Brasil by algeta39 311 | SlutteryTales

(This story is the property of its author, H. K. Smythe. Any unauthorized reproduction or reprint without the express authorization of the author is strictly prohibited. Characters under 18 do not engage in sexual activity.)

(I received my scenario inspiration for this story from "Brazilian Size Queen" byDantasianDelirium)

(An explanatory note about the title, Brasil is Portuguese for Brazil. Most readers already know that Portuguese is the language most widely spoken in Brasil.)

(I also need to thank Kenji Sato for his editing. The stories that he has edited are all the better for it.)

Brasil

Michael Thompson

Ever since I went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans while a college sophomore I had wanted to go to Rio's Carnival, arguably the best in the world. Now as a twenty-eight-year-old Ph.D. in physics, courtesy of Cal Tech, I finally had an opportunity. My grandmother had died in September of the year before and left me a bequest of a quarter of a million dollars.

For one of the very few times in my life, I cried when I the attorney read her final message, "My darling Michael. If you are hearing this, I probably didn't get to see you receive your Ph.D. but I'm sure you'll succeed in that endeavor and in the rest of your life. Please consider this to be mad money to celebrate the successful completion of years of hard work. I hope you will party hearty for a while before embarking on the journey of the rest of your life."

I loved my paternal grandmother more than any other of my grandparents and on a par with my love for my parents who had supported me through almost ten years of post-secondary education. I had full tuition scholarships the entire time I was at Cal Berkeley and Caltech, but my parents still had to pay the majority of my thirty-thousand dollar a year living expenses. At least for the five days of Carnival, I could take some of my grandmother's bequest and treat it as 'mad money' to 'party hearty' at Rio's Carnival.

When I last visited my parents, in their newly acquired San Francisco luxury condominium, both were very concerned with crime in Rio. My approach was to stay in brightly lit tourist areas and be careful with my valuables, including my new cell phone. My travel advisor wasn't concerned about my going alone and told me that finding a companion or companions would be very easy during Carnival but be sure to take a good supply of American-made condoms, as a woman being easy wouldn't mean that she was STD-free.

When I made my reservations, it was too late to get a hotel near the Sambadrome, where most of the samba school parades would take place, so I got a downtown hotel near the bay with views of both Guanabara Bay and Sugar Loaf. After I arrived on the Thursday before Ash Wednesday and checked in to the hotel, I took a yellow taxi to Sugar Loaf and rode the cable car. There were magnificent views of the ocean and bay and with adequate magnification, I was able to capture a nice image of Christ the Redeemer.

On Friday I went to both Copacabana and Ipanema beaches. I enjoyed the food-stand snacks and had a drink. I went to a couple of bars, but I didn't really make any heterosexual contact. I wrote it off as a combination of my white skin, compared to mostcariocas, and my lack of Portuguese. I hung out, checking the bars out, but only occasionally going inside and having a drink.

Around nine, I took a yellow taxi to the Sambadrome area. In the streets near the Sambadrome and in the Sambadrome, I was moderately more successful, learning mostly by example aboutficar, the kissing culture of Carnival. With no guarantees of no accusations of sexual harassment, it seemed pretty simple.

For a non-Portuguese speaker, you first make eye contact with acariocamiss. If she doesn't look away, you smile and move closer. As long as you maintain eye contact, you approach until your lips contact. Then you can engage in impassioned kissing, fondling and caressing, until she pulls away, or you run out of breath. Then you break it off and walk away.

You might make small talk if you speak Portuguese but that's it. You don't exchange names, or phone numbers, you just go on to the next person of the opposite sex. I always saidobrigadoafterward. The one time I saidpor favorbefore kissing her, the girl shook her finger at me but then kissed me passionately. I never used that term again and must have kissed twenty-something women subsequently.

Saturday went similarly to Friday night with a few exceptions: there were more people both inside and outside of the Sambadrome, the women were, if anything, less dressed and more eager to engage inficar.

Then I saw the most attractive woman I had ever seen. She had perfect caramel skin, dark enough to suggest an African ancestor or two. Long, straight, black hair almost reached her butt and enclosed an incredible face with dark eyelashes, dark eyes, and luscious, red, full lips. She was about five-foot-six with her 36D-24-37 frame enclosed in a virtually transparent yellow mesh catsuit. Strips of bright-purple fabric were placed strategically and aesthetically on the catsuit, failing to completely cover her dark areolas.

She kissed me like the other girls who were enjoyingficarhad. It was the same but somehow more exciting, more intoxicating, more electric. I know this wasn't the way. After the first minute-long kiss I kissed her again, trying for an even higher lever of passion. Then, a miracle happened. She kissed me back with even more lust and feeling, if that was possible.

Then we looked at each other. The samba sounds receded into the deep background. It was like we were on a different planet than everyone and everything around us. She spoke, words forever engraved in my consciousness, "Meu nome é Maite. Podemos ir para o seu hotel?

What I got from that was that she was Maite and my hotel. The best I could muster was, "Sim, por favor, Maite!"

She replied, "Eu achei que você fosse americano!"

I told her, "I'm sorry, my Portuguese is very bad!"

She replied, haltingly, "I think my English not good, but better!"

I responded with a smile, "I agree. Thank you."

She laid another enthusiastic kiss on me.

She then had an extremely fast conversation in Portuguese with another vision of loveliness, of which I caught a few words likeAmericanoandhotel. She turned back to me and said, "Shall we go?"

By extreme good fortune, I hailed a yellow taxi and gave my hotel name. Then, I told her that my name was Mike. She replied, "No Mike; Mikey!"

Soon, we were in my room. After some more making out, she kicked her shoes off, unzipped her catsuit and incredibly she looked better naked than in costume. Together we took my clothes off. She grasped my seven inches of manhood and said, "Big like burro!"

I replied, "Yes, enjoy!" and that began two hours of the most incredible lovemaking of my life, and I had already had a lot of experience, even at twenty-eight.

I suppose I had a bit of a reputation at Cal Tech. It seemed that there was an almost unending line of female graduate students knocking at my door. Their one common characteristic was that once was never enough. When they stayed overnight I was often called upon to perform my particular brand of magic four or five times.

Maite was full of passion and seemed to enjoy cumming over and over and then some more. In two hours, I managed to get it up three times with only about a twenty-minute break between the second and third episodes. Afterward, she told me, "That very good, Mikey. We go Sambadrome?"

I looked at my watch and replied, "It's after midnight, Maite!"

She responded, "Yes. Sambadrome good now!"

So, back to the Sambadrome we went. She was right. Things were going great. We danced to the omnipresent samba beat. We drank. We watched float after magnificent float. We watched samba school after samba school. It seemed that each had more magnificent visions of female pulchritude than the one before. Finally, around four, she showed me some of theficarshe had been practicing with all of the males and some of the females in the immediate vicinity. Okay, she wasn't the only one in our couple practicingficar.

After our kiss, she said, "We go hotel now?"

I enthusiastically replied, "Sim!"

She rewarded me with another passionate kiss. When we reached the hotel room, we had another two-hour session, and then we went to sleep. At least I was out for about six hours. She woke me up for an additional episode of 'you poke me.'

She had a large shoulder bag with her, from which she produced a scant bikini. She told me, "Breakfast, then Ipanema!" She packed the catsuit in the shoulder bag and we went downstairs for breakfast. They were transitioning from breakfast to lunch on their generous buffet, so we had some of each.

Next came Ipanema. After a couple of hours of fun in the sun, with frequent bar breaks, she wanted to go home.

When the yellow taxi stopped at her house, she asked me to stay in the cab. I did hear some Portuguese, but with the muffling from within the house and my language limitations, I caught very little. After that we continued on back to my hotel for some lovemaking, and then a nap, before we returned to the Sambadrome.

The one thing I wasn't totally enthusiastic about with Maite was that a major part of our time spent in cabs, she was texting away. This explains the difference in our routine after the first twenty-four hours, which meant we were constantly running into her coterie of girlfriends.

I exchanged greetings with Helena, Alicia, Maria, Laura, and Cecília. After that most of the conversations between the girls were in rapid-fire Portuguese. Once in a while I would hear the distinctive word, 'Americano,' but rarely anything more than the occasional 'gringo,' which I assumed also applied to me.

I did occasionally practiceficarwith them, but if more than once every twenty-four hours, I would receive a thousand-word look from Maite.

The rest of my time in Rio went on much the same. Maite and I had a great time, watching the floats and dancing in the Sambadrome, hanging out and drinking at Ipanema and Copacabana, and making love and talking in my hotel room. Her English was improving, and I think I may have been getting better in Portuguese. Although we sometimes fucked, on the morning of my last day in Rio, it was making love for three hours with a few breaks while my little man recovered.

Nevertheless, it was bittersweet, because I knew it would be a long time, if ever, before I would be with her again. I knew I was going to miss her because I had never met someone like her before. The lovemaking was intense, but most of all, I just enjoyed the sound of her voice and the touch of her hand as we enjoyed the sights of Rio and the delights of Carnival.

At the airport, I gave her my last four or five hundredReias, gave her one last ficar-worth kiss and went through security. It was a long, long trip back to Pasadena.

Maite(translated from the Portuguese)

There was something about this guy when I first saw him. When he kissed me, it was different from any kiss I had ever had before. His lips were soft but his tongue, it was like magic. I had been kissed a lot, especially at Carnival but it was never like with this guy. I had been with a lot of guys, but this guy seemed special. His skin was very light, even before he spoke, I thought he might be a North American.

At Carnival, things happen very fast, at least for me and my friends. I decided that I wanted him. I figured out he must be staying at a hotel. After a few more of his delicious kisses, I asked if we could go to his hotel.

Although his Portuguese was poor, even worse than my English, he understood what I wanted. We cuddled and fondled each other in the taxi ride to his hotel. It was a very nice hotel, at least a four-star. It had a view over one of my favorite things--Guanabara Bay. Wecariocasonly love the Sambadrome and our beaches more than the bay.

Once we were in his room and alone, it took only a few minutes for me to shed my catsuit. Then I helped him remove his clothes. He wasn't huge down there but he was large, perhaps, a seven incher. I kissed his instrument of feminine delight, but he didn't need to be sucked; he was very ready. Then he went down on me. A lot of cariocas don't like giving girls head, but I didn't even ask this guy. He seemed to enjoy muff diving, and he was incredibly good at it. Between his tongue and his flying fingers, I came three times before he even thought about penetration. His tongue massage of my button took me places I knew I wanted to go back to.

By the time, he started to slide his man meat into my pussy, I was on fire. I squeezed him with my Kegels every time he bottomed out. I burned with passion and desire. I came quickly; so he kissed me then he started banging me again. It was like his cock was made for my cunt. I had had bigger in my past, but this guy had my number as to how fast and how hard to ram me. After my second huge orgasm, he rolled me over to doggy fuck me. I like that even more than missionary. Two more convulsive climaxes and he had me crawl on top for some cowgirl.

I love riding cock. As I impaled myself on his love rod time after time, I felt sensations throughout my body. Even my nipples would get hard as we fucked and then they relaxed as I came. This guy knew his way around a cunt. I switched to the reverse position. He slapped my buttocks and it seemed that the orgasms in this position were even greater as my entire body shook in ecstasy. On my third time, cumming, he joined me. As I felt his baby juice pulse against my vagi walls, I realized he was bareback. I usually use a rubber unless I'm familiar with a dick. I never thought of it until he was coming.

Then I got off of him and lay down beside him. He began kissing and caressing me. His aftercare was as good as his foreplay and his fucking. I wanted more of this guy. I kissed him back even more enthusiastically than before we made love.

He was a sweet lover, that is, he cuddled and caressed my body. I loved it. A lot of mycariocalovers ignored aftercare. Once they got off, they were gone, looking for their next conquest. Mikey was a pleasant change of pace. Not only that, but as I fondled him, he was becoming more erect. In a few minutes, he was ready to go again. I licked him a little for lubrication and then we were both ready to go. It was clear that I wanted him and he wanted me. It was a different experience. Even the missionary position seemed sublime. We kissed as he pumped my love sleeve. Even more than the first time, his insightful application of tempo and strength was overpowering me.

My usual mode of operation at Carnival was to kiss a lot of guys, and if any stood out, I would become intimate with them. With Mikey, I felt a peace without any desire to hurry away to find another hookup. We spent the rest of the afternoon tasting everything the other had to offer. Mikey ordered room service and then we made love some more. We took showers and got dressed to go out for the evening's activities.

I was getting a little concerned. Acariocagirl has to be careful, especially with Carnival hookups. I was enjoying this guy too much. I texted my girls, telling them I was still with the North American. Helena texted me, 'Be careful with gringo devils!'

With one part of my mind I thought she was right; with another part, I was thinking that this guy could be the one. I was planning on spending the night with him anyway. Once I slept with him, I would know better if this was the guy. Somehow, I didn't really understand it, I just had a different feeling about him than the other guys I had been with.

It wasn't quite as much fun with him at the Sambadrome as it was being with my girls. Then they found us. They all had to kiss him. When they kept on flirting with him, I shook my finger at them. I could tell that Mikey didn't like it when I flirted with the other guys and kissed them, but I never let it go any furrther. After I kissed another guy or two, I would always go back to Mikey and hug him and make sure I gave him a kiss that was at least as good as any I bestowed on the other guys. I made sure that he knew that when we left the Sambadrome, we were leaving together. He seemed to accept that. When I finally had enough Carnival for the day around two or three we headed back to the hotel for more loving, snuggling, and perhaps, a little sleeping.

That was the way it went for the rest of Carnival. We both seemed disinterested in anything serious with anyone else. I think we were both sad when we finally parted at the airport, promising to stay connected by text and FaceTime. I hoped he was more than hot air, when he assured me we would stay in touch, and that we would see each other again sometime in the future.

Mike

I gave notice at my Pasadena apartment and oversaw the loading of my possessions for transport to Austin, and my new job at the University of Texas. My appointment as an Assistant Professor didn't begin until September so I spent a few weeks becoming familiar with Austin. I didn't enjoy myself, though, because my thoughts were of Maite. I was texting her multiple times every day and we would usually FaceTime once a day, but that was no substitute for the reality of her touch and presence. I texted her about when I could come to visit her in Rio. My heart leaped when she replied, "The sooner; the better!"

I made reservations for a week-long stay in Rio. Then I flew to San Francisco for a couple of days to visit my parents and to give them the heads up-I wanted to marry Maite.

I didn't have any pictures of her when she wasn't in a revealing bikini or Carnival costume. I settled on the least revealing bikini. My parents told me that I didn't know her very well. I told them that it was a thunderbolt romance. Even before I kissed her I knew she was the one. They weren't impressed but reluctantly told me to 'follow my heart.'

Maite's reception was a little more enthusiastic. When we met at the airport and I told her that I wanted to marry her, she almost knocked me over with arms and legs wrapped around me. She kissed me and ground her pelvis into mine. She told me that we would celebrate at my hotel first; then we would buy rings; and after that, t we would visit her parents with our news.

I was a little surprised when in the airport parking lot, we got into a very nice Porsche convertible. I knew her parents had a nice home. But viewed from a yellow taxi, it hadn't seemed all that exceptional.

At the hotel we renewed our emotional and physical bonds with an extremely energetic two-hour session. After a very energetic session, she started getting dressed, "Hurry, Mikey, the jewelry store closes soon."

Engagement rings were very different in Brazil. Fifty-thousand-dollar rocks on engagement rings was not the Brazilian way. We bought matching gold rings with small diamond inlays for two thousand dollars apiece, including the engraving inside. Mine read, 'Maite Silva' and then the date. Hers corresponded, using my name.

Next, we went to her parents' home. This time, we entered from a different street, where it had a much impressive façade. A drive took us around to the side, where we then entered a six-bay garage. With her convertible, it was full of impressive cars.

Brasil

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