Press "Enter" to skip to content

A Girl to Write Home About

What you should know about Kokopelli:

It is a hostel.
It is located in Lima, Peru.
I fucked a chick in it’s bathroom.
This is that story.


 

It’s a young and beautiful crowd, like it always is at Kokopelli. Bill, a gringo man of about 60 years old feels wildly out of place and vocalizes it.

“Well there’s nothing for me here.”

I nod in agreement.  I mean I appreciate his company but if I was knocking on social security’s door, I’d feel the same.  I peer out onto the dance floor, merely happy to sit there in my stoned trance and nod to the cranking beats.

One bird in particular catches my eye. Long dark hair in a braid, a complementary tan-colored headband, and a white tank doing its damnedest to contain a jiggling, massive set of tantalizing tetas. I remark to my cousin’s girlfriend about how fresh this chick looked.

“So go!” she yells and pushes me to the dance floor.  And so I march straight to her and start talking. And guess what?  She starts talking back.  Wow.  Amazing how smooth that went.

This bird and her other two also-similarly-fresh friends all rock with dance floor with style and ‘tude. As time passes, I learn more about this entourage. Like, they all work together at the airport. The one I like?  Her name is Kristal, and her body is here to knock you out.

I start sweet-talking her and everything’s groovy. Until my cousin Darby enters the scene and tells me to, “Step it up. Be an alpha male!” I nod in agreement and shift to a higher gear.  Hand on the back becomes hands on the waist; cheeky comments turn into pecks on the cheek. Some time passes and Darby enters again for a halftime speech, telling me, “It’s just YOU.  And HER.  There’s nobody else.  Nobody.” This is the final push that I needed.

One of Kristal’s friend executes a near-fatal cock block and shoves Kristal to the DJ on the deck and starts pushing for her to grind with him.

“She likes the DJ,” this bitch has the nerves to tell me.

I smirk and welcome the challenge.

“We’ll see about that,” I reply with my eyes.

Her slithery maneuver only fueled the fire. I will not be stopped.  I make that apparent only minutes later, when Kristal is back in my arms. I can’t help but think,

“Don’t drop the Kristal!!!”

And so I hang on to her tightly, all the while slamming her steaming body over my raging stiff cock, again, and again. She gets the message by now.  The whole damn bar does.  This is only ending one way.

I let her go to swim around a bit.  My johnson could use a break too.  One of the nervous boys sitting down is encouraged by my efforts and tries to dance with Kristal, who classily allows his advances just to be nice.  After not even a full minute, he realizes he is just a clownfish, swimming with sharks. He turns to me and concedes,

“Well, at least we tried!”

Oh no you don’t.  You ain’t bringing me down with you, you little league fuck.  Out of the kitchen, junior!  Or take a seat and watch if you’d like.  But it’s time for the grown ups to play.  C’mon!  Out of the pool!

I waste no time and find the precious Kristal.  She gives a genuine smile and we pick up right where we left off: dry-humping on the dance floor.  I deliver the type of dance moves that would make any mother proud of her son.  It doesn’t take long until we’re both fired up.  I grab her hand and we go downstairs to the powder room.

“This is the best stall, trust me.” My expertise lay in having blown dozens of lines of coke in this stall. “Coke-opelli” was our alternate name for this hostel.

I reassure her and lead her by the hand in the stall.  I sit on the toilet and she mounts.  We start making out and her massive tetas come out for some air and a suck.  And then I rapidly finger her until she’s ready for the main course.

“Do you have a condom?” she asks.

I knew I forgot something at home!

“It’s ok,” she says, sensing my lack thereof.

Against my better judgement, I will not be practicing safe sex.  I unleash the beast and stick it in before she or I have any chance to reconsider.  And right then and there, in the bathroom of Kokopelli, I have a hot steamy lovemaking session with this girl I met… less that two hours ago.  Sucking her mammoth tits, her excitedly straddling my dick, I couldn’t help but think that this is the very definition of an “explicit exploit.”  We bang bodies, we bang heads, and I cum down her leg.

Some time afterwards, we head upstairs to the dance floor and almost everyone has gone home.  We pick up Kristal’s miserable cock blocking friend.  I give her a gloating look.  She knows she has failed. Checkmate, whore-bag.

And so the 3 of us elope to McDonald’s, where I enjoy French fries, and Cockblocker’s tears.  By this time it’s almost sunrise.  I kiss Kristal goodbye and make the long walk back home, past various crackheads and homeless, juking around their lifeless bodies without a care in the world.  The whole time whistling, telling myself,

“That was a girl to write home about.”

4 Comments

  1. Uncle Joe Uncle Joe

    Slick rhetoric and great imagery, Mr. Melville. Props for pushing the cock-block aside.

  2. Mama Melville Mama Melville

    Atta boy son! That’s how we Melville’s do ’em! Drink that Cristal! Mama’s proud of you.

    • Melvin Melville Melvin Melville

      Thanks Mom! I just wanted to make you proud. I was thinking about you the whole time 😉

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *