Lisbon

[Piotr]

Bakshish!, bakshish! I kept hearing this words and suddenly I was elsewhere, teleported from a 4th floor in Poço to a souk in some cameland where the main idea is to empty your wallet using the most ingenious ways.

Soon the reality imposed itself: through those brown gipsy eyes beneath me, I could see she was also somewhere else, longing for a certain English gentleman who pleases both her girlish body and her Scroog’ish purse.

It all began very well, I agreed to double the standard amount upfront, and had an interesting but difficult conversation. When I mentioned the name Elena she smiled openly, and saying they are best friends Sabina borrowed my mobile phone and dialled a long number. Moments later I was talking to Elena at home in Romania! She will be back!

I consequently declare a moratorium in this process of selecting a new princess of little Romania.

So many times Sabina nicely tried to squeeze me for an extra €10 or 20, that my emotional connection to her was lost well before the end of the prearranged 40, 45 minutes. What a turn off! What a pity! Beeing in heaven I hated to have to argue those earthly matters, and I hated to displease this angel face that kept begging me a coin for chewing gum until the very last step of those stairs.

I left in a good mood because I talked to Elena.

[Kama Leão]

Well it turns out that Martinha is back. Tiny ugly tasty Martinha with braces on her teeth and a tight pussy and a tale to tell.

Great tip, Muri.
No goddess - that's for sure -, not a body or face to die for (but such lovely, small, soft, suckable boobs!...), and yet what a sweet, warm, caressing mouth (she could go on all afternoon, I was transported into another sensuous dimension), what a nearest-to-the-real-thing-lovemaking experience!
I mean, a goddess. That's for sure.

[Piotr]

Certainly none of us goes to Poço to find a girl suitable to take out to dinner, to spend a weekend together. However, It would be nice to find one elegant, smart and desirable enough to make me think about that possibility, even if I would never ask her. Meaning: to have the right body measures and proficiency in the act is not enough to qualify for the distinction of princess of little Romania. She also ought to have some sweet finesse.

Lili is a very competent SW, even better than her elder sister Michaela that is working there for almost 1 year, but both absolutely lack the above attributes. My 2nd visit confirmed everything I wrote before and I can only add the downside: She doesn’t like to be touched in the Y. You are welcome, even invited everywhere except there. Another issue: the cbj. The C part is not negotiable. She licks, she sucks, she has all the time in the world (! ) to make you happy, but a dogma is a dogma. She is a true young girlfriend with not so pretty feet. On both occasions I added only €5 to the standard fee.

Comparison with former princess Elena is inevitable. I certainly would like to take Elena out to dinner and feel very well in her company.

Murilloa: I’ve just read your lines, and most of all, SEEN Sabina. It is with great excitement that I now recognize her, and only 5 or 6 hours ago we had a really promising eye contact. Precisely when I was leaving the room with Lili! Unfortunately she was wearing clothes – white. But she looked delicious. Of course, before the end of the week I’ll be there! Just before comes my turn to do time elsewhere. Enjoy your sentence. I'll be here one more week.

Another picture of Lili is in the appropriate section.

[Murilloa]

Finally, quickly because they are calling the embarkation of the prison plane - and also out of chronological order... alarmed by reports that the police had cleaned out the Poço, Mur went there in a very brief window of opportunity, and found all the lovelies posing by the usual arcade. He once again fell for the charms of Sabina, knowing that this would cost him more than the basic price of €25.

He paid €50, and got a glorious performance. Just before he entered her, the mercenary little puss said in her mixture of English, Spanish and Portuguese, 'pay me another fifty and you can go in there bareback'.

Interesting, and slightly worrying. But few mongers head for the Poço prepared to lay out €100, so it is doubtful whether our petite beauty is doing much risky bareback action.

Once again, haviing extracted the money she wanted, as well as a good quantity of Mur's vital fluids, she agreed to be photographed, naked this time, for no additional charge.

As seen in the relevant section.

«Now please board at gate xxx.»

These next two weeks there will be no reprieve from sex prison, but what a whirlwind the last day or so has been.

[Murilloa]

Martinha returned to Brazil in October or so. Muri had told her the wonders of London, and how even an ornery girl – and our Marti is ornery – can ask £150 per hour in Tony’s capital.

Scanning the net before his surprise mad dash to Portugal (see below) he saw to his delight that the little one is back in Algês. There, they were reunited today, in a scene too moving to recount here, but the story she tells is interesting.

Turns out she bore Muri’s advice in mind, and after Christmas with family, our little lady jumps on a plane to London, shacks up with some acquaintances, disappears into the twilit world of illegal immigrants, meets a nice Brazilian mama-san, and pronto, a week after sliding through Heathrow, she is turning four £150 tricks per day in Bayswater and living like a princess.

This lasts three months and then Blair’s fascisti move in: they send her back to Sambaland. You may think she was lucky not to get shot like her unlucky compatriot last year, but no, she says the boys in blue treated her beautifully and even offered her a female counsellor in case she needed help getting over the terrifying experience of being ‘trafficked’. No, she insisted, but if you really want to help me, just let me stay and continue fucking older English guys for loads and loads of lovely money.

That could not be arranged. She clearly didn’t have the big cash it takes to buy off the law in Blair’s utopia – much less the £5m donation to Labour Party funds which would have made her a duchess. So, deportation, courtesy of the taxpayer, and then she bounces back to Algês.

She is desperate to return to London, which she sees as a terrestrial paradise. It is many years since Muri heard his homeland verbally caressed with such passionate love (after she had finished physically caressing other items). Now, she needs an Englishman prepared to certify that he intends to marry her – or a university to certify that she is a potential student. those are the only ways she can secure a visa to enter Cacatopia.

Let’s send her to Cambridge, to tutor the floppy-haired gay boys and teach them the error of their ways. Or are there any Brits reading this, who would care to propose marriage? She's much too smart for Rooney or Beckham, but what about Paul McCartney, who has recently returned to the life of a penniless 'solteiro'?

Whaddaya think, guys? She is no top model, but a lovely fuck, at least for this hardened sex prisoner. Magnificent BBBJ, tightest pussy of all time, and all she wants is a visa.

C'mon, boys, get there while aged Mur is still hesitating.

[Murilloa]

So a weird thing happens. Friday, Mur escapes to see Lori. That evening he is installed in prison in deepest darkest Inglaterra. Sunday night - a miracle. He’s walking round the exercise yard when the guard calls, “Prisoner 666? Call for you, from some foreigner.”

««Muri, we hate to interrupt your holi… erm… prison sentence, but we need you back in Lisbon urgently for 24 hours to attend two unforeseen meetings. We will of course pay you extra time and fly you business class and get you back behind bars as soon as possible.»»

“You fuckin’ idiots! Just when I was starting to enjoy prison! When is the flight?”

So bemused Mur is back in Lisbon Monday afternoon, works all night, Tuesday morning more meetings, lunchtime he goes to the Poço for Sabina, then has just a few hours to catch his plane but fits in a visit to Algês.

Algês? Well it turns out that Martinha is back. Tiny ugly tasty Martinha with braces on her teeth and a tight pussy and a tale to tell.

ALGÉS... Assanhadinha... Voltei!!! ...Ainda Melhor... Oral Natural... Bumbuzinho Arrebitado... Corpinho por explorar... T.962372829 www.prazerintimo.com/martinha

Reports on the way: right now Mur has reached the departure lounge, still in prison clothing with lap top on his knee, about to go north again.

Global capitalism does strange things to a man…

[Murilloa]

if it is really true that the nice chinese people who run the shop in the poço are behind the persecution of our romanian sweeties, then that's plain unfair.

much worse, surely, in the eyes of a storekeeper... it's bad for business. muri is a regular client of this chinese goods venue, shopping every week for green tea, soya sauce, fresh ginger and other goodies from the fabled orient.

and how did he discover this store? and why does he prefer it to similar outlets rep001tered around the city?

bcause of the other life-and-health-enhancing products in the street: the girls, of course.

now, it could be argued that other people, more respectable than mur, (there are ten million such folk here in portugal) might shun the poço just because the babes from bucharest are peddling pussy.

not in 21st century portugal, imho.

com saudades,

mur

[Piotr]

Little Romania was stormed this morning by a uniformed taskforce. The pungent occupying elements destroyed the local economy, at least for the day. It’s still unknown if hostages were taken. Also unknown is whether this action was in response to a bite or a scratch inflicted on any naked sturmtrupper, or was totally unprovoked. Experts say that the origin of this act may be due to the influence of the leaders of the Chinese enclave, that sometimes call for the assistance of these allies for the occasion. The long lasting Chinese bad will towards the working Romanians may be due to the tantalizing sight the Chinese leader has to endure outside his door, especially after a frustrated night with his first lady.

It is expected that business resumes the normal status later today.

[Murilloa]

In fact, Petemarkou, by a happy coincidence, Mur was able to visit Lori in a frantic one-hour window of opportunity between convict trains yesterday. Now he is in the high security wing of a prison in deepest Blairland.

She's still there, still beautiful, still on the expensive side at £70 a half hour, but what a half hour.

Mur will be allowed five minutes per day in the prison library to check here for news, so keep his spirits up by posting.

What to do in your prison cell? Why, learn Romanian, of course! Great work, Piotr.

[P Cla]

Went yesterday to the Marques de Tomar, which I has already visited long time ago. Went there around 4 in the afternoon and clearly the time was not right, there were about 5 or 6 girls, of which only 1 or 2 passable, chose Debora, the receptionist, a Brazilian with long curly hair, in her 30s. What made me choose her was the sight of her nice ass, too bad that after she removed her underwear and the high heels the ass was not so nice and the tits neither...in the end went for a quick bj without much enthusiasm...not that she was not nice but I did not really fancy her so I went for the quick exit route, a nice and quick bj and out we go. First not so nice experience in the beautiful Lisboa, next time we'll try something new...

[Petemarkou]

Muri,

what ever happened to Lori. I should assume she is not in London any more?

[Piotr]

Those of you who have read my previous posts will know that I have a huge task to accomplish: the selection of a new Romanian princess.

Bad attitude made former princess Elena lose her position of privilege and admittedly her best client, followed shortly by her return to Bucharest (should have guessed…).

My first attempt, as reported, was a total flop. By the way, her name was Iara, from Galati. In my report I mixed up this information, only later I remembered correctly. A rubber doll to avoid.

Not wanting to make the same mistake twice – at least twice in a row – this time I drove by, parked the car, and slowly walked along the street, my brain cells taking notes, measures, archiving colours and shades, adding the assets of each brunette available – and the choice is now wider. By the end of the terribly long 20 meter walk the short list was made. I courageously turned 180º and began the 2nd pass.

An older specimen of SW, around 40, very short hair, always present since I remember, led me to realize that I have never seen her with a client, never we crossed paths on the stairs, I wonder if she is the guardian of the virtues of the flock, obviously for a price… or perhaps this is only my imagination.

Everyone in business knew what I was up to, and worst, I suspect most of them knew me already due to my frequent visits to princess Elena, even if then I kept a low profile often using the phone to make her meet me inside the building. Anyway, I assumed that those who were interested knew my intent, the others I hope they did not notice me, and if they did I don’t care and hope (firmly) they don’t care either.

These inviting light green eyes met mine and the choice for this play off was done. No words were needed for her to walk towards the entrance of the pensão. From behind I confirmed her promising hips moving inside the pants, her long black loose hair pointing to her backdoor.

‘Cum te cheama? Vorbiti engleza?’ (What’s your name? do you speak English?) – by now I have learnt a few Romanian expressions … a kind of ice breaker.

‘Lili’, she said, and kissed my lips even before the first flight of stairs. She undressed slowly, no bra, amazing body. She claims to be 18 and I have no reason to doubt. A wet kisser, sensual lips, a GFE that doesn’t count the minutes, with time for foreplay, to speak, to offer her beautiful curves before the main course, cbj (maybe next time bbj), very responsive, well above the average Romanian in Poço.
Definitely a test drive to repeat.

Inspired by the example of Master Murilloa with Sabina, I asked her if I could take her picture. She smiled, meaning: ‘by all means…’ and again, she was happy with the result. Between you and me, it doesn’t do her justice. See photo section.

[Murilloa]

Sunday, the sex police caught Muri ‘in flagrante’, dressed only in a tight leather thong and a butt-plug, crawling up the stairs of the pensaõ in the Poço, collecting discarded cigarettes in the hope that they had graced the mouths of Catarina, Iuliana or Sabina.

They only beat him gently, knowing that he would enjoy it too much if they thrashed him hard. But then they came up with a hideous threat: four weeks in sex prison, on Devil’s Island.

Devil’s Island! Every sex offender dreads the horror of being sent to that evil place. The only isle in the world where the sharks and barracudas wear suits and drive cars. The cruel and devious Baron Blair rules over it. Its skies are a year-round chilly blur of grey smoggy cloud and pelting rain.

“Nooooo!” screamed Mur through his studded latex gag. “I implore you – Afghanistan, Guantánamo, not Blair land!”

But the judge was implacable.

“Murilloa, you are a sickening pervert. This court has read transcripts from ISG and GPGuia, heard testimony from the innocent women you have exploited, and masturbated over your photo of Sabina. We can therefore show no pity. Go to England for a month, spend that month with your ex-wife, and may the Good Lord have mercy on your soul.”

“Your honour, puh-leeease, one last request”, begged Mur, knees giving way and bowels evacuating.

“We are listening.”

“Allow me just half an hour with a prostitute in Lisbon before I start my sentence.”

“Request granted, prisoner. I recommend Inês of Cascais, near my beloved tribunal. She is a tiny half-Japanese babe who sucks and fucks like a geisha goddess. Fifty Euros. To be paid from the Portuguese state pension funds. Take the prisoner away.”

“Thank you, your honour, may heaven pour blessings upon you and upon your family”, answered grateful Mur, as the guards dragged his limp body from the courtroom.

So on Monday Muri called at the blue and white door in Cascais and was greeted by a pretty, petite dark minx with brains and attitude in plenty, who gave him a fine send-off. She laid him down like the abject prisoner that he was, and fucked him senseless, a cowgirl to dominate any wild horse in the prairies or pampas. Then she turned passive and bent to be taken from behind, urging him to pound her neat arse until the inevitable and magnificent conclusion.

She talked throughout, but funnily and dirtily. Afterwards she enjoyed and returned tender caresses.

If Muri survives incarceration, he will return, and in the mean time he recommends Inês to those happy mongers still enjoying freedom in lovely Lisboa.

She’s here,

Cascais... Assanhadinha... Menina... Danoninho... Boquinha... Gulosa... Bumbunzinho... Apertadinho... Descobre-me!!! 964126634... www.privatesin.com/ines

The photos do no justice, but anyhow they will be stored under a semen-soaked mattress in sex prison.

Até logo,

Mur

[Petemarkou]

Do they have an address or they are just for outcalls. What are their average prices?

[Zona Quente]

The site http://www.zonaquente.net

Is the site of your independent escorts in Lisbon. Please take a look.