Lisbon

Obligado (thank you in potuguese) wsg.

I have tried Carina, and it was very good fuck for 50 euros. I have been 3 times and the last time after one shot, she has smoked my dick, no condom and she has eaten my cum.

Do you want something more?

So GO !

Black Tie “Arrangements”

The past three weeks were just delightful, lots of people in the streets till late 4 o´clock in the morning, partying from Monday to Sunday, from dusk till dawn, or was it from dawn till dusk?

After a matchday I found myself feeling horny as the devil and thinking where to plant the bad seeds. The Superstrip Club didn´t deliver the right feeling and so I drove the Artilharia Um up and down, watching some nice Portuguese and Romanian chicas. Unfortunately I ended up losing my first preference then the second and so on. To kill the frustration and end the thirst I was starting to feel I ended up driving back to the Marques de Pombal and up Avenida Suque de Loulé, where a lot of high end clubs are sited.

I ended up parking the car and realized that I was closer to the Black Tie club than any other of the clubs.

The guys at the door asked 50 euros to a couple of germans but let me in for 20 and I ended up tipping them 5 euros just to make myself familiar (they thanked!) Inside the place was half full, maybe 50 mongers and 25 girls, it was quite busy but this place can house the double as a disco night fever Saturday. Half of thye girls are Brazilians, the rest is either Portuguese, Russian, African South American or Romanian. The girls were playing hard deals at 200 euro the quick pop at a noble Residencial or cheap but clean Hotel. A few guys hit the road with a girl in their arm, a big mistake in my opinion. I ordered a pack of cigarettes and a hard drink and got around in the place, (it´s just a dark noble wanna be basement, but quite nice for the porpose!)

There was a girl asking for 400 euros to take her and a busty blond friend for a double ride! They looked like porn actresses, huge silicon breasts and really high heels!

After talking to kind of 10 girls I noticed the place was packing up rather quickly which meant even more new women to hide for! I reckoned a Portuguese blond beauty, a really sexy woman in her early 30s with a hell of a rack in white pants and high heel sandals but she was quickly taken up front on the dance floor! To bad and so I turned looking for some other hottie and discovered a Brasilan brunet with long black hair a real beauty in her early twenties. Her name is Joana and she is about 165 cm tall, with big beautiful breast, a very slender body, her eyes are dark and she has a beautiful smile. She asked for 150 I turned her down and rasked her for a dance she said 100 and I said but lets dance first. So it started and after two songs she wanted to move over to the hotel and so we did. The sex was ok, she provided only CBJ but was a good deal not the best blower but still good. She would not let me down on her which annoyed me but sex was good in three or four positions. In all she looked 7,5/10 and her attitude was 6/10. Total expenses: 25 club entrance with drinks, 10 euros for two taxidrives, 25 room for 1 hour and 100 for one long pop (about 40 min).

Well that was the expensive drill, but it was worth it for the entire atmosphere and as there had been a few freebies why not make the whole picturer bigger?

Hi,

I am new to this forum and I am going to Lisbon next week.
Since I do neither speak portuguese nor spanish, I would like to
know whre to find girls that do speak at least some english.

Thanks,

Marc

Fellow Mongers,

The Lisbon page continues in great style (Thanks, MURI!) and with wonderful detail.

iI will arive in Lisbon on a Sunday morning and am wondering what will be possible, as it seems Adonis and other establishments do not open on Sunday. Is this true and is there anyplace open then in the afternoon? Any houses that operate then?

Happy hunting.

Marc Of:

Filipa of Almirante Reis; Carina of Areeiro; Isabel of Saldanha.

(written like this it makes them sound like medieval princesses)

These three have enough basic English for you to communicate your needs, if you are too shy to adopt the 'universal language' tactic of pulling a big boner out of your pants, and waving it around in the air till the lady gets the message.

Paula of São João Estoril is fluent and colloquial, having acquired the language of Shakespeare in idyllic Luton. When she whispers "fuck me" in your ear, you can imagine you are on holiday in the Midlands of England, a horrible thought which will prevent you from experiencing premature ejaculation.

In earlier reports from various cavaliers, you will find good directions to reach the castles of these princesses. They are not guarded by serpents or dragons, although sometimes a kindly old witch opens the castle gate.

You will also see that other gentlemen of irreproachable taste have reported favourably on their charms. Carina is probably the hottest chica in Lisboa just now.

Otherwise you will have to telephone to one of the agencies in the classified section of Correio da Manhã (red-top newspaper) who claim to 'speak English', but these are more expensive being aimed at tourists, some of them 'outcalls only': you may expect to be asked €200 for a lady to come to your hotel and you may not like her when she gets there.

Whereas, to enjoy the favours of the abovementioned princesses, all you require is knightly courage and courtesy, a trusty warhorse (*****horse?) shining armour, helmet, shield, lance and €50.

Go forth and win the fair lady, bold Sir Marc !

Mur

well, i just returned from four days in beautiful lisboa, and i had one hell of a time. in this post i will describe my initial failures, as there was definitely a learning curve associated with how things are done in lisboa. i assume there are others who are in my position (knowing very little portuguese), and my intention is that this message will prevent others from wasting their time the way i did.

first off, i was rather disappointed with how hard it was to get access to the 'apartments' without speaking portuguese. i tried several numbers, and was disappointed each time. either i didn't get through (in which case i got this recording saying something in portuguese that i didn't understand) or the girl at the other end didn't speak english and that was the end of that. the situation was compunded by the fact that i was either using a public payphone or a hotel phone, neither of which allow easy call-back. it's best if you have your own mobile phone or a direct phone number in a hotel room. that being said, frantic and horny as i was, i was not to be denied.

i wasted an entire day trying to track down the famous isabella and other apartment dwellers. i had read all posts on this forum back to december 2003 and i had studiously noted phone numbers, addresses, names, prices, advise, etc. i spent the first morning playing phone-tag with various people, and when it became apparent that i was wasting my time, i decided to just visit the apartments myself (without calling). i figured this would get around the language problem, because once i get into one of these places then the stupid grin on my face would clearly communicate what i wanted, and the rest could be done using hand gestures and body language.

the first place i went to was rua pedro nunes, 45. according to reports on this wonderful forum, the place is on the 3rd floor, esq. i found out that in portugal, when you see 'esq' in an address, it means on the left side, dto means on the right side, and r/c means ground floor. these turn out to be very important in finding an apartment. anyway, i found the place ok - it's very close to the saldanha metro station at a point where avenida 5 de outubro appears to split. there's a mechanic shop next door and a couple of pastelarias across the street. i went into one of the pastelarias and bought myself a few tasty portuguese pastries and i watched through the window to see what kind of activity there is in the building. i saw a guy hang up on his cell phone, approach the door and press the button. he was buzzed in and he entered. well, i thought to myself 'that looks easy enough', so i scoffed down the rest of the puff pastry and walked over. i pressed the button corresponding to the 3rd floor, and i was buzzed in.

once inside the building things started to get a little dicey. it's dark and quiet, so i crept up the stairs. as i climbed i was counting the floors and when i got to the third floor, i suddenly remembered a post on this forum where someone said something like 'the third floor is actually the fourth floor that you get to', or something like that. whatever the case may be, i felt uneasy about rapping on the wrong door, without the luxury of enough portuguese to make a graceful exit if needed, and saying something stupid like:

'desculpe...(flipping through my berlitz phrase book)...dar-me...sexo'.

(note: for those who do not speak portuguese, this is not what you should be saying. even i know that much.)

so i decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and i crept back down the stairs with my tail between my legs. thinking back, it was the right decision, as i ended up enjoying myself thoroughly by other means. at this point i thought it was just this apartment so i decided to try the same thing with another apartment. i checked my notes and i saw that largo sao sebastiao da pedreira was close by. i walked about 15 minutes down a sloped, cobbled road (not that that's unique in lisboa, by any means!) and found myself at a large, well-treated cedar door. i pressed the button and no answer came. i pressed again and waited a few more minutes, and again, no answer. the door was open so i walked in, and i walked up the three floors and stood at the door on the left. there was a hole in the door through which i could see a few feet into the apartment and when i peered in all i saw was packing material and bits of wood. i figured this place was either the wrong place or it was closed now, so i turned and left. all in all, i found this sort of activity very wearing on me, so i decided no more with the apartment visits. i walked over to el corte ingles (a huge shopping complex) and sat sipping a cafe watching the gorgeous portuguesas as they strolled by.

[next post to come soon - including the fantastic visit to adonis]

Great report Kumbu, sorry about your disappointments, it's a pity one of us wasn't on hand to help: but you have described them in most entertaining style and now don't tease us but let us have your account of day 2...

Muri is in haste - why does every other person in Lisbon seem to be on holiday?
But when he gets a space he will tell the world about sweet Laura...
Mur

[Part Two]

So this is part two of my report. In the previous report I described my initial failures, and in this report I will describe one fantastic success – my visit to Adonis. In the next report I will describe to you my experience with the Romanian SWs (to anticipate – STAY AWAY FROM YONELLA).

As an introduction, I must say that Adonis has been described as one of the more expensive options in Lisboa, but this is clearly a relative measure. I mean, I defy anyone to have the kind of experience I describe below in either a North American establishment or with a North American SW for 100 Euros (about $120). In fact, I have been with several $300 escorts in various places in the US and only one of them came close to what I experienced in Adonis. Ok, on to part 2 of the report.

After my disappointments with the apartment scene on the first day of my trip to Lisboa, and the lateness of the hour that night, I decided to have dinner and hit the clubs. I went downtown and had dinner at a wonderful little restaurant in the Restauradores district. For those who don’t know, Portuguese food is excellent – well prepared, tasty and very affordable too. After that I visited the Maybe Superclub, described earlier by Mutrix and Ze Duron. I was in there basically for the eye candy, so I didn’t have any expectations for anything on the side. I did enquire about additionals, but I was met with stiff resistance at each turn. As for the club itself, it’s not a bad strip club, as strip clubs go. There is always someone on the floor dancing, and the girls are certainly worth watching. I had a couple of drinks while enjoying the beauty on display, and then I went downstairs with a gem of a girl named Clara. I got a couple of private dances, during which time I gently tried to get her to agree to a little more than just a dance. No way, no time, no how. And she said that this was now a firm policy at the club. So afterwards I went back up, had another drink, and seeing as I had an early morning, I went back to my hotel, frustrated and anxious.

I spent the whole of the next day doing what I came to Lisboa to do – work. But all day I was thinking about the possibilities. What should I do? Check out the Romanian SWs? Or maybe try one of the ads in the Correio da Manhã? Several WSF members privately suggested this as an option to me, so it was high on my list. However, I decided that night to go to Adonis Health Club. After all, the venerable guru of this forum Murilloa lavished praise upon the establishment, as did the honorable Zé Duron and Mutrix (amongst others), so how could I go wrong?

Directions: I took the metro to the Marques de Pombal station and exited out the side that is marked Rua Braancamp. The club itself is very easy to find. Walk about 100m up the hill on Rua Braancamp past the bus stops and Adonis is just between some kind of herbal medicinal place and a nice little café (number 22). It’s a silver door with frosted glass and the name of the club is embossed in the glass – you can’t miss it. I pressed the button at exactly 18:01 (there’s a digital clock outside next to the bus stop, so I know the exact time) for the first floor and I was buzzed in. I climbed the first floor steps and was met by a pleasant middle-aged lady who greeted me with a smile and ‘bom dia’ (I thought one is supposed to say boa noite, but I suppose bom dia can be used as a general greeting. Portuguese friends, please forgive my linguistic ignorance). So I repeated back to her the phrase that I had been practicing many times since arriving in Lisboa – ‘Desculpe, falla Ingles?’ (Excuse me, do you speak English?) She smiled and called someone from behind the door, presumably asking her if she wants to deal with this idiot with the big grin on his face. I heard the girl behind the door jump up excitedly and say “Suuuure!” and she rushed to greet me. She was a young girl in her early twenties, obviously a provider, and because of her language abilities she was the designated English-speaking mama-san. This was an excellent arrangement because she was animated, excited, eager and very easy to understand. It was at this point that I realized that I was finally to taste some of Lisboa's finer pleasures.

I was whisked into a side room that can only be described as miniscule. It was big enough for perhaps four people to stand at the same time. It had three chairs in it, plus a small wash basin in a divided area. My English-speaking madam asked if I had been there before and I said no (I regretted that as soon as it left my lips, but it turns out it was a good decision to be truthful). She then said:

“Oh great, let me explain how things work here. The cost is 100 Euros, and it is FULL (she emphasizes full) service, except if you want…(she smiles and seems embarrassed)…the back…(and she pats her full, shapely bottom a couple of times and giggles a little), in which case it is 125 Euros. I will now go away, and send in six girls for you to choose from, and then afterwards you can tell me who you want, ok?”

And my response to this was “Yah-huh, ok.” So then the parade began, and all I can say is that I thought that heaven itself had descended upon my happy, throbbing member. I don’t remember all their names obviously, but I can describe each of them to you in detail. They each walked in (usually smiling), kissed me on the cheek, said their name, and then walked out, trying on the way to show you their most precious of assets.

The first was definitely a Portuguesa, and this I can tell from facial features and skin color. She was perhaps 5’5” (sorry, no conversions to metric), weighing something like 130 pounds. So she was a slightly heavy girl, with large breasts and thick legs. Her hair was blonde, and she looked to be in her late twenties or so. It’s hard to assign a score to her because her body type is not really what I look for in a woman, but there was a certain warmth about her that one cannot deny. So I would say she was something like a 6. The second girl was shorter, perhaps 5’2”, and she must have weighed 120 pounds. Her skin was significantly darker, so much so that I couldn’t tell if she was Brazilian or perhaps African of some sort. She had an extremely attractive face (kind of baby like, in a very pleasant way), dark hair, large breasts, skinny legs and a full, round ass. Her body type too is not what I first look for, but her smile and attitude shone through in the few seconds I had her in my vision. I’d put her at a 6 as well. Third was the girl that I eventually selected: she was tall, perhaps 5’8”, and she had skin that was dark but she certainly was not black. She seemed to be in her late twenties ( I found out later that she is 29), her hair was short and extremely stylish, and her face had the most elegant bone structure. She was slender with small-medium sized breasts, but the real clincher was her ass. She was wearing long , black pants, and the material clung to her ass revealing its shape and size perfectly. Overall she was an elegant, beautiful, sexy looking woman who I knew would be the one I would choose. When she said her name I didn’t hear it and I asked her to repeat it. It sounded like Rafaella, but when I said it to my English-speaking mama san, she corrected me and told me it was Hafaella. I suspect this is because of the way the ‘r’ is pronounced in Portuguese, but I cannot be sure of that. In any case, I will continue to refer to her as Hafaella.

Fourth was a large woman of dubious descent (not intended as an insult, I just can’t categorize her ethnicity). She was perhaps 5’8” weighing in at well over 150 pounds, perhaps closer to 200 pounds. She huffed and puffed her way in, put her clammy hand on my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek. Ordinarily I don’t mind plus-sized ladies, but she was simply out of shape. She did have a very pleasant face, and she did seem to be meticulously groomed (which goes a long way, especially in this sort of activity; see my next report on the Romanian SW scene). I’d rather not assign a score to her. The fifth girl was (I think, given the size and dimensions of her back-side) Brazilian. She was about 5’5”, 120 pounds, dark skin, long straightened hair, and skinny legs. Her face was rather ordinary. I would rate her as a 6.5-7, and in the absence of Hafaella I would have probably chosen her. The last girl was non-distinct in many ways, of average height, large breasts but not overly large, an ass that looked a little on the heavy side, and skinny legs. I would rate her a 6 as well.

Each of these girls were attractive in their own way, and I am certain that any one of you would find someone to your taste there. Hafaella was the choice for me, and as I shall now describe in painful and exquisitely pleasurable detail, she was the best choice. After I told the mama san who I had selected, she asked me to pay up–front, at which point I suppose I could have given her 125 for the backside experience, but I chose to go the traditional route (why I did not choose the full experience I will never know). She went out and a few seconds later Hafaella came in, took me by the hand and walked me out the front door into the stair well. We walked slowly up the stairs, with her in front of me, slowly swinging her ass from left to right as she climbed the stairs, with my nose about an inch from her ass. Left...pause...right...pause...left...pause...etc. And as she was doing this, she was looking coyly over her shoulder at me, with this devilish little smile. Phew.

As delightful as this was, it was a little awkward, so in order to break the ice I asked her if she speaks English (‘Falla Ingles?’, all the time gazing at her beautiful ass swinging past my face) and she said ‘Naaaaaaao’, as if to say ‘what country do you think this is?’. And then she said ‘e tu, falla Portugues?’, and I responded ‘Naaaaao.’ We both laughed, and we started to converse in broken Porto-Ingles. Anyway, we got into a room that had a weird animal motif about it. The bedspread and curtains had a leopard print, and there was a small television mounted high in the air (while I was in the shower she put some porn on). She explained that I should go take a shower while she prepared the room (alas, I gathered that there was no option for showering together). So I went and lathered up, fumbling with everything along the way. When I came out, she was standing in front of the shower door stark naked, in all her glory. We exchanged places and she showered while I eagerly watched on.

As she stepped out of the shower and dried herself, I watched and contemplated my debt to fate. How lucky we are to be able to enjoy such pleasures in life, pleasures that seem so natural but also have such profound effects on us. These are the kinds of events in ones life that last forever. I am certain that the details of this evening will remain with me until the day I pass, perhaps beyond that. The details of her beautiful body have been burned into my memory for time immemorial. Enough of the philosophy, let’s get down to the exact details of this pleasure: She had a slim, sexy neck, going down to her breasts, which were small (perhaps a B cup), and frankly a little weathered. While this was disappointing and not what I expected, it was not the reason I had found her so attractive. That reason lay squarely to the back of her, if you know what I mean. Below her breasts was the most perfect belly and waist-line – slim, hard, muscular (but not too much so), leading to round, wide hips.

She walked through the door into the bedroom, and lay down pliantly on the bed. No, no, this would not do, so I held out my hand and helped her to her feet. She sprang up like a gazelle, at which point I began by lightly kissing her neck, both sides, her chin, and then down to her chest. I lingered in that area between her neck and the top of her breasts, kissing the soft, smooth skin and enjoying the flavour. I then went down on her breasts, rubbing her dark nipples and gently squeezing each breast in turn. My lips slowly made their way down to her taught belly and then on down to her pubic region. Her pussy was partially shaven, and what hair was remaining was short and coarse. I enjoyed her earthy aroma for a few minutes before I went further down to her thighs.

Ah yes, the thighs. The thighs are an area that I feel never receive the appropriate level of attention. The standard question is: Are you a breasts, legs or ass guy? How are we expected to place ourselves into these neat little categories when we all know that we like it all. In the famous words of Macolm X: it’s ALL good! Besides, how are you to know when the ass ends and the legs begin? Is it simply the crease at the bottom of the cheeks that delineates the ass from the legs? Well clearly not. Case in point: thighs are a beautiful blend of both legs and ass. The smoothest portion of a woman’s external body is that simply delectable area between the legs. It’s the area on the inside of the thigh, just below where the ass-cheeks end and the region that rubs together when she walks. Spending time enjoying the quality of the flesh, the pleasure of the aroma, and the beautiful view of the pubic region you get is fantastic. The view gets even better if you can do this while she is standing up, with her legs slightly spread open, a position that I had cunningly maneuvered for myself into. So this is what I did, and I spent altogether too much time down there, but it certainly was worth the time.

I then turned her around and began work on that gorgeous backside of hers. It was a fleshy, firm, perfectly round backside that was in super-ordinary condition. I grabbed it with both hands, working the flesh like a baker works his dough. I squeezed, pressed, poked, rubbed, spanked (softly), and eventually bit into her beautiful, round firm cheeks. I opened her ass cheeks and gazed in longingly as she arched her sleek back and pushed her ass into my face. I kissed, licked and devoured her from behind, with the entire world dead to me. It was a true zen moment, for my concentration was complete, yet non-existent at the same time. I felt the ass, I devoured the ass, I WAS the ass!

After perhaps a full 5 minutes of this (which, think about it lads, is an eternity in sex-time), I eventually moved my way up her tight, well-toned back to her neck again, at which point she did something incredible. She took my rock-hard, now-dripping-wet member and put it flatly between her ass cheeks (not into her ass, but pointing upwards so that only the base and the top of the scrotum were between her ass cheeks – the head of my dick was against the small of her back). She started to rhythmically clench her ass cheeks around my dick and release it, all the while slowly moving her ass left and right and slowly extending up and down. This was absolutely incredible – I had never had that done to me ever, and it was a delight. I’ve heard of a BJ, a HJ, even a boob job, but never as Ass Job. I couldn’t take too much more of this, so I pulled away.

She sat down on the bed, pulled out a condom and applied it to my member using her mouth. We went at this for about 4-5 minutes, me standing while she sucked back and forth. Here I was with this gorgeous, exotic woman, sucking like an absolute goddess, with an ass that could launch a thousand wars. And there I was looking down helplessly as I exploded in a torrent of pleasure and regret. Pleasure because that was perhaps one of the best releases I have ever had (especially given the frustrations of the previous day, see my earlier report). Regret because it was all over in under 20 minutes.

She cleaned me up, and we sat on the bed talking as best we could. Actually we did a lot of conversing, and I discovered the usual details. One thing that thoroughly surprised me was that she is Angolan. While her skin is certainly darker than indigenous Portuguese, it certainly was not African black. And her facial features are downright European, far from African. Not that there is anything wrogn with African features - on the contrary, some of the very best sex I have ever had has been with sisters from the dark continent. But she just didn't strike me as haling from Africa. In any case, I didn’t have the language skills to probe further. She also has a 9 year old daughter (and that explains the weathered breasts). She said she works in Adonis from 11am-8pm M-F.

About 10 minutes of the small talk, and we were back at it. I climbed quickly onto her and went into my routine. Allow me to explain. Most guys have inadequacies when it comes to lasting a long time in sex. I do too, but I have recognized my vulnerabilities. First, I simply cannot handle doggy style – like most guys, this will get me off in just a few strokes. For that reason, I always like to end in that position. Second, I am a little more immune to cowgirl (although reverse cowgirl is harder to resist), so I use that as my staging point to transition into doggy. However, my forte is missionary – I can literally go forever in missionary if I play my cards right. That is, if I remain cerebral and pay attention to my level of arousal, I can slow down the motion as need be, change the direction of the motion, or even retract substantially so as to maximize my staying power. I like to do lots and lots of this, as it gives me a false sense of virility. I know it’s just a game I am playing with myself, but hey, this is my routine.

So I started in missionary and Hafaella did all the right things: she used her finger nails just right, she produced the appropriate oohs and aahs at the appropriate times, and she never rushed me or expressed impatience. She was not the tightest I have ever had, but quite frankly that is even better. If the girl is too tight then it either hurts or it is far too easy to finish earlier than you expect. So we went at this for quite a long time, perhaps 10 minutes (again, in sex time, that is eons. I don’t mean to brag, there’s no point on an anonymous forum such as this one, I mention this simply to say that she was agreeable and willing through all of this). We switched to cowgirl, and we went at this for a minute or two before she did the change-up and went into reverse cow-girl. Mmmm, as I’m sure you all know by now, I am an ass-leg-thigh guy, and so the sight of her ass, the feel of her legs around me, it was very heady stuff. So I had to change positions quickly. But thanks to all of that missionary work, my little Kilauea was ready to blow his top, so now for the coup de grace: doggy style.

She got onto all fours, lowered her head slightly so as to lift her ass up for the taking, and bared it all for me. This, my friends, is the culmination of all my hard work. All the hours of reading the WSF, all the thousands of dollars spent flying to Lisboa, all the frustration I spent the day before searching for apartments, all of it was made worthwhile in that fraction of a moment when I sat there on the bed, sheathed dick in hand, looking down at Hafaella’s beautiful ass laid bare before me waiting for my arrival. This is what it is all about gentlemen, much more so than booze or drugs or gambling or anything else. It’s a pleasure that is subtle, but definite. And it requires a little getting-in-touch-with-yourself in order to truly appreciate it. I wont cheapen the experience with a crass, explicit description of the geography of her orifices – that one will remain with me.

So what happened next? After a few seconds of philosophical contemplation and introspective bliss, I sat up, slid my swollen, near-purple penis into her pussy and started to rock back and forth. I was trying to stay as long as I could, but after just a few strokes I knew it was hopeless. So I went for it all – I started to bang that beautiful creature as hard and as fast as I could. I fucked her as if it was my last fuck ever, the fervor of the moment overcame me and I screamed out in agony and lustful pleasure as I spent my load. I collapsed onto her and she collapsed slightly under my weight. At this point she did the most tender thing I have ever experienced with a prostitute: she reached over and held my head with her left hand while supporting herself with her right. There we stayed for several minutes as I whimpered like a baby, regaling myself with my triumphs and regretting that it was over.

She cleaned me up, I showered, and then she led me into the stairwell and we said goodbye. A warm moment, but not overly so. I walked down the stairs and out the door, and I looked at the digital clock outside and it said 19:10. So assuming that the selection process had taken about 5-6 minutes, and the initial showering had been another 5 minutes, Hafaella spent a full hour with me.

As a conclusion, allow me to say the following. YMMV. Never has this been more true than in this case. My particular experience with Hafaella was unique and unusual. I have never had quite so fulfilling an experience with any other provider, but as you read my description you must have sensed that at least part of the reason for this was the state of my mind at the time. I was primed and ready for an experience, and it seems my own state of mind helped make that already good experience even better. So if you go in there expecting to be "serviced", you will probably be disappointed. If you go in there and mistreat the provider or are discourteous, then you are not going to enjoy yourself a lot. But if you go in there and respect her, treat her like a lady, be funny, imagine that you are on a date and that she is not obligated to you, then you might just get a little more than you bargained for. And who knows, once in a while, you might be rewarded by a gem like Hafaella – the kind of experience that will stay with you for years to come.

Ok boys, that’s my story for this evening. In my next installment I will recount to you how this wonderful exhilaration that I had with Hafaella was crapped away just two hours later with the crazy ass Romanian street ho called Yonella.

Hi there ppl,

Just back to Portugal aftter a 3 month away on work in London ( Sugest that you check out the party's cene in London :) ), well comming back i was fealing in the mude og being with a tipical Portuguese Girl.

So I resolved to checkout the www.ishtaragency.com, nice place, girls from 5 to 8, but my freind after you pay theres the problem.

You can't kiss, they are looking to the watch evry 5 minutes, an as soon as you pop they stand up a push you out.

Tan lines 2

Muri is aware that Laura, subject of this glowing report, would not attract the average monger on this board (if there is such a person). It’s one reason why he does not believe in these ratings out of ten, because one man’s princess is another man’s slag. And some of what follows has to do with Mur’s obsession with Lori of London - nobody on the board wants to hear much more about that.

So on to facts. Laura works at Avenida da Republica, 45, 9 ‘D’. Five minutes' walk from Saldanha. Muri had a business lunch at the sexy Atrium, and initially thought of paying a standard visit to Isabel, but being in a rare state of financial opulence he researched a house called ‘Emmanuelle’ and made his way to the above address.

An apartment block with all the architectural vices of the 1960s. Number 9 ‘D’ makes things worse, with seventies interior décor. But the place is clean, and no fewer than eight women were presented, all of whom Muri would happily have ravished. But his eye was drawn immediately by Laura, and at the risk of repetition, he doubts whether many mongers would have automatically made her first choice. She’s short, slight, petite, a bit hesitant and awkward, avoids eye contact, and dresses in nondescript top and skimpy skirt. The other ladies mostly tried to be saucy, or radiant, or provocative. The similarity of body and shyness to Lori of London was so striking that Mur was instantly intrigued and attracted, and he settled immediately for Laura, one hour, €100.

And was not disappointed. A lovely little body, tanned into a deep, rich red-copper-brown colour, except for an amazingly small area of breast and pussy. One would say bum, but to the rear, the tan lines are pencil-thin. That is one minuscule bikini. Mur asked her if the guys look at her on the beach, she replied “I don’t notice things like that, and anyway I go to the beach with a girlfriend who is much more beautiful” “Bring that girlfriend here NOW", inner Muri growled.

But he was soon lost and spellbound tracing the tan lines with his tongue. Laura reacted in astonishing style like a girl who has hardly ever been stimulated by a man (In fact, she is 27, has had a long term boyfriend, and for the last two years has alternated between making a pittance as a shop assistant and making a decent living out of, well, erm… prostitution). She’s not confident about her body, thinks she’s too short and not pretty, and she’s half ashamed and half excited by the job she does. A combination that stimulated Muri enormously. Having paid for two shots, he enjoyed the first, doggy then mish, and preferred to spend the second half hour just stroking every inch of Laura’s fascinating body. “What, YOU are going to massage ME?” she exclaimed, before submitting. Mur massaged as if his life depended on it and this lovely young woman relaxed and purred as he relished the beautiful texture of her skin and the contrasting colour tones of the bikini lines. Some modest foot worship also came into the game.

Yes, all the symptoms of falling in L*** were there. Powerful, compelling sex. ‘envolvente’ as they say in Portuguese, again proving that the ‘automatic’ approach of the Brasilieras cannot compete with the authenticity of fucking a Portuguese girl, a woman who really could be the university student who lives next door, or the sexy creature whom you eye up behind the counter at the shopping centre.

Hard to recommend to fellow mongers because they may wonder what all the fuss was about. And hard to decide whether to go back because … no, not hard at all. Muri will be back, to see how those tan lines are coming along…

Bruna’s place is ‘Mirage’. 967292270. Rua Rodrigues Sampaio, 30A, 5th ‘D’. It’s opposite the Hotel Britannia. The street runs parallel to Avenida Liberdade to the E., handy for several hotels and for anyone touristing around Restauradores. Our upmarket brothels (Adonis is another) tend to ‘front’ as beauty spas, and Mirage does a full job. A mama-san dressed in white presides over a spotless foyer with a counter display of cosmetics and perfumes. The room where Muri enjoyed Bruna was impeccable, with the latest shower equipment, a massage table, and all the paraphernalia of expensive feelgood treatment. Expensive feelgood treatment (specialised) was just what Mur was seeking on a blazing hot afternoon, but after good clear direction on the phone he was disappointed to find that only one chica was free (though mama-san herself, with a friendly, ugly face, and big butt in tight trousers, looked fuckable…). Mur waited apprehensively. With the others chosen by hungry predecessors, would this one turn out to be the ‘house reject’? And if so, what to do? Turning her down might hurt her, and a gentleman does not willingly upset a lady. And walking out means descending to the burning streets in search of somewhere else to obey the body’s imperative.

No need to worry. After two minutes’ anxious delay, a lithe, bright-eyed sexy young woman announces herself as Bruna, and it is no sacrifice to accept her company.

She is one of those Brazilian mulattas whose skin is almost deep orange in colour. Her hair is a lion’s mane - fragrant ginger-blonde corkscrew curls down to the small of her straight back. Her eyes are clear amber, almost feline yellow. Ready smile, perfect teeth. Natural breasts, hard as unripe mangoes, with pink sensitive buds that stiffen under the tongue. Her arms, shoulders, thighs and calves are shapely, packed with firm muscle to stroke and knead. Yes, yes, this talk of firmness and muscle will make readers suspect that Muri is a latent homosexual, but there was nothing latent about his erection as he responded to Bruna’s taut body with some rigidity of his own. And those tan lines – a piquant delineation of the Empire of Venus. Muri feasted with eyes, hands and tongue, then managed to retain control in cowgirl, never easy for him – then eased into long slow lingering missionary and a joyful explosion.

A splendid young woman, twenty-three years of bliss. She did try to hurry along, because of two basic errors from your correspondent. First, he chose the €70 half-hour rather than the hour at €100. He wasn’t sure if he could come twice after lunch on a hot day; but it’s always worth buying 60 minutes at classy places, so as not to look like a rapid-fire cheapskate, and usually the lady is skilled enough to get you back up and thrusting even if it’s 40 degrees in the shade and you are 89 years old and have just consumed a bottle of Jack Daniels. Bruna would certainly have restored Muri for round two. Well, even veterans make mistakes, just ask shit-fer-brains Beckham if he’s taken a penalty recently.

Second error was not to stress the fact of permanent residence in Lisboa. Bruna flattered Muri’s adequate Portuguese, but he somehow forgot to respond, “sure, I live here.” Even if you are only in town for 8 hours, ALWAYS inform her that you are here for a while - she will certainly invest more effort. (OK, this is not true of the Romanians, but they are seriously weird) Readers who worry about telling a little white lie to a lady should exit this forum immediately and find a born-again Christian site.

Bruna’s ‘naked bikini’, the dark flesh and stark white tan lines, are worth a visit, gentlemen.
Bear in mind that (Bruna told me afterwards) because the girls of ‘Mirage’ worked non-stop during Euro2004 and since trade slows down in the summer, they are closing for the two middle weeks of August. But her delectable tan lines will last until November...

Tan lines

Each season offers its own fetish to those who worship the subtle intimacies of the female.

Winter is the erotic striptease of overcoat, cashmere sweater, clinging heavy skirt, shiny boots, bra, pantyhose or woollen tights, at last revealing the hot scented flesh.

Springtime sees pretty little feet back in sight, nipples pushing at t-shirts, skimpy trousers with visible mini-panties, and midriffs exposed with tantalising tattoos or piercings.

Summer? Surrendering their gorgeous bodies to the sun as to a dominant male, our goddesses acquire tan lines, the shape of tiny bikinis sketched upon beautiful breasts and bums.

It hasn’t all been football and fucking for the working girls of Lisbon this summer. Two of them, at least, have enjoyed Sundays and 'feriados' on the beaches at Caparica or Carcavelos, cooking those turn-on tan lines, just so that Muri may trace them with fingers, lips and tongue…

The ladies deserve separate reports, and we begin with Bruna.

KUMBU

A fan-fuckin-tastic report on your trip to Rafaela of Adonis.

(Brazilians do 'h' intead of 'r', and your interpreter is a young lady from Belo Horizonte).

Muri is proud to have been one of the contributors who put you on the happy path to Rua Braancamp, and his curiosity is aroused to sample this Angolan jewel some time soon. Angolans are not always deep black, there is another tasty coffee-coloured Angolana , Carina (not to be confused with hot Carina of Areeiro) who goes for €30 at Calçada Garcia.

Mur now feels apprehensive about your forthcoming report on Romania. Perhaps he has been too effusive about this scene, which has certainly declined since the police cruelly deported Mariana, Irina and Larissa just before Euro2004.

Mur has never been with Yonella; tell us the ghastly truth and do not spare our feelings. Maybe she is the same girl as, or the close companion of, the inert Georgina. A surreal experience for Muri about a month ago, so bad and so disgusting that afterwards he sat in the Restaurante Suiça with a double whisky just shaking with helpless laughter while the English, Swedish and Croatian football fans stared at him pityingly.

Once again - congratulations on a report which really gives us the full texture of a memorable encounter.

If only you dwelt permanently among us to help do justice to the sex and savour of this city...

Come back soon,

Mur

Ah you guys do bring back great memories of mine. Back in the mid 70's, yes I'm an old guy, I visited Angola and Mozambique love the women. I can remember just the type you mention at t Adonis.

I'm an American and speak Portuguese hope to visit Portugal in Sept.

[part 3]

this is part 3 of my four part report. the first part detailed a day of frustration and depression in which i searched in vain for the pleasures of this beautiful city, as described by you, the maestros of the fabulous wsf. the second part describes a success beyond successes at the delectable hands of rafaella (thanks muri for the note on portuguese pronunciation) of adonis. here, i will describe to you how from even the most elevated of plateaus, one may fall from grace with a single stroke of the dick.

i include a lot of details, which some people like and others dislike. i go into this level of detail because i feel it is a way to give back to the wsf. i have received a great amount of information and entertainment from you guys over the last few months, i would like to hereby return the favor. if this is not your cup of tea, my apologies. but i think some people may benefit from reading these details. and in the mean time, i hope that you can laugh and cry along with me as i recount my experiences.

rafaella had me on a high, and as i left rua braancamp and entered the metro at marques de pombal, i felt as if the world was my plaything. i was relaxed, happy, and back in that taoistic mind-set that i always strive for. that foolish grin of the horny monkey had been replaced by a peaceful, enlightened smile. what can one do after an experience of such significance? there can be only one answer: have a meal the likes of which even the gods would be envious. and i was in just the city to do that! so i took the metro downtown to baixa and found this fantastic little restaurant that served all kinds of wonderful portuguese delectables. it was expensive, mind you, but it was certainly worth it. i forget what it is called in portuguese, but what i ate was basically a beef steak that was more tender than i had ever had, with tasty potatoes and lots of garlic and onion. wonderful.

afterwards, as i sat in my chair contemplating what i had done in my previous lives to deserve such utter bliss, my mind started to wander. a note to aspiring sages: this is usually the first sign that something is wrong. when you are in a moment such as the moment i describe here, your mind should not be wandering – it should be reveling in that very moment. so i started to plan my next escapade in lisboa, and i started to recall the notes from this forum. after a moment of thought, i realized that i was just a few minutes from praça da figueira, a spot that has been famously described as harboring romanian lovelies.

one thing that i had failed to mention in my previous reports was that on my first day, as part of my frustrations, i had passed by these avenues in search of a romanian sighting, but alas i saw nothing (just adding to my frustration of that day). so on this day, it being of a later hour, i thought it might be useful to simply scope out the area in case i feel the need on one of my remaining days. so i whipped out my notes and found a fantastically detailed description by murilloa which stated that the romanians can be found on the corner of poço do borratem and rua condes de monsanto. next, i opened my hotel-issued tourist map and located poço do borratem, but there was no mention whatsoever of rua condes de monsanto. no problem, i figured it would be a nice walk in any case.

so i strolled down the hill with my belly full and my dick still tingling ever so slightly, feeling smug and happy with myself. the night was pleasant and the traffic was light, which made for an even better atmosphere. i walked down the south side of the praça and luckily glanced over and saw the name of the street which juts out of the south-east side of the praça - rua condes de monsanto! so this is such a small street that it does not appear on the tourist maps. i walked a further 20 yards and behold, the infamous romanian corner!

exactly as muri had described and in exactly the correct location, this was indeed the sw scene. i was quite resolute that no further humping was to be had this evening, and so i felt quite comfortable walking the gauntlet of sws. i took a deep breath and began my tour. a few paces in i was propositioned from the other side of the street by a big, black sw (aged in her early thirties perhaps) with too much make-up wearing a fur coat and black stockings. she pursed her lips and made that kissing sound to me. while this may be a serious turn-on for some guys, i myself find it immensely crass and off-putting. not that i was in the market for a sw, but this just made the decision, as my american friends say, a no-brainer. i walked on, leaving kissy to her own devices, still firm in my confidence and refusing to consider anything further tonight. about 20 paces down the street there was yet another fur-wearing sw, but this time of a decidedly more east european persuasion and significantly younger in age (perhaps early twenties). she had lovely blonde curled locks cascading down her shoulders, with a fair amount of make-up and a rather strong expression on her face. as i approached my will began to weaken and i felt a stirring in my loins. i approached as casually as i could and i suddenly realized that were i to proposition this lady (not that i was of course, remember, i had already had mine tonight) what would i say? as you know by now, the virility i showed (in my mind at least) with rafaella belies the linguistic impotence that lies at the heart of my problems in lisboa. so that was it, the last straw, i decided that i would walk through this street, straight to the metro and back to my hotel room. as i passed her she suddenly shouted something out at me which i did not understand. i think it was ‘puta!’, which i later looked up in my berlitz dictionary and found to mean wh*re. that makes sense.

the aggressiveness of her bark coupled with my newly made resolution to return to my hotel room resulted in me just walking on through, like a perfectly enlightened guru drifting past all the troubles in the world. as i walked away i took a few short breaths and felt considerably better, as if a load had been lifted from my shoulders. but i was not out of the woods yet. as if fate sensed my weakness, about 20 paces down from the golden-locked puta, i spied a jewel in the rough standing quite innocently at a corner (this was not a street corner, just a little jut in the road that caused a small corner for her to stand at. it’s hard to explain). there she was, standing like a young, elegant statue, looking across the street so that i had the perfect profile view of her. i wasn’t sure she was a sw, as she was far too carefully presented and seemed a little young (she looked like she was in her late teens). she had red hair, neatly and tightly tied behind her head; porcelain skin the kind you find in vista alegre stores dotted throughout portugal; she had a jean jacket on and a knee-length skirt. as i approached she turned to me and an ever-so-slight smile crept to her face. foolishly, i mistook this for something that it wasn’t - i later found out the smile was because she had just identified another mark.

as taken as i was with her appearance, i still felt the need to walk away, so to my credit i continued past her. but she called after me in a small, alluring voice (nothing like puta), and being the stooge that i am, i turned. she rattled something off in portuguese, and all i caught were a few words: ….pensão…sexo… cinquenta…

now i was confused. i distinctly recall muri’s description of the romanian sw deal as involving simple fs in exchange for 25 of europe’s finest. if i understood correctly, this soft-spoken red-head temptress was asking for twice that amount. if true, i attributed this to the euro 2004 effect. however, i was not sure that she had asked for 50 euros - as those of you who have had the experience of learning a foreign language can attest, the numbers are not easy to master, especially the 40s-90s. without my trusty berlitz pocket guide to help me, i didn’t want to agree to any sort of deal, especially if it involved being over charged by two times the regular rate. so out came my most well-practiced phrase: “falla ingles?” response: “huh?” so i thought back to my days on the los angeles bus system, and recalling some spanish i said “quanto?” and she repeated “cinquenta” so i ran through the numbers in my head (tres, quarto, cinco, seis…wow, wow, that’s too much), and so, recalling that in italian 20 is venti, i said “nao, venti” and held up two fingers.

she scoffed, turned her head around, and her pony tail whipped around (an effect i rather find pleasant). she then went on in portuguese (although it could have been romanian, i don’t know) about pensão, sexo, and some other things. as she talked, i looked straight at her face and watched the way her hands moved. she was chewing gum, not a great turn on, but it allowed me to see the movement and texture of her lips. such close inspection allowed me to also notice that she had these small red freckles dotting her cheeks and neck. i also noticed the fine texture of her hands, and how well groomed they were. a gum-chewer often has bitten-down nails (nervous energy), but her nails were well-groomed and carefully tended. as i have said before, that goes a long way in this business. i felt the all-too-familiar stir in my pants, and i felt shame. what in the name of all that is holy are you getting all worked up over? you just had the most magnificent fuck with an exotic, gorgeous angolan beauty in adonis, why do you want to go and spoil that? no, just walk away, go home and you will sleep very well tonight. you are king right now, don’t [url=http://isgprohibitedwords.info?CodeWord=CodeWord140][CodeWord140][/url] that away.

i said “ok, ok, venti cinco”, and she countered with “trenta”, and i said “vamos”. notice how easily and quickly my resolution to return to my hotel disappeared. in fact, i didn’t even realize that my mind had changed until we started trudging back down the street towards the pensao. as i walked behind her back towards punta and kissy, i realized that i was walking behind a sw with the whole world to see. it was excruciatingly obvious, and that walk lasted a life time. i’m not a particularly shy person, but this really was a little too sordid. also, as we walked, i noticed the way she walked, and it wasn’t all that pretty. she walked on her toes, but she kind of fell forward and stopped her fall with her stride. it made for a terribly inelegant gait, which was the first sign of things to come. as we crossed the street she yells out at the top of her lungs to puta something in some language, which could very well have translated to “hey puta, i’ve got myself a right ******* here, i’m going to fleece him of his cash and i’ll be right down to split that filhós with you.” perhaps most off-putting about this turn of events was that the quiet, demure girl that i thought i had propositioned had turned into a loping, loud-mouthed, street urchin.

the pensão was right there in the middle of the street, the door perhaps 20 meters from the corner of poço do borratem and rua condes de monsanto. she pressed the button and screamed her name “yonella!!!” the buzz couldn’t come soon enough, after which we were climbing the rickety wooden stairs. they were exactly as muri had described them: steep, dirty, dark. as we climbed i checked out her ass. the jean jacket came down to cover half her ass, so i couldn’t see all that much. but it looked fit and definitely acceptable. when we reached the top of the stairs, a young guy came out of the door with a sheepish look on his face. here was an awkward moment. he and i were face to face for a second, both trying to avoid eye contact, but i could see that he was definitely ashamed of being there. thinking back now, perhaps it wasn’t simply a case of moral shame, i think it was more than that. i think this guy had just gone through what i was about to go through, and he was ashamed that he had stooped so low. but at the time i didn’t know that of course, and i felt sorry for the guy. i hope this guy was none of the most esteemed readers of this forum, and if so, my deepest apologies.

so we walk in and turn right and then left into the first room. it’s a large spacious room with an open window (i know, i wanted that window closed, but there didn’t appear to be any chance of being seen). there was a large bed in the middle of the room covered with a dirty green cover. to the right next to the entrance was a small wash basin and a bidet. the floors were hard wood and extremely dusty and dirty. i followed her in, but she promptly turned around and screamed at the top of her lungs something i couldn’t understand. for a second i thought she had gone completely mad and was screaming at me. perhaps she was schizophrenic and was having an episode or something. but then i heard a man’s voice from some other room shouting back at her. she stormed out of the room and i peered around the corner to see a brute of a man hand her a couple of “towels”. i could probably take el bruto, if i had four or five big friends.

she closed the door and held out her hand for the money. i would ordinarily argue with her that i would pay her afterwards, but i was already suspecting this was a lost cause, so i handed over the 30 euros. she started to take off her clothes and grunted at me to take off my clothes. so i crossed the room to where there was a small chair, and started to disrobe. as i disrobed i watched her take off her clothes. as she revealed her body, i must say that i was pleasantly surprised. she had exquisite skin, perfectly smooth and pale, with just that tinge of reddish-pink that comes with red-heads. she removed her blouse to reveal two large, ripe, round breasts. as the bra came off i couldn’t help admiring the small, pink nipples – quite extraordinary. as she moved about the business of disrobing, i watched the way the breasts moved and i decided they were obvious implants. that got me to thinking: implants cost money, and how does a poor ee teenager afford such an investment. anyway, below her beautiful breasts was a tight midsection that was certainly worth further investigation, should the opportunity ever arise.

but as she took off her skirt, i saw something that literally made me recoil – she revealed her feet, which were dirty beyond belief. her toe-nails had not been cut in months, and there was dirt (at least i hope it was dirt) under her toe nails. i thought this to be a little unfair. after all, i had agreed to the deal under the (false) impression that she was a well-manicured, carefully groomed individual (recall references to her nails and hair earlier). now she was showing her true self, and it was not very pleasant. i considered asking for my money back, but then i thought about the difficulties involved in this (both of the linguistic sort as well as the el bruto sort) and decided against it.

so she takes one of the “towels” and walks over to the bidet and cleans herself very thoroughly (almost too thoroughly, i thought she was going to hurt herself). as she was doing this her feet were straining and stretching, and i just couldn’t imagine that i was about to be intimate with her. but at the same time i was watching those magnificent breasts bounce and swing, and i was getting an erection. how screwed up am i? she grunts at me and motions for me to clean myself with the “towel”. so i cross the room to the sink and pick up the remaining “towel”. this was a rag of pink cloth that looked absolutely vile. it looked like it had been rubbed against every euro 2004 fan’s penis and asshole several times over, and was now being handed to me for me to nicely wipe all over my most precious possession. i would have flat-out rejected such a notion, except when i picked it up it actually felt clean. it clearly had been washed and had in fact been neatly folded. this was a shocker. so i duly cleaned myself.

she had in the meantime mounted herself on the bed, sitting on her ass with her head propped on the headboard and her legs bent, as if she was getting ready to give birth. it wasn’t the most appealing position because it put her feet in a very prominent position. she grunted to me and motioned that i should start my business. now those of you who have read my reports carefully will recognize that while i am not the most romantic of individuals, i am somewhat sensitive to the niceties of courtship. i like the pleasantries, i like the foreplay and i like the social aspects of this activity that we all indulge in. this was just a little too direct for me. “come…fuck me…be done with it…i have filhós to share with puta…”

no. i paid a good 30 euros, i will have it my way. so i walked over to her and before i could say anything she whipped out a condom, ripped it open and slapped it into my hand, grunting that i should put it on. ok, so i put it on. then i turned to her and asked her “quanto anos?” and she replied “dezenove”. this continued for a few minutes, during which time i found out that she was indeed romanian, she had been here for one year, and no, she will not spit out that fricking gum that she is chewing. so if she is going to give me this attitude, i just decided to have some fun. i was still standing besides her while she was in the pregnancy position, and i grabbed her boobs and started to roughly play with them, and holy crap! they were real! i couldn’t believe it, these perfectly spherical, perfectly firm, perfectly beautiful creations were in fact a creation, nay, a marvel of nature itself! they were not only perfectly round and firm, they were huge! i put both my hands around one of them and they did not fill my two hands together. recall from my earlier report what i did with rafaellas bottom, i tried to replicate here with yonella’s breasts: i squeezed, slapped, pinched, rubbed, kneaded, spread, squished and flat out molested them. this in itself was almost worth the cost of admission (not quite).

she tolerated this for about 60 seconds, after which she grunted for me to mount her and be done with it. my member was raging at this point, not more than two hours since finishing with rafaella, ready for another round. i told her to flip over, because of my well-documented penchant for rear-ends. she refused. she gave me some bs about something to do with her digestive system (indicated by her patting her belly), which i didn’t understand (although it did sound familiar from a post on the wsf). i insisted that she should flip over, and she protested again. i insisted once more (man, this was not good), and she gave me the old belly-rub again. so i cocked my head and gave her the universal sign for “what’s the deal man?”, after which she reluctantly agreed. she flipped over and revealed her ass. and whoa, no, that was not the site i had been expecting! it looked dirty and not well tended at all – certainly not the kind of thing i would enjoy looking at (or smelling) while trying to satisfy nature’s prime directive. so i changed my mind immediately. i told her to flip back over, for which she was very happy, and i hastily jumped onto the bed. i inspected her pubic region which was partially shaven, although i think her pubic hair was sparse to begin with. her pussy was a bright red color, the color of ripe pomegranate seeds. in fact, it looked as if it was bleeding, and i thought “oh crap, is it her period?” but no, on closer inspection i realized that is just her color, as evidenced by her hair and her skin. so i slid into her pussy and started to pump. as i did that i looked down and (damn it!) i just couldn’t get the sight of her feet out of my line of vision. they were right next to me, as she sat there with her legs bent and knees pointing up. so i pulled out and i said “nada”. she grunted, indicating “what?” and i pointed down and said “nada”. so she started chattering in some language and grabbed my limp dick and started to rub and squeeze and, yes, even slap. this was not what i would call a hand job, it was more like mechanical stimulation designed to force blood into the penis and allow me to then penetrate.

needless to say this was not doing anything for me, so i decided to go for the only thing that would work for me at this point: her beautiful boobs. so i went to work, and after a while i became hard from the sight of her boobs being squeezed and massaged, and she slipped me into her. i fucked and squeezed for a good 10 minutes, making her very impatient, but who the hell cares. i fucked and squeezed, carefully averting my eyes from her feet and instead fixing my gaze on what i was doing to her tits. meanwhile she sat there chewing her gum and looking entirely disinterested. as i fucked her, i was vaguely aware of the fact that my balls were rubbing against the bed-spread, and given that this was clearly her position of choice, i tried not to think about all the other hundreds of men whose balls had rubbed exactly on that same spot. yah, i know.

after what seemed like an eternity, i finally came. it was an ejaculation of relief in the sense that i could now get the fuck out of this place. but that was the only satisfaction that came from this experience, and the shame was already all around me. i was sickened to the stomach for how low i had sunk – why the hell did i do it?? i had just had a beautiful experience with a goddess in adonis, why would i demean myself with this cheap, sordid, dirty, unsatisfying, uninspired, despicable act?

i cleaned up, and as we left the room yonella went to find el bruto and slipped him some cash. we walked down the stairs and as we approached the door i asked her how much she had given him. she said cinco, but she may have been lying. the door opened, and she walked away from me without looking back or acknowledging me again. she walked straight over to puta and kissy and it looked like they were discussing where to get their filhós from.

i, on the other hand, made haste for the metro, went directly to my hotel room and went straight into the shower. i literally scalded myself with hot water as i scrubbed and re-scrubbed myself for almost forty five minutes in the shower trying to rid myself of the memory that was yonella. out damn’d spot! out i say.

so, here’s my final assessment of this dreadful event. first, the romanian sws are easy to find and i suspect a great deal of fun. however, as this report shows, ymmv. muri himself has reported on some fantastic experiences, and at the same time, some god-awful experiences. i think i just got some bad luck after i had expended it all in adonis. additionally, this happened just hours after rafaella, and so the juxtaposition perhaps added to my disappointment. my suggestion to those visiting lisboa (and i guess to locals as well, although i wouldn’t presume to advise you) would be to give the sws a shot, but be careful. first of all, avoid yonella at all costs. she survives on false impressions, as you can see from how easily i was duped. and she does absolutely nothing during the act, except incessantly chew her gum. and second, don’t expect too much from this. you will get a simple fuck and nothing more. if you are looking for a place to dump your sperm then this will do it for you. but if you are looking for an inspiring, memorable life-time event, don’t bother.

in my next (and final) installment i will describe to you my last day in this wonderful, beautiful city you all take for granted. it includes a visit to rua rodrigo da fonseca / rua artilharia, and a second (less successful) visit to adonis.

adeus until then.