Last week (18-25 October) was my first visit to Sosua and my second to the Dominican Republic. I had a good time, but (thanks to some mistakes on my part) I'm embarrassed to say that the highlight of my sex-tourist vacation was the scuba diving!
Today, in the cold light of almost-November, I gaze southwards through the bars of my cell in Sex Prison and I ponder, "How could that have happened?" How is it that I came alone down to breakfast every morning? Was it a curse? Was a juju laid on my mojo by an offended Haitian toto? And what was that panatela and old black derby hat doing on my nightstand, covering my Durex Ultra-Thins and bottle of Astroglide?
No, I'm just kidding about the hat. The answer lay not in the stars, but in my self. I was un-fucked because of my own fuck-ups.
Problem #1: I was operating at cross-purposes.
I enjoy scuba diving. I have actually managed to enjoy it enough to dive in cold water, dressed in a heavy neoprene wet-suit that's somewhere between a rubber fetish and a bondage act. Whatever you might say about the waters of the Dominican Republic, "cold" is not an applicable adjective; Sosua Bay isn't "gin-clear" like the waters of Grand Cayman or Cozumel, but it is nice and warm. And even if the reefs have been historically over-fished, they've managed not to be polluted.
The best scuba-diving is in the morning. This is also the coolest time of the day to be hauling heavy gear like compressed-air tanks out of the shop, into the back of Elite Scuba's rickety diesel pick-up truck, and down to where an open fishing panga awaits us. And the sun hasn't yet reached its brain-frying zenith.
Only problem is that the best chica-hunting is late at night. I wasn't quite up to the chase, late at night. Example - the one night I went to Classico's, I left at 1 AM with the realization that I had a 9 AM blind date with a fish on a reef ... and the reef was a surer thing, to my muzzied mind, than the cutie in the hot-pink dress waggling her toto almost right in my face.
Problem #2: I was wary. Too wary.
Yes, you can be too wary in Sosua - in the fashion of having enough 'grana' for dinner and a couple of rounds of drinks, but not enough for a chance encounter or a visit to La Passions. I made this mistake again and again - on Monday, for example, when a chance chat with some fellow-travelers at the New Garden resulted in an impromptu tour of Pedro Clisante with Robert13212, who walked with me to the Brittania Pub (wonderful fish & chips!) and then up to Caribbean Men's Paradise (where we had some mamajuana and watched the pole dances for an amusing hour, then headed back to NG for him to retrieve his scooter).
The second time was a walk up to Four Roses with Robert's friend, who was staying at the NG (I'm sorry I've forgotten his name!), and after a bit we strolled up so I could see La Passions. It wasn't busy; maybe fifteen chicas and about three other men; and if I'd had the 'effectivo' I could certainly have left as one happy pappi. But ... I didn't. Oh, well. I certainly enjoyed the view....
Problem #3: I settled for second-best, or maybe worse.
My 'close encounters of the best kind' weren't with the best Sosua has to offer. They were all with New Garden chicas, and I can only plead innocent ignorance for my folly in this regard.
I was cut out of the pack early, the afternoon of my arrival, by 'Perla', down by the bar. She is quite reasonably attractive, actually, and she spoke of herself as being great with a massage and very fond of 'chupa-chupa'. Well, she looked pretty good to me, and so I said "why not?" But I could have used some counseling on the price ... I said okay to RD$2000, with massage. She really did know what she was doing, and she took all the tension out of my back and legs; but when she turned me over, that was the end of all but some specific and very localized massage. She was good at that, though, and we did a thorough job of rumpling the sheets - but I was soon scolded, down talking with my chance-met fellow mongers, for having overpaid rather badly.
Late that night (after not scoring at CMP) I wound up in a three-way conversation with another New Garden chica. I don't recall her name. We talked quite a while and I was able to improve my Spanish ... and this time I held out, at least, for RD$1500. She wasn't vocal, which was fine with me, but it still felt less like a sweet passionate interlewd and more like what a photo-interpreter would call "extraction industry". Little was I to know this would be my last orgasm in Sosua.
Tuesday and Wednesday were dry for me. My harm, my foul; I was suffering more from those "cross-purposes" and I just didn't bring anyone home. Thursday, though, was "Two Much" - in the person of the famed Santiago Sisters. I was waiting for lunch in the New Garden dining area, and when they joined me I offered them lunch as well ... and after, we discussed the price and I distinctly saw them agree to RD$1500 each. We spent some time splashing in the jacuzzi in my room - which really was too small for three, although they made shift to enjoy it - but, then, back in the room ... "Houston, we have a problem!" Had I been prepared for this possibility, I might have taken La Pela beforehand; but ... oh well. I do have the mental picture of the two of them sharing a soapy-cuddly time in the jacuzzi with me.
Back to cross-purposes: Thursday evening I got together with one of the dive-masters at Elite Scuba and two French divers who wanted to make a night dive. We went off the boat ramp at the end of the beach, and surface-swam a couple hundred yards to La Puntilla for this dive. It was the full moon, though, and so there really wasn't much aquatic life going on ... we did get an amazing show from an octopus, who for five minutes or so gave us a continuous "magic act" of shape-shifting and color-changing, trying to persuade the beams of our flashlights that "I'm just another piece of coral, no I'm a rock, no I'm creeping away, no I don't look like an octopus at all now, no I'm blue, no I'm gray, no I'm green...." Vastly entertaining, but the surface-swim back after the dive left me wanting an empty bed all to myself; way too tired to fuck, or even watch.
I'm sure I haven't recounted all of my mistakes, just the highlights. And I still had more bedtime fun than I ever get at home. So now I'm saving up to get myself into "Try, try again" mode - maybe as early as February, but more likely April.
Meanwhile I'm thinking of nicknaming my little-head "Kansas," just so I can say ...
"Kansas, I don't think we're in toto anymore!"
Cheers,
Westy
Originally Posted by sacase
Let's have some fun. Not invisible. Snitches are pathetic little people! 
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