms of actual characters typed, however, I think GR has him beat at least 5 to 1. And with all due respect I cannot find anything in El S' portfolio of offerings that even approaches the substance and importance of GetRhythm's masterpiece...

Anyone care to expound on just why a high post count is vital?

I think this tread was started in light hearted jest anyway.

Hey Phoenix...
Killing time before the weekend trip? How about predicting when Pacifica55 gets to 1000 posts for his 2nd PHD....

Now maybe me and MG can sell our fricken HOUSES!!!

CRT Post count News:

Yesterdays results:

Silenciosos 7 Rhythms 5