Sex for Socks

Be forewarned, this entry contains words of a sexually explicit nature. If such things offend you, I advise against reading it.

At the time of writing this, one of my favorite TV shows, So You Think You Can Dance, is in its fourth season. This season, there is a dancer named Chelsea on the show. She is a first-generation American. Both of her parents hail from Jamaica. Simply put, I think she’s awesome. Besides being a great dancer, she has a very cute face and the hottest body I’ve seen on a girl in a long time. The reason I bring her up is that she reminds me of someone who I once was smitten with, a Dominican girl named Nani.

Around the time that this entry is dated, I was regularly working with a girl named Deirdre Jackson, at America West Airlines. As we worked as gate agents, we exchanged stories about our recent trips. At the time, I was at the end of a long string of monthly trips to Mexican tourist hotspots. That is another story altogether, but one that I’ll quickly share here. Please pardon me while I digress. I’ll get back to the Nani story afterwards.

It all began when I was between girlfriends. I didn’t have anyone to travel with me and I decided to solicit for people who wanted to travel to the same destination that I was going, at the same time. I set a date and destination and printed up flyers announcing it. I stuck the flyers up in various break areas throughout the airport, with my phone number on it for more information. Surprisingly, I got several calls. As I recall, the first trip was to Manzanillo, not your hottest tourist spot, but a place to go for a short 3 day/2 night trip. As I said, I got a lot of calls, about a dozen or so. Out of those, five people actually ended up going with me. We had a great time. I decided to do it again the next month.

Those who went with me the first time talked about what a great time they had on the trip, which encouraged more people to go with me on the second trip. That time, I got about a dozen people to go with me to Acapulco. It didn’t stop there. I kept advertising my trips with flyers every month, getting more and more people to come along with me. For eleven months, I went to all the best tourist destinations in Mexico. Sometimes, as was the case with Acapulco three times, I returned to the same city. Throughout that stretch, I took groups to Manzanillo, Acapulco, Puerto Vallarta, Cabo San Lucas, Mazatlan, Mexico City, and Merida.

The eleventh and last month I did that was the third trip to Acapulco. Forty-seven people joined me on the flight down there. There were six others who wanted to go, but the airplane was full. As we airline employees traveled space-available, they couldn’t go. They tried to drive down there, to surprise us, but ended up getting robbed by some banditos and returned home penniless. Anyway, when we arrived in Acapulco that time, the entire group came to me at the hotel lobby and asked what we were going to do next, as if I was their tour guide. I suggested that they get into small groups and do what they wanted to do. That didn’t bode well with most of them and they ended up following me around like lemmings the whole time. In addition, upon our return from Mexico, stories circulated around the office about who did what with whom. I had avoided such gossip in previous trips, but could see that this would become a problem if I were to continue the trips. I decided to cancel any more solicited group trips. Yet, I still wanted to travel, but was afraid to do it alone. Deirdre helped me get over this in quick order.

Upon hearing about my dilemma, Deirdre explained to me that she, a young single woman, always traveled alone. She confided in me the information that she had been traveling to a Caribbean island (I forget which one) where there were a disproportionate ratio of men to women. She said that she had been there twenty-six times and found a different boyfriend each time. When I asked her if she was worried that people might call her a slut, she said, “No, because I travel alone. Who’s gonna talk?” She had a point there and I got to thinking if the opposite were true about a destination, if there were a place where females outnumbered males. I searched online and found out there was indeed a place, the Dominican Republic. After researching a bit about the country and locales, I decided to risk my safety and go there alone.

Upon arriving in the Dominican Republic, I rented a Suzuki Sidekick and traveled along the North coast to my destination, a small town named Las Terrenas. I had read about its remote location and exotic women and made the goal to stay there for a week. From what I had read, it was easy for an American to pick up a girl there. There was a gray area as to if the girls were prostitutes or not. I had read stories about some girls asking for money after sex and then others who did not. I wanted to steer clear of the former, and I did – to a point. I made it my goal to pick up a different girl every day there. It was a lofty goal, but I wanted to challenge myself. That goal quickly vanished when I met Nani on the second day in Las Terrenas.

I spent the first day getting accustomed to the area, driving around the small town, more of a village really. Then, the first night, I went to the only dance club there. It was a small outdoor setup. There were only about a dozen girls there when I arrived, but they all went up to me and became quite touchy feely. Initially, I thought they might be pickpockets. So, I secured my wallet in my front jeans pocket, as I had read to do. Then, I enjoyed the attention. Honestly, I felt like what a beautiful girl probably feels when she enters an American nightclub. All eyes were on me. I took a seat at the back of the joint and was immediately bombarded with even more girls that arrived. There were so many girls around me that I became visibly distraught.

The proprietor, sensing my anxiety, dispersed the throngs of girls from my area. I was thankful for the peace. He continued to do that whenever a girl approached me, giving me a great opportunity to pick out my first target. Shortly after I arrived, some more men got there, but our number was nothing compared to the great quantity of girls that were there, all of them gyrating to the club music.

After surveying the female offerings, I spied a young girl who had the cutest smile. She was sitting with her two friends at a table on the other side of the dance floor. I got up and walked around the floor toward her, eager to get a better look. As I neared her table, the three girls stood up and started dancing with each other on the dance floor. Like a bolt of lightning, the sight of the smiling girl’s tight body hit my eyes. I was immediately entranced by her beauty. I wasn’t accustomed to playing the part of the controlling one, but I threw caution to the wind and decided to give it a go. I motioned to her to come to me. I was pleasantly surprised when she obliged me. We began dancing together on the dance floor. In short order, we were grinding on each other. As the music never paused there, I had to take her hand and guide her off to my table. I wanted to try and get to know her.

In my broken Spanish, I learned that she was a student. As I had suspected, she was rather young, only seventeen years old. My culture frowns upon adults being with girls who are under the age of eighteen, but I rationalized that I wasn’t in my country anymore. In hindsight, I regret having pursued her after learning her age. Even though she acted mature, I should have sought older company. (There were a lot of choices!) It’s just that she seemed to me to be the most drop-dead gorgeous girl in the place that night and I wanted her. It wasn’t long before I had her, too. After exchanging a few pleasantries, I asked her if she wanted to go to my hotel. She nodded to the affirmative. Because of this, I fully expected she was a working girl. In fact, she seemed very experienced with sex, much more than any older girls I had been with before. Surprisingly, she didn’t ask for money afterwards. She not only spent the night with me, but we ate breakfast together the next morning. Then, she kissed me goodbye and I never saw her again.

The next night, I returned to the dance club. The girl I had been with the previous night was not there, luckily. In fact, it seemed that there were a whole different bunch of girls in attendance. After dancing with a few of them, my eye caught one that was smiling at me from the bar. I went over to her and sat on a barstool beside her. She was very dark-skinned, to the point that I could barely see her when the lights were low. She didn’t speak a word of English, the same as the girl I had been with the previous night. Luckily, she was a bit older, twenty-three years old. I used my poor Spanish to communicate with her, learning her name, Nani. It wasn’t long before we were dancing and gyrating together. Her body was both solid and soft in just the right places. I loved dancing with her. I have never been a good dancer, but she made me up for what I lacked. Nani moved her body around me with a rhythmic motion, much like a snake slithers around a tree branch. She got me very excited, to the point that I quickly ushered her off to my hotel room for a long passionate fuck-session.

After our bedroom romp, Nani and I tried to talk to each other. It was difficult, because of the language barrier, but I managed to understand most of what she told me. Nani said that she was a local waitress on vacation. She took me to the restaurant where she said she worked. We ate there, while she socialized with the restaurant owner. She spent that night with me and then got ready to go the next morning. I felt I was in paradise, with all these beautiful girls vying for my attention and not asking for a dime in return. However, I was really blown away with the experience I had with Nani and worried that I might not be able to repeat its high-level of satisfaction.

As Nani went to leave, I felt compelled to ask her to breakfast. We ate breakfast together and then went back to the hotel for some more hanky-panky. After that, I asked her to join me for lunch. Then, back to the hotel room we went. After some more lustful activities, I started to think that Nani was one of those nymphomaniacs I’d read about. I mean, she was a real firecracker when it came to sex. I’d never experienced anyone as energetic when it came to sex as she was, and I loved it. In fact, it was difficult for me to not immediately fall in love with her. I kept telling myself that I was only going to be there for a week. Besides, I had a goal of being with a different woman every day. After our afternoon tumble, I knew that the goal I had was going to have to be put on hold, though. I just couldn’t wean myself from Nani.

I accompanied Nani to her house, which was basically a makeshift shack in the center of town. Several other girls lived in adjacent buildings. After Nani gathered some of her things, she went with me to the beach. The beaches on the north coast of the Dominican Republic are inspirational. The aqua blue water comes up to about thirty feet from the tree line. Between the leaning palm trees and the water’s edge is very fine silky white sand. And there are miles and miles of secluded beaches, without a soul around. Following Nani’s directions, I drove the Sidekick down some barely-noticeable dirt roads to one such isolated spot. Upon arrival there, Nani jumped out of the vehicle, dropped her drawers and top and ran, butt-naked, out into the clear water. I hesitated for a brief moment, looking around to make sure nobody was in the vicinity, and then stripped off my clothes and joined her. Then, in broad daylight, we did it in the ocean.

Because the shore descends very gradually there, I was only up to my waist in the water. Nani, being somewhat shorter than me, was submerged from below her bellybutton. I had to stay deep inside of Nani, making small thrusts, so the salt water wouldn’t wash away her natural lubricants. Although this was exciting, I wanted to really pound her. So, I led her to where the water’s edge and laid her on the wet sand. Following some fierce ramming, we were both satisfied and returned to the Sidekick after washing off in the ocean. Then, Nani directed me to the home of her parents.

Nani’s parents were just as dark as she was. By the time we reached their hut, farther up the coastline, it was well after dusk. I exchanged cordial greetings with them. Nani introduced me to some other family members that lived there, too. Because they had no electricity, they had to light the place with a big candle in the center of the main room. It was so dark in the room that I could only see the people around me when they smiled. They were all very friendly and I tried my best to communicate with them.

Finally, Nani introduced me to a little boy, saying he was her child. I had read that several girls get pregnant out of wedlock in the Dominican Republic and the father is nowhere to be found, so it didn’t take me by surprise that Nani was a mother. It did put a damper in the budding love thing, but it wasn’t surprising. Nani explained to me that her son, about three years old, was essentially being raised by her parents, another common situation I had read about.

Nani and I returned to Las Terrenas, where I tried to locate an ATM. There were none to be found. The nearest ATM, according to Nani, was in a bigger city a few hours from Las Terrenas. The next day, Nani went with me there. On the way, a police officer that was standing on the side of the road motioned us to pull over. I did as directed. He then proceeded to tell me how poor his family was, and how his sister was very sick. Nani told me to give him money, which I did, and then he smiled and let us go on. Nani told me that this sort of thing is commonplace there. On subsequent visits to the Dominican Republic, I learned that she was correct, as I got pulled over twice more by police officers, in the same manner.

After getting more money, Nani and I went to rent some horses at a trailhead I’d read about. The trail led to a bunch of secluded waterfalls, where people could go skinny-dipping, which is exactly what Nani and I did. We rode the horses to one such waterfall, shed our clothes, and then frolicked about under the falling water. After having sex beside the waterfall, we got back on the horses and returned to the vehicle. Then, we drove to a place that sold motorcycles and ATV’s. I wanted to rent two ATV’s from the proprietor, but he was willing to only rent one. So, off we went, riding double on one 4-wheeler, to the beach. Upon arriving there, we put down a blanket and some food under a palm tree. Then, we made out in the shade of the tree and ate some food. Afterwards, Nani wanted to ride the 4-wheeler solo. I okayed that, which turned out to be a big mistake. She got going so fast that she wiped out at the water’s edge, rolling the thing over onto her leg. I ran out to help her, lifting the ATV off of her. Luckily, she wasn’t injured. She said that she wanted to do it again, but I shook my head to the contrary. I didn’t want to risking getting those perfect legs of hers scraped up, let alone having something more serious happen. She seemed okay with being denied another opportunity to injure herself, and we returned again to Las Terrenas.

As I stated before, I spent the remaining week with Nani and then extended my Dominican Republic stay another week. (I had a two-week vacation from America West Airlines.) Nani was with me throughout. She didn’t speak a word of English, except for a perverse pillow-talk phrase I taught her to say to me, “Fuck me in the ass.” Although she was very experienced in sexual matters, she was inexperienced in other aspects of life. For example, she didn’t demonstrate social skills to the level of an average American. She also didn’t respond appropriately to some of the things I told her. At first, I thought she didn’t understand those particular things, but upon further explanation I learned that wasn’t the case. She just had trouble conducting herself in a social situation. Her inadequacies were nothing of great importance. They were little things that she could pick up, given the right environment and encouragement.

Something I found very surprising was the fact that she had never seen an airplane on the ground before. She had seen them flying thousands of feet over her town, and on TV, but never up close, in person. I took her to the Santo Domingo airport with me when I left for home. There was an A300 visible from the street where we got out of the cab. She walked up to the fence that separated us from the tarmac, stared at the airliner, and simply asked, “Como?” Having been around airplanes on a daily basis for a number of years, I found her reaction amusing, yet refreshingly honest. I, myself, wondered about Nani’s question. I mean, how a big metal tube can fly through the air like that plane does is a mystery. I know there are aerodynamic laws that explain how it happens, but it is still amazing.

I bought a bus ticket for Nani, so she could return home to Las Terrenas, hugged and kissed her goodbye, and left. On the flight home, I pondered just what would become of my newfound relationship. I knew there would be other trips to the Dominican Republic and planned on seeing Nani again. I had gotten her address so that I could send letters to her. She didn’t have a phone, so I couldn’t call her. She did call me, though. Shortly after I returned home, Nani went to her local phone company and placed a call to me. It was difficult, as most of our communication during my trip to her hometown was via body language. Yet, we managed to exchange a few simple thoughts with one another over the telephone. About a week later, I sent Nani a box loaded with beauty products. It was my care package to her. She sent me a letter, thanking me. I had a coworker at the airport translate it for me. More letters followed, back and forth between us, for about a month.

A little over a month after I got back, I received a rather long letter from Nani. My coworker began translating it for me. In the letter, Nani expressed her deep feelings for me. She said that she loved me. She said that she felt very bad that she had lied to me and wanted me to know the truth, but was afraid to tell me. She also said that she felt obliged to come clean with me and hoped that I wouldn’t hold it against her, because she did truly love me. After reading this, the translator stopped. I asked her why she stopped. She said that she didn’t want to tell me the next part. I knew it was something bad, but persuaded her to read on. She said that in the next part Nani wrote that she wasn’t a waitress after all, that she worked with men at night. I wondered what that meant and the translator said that Nani was a call girl, a hooker, a bonafide prostitute. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe that I had sex with a whore without even knowing it. I mean, I had had sex with professionals before, but I knowingly entered into it. This time, I had been duped. Half-jokingly, I asked the translator if there was a bill at the end of the letter. There wasn’t.

I never corresponded with Nani again. I did return several times to the Dominican Republic, though. Although I never revisited Las Terrenas, I saw many other beautiful remote areas in the country. Each time I went there, I ventured to a different place on the island. And the women flowed like water during each visit. My original trip goal was actually surpassed on most of the subsequent trips. Often, I had more than one girl per day. The experience with Nani opened me up to being with other prostitutes on the island. That isn’t to say that I wasn’t with non-professionals, too. It was about 50/50. The truth is that it was difficult to tell beforehand if they were in it for the money, or whatever else they could get out of it.

Usually, money was never discussed until after sex. Even then, the actual amount was left up to me. The girls didn’t even come out and ask for money outright. What they did was give me a sad story, just like the police officer that pulled me over did. I knew what they were getting at, so I gave them a good cash gift and then sent them on their way. Were they whores for doing that? Yes, but not your typical street workers. It was more like they realized that there would be no future relationship between us, so why not get some money out of me to help ease the suffering caused by their impoverished predicament.

One particular happening I remember well was a foursome I had the day I arrived in a small town outside of Santo Domingo, called Boca Chica. I had gone straight from the airport to my hotel there, a beachside resort I found on the internet. Instead of taking in the gorgeous view from my hotel room, I dumped my bags and headed for an expat bar I had been to on a previous trip there. I loved the local beer there, called El Presidente. It leaves a sweet aftertaste in your mouth. In fact, it is the best beer I’ve had to this day. There was a park on the way there that served as a night market in the evening hours and three local girls approached me in broad daylight. They were very touchy-feely and I made certain my wallet remained untouched. They asked me where my hotel room was and said they wanted to go there with me. They said it was a very hot day and they wanted to go where there was air-conditioning. They also said they’d “fuck” me.

While in college, I’d had a threesome during spring break in Miami, but I’d never had a foursome. So, I was interested. The three Dominicans were nothing compared to the two beautiful Columbians I’d been with for a night in Florida, but I wasn’t picky. I asked them how much for the three of them. They said, “Nada.” I couldn’t believe that, so I asked them for clarification. They said that they honestly just wanted to get out of the heat and thought it would be fun to go have sex in an air-conditioned room. They said that they were just bored and wanted something to do. I still didn’t fully believe them, but threw caution to the wind and led them back to my hotel room.

Immediately upon entering my hotel room, the three girls were all over me. They quickly shed their clothes and took off mine. I felt really dirty and disgusting, as I had just arrived on a long flight into a very humid place and hadn’t had a chance to shower yet. I must have been really sweaty and gross. They didn’t seem to mind, though, as they began to lick me all over. Now, I had never had three tongues on my body at the same time before, let alone just one tongue in some of the places they were licking. I mean, they were literally giving me a tongue bath from head to toe. It was the nastiest, grossest, most perverted, and enjoyable sexual experience I have ever had.

By the time the three girls got around to my penis, I was already at full attention. Together, they worked it with their mouths. It was an unforgettable blow job. I tried to hold out, but I couldn’t. I came all over their faces. They giggled, as they took turns running to the bathroom to clean up. There was never a time when I wasn’t being cuddled by at least one of them. Each of them was on a different scale, as far as looks goes. One was cute, one was average, and one was butt-ugly (skinny, but butt-ugly, like trailerpark-trash ugly).

After several minutes of making out, they started working my penis over with their mouths again. After I got hard, they put a condom on me. Then, I started in on sexing them. I put them through several positions, taking turns with each of them. All the while, I kept looking at the cute one. Even when I was inside of the average one and the ugly one, I looked at the cute one. It just made it more exciting that way. Finally, I had them lying down on the bed in missionary position, one after another, and then climaxed on their bellies. This time, they didn’t rush to the bathroom to clean up. Instead they cuddled with me, until I was ready to go again. Then, we went at it some more, in various positions. We even made our way to the bathroom, for some standing up against the mirror pounding. That was really fun, taking them all from behind in turn. All three of them looked good from that angle, standing behind their brown little derrieres. After making our way back to the bed, they rode me almost to climax. Then, they ripped off the condom and sucked me off to orgasm. It was the most explosive orgasm I’d ever had up until that point. I mean, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I wish sex could always be like that. Sadly, it seldom is. To this date, that was the only foursome I’d ever had. I highly recommend it to anyone, though. It was a pure joyful experience. I think the only way it could have been better was for the girls to have been into one another as well as me. I mean, they were just focusing on me the whole time. If they had done some bisexual things, as was the case with the two Columbian girls in Florida, I might have enjoyed it even more. Still, I loved it.

After the girls showered and dressed, they asked me if I had any souvenirs for them, before they left. I had read that it is a good idea to buy trinkets for the local girls before going to the Dominican Republic, but I never did. Looking around my room, I realized that I had nothing except for the clothes I brought down there. I went to the closet, where I had unloaded my bags before. I grabbed three pairs of sweat socks and gave each of them one. I expected them to laugh, cry, or even shout at the gift, but they didn’t. They actually looked genuinely pleased. They hugged and kissed me and then left. There was more sex to come on that trip, but nothing worth mentioning like that episode. Upon returning home, I told some of my friends about the happening. I referred to it as my “Sex for Socks” story. What a great find that was, the girls of the Dominican Republic!

Aside from the passionate girls in the Dominican Republic, it is a very beautiful country. As I mentioned before, the water is an aqua-blue color and nearly crystal clear. The beaches, for the most part, are silky white. The palm trees come very close to the water’s edge, giving beachgoers the option of lying in the shade or the sun. The seclusion of most of the beaches is what I found most enjoyable. I like to go places where people aren’t. Often times, I felt like an explorer of old while there, discovering a new beach, river, or waterfall. A lot of people can be found in the cities, but the areas in between are sparsely populated.

I have changed a bit since the time of this entry. I no longer want to travel to an exotic place to get off with some local shavetails. I am more sensitive to the plight of the poor Dominican girls. Their problems aren’t going to be solved by foreign men coming to their country and giving them money (or souvenirs) for sex. Both the men that do that and the girls who allow it are delusional. The men are crazy if they think that the girls want nothing beyond sex. The girls are crazy if they think the men want something beyond sex. I realize that it is what it is and there are a lot of societal and economical issues that have to be resolved before any of that changes. It all begins with a mindset, though, and that’s difficult to get if your belly is hungry, or if your hormones are on overdrive. Consequently, I’m not sure if that situation will ever change for the better.

Having said that, I’d love to retire to the Dominican Republic someday. I wouldn’t do it to prey upon the girls, or have them prey upon me rather, but because of the beauty and solitude of the place. There was once a time when I thought I had some talent in the area of writing. Because I have neglected to hone that skill, any talent I possessed has gone long ago. I feel that I could possibly get it back, if given the opportunity to do so. I would need to be financially self-sufficient, have ample time, and be in a calm tranquil environment. That is why I would love to retire to the Dominican Republic, to do that. I would love just sitting down at a computer and writing fiction, while a slight sea breeze blows into an open window behind me.