Author's note: My uncle Ron died recently. While sifting through his files, I found journal folders marked MY STORY, containing accounts of his life, which I am adapting and editing. These stories include bisexuality, incest, interracial and mature and group sex, etc. All sexual activity depicted here involves persons at least 18 years old.
His younger friend Dex told the following tales to Ron. These stories stand alone from the RON'S JOURNAL series. The DEXTER GOES SOUTH series is fairly independent of the earlier Dexter accounts. This series chronicles Dexter's travels in Mexico and Central America. For readers' convenience, most Spanish language speech and signals are presented in loose English translation.
If you haven't read the previous episode, you won't get this one, other than the sex, of course.
DEXTER GOES SOUTH #2 - TO THE PANAMA CANAL AND BACK? July-August 1972
(Spoiler: Dex only gets as far as Honduras this time.)
I rode south into steep mountains from Palenque, into the heart of Chiapas state, Mexico's deep south.
I found myself behind a not-so-old Coca Cola delivery truck. The back of the truck was riddled with bullet holes. I took this as a naked warning about the (un)friendliness of the area.
An hour later, I rounded a curve as the road dropped into a valley, and I saw a makeshift roadblock ahead. No military vehicles were in sight. This was NOT an ordinary army checkpoint. I spun around and sped out of sight, back the way I came.
I checked my maps and found a rough parallel road to route me around the roadblock. I took a couple hours to make about three miles. Yes, that track was rough, but it was also fairly close to the main road. I just pushed the bike, all 350+ pounds of the load, leaving the engine off, to avoid making noise that might announce my existence and position to the roadblockers. Discretion is the better part of survival.
I heard gunshots a few times during my push. When I saw that I was nearing the paved road again, I kicked the bike into action and sped off as best I could. Gunfire faded in the distance. I was relieved.
I rode up the highway a few miles, then stopped. I rested for maybe a half-hour, letting my nerves settle and my breath get back to normal. No traffic rolled up the road from the roadblock. I suspect that things got nasty down there.
A Mayan woman stood by the roadside with her hand raised to flag-down a ride. She climbed on behind me and got off near a small steep farm a few miles further on. She gave me a thank-you blowjob and walked home.
I reached my next destination in the brief twilight. San Cristobal de Las Casas is an old colonial city at a nice elevation, over 7000 feet above sea level. My last ten days were mostly in the blisteringly hot and humid coastal lowlands. I decided that I liked cool mountains much better. Yes, Los Angeles gets hot too, but as the joke goes, that's a dry heat, even if it is smoggy. This wet heat was just murder.
I found a posada at the outskirts of town and took a room with a larger-than-usual bed, a room heater, and its own shower -- luxury accommodations! I asked for two girls. I opened my room door at their knock and saw two girls and a guy, none too tall, all attractive, looking to be in their very late teens or early twenties. The guy said the girls were his sisters and he was there to keep an eye on them.
I got definite signals from the guy. I put my hand on his shoulder and asked if he was part of the package deal too. He nodded.
I turned on the room heat. We all undressed and headed for the shower, which was large enough to hold three. We rotated in shifts, three at a time out of four, playfully washing and fondling and teasing. The sisters seemed as affectionate with each other and their brother as they were with me. We all kissed and groped in our various multiples.
Jorge and Rosita and Carmen dried me and then themselves. The girls sat me on the bed between them. Jorge knelt between my legs and took me into his mouth, sucking gently, then more fervently. I groaned.
I was sandwiched between Rosita and Carmen. I kissed Rosita and fondled her cushy breasts. Carmen licked my nipples and ran her fingernails lightly across my back, down my sides, along my thighs. Rosita pulled to rotate me to her inviting chest, her arms wrapped around me.
My cock popped out of Jorge's mouth. He moved between Carmen's legs and started eating her.
I moved Rosita next to Carmen, and slurped one of her breasts, and carefully fingered her slippery slit. Carmen kissed Rosita's other round breast while her brother expertly tongued her. My finger slipped into Rosita's sweet vagina. I reached my free hand over to Carmen's breasts and brushed her nipples. Rosita and Carmen both groaned loudly, in perfect genetic harmony.
Jorge moved back to my cock, tonguing, kissing, mouthing me fully, stimulating the sensitive patch below my little head. Rosita pushed me back and straddled my head. My tongue snaked around and into her pussy, drawing circles around her labia, sliding in waves along her slit, then thrusting into her tunnel, a good tongue-fucking.
Carmen knelt in front of her sister and kissed her mouth and breasts. My left hand clawed at Jorge's head as I fucked his face. My right hand was fingering Carmen's wet cunt.
Rosita shuddered and came, crying softly. Carmen pushed Rosita to the side, off my face, and settled her own pussy onto my mouth. Carmen bent forward; her mouth joined Jorge's at my groin. She pushed Jorge away from my cock and swallowed it herself. Carmen reminded me of Juliana back home -- rather pushy, for hired help.
Carmen was on top of me, her mouth surrounding my cock, my tongue probing and prodding her pussy. Rosita pulled Jorge atop her for their own sweet mutual oral-genital satisfaction. We throbbed, side by side.
Carmen came loudly, and then Rosita, their cries a chorus of pleasure and plunder and promise. I pushed Carmen off me and pulled Jorge onto me. His uncircumcised cock filled my mouth and challenged my tongue. My cock intruded down his throat.
Carmen pulled Rosita atop her for their own 69, their bodies tangling and untangling. Our oral adorations were frenzied and extended. I heard the girls cum multiple times. And Jorge and I came together, jerking and twitching. His ejaculation was surprisingly sweet. Did he drink pineapple juice?
Jorge slowly pulled his cock out of my mouth but kept his clamped down around my softening dick. He swung around, kneeling between my legs again, and continued slurping me gently. Carmen moved next to him. Their tongues shared the duty of re-stiffening me. Rosita levered herself onto me and dropped her vulva onto my face; her mouth joined Jorge's and Carmen's in licking me back into action.
Rosita's juices and her siblings' slobbers drooled onto my face. I happily drowned, and resurfaced. I slurped Rosita to another loud wet climax. She cried, and fell on me, and rolled off me, and panted.
Carmen straddled my hips and lowered her hot cunt onto my straining cock. I saw and felt and heard her engulf me inside her: saw my cock sliding into her labial lips; felt her heat scorch my stiff shaft and roast my little head; heard the soggy sounds of our junction, and her muttered sigh. She slid up and down my ramrod, faster and harder, her stomach rippling, bouncing on me until she cried.
Carmen slipped off me; her place was taken by Rosita, who worked me until she came but I had not, not quite yet. But I was close. I rolled her into doggy position and pounded her energetically. Carmen snuck in and squeezed my balls. I came.
Carumba!
We continued similarly for another hour or so. Then Jorge announced that they could not stay the night. They were needed at their home. So I got the bargain rate -- all this sex cost me only one dollar.
---
San Cristobal was popular with European and Canadian tourists, not so much with USA gringos. Merchants were adept at talking people out of their money in English, French, German, and Italian. A few included Japanese in their language repertoire. Nobody bothered speaking Chinese or Russian.
I moved to a more central location the next day, to a hostel that also rented minimally-furnished private rooms and small suites. The hostel was set at the edge of a large walled compound enclosing informal gardens, lawns and hedges. Some areas formed nice secluded nooks for private partying.
My quarters consisted of a large room with three beds and a locker, a smaller alcove with a desk and chair, a bath with large shower, and a small private yard. Sweet. I could accommodate good-sized parties. All this cost just five bucks a night. What the hell, it was time for a little splurge.
