Memories Of One Special Girl From Forty Years Ago

The year was 1984, I was expanding business into Colombia. A local businessman was interested in representing us and I was sent to cut the cards on him. A behind the scenes cut. I got close to him, we saw potential customers together, he seemed to know everyone. I had noticed that he said hello first, he wasn't sought out. But the litmus test was Saturday night.

We went to dinner at a private club. After dinner we stepped into the library for after dinner Cognac. The girls serving, were a cut above. I didn't bite, three girls stepped in, dressed in little more than string bikinis. I still didn't bite. After questioning me, whether I liked boys instead, we stepped into the 'stables' out back. Beautiful girls, in stables, totally naked, which one did I like.

Two girls were led out, their wrists tied, not a stich on. A well polished three inch pole was across the stable, the two girls hands were tied to a rope, they were pulled bent at the waist over the pole, their behinds lifted do they barely touched the ground with their tip toes. Their sex, drawn out, a plug in their butthole with a horse's tail.

I begged off, stood back, I had made up my mind. Never had I seen more beautiful girls at a whorehouse, but I understood the game, if I fell he would have pictures, and blackmail is a bad start for a business relationship. I recommended that as a business partner it would be a race to the bottom of business ethics.

I did keep a card from the establishment, and the woman in charge sent me the mist beautiful girl I had ever seen. She wasn't eighteen, maybe seventeen, or sixteen? I didn't care, she was fresh, a new girl, for a man to break in. She said she was from the Venezuelan border. She was the ultimate pleasure, like a fine wine. For the next several years as our Colombian business grew, she was held in reserve for me.

It's been forty years, and to this day, I've never had a girl like the one brought to me. Like me, she's old now, youth evaporated.