Lost in Translation (Part #3)

The third part of the sexual adventures of lusty linguist Charles Bradford has him discovering the delights of an obscure brothel and a sexpot named Aurora.

[Author’s Note: This is the third part of a story about a 25-year-old Canadian linguist named Charles Ranford. The story is set in 1963. Here’s a very brief summary of the first two tales: Charles, the stories’ narrator, has been hired by an old schoolmate to be a document translator for his mining company in Ecuador. He is excellent at his job—but he is also obsessed an overjoyed by the delights easily awaiting him at the brothels situated near the three mines and the company’s headquarters in Quito. Charles’ buddy and boss, Gregory Fleming, quickly realizes the more often Charles has his carnal desires fulfilled at whorehouses, the more productive he is as a translator. Therefore, the company happily picks up Charles’ tabs at all the inexpensive houses of ill fame. You are encouraged to read the first two installments in their entirety.]

Part One

I was now into my third week of working as a document translator for Gregory Fleming’s Ecuadorian mining company. It was truly a dream job for me. I basically set my own schedule and attacked the huge project of translating decades of paperwork from their original languages (French, German, Italian and Spanish) into English. I enjoyed it immensely. To me, it was akin to playing word games all day. Then there were the associated bonuses: I was getting paid very well, most of my living expenses were covered by the company, and, best of all, even my favorite leisure activity was being 100 percent subsidized. My recreation of choice was screwing young Ecuadorian prostitutes on nearly a daily basis! (Okay, it was my only form of recreation—but I never tired of it!) Hey, I was just 25 years old, healthy and perpetually horny. These confluences of circumstances were not going to last forever, So I figured I ought to fully take advantage of them. All in all, I was having a marvelous experience in South America.

The work schedule that I devised, with Gregory’s blessing, saw me spend a week at each of the three mines doing plenty of translating, fucking at the nearby brothel to my heart’s content, and then moving to another mine to do the same fulfilling activities the following week. While I was at Mine #2, I had gotten into the pleasant habit of screwing to the point of exhaustion and falling asleep at the whorehouse with a sexy young girl (or sometimes two!) as my all-night bedmates. Life was good. I intended to carry on the very same way when I arrived for my week of work at Mine #3 in the central part of the country.

The manager there, a fiftyish man named Carlos, welcomed me warmly upon my arrival by helicopter, and drove me to a steakhouse to enjoy a large meal with him. That was an excellent surprise. The repast was very tasty and filling. During our dinner, Carlos told me that he knew of my “nighttime hobby”. He found all my screwing to be very amusing. Be that as it may, I could tell that Carlos was a very conservative type of company man to whom whoring was a foreign concept.

“I can’t help myself—and I don’t want to be helped,” I told him with a smile. “I found out early in my life that I enjoyed having sex with girls. I mean I really enjoyed it! All sizes and shapes of girls. I’m not fussy that way. Of course, the prettier they are, the better I like it.”

Carlos curiously asked me, “How early in your life did you discover this pastime, Charles?”

“Let’s see,” I replied. “I found my first willing girl in the summer of 1948, not long before I began the fifth grade in school.” I did the arithmetic and concluded, “Therefore, I would have been about 10½ years old. I can still recall her name: It was Sharon Pfister. A shallow river flowed right behind the house where I spent my childhood. It was great for cool swims during the long and humid summer days we have in my part of Canada. Sharon was a lovely and very friendly girl from the neighborhood who enjoyed skinny-dipping in the refreshing waters as much as I did. We swam many times together, but she only brought her swimsuit once. What a sweetheart she was!”

“Lucky you!” Carlos interjected. “When I was ten, I was obsessed by football, both playing it and being a spectator at all the local club matches. Girls held no interest for me at that age. None at all.”

“I was the exact opposite,” I told him. “Sports held very little interest to me as a child, even though I was at least an average athlete in gym class. Once I discovered the wonderful physical sensations that came with sexual intercourse and ejaculating, I spent every spare moment of my time doing one of two things: either enhancing my knowledge of various languages or pursuing some sweet schoolgirl so I could fuck her tight pussy and blast a load of semen all over her youthful body. It was a marvelous time.”

I paused my monologue to take a sip of the tasty local red wine in my glass. “The former was easy for me as learning languages came very naturally. To this day I cannot explain why. The latter pursuit was a much bigger challenge. I’m very ordinary looking, as you can see. Girls weren’t necessarily drawn to me for being a handsome fellow. I wasn’t then and I’m not now. I had to use my language skills to sweettalk them in to joining me for sex acts.” I then added, “Brothels are great for men like me because there is no uncertain courtship ritual. Money talks there; nothing else is important. The male customer basically is in total control. At a brothel, you don’t have to be handsome to get laid. You just need some disposable income and a compliant female. The females are present there for only one purpose—to be compliant! Hey, with my ongoing financial arrangement with Gregory Fleming, I don’t even need the monetary aspect now!”

Carlos laughed heartily and declared, “You, Charles, are a modern-day philosopher! You possess great wisdom about life. I’m sure I’m going to like having you around the mine all this week.”

We clinked our wine glasses together as a sign of mutual respect. Carlos offered to drop me off at my living quarters near the mine’s offices after we had concluded our terrific meal, or I could accompany him to a football match.

“Can you drop me off at the nearby brothel instead?” I asked him. “The manager there is likely expecting me, and I do have a burning desire to fuck an attractive long-haired brunette tonight for old times’ sake. I’m feeling nostalgic because of our conversation; I want to have sex with someone who reminds me of pretty Sharon Pfister—but with a full womanly shape.”

“Of course,” said Carlos. “A brothel is your happy place in life. How silly of me to think otherwise.”

I thought that Carlos, in his own way, was something of a philosopher, too.

Part Two

I was right. The manager of the brothel had been expecting me to drop in for a romp with one or two of his employees. Gregory had given him ample notice and the instruction to send my bill to his company, whatever it might be. Thus, I was on a very short VIP list at this whorehouse that, like the others, mostly catered to sex-starved miners. This was the least luxurious of the three brothels I had visited in Ecuador thus far. It was smaller and more bare-bones. The previous two venues had inviting waiting rooms with carpeted floors, plushy sofas and chairs, and baskets of sweets and beverages. This one had a wooden floor with folding chairs. Of course, no one goes to a whorehouse to admire the furnishings. If the girl is appealing and does her job well, the client always leaves in a happy mood. I was hoping this would be the case here. I had not been disappointed yet in Ecuador’s brothels’ ability to satiate my strong libido.

“Ah, I recognize you from your picture. You are Mr. Charles Ranford, the language translator employed at the mine,” said the middle-aged brothel manager in Spanish.

“I guess I am a celebrity,” I said with a chuckle.

“Let’s just say I have a very positive relationship with your boss at the mine. He tells me you occasionally enjoy the pleasures of such places,” he replied.

“Occasionally? That word is understating things, sir,” I told him with a soft laugh. I then asked him, “By any chance do you have a sexy brunette with long hair who is available to please me? I have a craving for such a girl to take to bed tonight for a good, thorough fucking. It’s a very strong craving!”

“I think I have a perfect candidate for you, Mr. Bradford,” he said without hesitation. “Come look through the one-way glass at our staff of lovely talent. I draw your attention to Girl #8 who is seated at the left side of the room. Do you see her there? I believe she is precisely the type of bedmate you described.”

Indeed! What a stunner she was! Girl #8 was clad in a very sexy yellow bikini—something still relatively new in women’s swimming attire. It was adorned with tiny white polka dots to give her a girlish quality. The tiny garment certainly accentuated her beauty well. I loved it! Girl #8 was short, perhaps 5’3” tall. She had slightly oversized breasts for her small frame, and gorgeous tresses of curly brown hair down to her shoulders. Young Sharon Pfister never looked that good in the river! If Girl #8 was 20 years old, she was just barely 20. Had I ventured a guess, I would have placed her in the late teen demographic.

“Is she to your liking?” the manager asked me. I suspected he already knew my answer.

I composed myself for a moment. Then I excitedly said, “The only problem with Girl #8 is that she doesn’t have an identical twin sister sitting beside her! Yes, she is definitely my choice. Please send her in here—and advise her that she and I will be fucking all night. She is gorgeous! I can’t wait to get started!”

It didn’t seem possible, but Girl #8 was even more attractive when she was standing three feet in front of me. I was still sitting in my chair listening to the manager explain to this gorgeous creature that I was a VIP customer and that she was to treat me like a prince. I got up, placed my two hands in hers and said, “You are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life. Yes, please, treat me like a prince, but I will treat you like a princess in return.”

My heartfelt comment seemed to stun her. I doubt if any customer had given Girl #8 such a compliment. I wasn’t lying to her, though. I knew she was a prostitute at an obscure brothel in a secluded part of Ecuador—and she had probably been in that business for a long time. Nevertheless, I was going to be as tender as possible with her—while I ravished her like a crazy man. Somehow, my goal was to do both of those things simultaneously.

Part Three

Girl #8 led me down a hallway to the most distant room in the building. I surmised it was this brothel’s version of a luxury suite. It had a king-size bed that dominated the room, leaving very little space for maneuvering around it. We each sat on the edge of the bed to disrobe; there wasn’t much in the way of alternatives. Just as Girl #8 was about to remove her sexy yellow bikini top, I stopped her. She was perplexed why I had done that. Frankly, so was I.

I decided I had to know what her name was. So, I asked her. I had never bothered to learn the name of any of the dozen Ecuadorian girls I had bedded since I arrived in the country. Each prior hooker had been #24 or #9 or whatever digit had been pinned to her clothes by the brothel’s management before she had shed them.

She cutely said, “My name is Aurora, sir. Thank you very much for asking. What is yours?”

“My name is Charles,” I responded. Then I affectionately ran the tips of the fingers on my right hand across her left cheek and resumed talking to her. “Aurora, I was not joking when I said you’d be treated like a princess. You are extremely beautiful. Of course we will fuck, and fuck, and fuck some more, but I want to enjoy spending all night with you. Honestly, you have an angelic quality about you that is very appealing—and not just sexually.”

There was an awkward silence for about ten seconds, then Aurora softly spoke, “You are an unusual man, Charles. When you say things like that, you sound like you are looking for a wife and not just conversing with a common whore. You are the type of person, if our circumstances were different, that I would like to marry.” Then she kissed me on the cheek.

Now I, Charles Ranford, who could speak six languages fluently, was suddenly lost for words in all of them for the better part of a minute. “We’ll be together for a long time tonight,” I reminded Aurora. “Perhaps we can discuss our circumstances thoroughly in a few hours. In the meantime, Princess Aurora, I want to fuck you as if you were my beautiful wife and I’ve just returned home from a month-long business trip!”

Off came Aurora’s bikini top, with a little assistance from me. Her breasts, magnificent things, delightfully jiggled when they were freed. Off came her bottoms. She had more than a little bit of pubic hair surrounding her pleasure cavity. That was okay by me. I probably went from fully dress to fully undressed in under 25 seconds. Aurora was about to lie down on the bed, but I rushed in to scoop her up in my strong arms. “Kissing first!” I declared. “There must be plenty of romantic kissing for my lovely princess!”

I could tell Aurora perceived this as an unusual request from a brothel client, but she smiled and nodded enthusiastically at me. I sat on the edge of the bed and set her on my lap. She wrapped her arms around me as I ran my fingers through her long, sexy locks. Then our lips met. It provided a physical connection of course, but there was a palpable emotional connection, too. We both felt it. Our smooch lasted a good two minutes during which time I caressed her gorgeous breasts with both hands. They were a firm but pliable pair. She had the best nipples I had ever enjoyed on any girl I had ever bedded—and that was saying something, because I would have ranked a trio of recently fucked Ecuadorian girls as numbers one, two and three until that moment.

We finally separated our lips, but we embraced lovingly on the end of the bed for another two to three minutes. Was I crazy? In my arms was the most desirable female I had ever been naked with, and here I was hugging her instead of fucking her? Yet, I was loving it. I could tell Princess Aurora was enjoying the simple and common delight, too.

We both knew that passionate intercourse, and not just run-of-the-mill fucking, was next on the agenda. I laid on the bed and let Aurora mount my stiff dick. It was so aroused by this beautiful girl that it was almost touching the area of my abdomen just below my navel. This turned out to be wonderful for the two of us. As I remained on my back, Aurora fuck me and be embraced by me at the same time. It was fantastic.

Of course, physiology and male arousal realities made an ejaculation imminent. “Oh, you are making me come, Aurora!” I said with delight.

“Yes, I am!” she replied. “That’s the whole idea. Fill me with your seed, Charles. We were made to do this with each other!”

I thought to myself, “Here’s another philosopher—the sexiest one on the planet—and she is merrily riding my dick!”

I would not nor did not pull out of Aurora’s pussy. I just rolled her onto her back and kept on thrusting. My dick remained hard—a most unusual occurrence for me after a strong ejaculation—but look at the doll I was fucking! Like a good baseball pitcher, I mixed up my deliveries: Long slow thrusts of my penis, followed by short rapid jabs. I seemed to be pleasing my sexy bedmate. I was certainly pleasing myself.

“Keep doing what you are doing, Charles,” she pleaded. “This is fabulous fucking! I don’t come very often, but it’s going to happen any second!”

Moments later I moaned while Aurora squealed. Together we had achieved a simultaneous orgasm! How wonderful!

I dismounted Princess Aurora, but I did not go too far away. I immediately enveloped her in my arms. I positioned myself so I could suck on her protruding nipples. Arora began running her fingers through my hair—which I found endearing. I stopped enjoying her tits for a moment to give her a quick kiss on her lips—but Aurora wanted a longer one. I wasn’t going to deny her that simple pleasure. Before I knew it, we were back at square one, like horny teenagers at a drive-in movie, kissing, hugging and fondling each other.

We both had spent excessive energy screwing like rabbits. The hugging and kissing provided a great way for both of us to recharge our batteries. Of course, being a male, I needed more recovery time than lovely Aurora did.

We started to talk again. (It wasn’t all chitchat, though. Aurora began giving me the subtlest hand job with short, loving strokes of my rod as we conversed. She was very good at her profession.)

I asked her why she was a prostitute. Her answer surprised me. “My family needs the money,” she explained. She was the oldest of five children. Her mother worked as a local seamstress. Her father’s whereabouts were unknown. He had left in the middle of the night five years before. “He could very well be dead or in jail,” she explained. “He is not a good man, like you are, Charles!”

The remark deserved a kiss, which I promptly gave her. It lasted 30 or 40 seconds. We were both enjoying this basic human form of pleasure and affection. I came to understand that prostitution here did not have the stigma it had in North America. If a female in Ecuador needed money, she would rent herself out as a fucking machine to get it. Yet someday she might become the wife of a prominent man—and nobody would care what per past was. It was merely a cultural thing. North Americans were simply far more puritanical about sex than South Americans.

After about 30 minutes of conversation, I announced I was thankfully a well-rested young man.

“Good!” declared my princess. “We can fuck again!”

“I’m not sure I’m that rested,” I declared with a chuckle. “You took a lot out of me, my dear.”

“Charles, instead of looking at my breasts, look down there,” she instructed, pointing to my crotch. Aurora’s subtle hand job had given me a solid erection without my even realizing it.

“Should I give you a blowjob?” she asked sweetly.

“No chance!” I stated. “Every drop of my cum is going to be deposited in that pussy of yours. Remember, you said we were made to do this. I think you are right!” We took a side-by-side sexual position, which I enjoyed as I could fully play with Aurora’s tits and fuck her at the same time. My revived penis fired a small cum shot after about 10 minutes of coital fun. I did not pull out for several minutes. (It occurred to me that, on some psychological level, I wanted to impregnate this beautiful Ecuadorian girl.) We fell asleep in each other’s arms.

It was 5:30 a.m. when we both woke up from our deep slumber. “Aurora, my princess, get back in your bikini. I’ll get dressed too. Together we need to see the manager about something.”

Aurora immediately panicked. “Did I do something wrong? Did I displease you? Was I not good enough in bed for you? Charles, I don’t want to get into trouble with the managers here. I could lose my job here.”

“Just be quiet and please come with me, Aurora,” I said. All the while I was trying to suppress a smile.

I took her by the hand and led my beautiful princess down the hallway. I glanced at her worried face. A new manager had relieved the other one for the morning shift. “Ah, Mr. Ranford. Did you have an enjoyable night with our Girl #8? I hope so.”

“I want to report this Girl #8!” I said with a stern voice. “I want to report that she is an absolute angel, the sexiest thing on two feet, and a fabulous fucker. I want to also report that I will be here for the next six nights from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. I want to reserve this girl’s services for all those nights in the same room. I want her to greet me in a tiny bikini—just like the yellow one she has on right now—on every one of those nights. I also want sandwiches and champagne delivered to our room at 9 p.m. each night so we can celebrate our glorious fucking. How’s that for a report!”

I saw that Aurora’s face had brightened. There were tears in her eyes because I had praised her so much.

The manager grinned and coolly replied, “Food and beverage deliveries to the rooms are unusual, sir, but it can be arranged for our VIP clients, of which you are one.” Then he looked at Aurora and asked her, “Do you want to report anything unusual too?”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “This man is crazy, but I adore him. I will gladly fuck him for the next six nights—or the next 600 nights. He is wonderful.”

The manager walked away, presumably to start working on my food and beverage request for the following night. I lifted Aurora off the ground to kiss her. I set her down. Then I pulled a $20 bill from my wallet and stuffed it into her bikini bottom, caressing her anatomy at the same time. “That money is for you or your mother, whatever you decide,” I told her. “Don’t tell the manager about it. That way you get it all. God knows you deserved it. I’ve never had fucking so wonderful in my entire life, my beautiful Princess Aurora!”