The rain had left the city with the scent of washed away muck. The damp smell that clings to the streets where it doesn't smell good but it doesn't smell bad either. I could smell the scent of shampoo and perfume coming from the bathroom where the girls were getting ready. Laughing and talking so fast I could only pick up a few words here and there. But when they came out they looked beautiful, as always. I snuck in after them and put up my favorite pair of old naturally torn Guess jeans, chain link belt, knee high boots, and the new vest I got in downtown Rio with the essential accessories (gloves, rings, cross necklace, studded braclet, the thick rocker eye shadow, Very Sexy lipstick and the scent of Paris Hilton).
When I came out the girls were ready and we hopped into the car and drove in the warm night air to Rio. Over the giant bridge where the smell of sea water blended with the nasty smell of fumes from the cars. Down into the lights and through the traffic we found ourselfs early at a night club called "The Week". The temptation of beers at the bar down the street drove us to spend two hours drinking and laughing finishing 9 tall beers between us four. The bar had been crowded with older men smoking pipes while they watched the younger generation make their way into the club.
You could hear the bass from down the block and feel the buzz of naughty coming from the club goers. When we had said it was our last beer and meant it this time we chugged the last bit and walked down the street. Oh the thrill of the happy buzz I had. Sitting on my stool with the biggest smile on my face.
I couldn't stop smiling, but when I think of "her" I never can. Again I could only imagine the joy I'd feel if she was with me, drinking and laughing with us. The sweetness of that laugh still rings in my ears. My own random bursts of laughter are known as my "happy thoughts" to the girls.
They know who I'm thinking about and can't help but laugh with me. I'm sure the laughter being so loud this time was caused by the beer and good company. But on we walked into the club, the vibrations flowing through your feet and the thumping in your chest, a feeling you can't hate or describe, but it makes one feel the energy of the club and puts you in the mood. It almost screams sex to me. The techno was killer. The on going and ever changing beats thrown out to the vast people by three different DJ's in a club that could hold and maybe was holding at least 600 or more. The neon lights flashed in every direction possible and the smoke machines would randomly fog up a section of the room, again calling for sex on the dance floor.
The buzz had gotten to me and I felt the urge to dance and dance hard.
The pure thrill of knowing I could do what I wanted and never hear about it later through small town rumors was the only reason that the four foot by four foot box in the middle of the dance floor called to me. Oddly I think I really even heard it call my name. As soon as I was above the crowd I blocked out the cheers and the flashing of pictures and just danced my heart out. Danced because life is so much sweeter, no so desirable, with dance. The pounding of bass gave strong vibration through my body, numbing my feet and legs in the greatest way, giving me no reason to really stop.
I looked around at one point and was happy to see I wasn't the only one on the boxes. There were girls pumping and shaking the sexiest parts they offered for the pleasure of the crowd. But when I felt someone next to me I froze, thinking it was a security guard trying to pull me down. Before I knew it I was turned around by a four foot 9 pixie of a girl with beautiful shoulders and a tat between her small but lovely breasts. She grabbed my face and kissed me. The thought of "her" came into mind. I blocked out the girl and closed my eyes seeing only her face, the only one I wanted to see. Again hearing the ringing of her laugh and seeing her eyes smile at me from afar. Being able to enjoy the kiss more with the thought of kissing someone else. My Perfect Drug, My Addiction. True I enjoyed the kiss for what it was worth.
I could hear the crowd, being a mix of gay and straight only because the club was a gay club every night but fridays. Again the flashing of lights behind my eyelids and then she jumped off and left me standing alone and still frozen. I smiled as I watched her walk off, and then I could feel the beat again and dance, my friend and happy companion joined me again on the box. Later when I ended up on the ground now shorter then the crowd I found her. Her dance was smooth, the transitioning of beats, oh like having sex on the dance floor (which some people think is wrong when it is just about dancing not sex at all).
I heard her voice ask me to kiss her with the sweetness of Brazil on her tongue, again asking me in english, so I did. The forwardness of women excites me. Ask for it, demand it, beg for it and you kill me inside. So she did several times that night. Who would I be to say no? Deni the softness of a woman? The fingers on my skin or mine on theirs. The swaying hips and back muscles when I run my hands down them, pulling them closer to give them what they want. Why say no, ever? Why did I ever stop saying no. To be back in this life where I can taste whom ever, be with whom ever, and please whom ever I want (women of coarse) has been something I've denied myself for so long. But getting back into it, easy and smooth as silk. And no to that one person, I dont scream sex, I reek of it. *Wink*
But again only the thoughts of "her" and her body came to mind that night even in the mists of my play time, that body of hers, my PFOS was the only thing I really wanted to touch. To see the chills I give her when I do. To hear the sweet moans when I kiss her right, always biting softly. A kiss I never share when I'm not with her, our kiss... The end of the night came and went, the next thing I knew I had numbers in my pocket and too many cards to count from the club. I was soon in the back seat with two girls passed out on me. Giving me the joy of playing with long hair smelling of smoke and frilly shampoo while the heavy sleeping breaths kept me smiling. Again the dominance in me comes out in straight women, a need to protect them, be the only man they'll ever need.
Then I was driving through the darkened streets of Nitoroi, the tropical tress high lighted by the small street lamps. Going through red lights in the dark and finally pulling in to the mansion I call home while a sleeping Joana was curled up on the back seat. I put her to bed and woke up this morning to laugh at the spread of both our clothes all over the floor and the room smelling of a perfect girls night out.....
The rain had left the city with the scent of washed away muck. The damp smell that clings to the streets where it doesn't smell good but it doesn't smell bad either. I could smell the scent of shampoo and perfume coming from the bathroom where the girls were getting ready. Laughing and talking so fast I could only pick up a few words here and there. But when they came out they looked beautiful, as always. I snuck in after them and put up my favorite pair of old naturally torn Guess jeans, chain link belt, knee high boots, and the new vest I got in downtown Rio with the essential accessories (gloves, rings, cross necklace, studded braclet, the thick rocker eye shadow, Very Sexy lipstick and the scent of Paris Hilton). 
When I came out the girls were ready and we hopped into the car and drove in the warm night air to Rio. Over the giant bridge where the smell of sea water blended with the nasty smell of fumes from the cars. Down into the lights and through the traffic we found ourselfs early at a night club called "The Week". The temptation of beers at the bar down the street drove us to spend two hours drinking and laughing finishing 9 tall beers between us four. The bar had been crowded with older men smoking pipes while they watched the younger generation make their way into the club. 
You could hear the bass from down the block and feel the buzz of naughty coming from the club goers. When we had said it was our last beer and meant it this time we chugged the last bit and walked down the street. Oh the thrill of the happy buzz I had. Sitting on my stool with the biggest smile on my face. 
I couldn't stop smiling, but when I think of "her" I never can. Again I could only imagine the joy I'd feel if she was with me, drinking and laughing with us. The sweetness of that laugh still rings in my ears. My own random bursts of laughter are known as my "happy thoughts" to the girls. 
They know who I'm thinking about and can't help but laugh with me. I'm sure the laughter being so loud this time was caused by the beer and good company. But on we walked into the club, the vibrations flowing through your feet and the thumping in your chest, a feeling you can't hate or describe, but it makes one feel the energy of the club and puts you in the mood. It almost screams sex to me. The techno was killer. The on going and ever changing beats thrown out to the vast people by three different DJ's in a club that could hold and maybe was holding at least 600 or more. The neon lights flashed in every direction possible and the smoke machines would randomly fog up a section of the room, again calling for sex on the dance floor. 
The buzz had gotten to me and I felt the urge to dance and dance hard. 
The pure thrill of knowing I could do what I wanted and never hear about it later through small town rumors was the only reason that the four foot by four foot box in the middle of the dance floor called to me. Oddly I think I really even heard it call my name. As soon as I was above the crowd I blocked out the cheers and the flashing of pictures and just danced my heart out. Danced because life is so much sweeter, no so desirable, with dance. The pounding of bass gave strong vibration through my body, numbing my feet and legs in the greatest way, giving me no reason to really stop. 
I looked around at one point and was happy to see I wasn't the only one on the boxes. There were girls pumping and shaking the sexiest parts they offered for the pleasure of the crowd. But when I felt someone next to me I froze, thinking it was a security guard trying to pull me down. Before I knew it I was turned around by a four foot 9 pixie of a girl with beautiful shoulders and a tat between her small but lovely breasts. She grabbed my face and kissed me. The thought of "her" came into mind. I blocked out the girl and closed my eyes seeing only her face, the only one I wanted to see. Again hearing the ringing of her laugh and seeing her eyes smile at me from afar. Being able to enjoy the kiss more with the thought of kissing someone else. My Perfect Drug, My Addiction. True I enjoyed the kiss for what it was worth. 
I could hear the crowd, being a mix of gay and straight only because the club was a gay club every night but fridays. Again the flashing of lights behind my eyelids and then she jumped off and left me standing alone and still frozen. I smiled as I watched her walk off, and then I could feel the beat again and dance, my friend and happy companion joined me again on the box. Later when I ended up on the ground now shorter then the crowd I found her. Her dance was smooth, the transitioning of beats, oh like having sex on the dance floor (which some people think is wrong when it is just about dancing not sex at all). 
I heard her voice ask me to kiss her with the sweetness of Brazil on her tongue, again asking me in english, so I did. The forwardness of women excites me. Ask for it, demand it, beg for it and you kill me inside. So she did several times that night. Who would I be to say no? Deni the softness of a woman? The fingers on my skin or mine on theirs. The swaying hips and back muscles when I run my hands down them, pulling them closer to give them what they want. Why say no, ever? Why did I ever stop saying no. To be back in this life where I can taste whom ever, be with whom ever, and please whom ever I want (women of coarse) has been something I've denied myself for so long. But getting back into it, easy and smooth as silk. And no to that one person, I dont scream sex, I reek of it. *Wink*
But again only the thoughts of "her" and her body came to mind that night even in the mists of my play time, that body of hers, my PFOS was the only thing I really wanted to touch. To see the chills I give her when I do. To hear the sweet moans when I kiss her right, always biting softly. A kiss I never share when I'm not with her, our kiss... The end of the night came and went, the next thing I knew I had numbers in my pocket and too many cards to count from the club. I was soon in the back seat with two girls passed out on me. Giving me the joy of playing with long hair smelling of smoke and frilly shampoo while the heavy sleeping breaths kept me smiling. Again the dominance in me comes out in straight women, a need to protect them, be the only man they'll ever need. 
Then I was driving through the darkened streets of Nitoroi, the tropical tress high lighted by the small street lamps. Going through red lights in the dark and finally pulling in to the mansion I call home while a sleeping Joana was curled up on the back seat. I put her to bed and woke up this morning to laugh at the spread of both our clothes all over the floor and the room smelling of a perfect girls night out.....
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