I got this story from someone else. I worked on it and styled it around a bit. See if you like it. As usual with my stuff, you gotta have some humor, or just forget it.
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Prologue:
His mom and dad were there to see him off. It was nice for once to have someone accompany him to the airport. Usually, no one else bothered, coz they assumed Megan would be there. Terry sank back in his business class seat and adjusted the volume on his i-pod. He turned it up loud. He was glad he had copied his father's Hank Williams and Charley Pride collections. He sought the song as the plane taxied for take off. There it was now, a special dedication to that bitch Megan. Fucking damn shit head Megan!!!
Then Charley Pride's baritone voice sang into his ears. Terry had never cared much for country music, but Mr. Pride had always fascinated him, because he was a black man. He wondered if the good gentleman had known that his number one song would one day be the perfect song for Terry and Megan. Probably not. Terry lost himself in the music and the lyrics.
"Wind whipping down the neck of my shirt, Like I aint got nothing on, But I'd rather fight the wind and rain, than what I've been fighting at home, Yonder comes a truck with the US mail, People writing letters back home, Tomorrow she'll probably want me back, But I'll still be just as gone. (Chorus) Is anybody going to San Antoine, Or Phoenix Arizona, Anyplace is alright as long as I, Can forget I've ever known her
(Lyrics: Charley Pride, Is anybody going to San Antoine. (Yeah, my American Dad tortured me with country music when I was a kid. I still have most of the lyrics in my head, and a song pops up to every situation)
Chapter 1: Fuck Megan
Terry stepped out of the plane many hours later, and set foot on Brazilian soil. The sunny climate in Rio was a welcome change to the cold winter back home. And the distance to Megan was wonderful.
Terry was glad to be far away from home, and his bitch ass girlfriend of eight years, Megan, who had just dumped him for another guy. Initially, Terry had been heartbroken and feeling like a castrated man. It sure didn't do much for his ego to know that she had left him for someone who offered her the BBD, as in bigger, better deal. For the love of Christ, Terry didn't even know why he had dated Megan so long. She didn't look all that good, she had an average face, flat chest and at the most, an o.k. body. She couldn't cook worth shit, sex with her was not all that great and she was always moody. She always treated him like a jerk, and he had jerked off more often than he had fucked her.
Megan came from a formerly rich family (her dad lost all the money in some shady investments). She had this air of superiority about her. She was smart and conniving. She knew how to sell herself as someone special and important, and could boss and bully people around. She had had one very convincing argument for Terry. She told him,
"Do what I want or fuck you!"
Terry had been stupid enough to tell himself that she had a soft interior under her hard shell, and if he took his time and showered her with his nurturing love, she would in time mellow down and learn to love herself and the people who loved and appreciated her. His flimsy excuse for letting her bully him around like a wimp had not fooled anyone except himself.
The fact that she had dumped him for a younger guy, with a bigger bank account and brighter prospects, and that she had explained this to him so calmly, without any shame or remorse, had really pissed him off.
He was glad he had been given this assignment in Brazil soon after their break up, because he might otherwise have done something stupid. A couple of times when he had been trying to drown his pain in liquor, he had found himself fantasizing of driving to his parents house, stealing his dad's pistol and introducing Megan and her new boyfriend to the Magnum 44. In the first fantasy he was pistol whipping them both and scaring the shit out of them. In the fifth, they were cowering at his feet and begging to perform fellatio on him. By the time he got to the tenth, he was going out like Waco, shooting up bodies and turning the pistol on himself in the end, and taking the hero's exist.
The funny thing for Terry was that the moment he landed in Brazil, Megan faded to a bleak memory. He felt like a heavy weight had been taken off his shoulders. He suddenly realized that the sadistic, materialistic, conniving, scheming, useless, ugly ho was not worth living for or with, and definitely not worth dying for.
He gave her a ring, wished her all the best, and told her how free and happy he felt without the burden of sharing his life with her. She sounded pissed as usual. She told him to eat shit and go fuck himself and hung up. For the first time in his life, her words didn't affect him. Terry realized that life was good, without Megan. Very good.
Chapter 2: Viva Brazil
Terry, 35, was a tall, broad shouldered man with a handsome face, short dark hair and a trimmed beard. As head of the sales department of his company, he was currently negotiating several sourcing contracts with Brazilian firms, and things were moving along smoothly .
The only regret Terry had was that he was not getting to see much of the country because of work. He liked it in Rio. The relaxed, sunshine-Samba atmosphere of the city was infectious. The flirty Brazilian girls were getting him aroused. He just loved looking after the pretty, skimpily dressed, chocolate brown beauties walking around with a sexy sway to their hips, and sweet, carefree smiles on their faces
After a day of long meetings, Terry decided to visit an open air Samba performance. That decision changed his life. He sat right in the front row, with a perfect view of the stage. He was looking good, in casual attire.
Terry was impressed by the flexible, dark skinned, muscular men, with awesome abs, and the gorgeous, gracious, sexy, skimpily dressed brown women. He soon found himself tapping his feet and bobbing his head to the unfamiliar yet intoxicating Samba Rhythms.
There was one dancer in particular, who captivated him. She was a tall, slender, busty, curvaceous brown beauty, clad in a tiny, glittering, silver thong, with beads hanging around her waist. Her feather head dress and the facial and body painting made her look like a steamy, pagan sex goddess. And the sexy, effortless way she shook her thick, round butt was simply so artistic. (yeah right) Terry felt his cock grow rigid in his pants.
As she noticed the tall, handsome Gringo ogling her and sending her smoke signals, Danni, the dancer in question, read them like a wise Indian chief, and blew them right back. At the end of the performance, Terry hung around until she came out of the dressing room. They had a quick chat, and exchanged numbers.
Terry had never dated a non Caucasian woman, and he found the exotic, light brown Mamacita simply alluring. That night, he went to bed with a boner, caught a boner dreaming of boning her, and woke up with a boner, probably the same one. (bone in the usa) He definitely wanted some of that chocolate.
24 year old Danni had been a Samba dancer most of her life. When she took to the stage, Danni liked to whip that ass around, and get all the dicks rock hard, and the pussies soaking wet, but she never took it farther than that. She'd been dating a fellow dancer since the age of 16. However, the guy had gone on a tour of Japan and never returned. According to the grapevine, he was now married to a Japanese woman, plus he had developed a preference for Sushi and Toyota. Danni wasn't too sure about the Sushi, (its not really relevant to the story, anyway) but she knew that his ass hadn't called or written ever since.
Danni was young, sexy, red blooded and horny. She had never dated or screwed a white guy. Some people had told her that white guys couldn't fuck worth jack shit. Others had said they were horny, sex starved maniacs, and if a girl fucked with them, she got no rest. Some had said they had tiny dicks. Yet others had said they pink cobras in their pants. All Danni knew was that she curious about the taste of vanilla. She found the tall, handsome Gringo alluring and wanted to find out if could swing dick or not.
They hooked up the very next day and she took him sight seeing. The sexual tension between them was electrifying. Danni wanted to fuck the tall Gringo blind, but she didn't want him to think she was an easy slut or a hooker. Terry wanted to screw her real bad and put dents in that fine, round, brown ass, but he didn't want to give her the impression that he was just another white tourist trying to run up in sweet chocolate pussy. They played it cool, but by the third evening, they both just wanted to fuck each other senseless. Terry invited the brown sugar babe to his suite for supper, and ordered the best wine on the menu to make the mood a lil more inductive to the sin of Eve. Danni brought a bag of bomb ass weed with her, to help make (sh)it happen.
They were both horny as hell. One moment, they were reclining on the balcony, admiring the night skyline of Rio, the next they were kissing and fondling each other like two horny teenagers. And two moments later, Danni threw her lips to Terry's vanilla Longhorn and made it melt in her mouth like candy. Not to be out done Terry went down on the sweet chocolate pussy and made the Brazilian girl speak Chinese (at least it definitely didn't sound like Portuguese, which he could somewhat speak). Then they were rolling on the bed, banging their heads on the head board and fucking like sex maniacs.