Thursday, March 24, 2011

Vodka, Peach Schnapps, OJ, Cranberry

During our Monday “weekend recap” lunch conversation today, my sole male confidant said “you know, most men would never believe, let alone experience, most of the awesome shit we get into with the ladies.”  All I could say was “Cheers to that” and laugh, because he’s absolutely right.  The truth is, neither of us go out looking for the awesome shit to happen, we just go out and the awesome shit finds us.

For example, let me continue the story from the last post. Dirty Girl (who sorta just fell into my lap in the first place) arrived on the scene just in time for my party (which I didn’t have a date for). This was an incredibly lucky break on my part, but it gets better. A few days before the party, I learned that I would be travelling alone on a vacation to a small mexican beach town; a trip that had been planned for months and was virtually all paid for. Instead of cancelling, I posted on Facebook that I was “looking for a travel buddy with a passport. Special consideration given if you look good in a bikini.” Apart from a buddy offering to send his bikini portfolio, it looked like I was going solo. So, after having a crazy time with Dirty at my party, I popped the question.  “Do you happen to have a passport?”

It turned out she did indeed have a passport, was in between jobs, and would love to spend a week on the beach with me. Do I have incredible luck and timing, or what?!

A week later we were on a flight to Puerto Vallarta for five days of sun, sitting on the beach, and drinking beer like it was a Corona commercial. Dirty tried to convince me to meet her in the bathroom to join the mile-high club, but I convinced her that the full cabin, small bathroom, and my 6 foot 4 stature would make it completely impractical. She decided a hand-job under a blanket would suffice, and I didn’t argue.

Our hotel was an hour away from the airport (and american tourists) in a tiny mexican beach town: ten rooms opening up onto a plant-filled courtyard, fifty feet from the ocean. As the local mexican tourist season hadn’t started, we were the only residents besides Ray, the owner. I had been to Ray’s bungalos several times and we had become good friends, partly because we are close in age but mostly because i’m the only american to stay with him regularly. After settling in and catching up with Ray, we finished the evening with a walk down the beach and a quiet dinner before returning to the hotel for some sex and sleep.

Ray may have regretted putting us in the room right below his as he surely heard Dirty’s screams of passion, but he didn’t say anything the next morning when we talked about our plans for the week. I already had a couple day trips in mind and he suggested a few more, including snorkeling on a remote beach and a hike into the jungle to see some ancient carvings. Dirty was a gracious guest and told me as long as there was a beach and sun, she was happy to follow me anywhere. I was happy to oblige.

Our first day was spent on a beautiful and nearly empty beach in front of a palapa roofed open-air restaurant where we drank margaritas and pacifico beers while we tanned on lounge chairs and talked until the sun set over the water. After returning to the hotel, I talked to Ray about acquiring some drugas. 100 pesos ($8) and 15 mins later, I was holding nearly an ounce of stinky weed wrapped in a ball of tin foil the size of a grapefruit. It turned out Dirty was a pro at rolling joints so she quickly rolled us a couple and we sat on the roof watching the stars and getting baked. It was pretty much a perfect day.

The next morning after a breakfast of fruit, tortillas and cheese, we decided to take Ray up on his offer to take us snorkeling on a beach only accessible by boat.  We loaded up on gear, food, and booze and headed out on a fishing boat piloted by a buddy of Rays. Half an hour later we were dropped off on an empty beach, surrounded by jungle and cliffs. Dirty spent the day tanning and drinking beers while Ray and I chased fish with spear guns between coming up for beer and some sun. It was almost a shame Ray had come with us, because the more Dirty had to drink, the more she tried to talk me into sneaking into the jungle for a quickie, or just getting naked and going at it right there. However, it’s one thing to make Ray listen to us fucking, it’s another thing to make him watch. We definitely weren’t close enough friends for that.

Day three was spent in Puerta Vallarta walking the Malecon, shopping for trinkets and chuckling to ourselves about how much better our vacation was away from the tourists. The highlight of the excursion, however, was the blowjob Dirty insisted on giving me while we drove through the winding jungle pass in the dark. Somehow I kept the car on the road despite the distraction until Dirty demanded I pull over so she could have her way with me properly. I’m certain more than one truck driver got quite an eye full as their headlights passed our tiny car spotlighting her bouncing boobs.

Day four we decided to hike to a secluded beach not far from our hotel. We packed our beach gear, several joints and some pills we snuck through customs. Neither of us had rolled during the day, but we figured a private beach was just the place for it. Oh were we right! We had the tiny beach all to ourselves the whole day. Warm sun, splashing in the water, running around naked, fucking on the beach, in the water, against the cliff, what a day! I certainly hadn’t had a day like it before, and after returning to the hotel to get drunk before heading out for dinner, we decided we had to do it again.

We awoke the next morning in surprisingly good spirits, considering the previous day’s excesses, and excited to return to our private beach for another day of fun. Dirty rolled some more joints, I packed for the day, and we were off. Besides the swarm of jellyfish floating in the swells which made getting in the water an adventure, day two was every bit as good as before. By the time the sun was setting, we were exhausted and headed home for a nap before heading out for our final evening. We had a dazed but romantic dinner at a beach-side restaurant, walked the beach one last time then headed home to crash.

Ray joined us for breakfast the next morning and told him about our private beach adventures, though we did leave out some details. After packing, we said our farewells and headed out for the airport. As we lifted off, Dirty spotted our tiny private beach and we waved it goodbye. Thanks beach, for everything.

1 comment:

  1. This is definitely every guys dream vacation :)

    ReplyDelete