Nandita To Nandini
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The Girls Of BrazilChapter 6: Basque Country And Beyond free porn video
I could have spent more time with Frances and Julie but frankly they kind of scared me. They could beat me up even though they appeared perfectly female and beautiful. They were New York cops, tall and had grace and confidence not faked. I would have loved to keep them as traveling friends because they were special. I appreciated them but frankly I was chicken and felt inadequate.
But, off we went back up north. I already had it in my mind we were going to go over the Pyrenees, the mountains, at Andorra. We cleaned up the bus a bit first, straightened up the back but found one of their sleeping bags rolled up under one of the bench seats and I kind of freaked out, worried. Frances and Julie needed that and I wondered if I could find them hitch hiking along the highway south. So, we turned around and took off searching.
We traveled but found nothing. They probably caught a long ride way down. I wasn’t prepared to go too far. Of course I didn’t know Spain but we passed through Barcelona, a most amazing city. It was just wonderful to see. I wished we could have stayed longer but I was on a mission to find our friends.
Imagine having a cell phone back then. How simple things would be. But you were looking for a needle in a haystack. They could have been anywhere, just probably in Spain. So we kept going and the country got dryer and not pretty.
I got gas and then realized Herman didn’t like it. The fuel was getting inferior. And finally we arrived in Valencia later in the day, worried, wondering in Herman was going to break down. I didn’t want to get stuck with a broken car. I didn’t like Valencia.
Heading out with the fear Herman might be sick on rotten fuel I made it north to buy gas closer to Barcelona and kept driving to see if the bus would freshen up on better product. It seemed to work fine and I decided we were done with Spain. I was headed for France.
When Ron was in Spain with Herman he had the car broken into, smashed the window in one of the side doors. They stole Ron’s camera, his pride and joy. Back in Nuremberg our favorite mechanic asked why there was wood veneer in place of the glass and Ron told him about the theft. “Here, in Germany?” the mechanic questioned with surprise. “No, in Spain.” “Oh ... Of course.”
I hadn’t really taken that bias of a German national to heart but it put the seed of distrust in my mind unfortunately. But having decided already I wanted to wind my way up and over the Pyrenees, the tiny nation of Andorra, down the other side and head for the Atlantic shores.
We took off from Barcelona to Manresa, Suria and routes northwest. I would be in Basque country.
Herman and my five buddies chugged up more narrowing roads, sparsely populated, reminding me of the east highlands of the state where I was from. Thick pines replaced farm land and finally we stopped for something to eat. This is where we got the ugliest looks we’d ever seen during our European experience. We bought bottles of some orange drink, a liter size and bought bread. We bought some kind of pastry and left to keep going before dark. It was cold. It was still wintery in the gaining elevation.
At a wide spot off the roadway we stopped before dark and set up for the night.
My sleeping bag, Army issue, turns out was a good one and with the girl’s sleeping bags plus two real good Army blankets we were going to have a cozy nest of friends to stay warm together. I apologized for taking them into the mountains, such an adventure at the still cold time of the year.
I had made a folding platform to lay out between, on top of the bench seats making room for three or four to sleep and we were six. Cozy was the platform and I announced the dress code was “nothing on”. They grumbled a bit and I was joking. “Okay, I’ll sleep on top of the engine compartment with Maria in my sleeping bag and you guys sleep together.”
In the night, only about a half hour after quieting down, I heard them wanting us to join them and of course I was more than willing. We spread my bag unzipped all the way over the top and squeezed in. They were naked! “What?” “You said.” “I never thought you’d do it.” That was heaven, very stimulating for me. My hands were happy and warm using braille.
So I had an erection immediately and I thought somebody was playing with it. No, there was no fucking but we were crammed together. I might have used my tongue to pleasure them but it was just too crowded. Frankly, turns out, I would have better slept on top of the engine.
Because in the morning it was a deep freeze cold, I got up and dressed really quickly outside to pee and get the bus started. VW vans were notorious for slow and poor interior heating but I’d installed a 12 volt blower to pull heat up through the piping under bus which was insulated well and after a bit we started to feel that warmth, more in the back, closer to the engine. Even though, the girls still in the sleeping bag comfort, were complaining it was not warm enough yet. “Do you want me to get back in?” was my question.
So, I had to take all my clothes off outdoors pretty much and crawl back in at dawn to squeeze in between them and we were a nest of now some horny girls from Brazil fondling a perpetual horny guy. This time there was love making and I laughed, “I don’t know who I’m doing right now but maybe in a minute I’ll be doing somebody else. You know, let me know who’s next. We’re bound to get a lot warmer. “Okay, who hasn’t done me yet?” We made a lot of noise.
That’s a memory I’ll always have until the day I die, closer to Heaven than I’ve ever been. And I won’t mention all the results of that fucking pleasure just to say it was used to get clean and fresh, a quality they had discovered south in Spain. Enough said.
The air cooled engine was way back from the front cab and the engine heated wind blowing along in a skinny albeit insulated tube took a long time to reach the blower in front, into the large void inside the box shaped van. We were cold for a while. Luckily Ron the former owner had done some work to insulate the inner metal body of the bus away from the exterior cold.
As always cold was the REAL experience doing winter in a VW bus.
But we got rolling, going higher into country now pine trees giving way to above the timber line which was basically just a pile of rocks with a switchback road wandering up and through. We were on my way to the tiny nation of ski resort Andorra.
Up and up around the switchback turns, into the fog, the clouds, we went on and I worried about Herman being able to haul all of us but it seemed not a problem. Then in the distance I finally saw vehicles ahead.
We honestly had not seen a car on the roadway for a long, long way going either direction. But as I got closer I realized they had experienced some sort of collision. There was one I recognized as a 2CV, a utility type Citroen looking like it was made out of corrugated roofing material. The other was a more generic looking sedan, perhaps a Peugeot. In the middle of nowhere, almost Andorra, the two cars managed to meet - bonked into one another and we had to wait for the results of an ongoing discussion.
Being nearly French, if not completely, the two were really animated using a lot of wild hand gestures and I thought, “Good grief. Are we going to witness a fist fight on the face of moon like landscape in the middle of nowhere?” But no. Suddenly the girls were out of the bus and commenced to flirt with the drivers, five alluring females surrounding them. There was a sudden mood change.
Maria was busy talking their language as I sat in the driver’s seat watching. One gentleman pulled open the back door of the 2CV that was hit, dented in. He put his knee on the dent from inside and gave the door a swift pull holding on to two outer points for leverage. The dent came out, not quite perfect but in attempting to close the door, it worked, stayed shut. The two men shook hands, seemed happy and there were hugs all around with the girls. “I am so lucky,” I said to myself thinking about the previous night in sleeping bags with five naked gorgeous women and now this? “Wow!”
The two men got into their vehicles and drove off. Just like that, détente in no man’s land. I drove on too, stopped to pick up my five fuck buddy ambassadors and I thought for a moment and then remembered, “No Fault Insurance”. In Europe they had no fault insurance which allows your own insurance to pay, address and cover your own damages resulting from a collision. No questions asked, really, just a simple solution I’d once experienced myself. Things were turning out almost too good.
It wasn’t long before we crested the mountains at Andorra and honestly back then, 1970, there wasn’t much to see with civilization on the mountain top so we didn’t stop except to stretch our legs. It was real foggy, no view, and it was after the ski facilities had closed for the season in wait of coming Spring. There were no facilities open at all.
We descended to the rich green lands beyond in France at the valley floor.
We had decided to head for the Atlantic coast. I needed to see it whether we decided to go further up the coast or not. Turns out we weren’t. It was March. The coast was deserted, the hotels empty, beaches - the same, and it was cloudy weather, no good views. But, because it was off season we could get a hotel room or two for ourselves real cheap by comparison and we all needed a bath or shower.
On the way to the coast after I had landed in river valley farming region we traveled west on a really narrow road, in places carved out of rock and occasionally the rock outcropping was carved out on three sides, open only on the valley. It was an unusual road for sure. Nobody was using it which was fortunate being so narrow in spots.
I drove along rather slowly. Around a curve a sign suddenly came up posted, “Lourdes”, with a that-a-way arrow.
Lourdes became one of the world’s most important sites of pilgrimage and religious tourism. I heard no end of it while in private school. I wasn’t going to turn in to visit. I was going to leave all the faith to those who needed it. Good luck with that.
But that wasn’t going to fly. I drove on and my Brazilian buddies were all over me to turn around and head back. They WANTED TO GO TO LOURDES. Period!
I was on my way to San Sebastian and Bayonne on the coast. But NOW I was back tracking to Lourdes. “Did you guys study about this in school?” “Yes!” I wasn’t going to comment and I looked aside at Maria who was riding in the front with me. She winked and I shrugged my shoulders.
As mentioned there was nobody on the road, like deserted, and when we came back to the entrance again, nobody. I drove right in and frankly the place was an amazing amount of effort to build the cathedral and surroundings where giant crowds were supposed to gather to celebrate the ethers of faith.
Mostly, the natural surroundings, Mother Nature herself, just beautiful. So we stopped and looked around while the girls went to take pictures, the grotto and so forth. Maria and I sat and talked.
I told Maria more about my past, the strange coincidence of my father’s influence with his religious fanaticism. “I don’t remember everything but more and more comes back to me in time. Yet a place like this seems to have no influence on me whatsoever. And you?” She said she didn’t feel anything either.
I told her I was glad we came back because it was good to check, to see if there was anything about the place to affect my psyche. She said she felt nothing special but she knew the other girls wanted to see, wanted to compare their backgrounds, possible influences by the supposed “miracle”. I laughed. “I think it would be a miracle if we all got naked and went into the health baths for a dip.”
[Well, no miracles here in this bath but you get the idea, sex trumps miracle(?) or maybe sex is a miracle depending on individuals]
I told her what I knew about the supposed miraculous nature of the baths that sick people came to for a cure. “It was pretty icky actually because the infections left behind by folks and the baths were not kept sanitary, kept clean. So, I guess we better not do that.” We laughed.
The girls came back to the bus and I asked them if they were ready to go. They were. At least we could say we saw the place and that was enough.
We were on our way to the Atlantic ocean, San Sebastian and Bayonne. As mentioned above they were pretty much deserted, too early for tourists. We pulled up along the shore drive and the girls got out to check on hotel rooms. We got a suite, turns out. It was cool, bathroom down the hall but luxurious. Pretty deluxe for us. We could even dine out although we weren’t really dressed for that but the staff, minimal, didn’t care. We got great service maybe because the girls were so cute.
No secret, we were ready to make love and I told them I was going to perform my own miracle on them, “Not kidding”. After we ate we got a few bottles of wine to take up for our room and we “retired” for the evening.
We drank plenty of wine, got nice and loose. I told them I was going to perform that miracle I promised and took off all my clothes, a kind of strip tease and they laughed and cheered me on. I did one of those expose’ with a vanishing towel to tantalize them, even a little lap dance for each and they were actually starting to give me a little fellatio, “B.J. is my name, better known as Sergeant Jack Off Fellatio.” Things were getting a little more silly.
So I opened up the two doors to the lanai and pressed myself to the rail over hanging, outside, overlooking the beach. “I’m Jack Hoff and I’m going to right now.” But I felt warm hands grab me from behind to turn me around. I was Maria laughing and saying, “Save that for us will you Jack?”
She guided me back into the room and asked, “I wonder how come you seem to make us all so comfortable with your craziness. Normally we would be worried about getting pregnant, you know, like that?” The other girls reiterated as though it was a concern not voiced before and I sat down among them still with a very taut penis.
“Would you like to say a few words in the mic?” I teased as I stretched my penis. But they were serious so I apologized for being silly. (Note how I used this version of image to make submission policy requirements per a popular art site -- no boners allowed)
[Earlier, being silly, I’d teased them about doing a hotel porter, bellhop, by sitting on his face, but no takers]
Being serious, “I told Maria today how I remember more and more of my past as time goes on. I remember I’m infertile.” They all looked around at each other and I shook my head, going on. “I’m infertile and told I’m immune to any diseases. The reasons are hard to believe. I don’t remember everything but there’s that. And I feel utterly comfortable believing it because of the women who did that to me.
{My little sperm bodies simply did not exist, just gizem, a rather different consistency}
“I know I have had immeasurable amounts of sex with females all over the place it turns out. The results of that have never produced anything human, that is, pregnancy. I now remember I was told never to have sex with real human girls because it could be dangerous, the force of my orgasms, and you have seen the results of that already in Spain. But I have so much control over that now. I’m not worried.
“It’s because of you guys I’m remembering things now. I have not been brave enough before to venture out with this information. It’s a very long story.
“The stuff coming out of me, commonly slang called Gizem, is voluminous as you also have seen. It has qualities the human equivalent has none of by comparison. Mine, because of the influence of ladies I was once controlled by, is pretty amazing. It actually tastes wonderful. It cleans extremely well, it is like a wonderful body wash you have already experienced. It evaporates rather quickly leaving behind only an essence like a lotion.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be weird but there it is and I can’t keep secrets. If you want to fuck, well, no problems, no worries. It’s so fun when there is no harm experienced whatsoever, no worries whatsoever. I mean we could fuck forever because I don’t run out, period, and you will never get sore because the gizem is healing.
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