Entering a place like this ones ego triples exponentially; eyes, smiles, winks, bodies turn to you, greeting you with the thickest air of sexual tension.
I arrived in San Jose a week prior tonight. They sip their drinks and bob their he from the actual thrust of mirth.
On stage, two very attractive girls dance in-synch while singing into mics; the red, yellow and green lights shine on their sweaty skin, adding to the licentious atmosphere. In front of the stage a sixty-something year old Latin man dances to the music. His wet unbuttoned shirt reveals his sagging chest and stomach.
Her cheeks are sunken, her jaw and high cheek bones are pronounced, and her thin black hair is pulled tightly back, the loose strands in the back flow like air-conditioning streamers behind her as she whips dramatically to the tempo of the drums. They dance happily amidst the young girls flirting to the fat and old American men at the surrounding tables around the dance floor.
We had read about the hotel on the internet while stranded in our hostel with nothing to do in San Jose for the first night of our trip. We were humbled. The hotel is conveniently located a bit off the Main Street, situated at a corner.
It stands stoic, looming a facade of purity in its neo-classical form, a dull pink body drapes the old concrete walls with white hoods on top of each window. A red neon light flickers atop, reading: Hotel Del Rey.
It looks like any plain hotel from the outside. As we walked through the swing glass doors we were instantly transported.
Silently we scan the area. The lobby is populated by about thirty prostitutes; they sit, either resting or waiting for their next job. Trains of girls walk pass us, smiling and waving. After having our coins ritually sucked up into the non-payout machines and our brims overflowed with glances and caresses from transient fingernails, we decide to have one beer and try to assimilate into the crowd of Viagra induced zombies looking for their hour fix.
That beer turned to six, a pack of cigarettes, three shots of Jack and a middle-aged American man named, Frank. I try not to envision her yesterday or last week and the many sweaty fat, horny Americans that pummeled themselves on her. My friend and I played it cool during the conversation but the remnants of our crumbling innocence fell and shattered with the going-ons of this establishment and their patrons.
But we made it through, drunk and unscathed and enlightened to a completely different world of eroticism. Grandpa and his two girls had left.
About twelve different girls have sat in the empty stools next to us — the turn-around rate for that stool is about ten minutes — with no response from either of us the girls just move on placing their bait elsewhere. In shorts and sandals, unattractive and undesirable as tourists we sit smoking our cigars and drinking our third beer.
Looking into the crowd del perfumed he and rey, and white and brown skin, and broken English and bad Spanish; we wait for Frank to take us on his sordid carpet ride of the Central American flesh racket. Through one of the corridors of the bar, my friend had inadvertently turned his head and spied on Frank hotel through. Her name is Sam. Looks prostitute she works-out for a living.
Black long hair, deep abyss eyes, and white chocolate skin. After a few drinks, and uncomfortable stares. I begin to talk to her in Spanish. Frank was handing me half of her bill. He told me he would pay half if I went with her.
Hotel del rey
The rest I had upstairs. We went through the back elevator, talked to the bouncer, he asked her for her ID and me my room. He pushed the up button and the brown doors opened. Standing next to a prostitute is an odd but natural thing.
Smelling her perfume. Glancing down her backside, looking at her skin, it felt like I knew her. I made her laugh, she made me laugh. She was witty and beautiful. I went to school with her and finally started dating.
And now we are in Costa Rica going back to bed to make love and sleep off the drinks. It felt like that but that was only the pitch she sells. I smile back and admire her tight voluptuous ass. Playing a game of constant to-and-fro between the […].
Just make sure you are dealing directly with the girl and not a pimp. Del Rey Hotel is one of the most popular hotels in Costa Rica for sex travelers.
Some others place have been taking the reputation of sex tourist destination, places such as Jaco, Tamarindo del Quepos. Del rey hotel is a nice place for enjoy with some friends and really beautiful girls. Cpsta Del is beautiful, but I hated seeing all the hotel there.
It took away from my time there. But, hey, thanks for doing your hotel to making the world a better place. Life rey have its ups and downs. Some people choose to be good, some people choose to be bad.
What can we do about the past other than read about their sleazy undertakings or watch violence glorified in the movies. Though we can see why you are disturbed — so are we…kinda…. Sex for pay is not the prostitute of existence across the globe. Get off your high horse and realize that the world has far more dangers and challenges than that. Of course she can. She chooses not to because her prostitute opportunities suck. Just remember, all of the other girls and all of the boys are figuring out how to make it without laying on their backs.
Really — not rey is so desperate as you — as to fuck a retard american bitch. Very Nce write up!
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