Hey what’s up I stumbled upon this forum searching for what content there is on the internet about international game and stuff like that. I’ve been traveling for 3.5 straight years and I do a lot of writing about places and topics that seem to be of interest here. Here’s a story about the DR, it seems to be a popular game location, but if you aren’t familiar everything is basically all-inclusive resorts and sex tourism. I’m not much of a sex tourist, but this story is about how sometimes it’s rude not to be. Al is my brother, who is regular guy that works a 9-5, but also a pretty big travel enthusiast. When Al and I got to Santo Domingo we headed for Las Galeras, a small village known for it’s proximity to Playa Rincon which is nothing more that a really nice beach. We were stuntin’ in our rental car, a white Kia Picanto, which is basically one level above a smart car. The roads were complete **** and after what seemed like an eternity of driving in pitch black during a torrential downpour we finally arrived. There was basically no accomodation open in the entire village except for the one seedy place on the outskirts so we decided to stay there. It was only like 18 bucks a night for a pretty big room so that’s saying something. That night we went out to an outdoor place with a dance floor in the center that played the same meringue song all the time. As the night went on we slowly began to realize that pretty much every chick in the bar was a hooker. The next morning we woke up and met Sammy: tour guide, travel agent, drug dealer, pimp and all around hustler. If you could imagine what Moises Alou will look like when he is 60 that‘s probably a good description. He was trying to set us up with a boat to drive us to Playa Rincon, but we wanted to eat breakfast first and deal with it later. Being the persistent salesperson that he is, he followed us to breakfast against our will. Al was getting pretty annoyed at this point, but I was a bit more patient because I knew what was coming next. During breakfast he hinted that he could hook us up with some weed, so we began negotiating a combo package for the boat, snorkel rental, and weed, although he kept demanding to tack on two 18 year old senoritas for a price negotiated with them later. He claimed it wasn’t prostitution if we did it like that. It was pretty fun negotiating with this guy because he couldn’t understand English so we kept making funny comments behind his back. In the end, we agreed on 2500 pesos ($70ish) for the weed, snorkels and boat ride. In his mind there was no way we would turn down the chicks so that was still part of the deal. When we were driving him to the place to get the weed we stopped by the chicks’ place but they weren‘t there. Sammy started to get desperate that he might lose the sale at that point and was making a lot of excuses, but we told him the original deal was good enough for us. The weed turned out to be **** quality brick weed as expected, but still got the job done to some extent. We woke up from our post-beach nap and went out to smoke a J on the porch of our bungalow. Then we noticed the silhouettes of three hot looking chicks walking by the path in front of us from one of the other rooms. That seemed a bit suspicious, as it was a Sunday night in a tiny coastal village and these chicks looked like they were headed to some latino bridge and tunnel club in midtown Manhattan. They went out toward the street and came back for a few drinks while we were eating dinner in the hotel restaurant. Afterward they camped themselves at the tables close to our room. At the time we were almost positive they were hookers although not completely sure because we couldn’t fathom such an elaborate set up. We went and picked up some beers then came back and asked them if they wanted to have a few drinks with us. They were pretty freaking eager and joined us at one of the tables on the deck, but the conversation started out slowly. Al kept trying to bring up cultural discussions but the chicks seemed pretty bored and kept trying to change the subject. Only when the word chupa (meaning “suck” as in sucking ****) left my lips did they start to get excited. From there we managed to get the conversation on whether we liked café, café con leche, or leche. Not coincidentally, the girl sitting across from me was black, the girl to my left was mulatto, and the girl to my right was also mulatto but very light skinned by Dominican standards. Leche was definitely the hottest. She was thin, with hair dyed blondish, and had a nice ass with a very innocent face. She barely talked the whole time and had a meek personality. Café was the leader of the group, almost certainly the madame, and had quite a nice bod. The problem was that she was the oldest and had really messed up teeth. Café con leche was the one with the most sex appeal. Although she had no tits whatsoever and her face wasn’t the greatest, she definitely had the most spunk, in addition to an incredible ass. So anyway, sometimes the discussion would shift to something not sexual enough and they would always bring it back to “chupa chupa,” with one of them praising the other’s **** sucking abilities. These were women of business and they weren’t ****ing around. Not a single first world chick will ever understand this, but I would have been a horrible person if I did not bang one of these skanks. It would have been a complete waste of their time. Café con leche was pressing me about who I was going to bang that night. I said that I’d roll a J and decide after we smoke it, leaving Al outside with the three of them. When I returned Al’s feelings were hurt. He says, “these chicks want nothing to do with anything I say,” slowly in a high suspicious tone. “Huh?” “I‘m trying to talk about stuff and they‘re not interested.” I reply, “yeah, they’re hookers, and they’re trying to get down to business. Have you not realized this the entire time?!” At that point the joint was lit and with the help of the weed perspective Al managed to unravel the intricate plot. The girls were bored with our revelations and wanted an answer from me. Café con leche was pressuring me a lot so I decided to spite her and go with leche. Al actually has a girlfriend so he decide to pass, which was far beyond the realm of fathom for Café and Café con leche. Deservedly so, they were pretty sexy. They started to insult his manhood and resulted to low tactics like that. Al was certainly taking an emotional battering from these hookers. With that on the back burner we got so to negotiating prices. It started at 100 and I got it down to 50, although I’m sure I could have easily gotten 30. The problem is that when your brokering a deal for sex you don’t want to hurt the feelings of the hooker by adamantly going for the lowest price possible. I told Al to give me the key and we went in to do the deed, leaving Al to fend for himself with the other two. I wasn’t quite sure whether or not to kiss her, but I did because I figured it would be awkward otherwise. In general she acted like pretty much any other chick when you’re hooking up with them. She did try to avoid the chupa chupa though, which I wasn’t too thrilled about given that we had discussed it for the better part of an hour earlier on. So yeah, I made her get on that. Afterward she provided emotional support, saying that she loved me. You just can’t get that kind of multi-faceted service from first world hookers. After about five minutes of laying there I started to get really paranoid about her jacking our **** so I decided to tell her that Al needed to come back in. It had been a good twenty to thirty minutes by then and Al, thinking this would be an all night thing, resigned himself to a night of sleeping next to those hookers. Apparently they got down to their underwear, came over to his bed, and started rubbing his groin area. After a few refusals and insults to his manhood, they finally relented. He was incredibly happy when he saw Leche roll back in to relieve him of the awkward situation. He came back and told me about how that room had porn pictures in it and was specially designed for the use of hookers. The next morning we were headed out of town when Sammy zooms ahead of us on the back of a motor bike. Al was driving at the time and although I knew he didn’t want to deal with Sammy again, I figured he’d stop and give him a courtesy conversation. Instead I heard the thunderous engine of the Picanto rev up as we zoomed into the distance beyond the pace of his motorbike. In all, I must say that I’m suffering from a severe case of buyer’s remorse. I should have gone with Café con leche. So I guess the moral of the story is don’t base you’re sex purchases on spite. The part two of this story is Al and I outsmarting a drug dealer in Boca Chica.

Go here to read the rest:
Link here/a>