Hot Filipina Videos
A trip to the store leads to more fun in public.
I rode down out of the mountains, to the coastal lowlands, to another world.
The descent from Xilitla to the Gulf coast was tricky, mostly due to prehistoric giant iguanas running across the road. Those fuckers were over a yard long! I did not dare to ride too fast there in lizard-land -- they are hard to dodge. And they are really messy when squashed.
When I saw girls walking through villages with long-beak macaws sitting on their shoulders, I knew I was not in Kansas anymore, so to speak.
Isola was one such macaw girl. Her loose white blouse and tight denims nicely showed her tasty physique. She flagged me down for a ride to her nearby village. Her family's whitewashed cottage was empty when we arrived. Her bed was soon filled with our steaming straining bodies.
Isola's macaw sat on a window ledge and critiqued our performance. Loudly. Isola also vocalized. Loudly. The bird did not seem impressed with me. Isola seemed quite impressed.
"Have you ever thought of leaving here, Isola?" I asked absently as I kissed her breasts gently during our third post-coital cooldown.
"Oh no, never," she said, slowly handling my now-deflated cock. "This is my home. I'm in college now. When I graduate, I'll teach here. I'll marry some local guy. I'll be happy here."
I did not know if I could ever find happiness in any one place.
In Papantla I saw my first ancient structures, the stupendous Ruinas El Tajin pyramids, and the volvadores (VOHL-vah-DOOR-ace), guys swinging by their feet tied to ropes spinning from a 100-foot-high pole.
I rode up to Xalapa a.k.a. Jalapa (ha-LA-pa), home of Jalapeno peppers and one of the world's great anthropological museums, filled literally with tons of pre-Columbian artifacts. And then down to Veracruz, home of vanilla. Vanilla liquor. Vanilla candies. Vanilla cigars. Vanilla condoms. No vanilla sex, hey?
Veracruz was the major Mexico-to-Spain port in colonial days. It was built in a malarial swamp. Posting there was often a death sentence. "I do not fear Hell; I have been to Veracruz," was the saying. Everyone who could, moved up the hill to Xalapa, the state capitol, almost a mile above sea level, well out of the disease zone. The swamps have since been drained but Xalapa is still the much more comfortable place.
I should mention my usual lodgings.
I only camped out when no towns were nearby. Rooms in towns were cheap. In larger cities, hostels are the budget choice for overnighting, if one does not mind unquiet companions. Just twenty-five or fifty cents a night, and hope the guy or gal in the bunk above you is not a bed-wetter. Posadas are much better. A posada may be something like a rooming house or a cheap hotel.
Girls were often included. Typical rates: three bucks for a one-medium-bed room, fifty cents for a girl, another fifty cents for another girl. One buck each if they stayed overnight. Having more than two girls at a time typically required a four- or five-buck room with a bigger bed. So, to stay on budget, I usually stuck with just one or two girls at a time.
I had my standards. Not too young, not too old, and not too plain, although that last parameter could be waived if I was horny enough. I made sure that a shower (with actual hot water) was available, and that the girls and I used it. Clean sex is fun sex. And kissing makes the sex even more fun.
These girls are not very inhibited -- meaning, they took it anywhere with anyone. I had much fun. I made sure they did too. A happy fuck is a long juicy repeated fuck. Oh yes, half of the girls were named Maria.
You may be shocked at the prices. Remember, this was 1972, and those are 1972 dollars. A cheap pack of cigarettes in California cost a quarter then, half as much as a girl here. The OPEC embargo would soon drive USA gas prices to over a buck a gallon, more than an overnight girl. And the Mexican economy was such that even thirty years later, a tire repair might cost as much as three bucks. Living on the local economy was and remains pretty damn cheap.
I also did not pay the Gringo surcha