And, guess what! He just met the cutest Belgian boy in his search for a vacay three-way!
Beer Festival in San Juan del Sur. Did not know. Not my scene. I take my lagers ice cold and in large quantities. Less flavor the better. Alcohol delivery mechanism.
Wife’s a fan of flavor. Very excited. Bought our way. Expected a tasting situation. Handed a huge pile of tickets. More than enough to find oblivion.
Expected a chance to explore a stranger’s sexuality. Was not to be that night. Infested with all-male surf tour groups. “You’re from Hawaii? Do you surf big waves?”
Stupid question asked repeatedly. Friendly. Frustrating. Second to “Oh, what do you write?”
Gay erotica, mostly.
Met a SoCal expat bartender at the microbrew bar. Kid was a prick. Too cool for school. Val transplant to Hermosa Beach. Parents financed relocation to Nica so he could “focus on surfing and brewing.” Flat brim cap. Very narrow shoulders.
Very drunk wife wanted to fight him. Settled for stiffing him on the tip. Pulled the helpful Nico bartender aside, big smile on his face when we told him not to share. Pocket the cash. Fuck that gringo.
Our friend owns a successful brewery in the South Bay. No reference for this bozo.
Pills! G strings! Throwing out huge tips because we’re rich. Some lady very upset at our chain-smoking bar side. Pointed glances and fake coughs. Been tossing tenners at staff. We can do what we want. They told her to move if she didn’t like it.
Beer fest three-way proved impossible. SJDS sausage fest. Competition too high. I don’t pay or compete for pussy. Looking forward to Playa Gigante. Solo tripper open minds ripe for plucking. lacking a protective circle of friends to chase us off.
Our hotel is very nice. Downstairs staff can definitely hear us fuck. Coy glances on our way in and out. Only awkward on their end.
Low-level codeine works wonders for a hangover. Chase it with a liter of water. I feel ten years younger.
Sunday Funday is stupid name. Pay for your wrist band, join in the anarchy. Half-naked drunken children letting loose. Too young to drink in their home country. Too naive to feel fear. Ripe and unwary.
Day drinking in the heat, stumbled onto a shuttle to the Naked Tiger Hostel. Couldn’t handle the place these days. Would have been heaven ten years ago. Now I want a clean room and ice cold a/c. Maid service. A television I won’t watch.
Shots are a bad idea. Watered down anyway. Or not tequila. Hard to tell. Definitely the wrong shade. Suck ’em down with kids half my age. Grab beers for the group. A buck a pop, I’m Mr Big Spender.
Got to creeping. Wife took the lead. Less threatening than me. Occasionally feel awkward when I’m the biggest guy in the room. Loom over hairless boys and well waxed girls. Come across as threatening. Which I am. In a different context.
Wife asked a lovely Irish lass to dinner. She’d love to. I need to make things clear. Slurring words with rounded edges.
“Okay, just so you know, it’d be a date.”
“What do you mean?”
“We want to date you.”
“Did that make it awkward?”
“Good. So what do you say? Will you date me and my wife?”
Wife chimes in with, “It’s not a sexual thing.”
“No, it totally is.”
She seemed overwhelmed, but intrigued. Said she’d think it over. Disappeared into the crowd.
Dancing with a plump Israeli girl. Grinding my hard-on against her thigh. Going well, until she started puking. Friends gathered around. Get her some water. Sit her in a corner. Look for another option. I’m a lot of things, not a rapist.
Very cute Belgian couple. Guy making eyes at me. That works. His head at my shoulder, not a hair on his shirtless torso. Adorable little girlfriend. Would fit in my pocket. The four of us could make a big sweaty stew. Group grope. No rules. Don’t be a sex coward.
“You guys are, like, swingers?”
“No, no. We’re sexual predators.”
“I’m not joking.”