Dexterous Dexter 06

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, although some characters here are introduced and developed in DEXTEROUS DEXTER 01, 02 and 03. This current 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 episodes, you won't get this one, other than the sex, of course.

DEXTER GOES SOUTH #3 - SO FAR AND YET SO NEAR, August-September 1972

I rode the low coastal segment of the Pan-American Highway northwest from Guatemala to Tehuantepec. The tropical Pacific coast was just as humid and miserable as the tropical Atlantic and Gulf coasts had been.

Clearing Mexican customs required a slightly larger bribe than had my other border crossings. My Central America (C.A.) license plates and nurtured Guatemalan accent helped keep the mordita low, I am sure.

I stayed overnight in a Zapotec village near Tehuantepec city. Zapotec Indian culture is matriarchal; women rule, sex is loose, gentle men are considered normal -- the exact opposite of Latino machismo. Yes, cocksucking occurred. No, I will not describe it. There are some cultural secrets I just will not reveal.

I crawled up steep cactus-filled desert mountains to the high valley of Oaxaca (wah-HAH-kah). I passed through Mitla, the self-proclaimed MEZCAL CAPITOL OF THE WORLD. In wine country, wine-tasting rooms are everywhere. In Mitla, mezcal-tasting rooms abound. Every distilled batch has its own distinct flavor. I love it.

The Tres Mujares (Three Women) distillery was a hole-in-the-wall backyard operation run by an old woman, her daughter, and granddaughter. Their mezcal had the greatest flavor! But these women were rather aloof.

I sat at a table on the sidewalk outside my posada, with a single candle, a bottle of Tres Mujares mezcal, and a small glass, just sipping the delightful brew, and watching the stars in the moonless sky. Marimba music echoed softly down a side lane. Dogs slunk in the shadows.

An Indian woman in a long white dress and brightly patterned shawl walked along the sidewalk and stopped near me. She carried a woven carpetbag. She looked to be maybe twenty-four years old, maybe Zapotec, maybe not. "May I please sit with you? I am Salma."

I stood, grabbed a chair from the other table, and gestured. "Mucho gusto, Salma. Please call me Dextro."

"May I have a taste of your drink?" I slid my glass to her. She took a sip, placed the glass between us.

"I saw you ride your motorcycle into town earlier. Are you staying here, Dextro? Are you going anywhere?"

"I am riding north from Guatemala. I am only in Mitla for tonight. Maybe I will see the ruins tomorrow."

I sipped. She sipped. She looked up at the stars, then into the candle, then into my face.

"I live in Oaxaca. I came here to visit my sister for a few days. Her filthy husband, the drunken bastard son of a rabid whore and a syphilitic armadillo, threw me out. I want to go back home. I will stay with you just for tonight if you will ride me to Oaxaca tomorrow. I will not get too drunk." She sipped again.

"I would be happy to share my roof with you tonight, Salma. Do you have any luggage or other clothes?"

Salma lifted her carpetbag. "This is all I need to travel. I admit that I probably need to bathe."

"We will both shower and get clean, Salma. But a little later, please. I want to enjoy the stars."

We sat and sipped and chatted in the small circle of candlelight under the immense night sky. I told her my basic story. She told me hers: Small-town girl, went to the big city, worked in a chocolate warehouse, lived with two female cousins, had a boyfriend she was going to dump, had a vain desire to see the world.

The space-cold Orion constellation glared down on us. We went inside the posada to my room, showered, fell into bed. I kissed Salma's face, her firm body, her lovely breasts, her feet, her strong calves and thighs, her smoky vulva. She cried out.

Salma pulled me into a sensuous 69. Her torso raised on her knees to give my hands access. She entertained my cock. My tongue and fingers intruded and inhabited her cunt. She cried again, then sucked me more forcefully. I came like a draft horse, my hands cupping her breasts, feeling her nipples hard in my palms while I filled her mouth with my semen.

Salma stayed atop me. My tongue filled her vagina. Her gentle sucking revived my cock. She rolled off me and kissed my mouth. We shared our mixed flavors. I sat up, pulled her into my lap, her thighs atop mine. She slid onto my cock, wrapped her arms and legs around me, frenched me again, our tongues dancing the mouth mambo. We moved gently against each other. Her breasts sashayed delightfully across my chest.

Salma laid on her back and pulled me atop her. "Fuck me now," she whispered, "fuck me hard. Make me live."

The preliminaries were over. I pounded her mercilessly. She cried several times. I roared for a long time. My orgasm exploded from my cock and rippled through her body like a sensuous shockwave.

We slept, still entangled, like exhausted missionaries. I eventually fell off her. She snored. I snored also.

I awoke at dawn with her kissing my face. My sleepy mouth kissed her in return. We fucked, long and slow.

We toileted, and showered again, then fell back into bed. We just held each other close, and talked.

"Oh Dextro, you are a good man. I wish I could take you home with me. I can't, my cousins would not allow it. I wish I could ride away north with you. I can't, I must remain here, for my family. I wish you could remain here, but you can't, you have places to go, things to do. Why is everything so difficult? Why is the world so crazy? Why can't we have the simple things we love and want?" Salma did not cry, not quite.

I had no answer but my own body, molded into hers.

We rode north to Oaxaca City and I dropped Salma near her home. She touched my face and walked away.

---

Oaxaca is another old colonial city built on a grid. Pleasant place, friendly people, beautiful arts and crafts, cheap sex, yada yada. Women were easy to find. Esme and Clarita were Mixtec women, dark and hourglass-shaped and forward, not quite as domineering as neighboring Zapotecas, but still demanding.

"OK young man, we have all showered. Now you WILL eat Clarita until she screams. Then you WILL eat me until I scream. Then we will see about taking care of you. Do you have a problem with this?"

"Not at all, not at all. But do you mind if I continue with your breasts for a while? I like breasts."

"Oh, so you're really just a little boy, and you didn't get enough of your mama's teats, no? Poor baby!"

I huddled with Esme and Clarita, pulling their chests together, worshipping their fine firm mammary mounds, with skin like slightly milky tea and aureoles like chocolate wafers tipped with dark cherries. I licked circles around each crinkled nipple, slowly and carefully, then sucked them the same way, and then with more oral force, my fingers massaging whatever my mouth was not occupied with.

My fingers wandered gently south while I suckled, down to their already-damp downy slits.

"Ooh, that is nice. If you are a mama's boy, then she taught you well. Did your mama train you?"

"No, not my mama, but her youngest sister was a very educational woman, this I can tell you."

"So you made fuck-fuck with your mama's sister? Did you make fuck-fuck with your own sisters too?"

"Not with the ones I was born with, no, but I have honorary sisters who taught me what they like."

"You are an excellent scholar, young man. Now shut up and put your mouth back to work. Ooohhh..."

I moved my kissing down to Clarita's vulva. I traversed her slit, opened her lips, circled the margins, played tic-tac-toe with my tongue, thrust and parried, then concentrated on her clitoris. I looked up to see Esme leaning over Clarita, each with the other's breast in her mouth, Clarita twitching and groaning.

I infiltrated two fingers into Clarita's vagina and twiddled-about inside. Clarita yelled. I continued. So did she. Clarita was shaking violently, rolling back and forth, and only my and Esme's combined efforts kept Clarita from falling off the bed. Her hands finally pushed my head away. She twitched, gasping.

"Hey young man, you did very well with Clarita there. Now I think you owe me something. Get busy."

"You will get what you deserve. But I don't want to make a solitary effort. Come over here, now."

I pulled her on top of me, her cunt in face and my cock in hers. I started tonguing her pussy.

"Hey boy, you got a nice cock here, a regular chorizo grande. Clarita, come here and help me now."

Two tongues licked my shaft and head as I lingually wrote multiplication tables on Esme's livid labia. I started wet thrusting, tongue-fucking Esme's holy hole. Esme swallowed my cock. Clarita swallowed my balls. I suckled Esme's clit, then bit it, while my hands pushed her tight butt down onto me, shoving her pussy closer.

Esme released my cock as she gasped and groaned. Clarita took her place, slurping me towards ecstasy. Esme came, and came, and yelled, and came again. Then Esme reclaimed my cock and sucked faster, harder. I felt Clarita's mouth on my balls and her hand fisting my cock, following Esme's up-and-down suctioning. I dove deeper into Esme's cunt with my tongue and nose, drowning in pussy. Then I came, and drowned Esme.

"Oooh, young man, you do me almost as good as my sister Anna. Are you in a hurry to go anywhere?"

"I might stay here another night, but only if you and Clarita will show me around the city, OK?"

"Sure, we'll be your tour guides. And then you'll have more guided tours of our pussies, what you say?"

"Hey, is your sister Anna around? If she is anything like you, I wouldn't mind touring her, also."

"You have indeed studied well, young man. You know that sisters are best. Clarita is only my cousin."

I spent that night with this hospitable family, two sisters and their cousin, doing many family things, like singing together, and sucking them dry and fucking their inventive brains to perdition, and being milked dry myself. What fun! They told me where to find them the next time I was in Oaxaca.

I took two side trips from Oaxaca, one to each coast. I rode a loop over the cloud-shrouded Sierra Nevada Occidentale mist-forest mountains, over two-mile-high passes, to the surfing beaches of Puerto Angel and Puerto Escondido on the Pacific. This was just a one-day ride; I returned that night for more Mixtec delights.

The other ride was a longer there-and-back excursion to the Gulf coast over an 11,000-foot pass through the Sierra Nevada Orientale's jagged peaks. The upper portion was alpine and cool; the lowest portion was parrot-orchid-monkey-steamboat tropical, very picturesque, intensely muggy. The morbid humidity was thick enough to cut with a very dull machete, like an after-game locker-room full of wet farts.

I slept in a ratty thatched-hut palapa on a sandy strand between the Gulf and the large Laguna Alvarado. I feared (rightly) that centipedes, millipedes, scorpions, fire ants, and other toxic arthropods might fall fom the thatching onto me during the night. I should probably have just pitched my tent and camped out. I slept alone, and badly, and headed uphill as early as I could.

Oaxaca was a relief. I spent another athletic night with those demanding Mixtec gals, then headed north.

---

I got off the Pan-Am (Pan-American Highway) and rode a side route to Puebla. I tasted various varieties of mole (MOE-lay, spicy chocolate-pumpkinseed sauce) and some spicy mole makers. Puebla is also renowned for its fine Talavera pottery. I bought a few nice pieces to ship home.

I rode back to the Pan-Am and veered towards Cuernavaca. I tasted various fiery fried fishes at locales on the river below the city, and other delights, too. Some of the serving girls were very tasty, not fishy at all.

I rolled up to an open-air eatery over the river near Temixco (tay-MEESH-koh) and ordered spicy fish-fry and beer. I was served and teased by Mayari, a Ladino girl with long black hair and pale skin: thin of body, wide of breast, long of leg, glowing with energy. Her sharp features were mostly laughing. She laughed even more when I played hula songs on my ukulele.

Mayari playfully danced some hula moves that she had probably seen in old cartoons.

"Oh, so you like that hip action, do you, Dextro? How about this now?"

Mayari waggled her hips and butt enticingly, if not too Polynesian-ly.

"You're both sweet and spicy, Mayari, just like the sauce. But are you tender and juicy like a halibut, or squishy and salty like a sardine? Or do you just shimmy?"

I pulled my little bamboo sax from my carry-bag and blew a couple choruses of stripper music.

Mayari looked around for prying eyes, laughed, and mimed a few strip-tease moves. "I'll be a skinned halibut for YOU, big guy!" she moaned sensuously. Then she collapsed laughing in the chair next to mine. She grabbed my thigh and squeezed.

"You got any more slick moves, Dextro?" She brushed both hands up my thighs,

"None that I can show you out in the open, oh beautiful one." I held her wrists. She looked around again, then leaned over and kissed me, hard and tongue-full.

"Well then, let's get out of the open." Mayari took my hand and led me across the deck to an adjacent palapa, on piers over the palm-lined river. "This is my guest room and you are my guest," she said, as she pushed me to sit on the bed. "Play more of that last music, yeah?"

I blew the stripper riffs again, wailing. She danced a slow bump-and-grind, teasing and leering, removing her sandals and blouse and skirt, all that covered her firm flesh, and tossing them to the corners of the room. Mayari pirouetted to me, straddled my knees, moved her dark curly bush close to my nose. I grabbed her bouncy butt to pull her close and nuzzle. She pushed away.

"Your turn now, Dextro," she said, slapping her body to the same beat.

I smiled and stood, and performed my own disrobing ritual as she sat at the edge of the bed. I mimicked her terminal pirouette, swinging my stiffening cock in front of her face. She grabbed my tight ass, pulled me close, nuzzled my equally black and curly pubes, then licked my fully-erect cock.

"Oh, a long one!" Mayari murmured. She swallowed me. I groaned. She slurped faster. I groaned louder.

I did not want a too-fast quickie, alone. I pulled away from Mayari's mouth, picked her up, flopped onto the bed on my back, and slid her into a comfy 69. My tongue probed and pampered her pulsing pussy. She groaned, wriggled, and slurped me with energy and expertise. I was no less assiduous -- she came three times before I filled her mouth with my steaming jiz.

We stayed in position. I gently teased her clit and labia. She sucked my cock back to firm life, then rolled off me.

"I think I would like to fuck now. Wouldn't you, Destro?" She smiled and spread her legs wide.

I need not be asked twice. I rolled atop her and slid smoothly and smartly into her sleek saliva-slickened slot. I moved in slow long strokes, fully into her depths. She wrapped her strong arms around my neck and pulled my mouth to hers while her long lithe legs locked behind my back and her heels dug tight into my butt and pulled me close.

We fucked, slow and serious at first, then fast and furious. She muffled her screams in my mouth several times before I grunted and sprayed semen into her womb, and more semen, and more. She remained wrapped around me. Our mouths were still locked together. I finally softened and slipped from her.

"Oooh, that was really really hot hot hot, Dextro. Your cum is my salsa picante. But I think I'd better get back to work now. Someone might actually want to eat some fish." Mayari kissed me again, then slid off the bed.

We dressed and walked out to my bike, past empty tables. "Come back soon, hey Dextro? I'll have a nice dessert waiting for you." Her farewell kiss held promises of treats to come. Oh yeah, I'll be back. Next time...

---

I rode the short rugged route to the mountainside silver mecca of Taxco (TOSS-koh).

Hold your hand out flat, palm down. Imagine a typical Hispanic village set on your hand: white stucco walls, red tile roofs, cobbled streets, bright flowers and trees, etc. Now spread your fingers, forming canyons and ridges in the townscape. Now tilt your hand at a 50 degree angle, fingertips down. That is a 3D map of Taxco. Mexico City lies beyond distant mountains.

Taxco was once the silver capitol of the world. A magnate of a past century funded a baroque parrochia, bigger than a church, smaller than a cathedral, one of the planet's great religious sites, no shit. The silver mines were flooded and filled during one of the revolutions, killing the industry.

A gringo art professor visited in the 1920's and was inspired to initiate a silver-crafting industry. Some of the world's great silverwork now comes from Taxco. Every shop in town sells silver. Grocers sell food, beer and silver. Hardware stores sell hammers, pipes and silver. Barbers give haircuts and shaves, and sell silver. I do not know if the hookers sell silver too.

And Marina's family sold high-end silver jewelry and ornaments. Remember Marina, my Aztec goddess from Chachalacas, near Veracruz? This was her shop, her world. And she invited me into this world.

But only part-way in. This unmarried woman lived at home. Male overnighters were NOT welcome there.

Marina set me up in the classic Hotel Victoria (before it decayed) overlooking the city. There was a steep climb up to its hilltop aerie, nothing my runner's body could not handle once I had recovered from my illness. Marina drove her VW Karmann Ghia up every evening, and back to her home sometime after midnight each morning. (Almost every vehicle in Taxco was rear-engined, necessary for the steep grades.)

Marina drove to the Hotel Victoria on my next-to-last evening with her friend Celia. Officially, Marina was sleeping over at Celia's home, and Celia was overnighting at Marina's. Neither was expected back until late morning. Neither were into oral-genital contact with each other, nor anal, but everything else was acceptable and welcome. We had an enjoyable and energetic evening.

I slowly regained consciousness sometime after dawn. I was lying on my back between two mostly-prone bodies. I glanced to my left: a beautiful butt. I turned right: another gorgeous ass. I looked down: two incredibly beautiful sleeping heads, turned towards my groin. Both breathed softly, regularly, their exhalations warming my rapidly-rising cock.

What could I do? I licked and nibbled one ass till it twitched, then turned to the other with my lips and tongue and teeth for a similar reaction. I stroked down their cheeky cracks to their moistening slits. I felt movement, then one tongue edging my cock, then another.

The tongue on my left was more insistent. I rolled to my left, pushed the body on its side, raised its leg, and stuck my face in its vulva. Hmmm, it smelled like Celia, a bit less tangy than Marina. I gave her slit a nice long deep lick. Yes indeed, Celia! I separated from Celia, rolled to my right, pushed Marina's body over, and licked her pussy as well. Marina slurped my cock nicely in return. Contact!