Under Review

The proprietor of a vacation resort needs an excellent review from a renowned critic. He provides the writer with nightly hooker service to ensure it happens!

Part One

This story doesn’t seem likely to evolve into a sexual tale, but it certainly does. To get to that destination, it requires a bit of a preamble, though, so kindly bear with me.

When I attended journalism school in the 1980s, I had no thought of becoming a reviewer of any sort. I had truly hoped to be a renowned sports reporter who covered all the major events around the globe: Olympic Games, World Cups, Super Bowls, World Series, boxing title fights, you get the idea. I was destined to learn early on in my journalism career that life is fickle, unpredictable and can set you in a totally unexpected direction.

I had been working on a small town’s weekly newspaper in Canada for just about a month when I was handed a routine assignment to review a play being performed by the dramatic club of a local high school. I don’t even recall the name of the play, but I do remember it was comprised of half a dozen unrelated scenes, each designed to show the challenges of being a modern teenager in 1985. I generally gave it positive comments. I offered praise where I felt it was deserved, but I also said that a few of the actors and actresses were decidedly weak in some scenes.

When the story ran, it generated many negative letters and phone calls. The interesting thing was that no one seemed to argue the validity of my comments. They just thought that high school actors should somehow be immune from criticism. However, the following week, there was an avalanche of letters supporting me from people who found my candor to be refreshing and were wholly tired of “the frivolous pap” that most small newspapers wrote to try not to offend anyone. The spirited debate made me the subject of news stories in larger centers. My unshakable honesty in the wake of criticism earned me the respect of many people. It also got me jobs to review other plays, restaurants, movies, and whatever else came along, for other media outlets, including radio and TV. The editor of my paper was originally thrilled and supportive of my moonlighting as a freelance reviewer because it brought more attention to his paper. However, I was in such great demand that I simply could not remain on the staff of the smalltown weekly for the pitiful salary I was being paid. I resigned, hired a booking agent, and became “Marvin Sandford, Reviewer-at-Large”.

My popularity continued to grow unabated. I ended up with a syndicated column where I was often free to pass judgment on whatever I liked. New TV shows were my personal favorite topic. People seemed to like that I was a straight shooter and held unshakable opinions. One of my most discussed reviews was a performance of the opera Turandot when it opened in Montreal. I wrote, “There is no doubt operatic singers are among the most impressive performers on the planet. There is also no doubt that opera will only continue to have a niche following in North America because it cannot and will not appeal to the average person who is not fluent in Italian.” The opera community hated my guts, but everyone else lauded me for saying what the vast majority of plebeians had always quietly thought. I had some thoroughly prescient moments too. In 1989, I was perhaps the first movie reviewer to declare that Field of Dreams was an emotionally powerful and delightful film that would eventually gain the status of an American classic. (In contrast, Siskel and Ebert were both lukewarm about that flick.)

One thing about being a reviewer of major projects that I hadn’t anticipated was the culture of bribery. I had heard that automobile manufacturers frequently paid off supposedly independent journalists to write flattering pieces about their newest models. Sometimes the payoff was an envelope full of cash. Other times it was more intimate than that...a lot more intimate. I knew nothing about cars, so I never felt knowledgeable enough to review them. Thus, I was never put in the awkward position to accept or decline any sort of graft from the automotive moguls. But in 1999, a bribe came my way when I least expected it.

The way I generally worked was this: If anyone wanted me to write a review about their enterprise or project, they had to contact my agent with an offer—and I got to decide whether or not I’d accept the job. So, I often got paid twice, once by the newspaper syndicate and once by a company seeking the type of terrific publicity that only I could provide: To write a review that would appear in my column in nearly a hundred North American daily newspapers. Of course, I still had the freedom to write a negative review. This meant that companies had to be very confident of their business or product because they risked paying for bad publicity about themselves if I didn’t like what they were selling.

Part Two

In February 1999, I received a compelling offer from a promoter in the Dominican Republic named Horatio Gonzalez. He was a man with big dreams. In 1995, Gonzalez had acquired a large parcel of oceanside property to turn into a major recreation park to entice entire families of foreign tourists. For one admission price, there would be plenty of thrill rides, amusements, non-stop open-air concerts from 8 a.m. to midnight featuring various types of music, plus the attraction of a natural beach. It had just opened on New Years Day 1999. Attendance was disappointing thus far, so Mr. Gonzalez needed someone like me to write a glowing review. I would be flown first-class to and from Santo Domingo, stay in a luxury suite onsite for a week, dine at the best restaurants on his tab, and be paid $25, 000 for making his enterprise the subject of one of my famous reviews. Of course, I said yes.

I was excited about this assignment. I had always liked American tourist attractions like Walt Disney World and Busch Gardens—but this place, dubbed Entertainment Universe, was said by the few people who had visited it to be on a whole new level by itself. I arrived on February 15. I was picked up at the airport by a limo driver and transported directly to Mr. Gonzalez’s impressive office that was situated in the middle of the resort. He greeted me warmly in very passable English, made sure I got accustomed to my suite, wined and dined me at the best steakhouse, and accompanied me to a concert that featured a very good Bee Gees tribute group. During our meal, Mr. Gonzalez expressed surprise that I had not brought my wife. I told him I didn’t think his invitation was for anyone other than me. Moreover, I said I was unmarried and happily single.

“Do you want some female companionship each night you are here as my guest?” he asked me. “That’s something that could be arranged easily. I’d be happy to take care of that for you. What type of women do you fancy?”

I didn’t think he was serious. I just laughed and said, “Young and busty.” He laughed too, and added, “We two have much in common.” A few moments later he excused himself to speak with the manager of the restaurant and to make a phone call.

When I got back to my suite, I wasn’t alone for long. There was a knock at the door. When I opened it there stood two very cute examples of local feminine beauty. They could not speak English, and my grasp of Spanish was next to nil. One handed me an envelope bearing my name. I quickly tore it open. It was a hand-written missive from Mr. Gonzalez. It said, “Marvin, say hello to young and busty. Enjoy their company. I’ll meet you for lunch at our American burger restaurant tomorrow at 11 a.m.” He was only half right. I didn’t find either girl to be particularly busty.

My visitors got right down to business, stripping out of their cute sundresses and showing off various highlights of their attractive birthday suits within the space of a minute. They were certainly a friendly and appealing duo. They jumped onto the king-size bed and waved at me to join them as If I were the visitor to the suite, not them. I started to undress myself, but the girls indicated through a series of gestures that disrobing me was part of their job. I wasn’t about to argue the point. About 40 seconds later I was lying on the middle of the bed between of two pretty, nubile girls with big smiles, wandering hands, and shaved pussies.

For the next hour they took turns pleasing me. While one girl was joyfully riding my stiff penis and fondling my balls, the other was straddling my chest, kissing me passionately and letting me grope and suck on her titties. Life was good. Being the naturally sharing type, I made sure I ejaculated into each girl’s tight twat once. Then we all settled into bed for a good night’s sleep. The little darlings were still there, cuddled up with me, as the clock approached 8 a.m. That was the time when I had to be ready to tour the grounds of the resort. One bedmate had placed her right hand gently on my penis, ready to give me a hand job to start my day, if I so desired. Indeed, I so desired.

Somehow, despite the unexpected sexual frolic, I regained my focus and prepared to tour Entertainment Universe with a critical eye. I was chauffeured around the facility in a vehicle resembling a golf cart, a luxury that none of the other guests had. I generally was not a devotee of roller coasters and other thrill rides, but I did my duty and gave them all a try. I was more impressed with the ongoing concerts and performers that one could enjoy for hours on end. I was beginning to look upon this vacation spot very favorably, but I did wonder if my judgment had been positively skewed by the two nocturnal visitors whose company I so enjoyed a few hours earlier.

When I met Mr. Gonzalez for lunch at the appointed time, I thanked him for the unexpected treat. (I had to clarify that I was referring to the girls, not the huge, loaded hamburgers I was presently being served. I thanked him for those, too. They were fabulous; I had never eaten better burgers in my whole life!) He seemed pleased that I was enjoying his hospitality.

That night, about 30 minutes after I returned to my hotel suite from a very long day of concertgoing and general fun, there was another knock at my door. I had sort of expected it. When I opened the door, this time there was just one sexy girl waiting for me to let her into my room. She was slightly taller and bustier than either of the two from the night before, but she appeared to be about the same age. She too had an envelope for me containing a new note from Mr. Gonzalez. This one simply said, “This girl is reputed to be even better than our hamburgers. Enjoy!”

Clad in a tight-fitting green t-shirt, matching shorts and sandals, she was a delicious treat in her own way. Unlike the previous night’s twosome, this girl could speak a few words of my language. She flashed a naughty smile and greeted me in broken English: “Writer man, I have come to give you great pleasure in bed so you will enjoy your stay here. I will make your dick come. My pussy is waiting for you. Let’s start the fuck, please!”

“Well, I wouldn’t dream of keeping your pussy waiting!” I replied. “Yes, let’s start the fuck!”

I quickly lifted her off her feet and carried her to my huge bed. She had obviously just bathed because she smelled wonderful. It was a combination of perfumed soap and shampoo that hinted of watermelon. I was aroused immediately. I peeled off the girl’s small shorts and sexy yellow panties to reveal an inviting, bald pussy. I was transfixed by it; her vagina just begged to be fucked. While I stood there gawking at her nether regions, she removed her t-shirt and bra to reveal an appealing set of round, firm, youthful tits. Oh, my! Where to begin? She made the decision for me by cooing, “Fuck my pussy, writer man. Come inside me, please.” I smiled and said “Okay!” to her. Without any further thought, I disrobed in a hurry.

My dick did not need to be stimulated. It was already as hard as it was going to get. Without a second’s hesitation, I rammed it inside her opening. Her pussy practically drew my manhood deep within her. For the next 15 minutes I gave her the most thorough fucking I’d ever given any female, lustfully thrusting hard and fast to begin our coitus, then long and slow for prolonged enjoyment. Usually, I can control a cum shot, giving myself ample time to pull out if I choose. Not this time! This girl’s charms did not allow for any delay in climaxing. I ejaculated about two seconds after I felt the first signs in my groin that a cum shot was imminent. I came—and my load was immense. When I reluctantly pulled out of her about a minute later, huge globs of semen spilled out of her. Damn, it was a sexy sight!

My rod was still partially erect, so I reentered her pussy and rolled her over so she was on top of me. It occurred to me that I hadn’t even touched her beautiful breasts yet. I made up for that oversight by spending the next 20 minutes gleefully fondling and sucking them. They were utterly magnificent! My second cum shot decorated her jugs with ropes of hot semen. Having intense intercourse with his Dominican sexpot was great fun! The next day, when I met Mr. Gonzalez for lunch at the resort’s Chinese buffet, I warmly shook his hand, said a quick hello, and made a simple request: “Same girl for tonight, please, if possible. She was the ultimate fuck.”

That girl, whose name I learned was Conchita, did indeed make another visit that night and once more beyond that before my week’s stay ended. The twosome from the first night made a return visit, too, on another occasion.

On each of the seven nights that I was a VIP guest at the resort I was provided with at least one trollop to screw for pleasure. I was told in advance that a girl named Maria would be sharing my bed for the final night. I was advised that Maria was a little bit chunky, a few years older than her other hooker colleagues, and nowhere near as attractive. However, she made up for any perceived shortcomings with her fabulous oral sex skills. Three times she made me ejaculate by using her mouth alone. After the third orgasm, I sadly conceded, “I apologize, Maria. I can’t possibly fuck you tonight. I’m worn out; my dick is spent. Let’s just cuddle up in bed and go to sleep.”

Her command of English was strong enough for her to inform me, “Okay. It happens all the time. I suck the life out of my clients.” I was fast asleep, with Maria wrapped in my arms, within ten minutes of crawling into bed with her.

Mr. Gonzalez accompanied me to the airport on the morning I departed. Without him having to ask, I told him I would be writing a glowing review about his enterprise that was certain to attract many new customers. He beamed. I confessed, “Even without the nightly prostitute service, I would have given Entertainment Universe very high praise. You need not have gone to the expense of hiring those fabulous bedmates for my pleasure—but I’m certainly thankful that you did!”