The Bangover Diaries: The tale of the trojan cocktail
I’ve been forced to attest to the truthfulness of this incident many a time, and I will willingly admit that I probably wouldn’t believe it myself, if it hadn’t happened to me.
It’s a tale I tell over a beer or few to like-minded men, usually on the pretext of talking about the kinkiest experience, or the freakiest girl we’ve ever encountered. Let’s just say whenever this subject comes up, the tale of the Trojan cocktail takes the prize.
Like the real McCoys used to say, no brag, just fact.
This one began within hours of my arrival to Santo Domingo on the morning flight of what was probably my second or third tour of duty, and after checking into our hotel in the early afternoon, Alfredo and I went looking for action near the Skybar. In a little hole-in-the-wall place down the street, I met a cocoa, petite little Dominicana who talked the talk, and damned if she didn’t have the look.
We took a taxi back to the hotel, and once back in the room the ride began.
On this trip, I was determined to give a facial to every woman I engaged, and round one began with a blow job con gusto, climaxing (no pun intended) with a medium-sized load on her cheek and mouth, and her grunting before grabbing my cock and rubbing up my man-juice like gravy, and lapping up every drop, just like in the movies, a PSE (porn star experience) of the first order.
After a rest, we went back at it from several angles, finishing with a strong pounding from the doggie style position, inevitably followed by a grunt and a load in the bag from yours truly. After pulling out, I rolled over, totally spent on my back, and she lay next to me on her belly panting, and whispering “Oooh papi…..”
After catching our breath and a minute or two of snuggling and kissing, she rolled over and gently removed the bag. I remember looking over and seeing a look of satisfaction on her face as she eyed the load in the tip, and then I looked up at the ceiling in exhausted delight. As I lay spread-eagled on the bed, a second later, I heard her voice calling out to me.
“Hey baby”! I looked up to see her standing in the bathroom doorway with a crazy look on her face, and holding the condom like a shot glass in her hand.
Looking me straight in the eye, she tilted her head slightly to her right as she stuck out her tongue, lifted her fist above it and went bottoms up with the condom, emptying all of the contents onto her tongue, never taking her eyes off mine as she gulped my seed down with a devilish smile.
I’ve met many a kinky lass before and since, but to this day the tale of the Trojan cocktail always gets the same reaction. First, one of alarm, followed by disbelief, and finally, admiration.
And, regularly, a simple, ”Now, THAT’S kinky!”
