From: "Nikki@P.U."
Sender: "Nikki@P.U." <6186357@127.0.0.1>
Reply-To: "Nikki@P.U."
Subject: The Girl From Ipanema (Mf, cons, teen,)
Newsgroups: alt.stories.incest
NNTP-Posting-Host: galaxy.uncensored-news.com
Message-ID: <40fb5551_1@galaxy.uncensored-news.com>
Lines: 602
X-Comment: NOTICE: Uncensored-News.Com does not condone, nor support, spam, illegal or copyrighted postings.
X-Report-Abuse-To: http://www.uncensored-news.com/terms.html#13
X-T.O.S.: http://www.uncensored-news.com/terms.html
Date: Mon, 19 Jul 2004 05:00:01 +0000
Organization: Uncensored-News.Com $6.95 Uncensored Newsgroups.
Path: not-for-mail
===================
The Girl From Ipanema (Mf, cons, teen,)
by Anoninsac
Rio, Rio by the Sea-O. Beautiful, tropical, sensual Rio. I stepped from the
hotel lobby and the oppressive heat surrounded me, inundated me, sapped my
strength and left me wilted, soaked and tired... and that was before I made
it down the steps and to the sidewalk. My friend and I found a Chope house
and ordered a round of the ice cold beer popular in Rio.
Rio is: the smell of diesel as the buses roar day and night, three cars driving
in two lanes, ignored traffic lights, the tropical heat sapping your body,
Caipirinha - the national drink made with fruit juices and a powerful liquor
made from sugar cane that packs a wallop, walking out of the tram on Sugar
Loaf and seeing monkeys in the trees where there ought to be squirrels, a
profusion of tropical flowers growing everywhere, the smell of urine wafting
up from the alleys below your hotel window, standing at the feet of Jesus
with Rio spread out below like a postcard, tall buildings with windows that
open because Brazil can't build an air conditioner to cool a building, poor
kids dodging cars and juggling in the middle of busy avenues trying to get
tips from the tourists, and women, beautiful women in almost no clothing
but clothed in dignity as they stroll the avenues.
What is it about Brazilian women? It's funny: they wear the same ugly clothing
as young American women, belly shirts and dirty jeans, but Brazilian women
look beautiful and American women look like slobs. We watched women strolling
by as we sipped our ice cold Chope. A group of obviously American women walked
by, looking sloppy, followed by some Brazilian women looking provocative
and yet refined I turned to my friend as she turned to me. "You thinking
what I'm thinking?"
"Yep."
"They're wearing the same clothes and really they aren't much different physically.
Why?"
"Because the Brazilian women aren't afraid to be feminine," she said.
I turned back to the street and looked at the two groups of women. I was
shocked by what she said. And yet I felt she was right. The Americans clumped
along like farmers with their boots stuck in the mud, their shoulders slumped
and their faces wearing expressions of disdain. The Brazilians walked with
straight backs and dignity and strode like women proud of their femininity,
exuding a quiet and confident sexuality.
When did Americans lose that? Did Steinem and the radical feminists convince
American women that success is equal to not being feminine? Or did we never
have it? After all, America is the home of the Shakers, who believed that
only by avoiding all sensuality, all sex; even for procreation could you
come close to God. The Shakers, of course, are gone. A group that avoids
sex quickly dies out. As Maugham pointed out, "You know of course that the
Tasmanians, who never committed adultery, are now extinct."
So my friend and I sat, sipped the ice cold beer and watched the beautiful
young women of Rio walking by the sidewalk café, and I thought, 'I need to
meet a Brazilian woman and find out why there is a difference.'
That evening I was ambling along Ipanema beach. There was a cool breeze blowing
in off of the South Atlantic, making the evening bearable, although still
warm and muggy. I stopped at a little stand by the beach and ordered a coconut
drink. The fellow grabbed a green coconut, took up his machete, whacked a
flat spot on the bottom so it would sit on a table, three whacks to round
the top and one last one to make a hole where the straw could go. I looked
closely; he had all of his fingers, I was surprised to see.
He handed me the coconut, I strolled over to a table, sat, and sipping it,
watched the runners, bike riders and walkers go by. I wasn't surprised by
all of the people exercising at 9:00 at night. It was too bleeding hot during
the day. Even at night it was too hot for me.
I finished the coconut milk and continued down the beach. I passed a couple
more of the well lit sidewalk shops. Then I left the lights behind. Of course,
the city across the wide boulevard provided enough light to see but the details
blurred in the soft evening light. I looked across the wide sand beach to
see iridescent waves breaking in the moonlight.
The beach here dipped away from the sidewalk where I was standing. I saw
a whole group of young women on the beach. They looked like typical teenagers,
fourteen to eighteen, just hanging out at the beach. I stopped and watched.
Several of the women noticed me standing there, looked at me and went back
to what they were doing.
I saw one young woman, tall, not as dark as many Brazilians and very beautiful,
standing quietly. I was entranced. I couldn't take my eyes from her. She
didn't notice me. Every once in a while she spoke with one of the other girls.
Mostly she just stood and looked out at the ocean her hair rustling in the
breeze. I don't know how long I watched her.
"Do you think she is pretty?" a voice asked at my side.
Startled, I turned and saw one of the girls standing on the curb next to
me. I'm not good with ages but she was one of the older girls and I guessed
her to be about eighteen. "Excuse me?"
"Do you think she is pretty?" the girl asked again.
"Who?" I asked.
"Renata. The girl you are looking so hard. I think Renata is pretty." The
Carioca, residents of Rio, don't pronounce the R sound. They make it an H.
He-o instead of Rio. So, her name sounded like he-nata, and it took me a
moment to understand what she was saying.
I looked at the girl, Renata, again. Yes she was dazzlingly beautiful. I
turned to the young woman who had asked the question. She was short and dark
and a bit plump. Not exactly my ideal woman but cute enough in that way of
a young vibrant woman. I remember the Tom Jobim song, Garota de Ipanema and
told her, "Mais linda," which translates, much beautiful.
The girl smiled and her face lit up the evening. "Bom. I will tell her. You
wait." And she turned and was off.
What the hell? I watched the girl talking to Renata, who looked my way. Then
a few more words and Renata came walking across the beach. The other girl
came with her, smiling, as I wondered what I was going to say.
When they reached me the girl said, "Renata does not speak English much.
I will help."
I glanced at Renata and she smiled shyly. That smile was radiant. I turned
back to the other girl.
"For two hundred Reais Renata will come to you the whole night." The Real,
plural Reais, is the Brazilian currency. 200 Reais was $68.
It took me a second to process the information. I was slow because I was
entranced by the beauty of Renata. Then, like a flash, I understood. I knew
why there were ten or fifteen young girls all hanging out at the beach. I
had read that the girls, whose favors were available commercially, would
hang out at the beach. These girls didn't look like streetwalkers. They looked
like average young Brazilians, tanned, smiling, laughing.
It is amazing how quickly thoughts can flash through your mind at moments
like this. I looked at the girls, and thought, teenagers? I'll get arrested.
And just as quickly I remembered, the age of consent in Brazil is fifteen.
I remembered reading that girls have to be fifteen to get their police permit
although there are girls who do work even younger.
Fifteen? Isn't that immoral even if it is legal? There is that famous Boucher
painting of a fifteen-year-old Irish girl, Louise O'Murphy, with her beautiful
red hair. I've always loved that painting. She was Canova's mistress at the
time. The painting is thought to have been a job application to become the
King's mistress. It must have worked since she subsequently was mistress
to the King of France and bore him two children. I've always wondered why
they don't consider books of Boucher's paintings to be child porn. I mean,
pimping a naked fifteen-year-old can't get much more child porn, can it?
The painting is in the Alte Pinkothek in Munich, in other words, Art with
a capital A, and spoken in reverent tones so no one seems to care. Or the
famous American statue of Justice, nude from the waist up, was modeled on
a lovely fifteen-year-old woman, also thought to be the artist's lover. That
statue is in many courts around this country. I wonder if the judges in statutory
rape cases notice the irony.
Oh yes. The girl from Ipanema was fifteen when Tom Jobim watched her from
his favorite dive, walking to the beach, and wrote the song that made Bossa
Nova an International sensation. To Brazilians, that girl is the embodiment
of Brazilian womanhood. They don't seem to mind that an 'old' guy was lusting
after a fifteen-year-old.
Tall and tan and young and lovely
The girl from Ipanema goes walking,
And when she passes, each one she passes goes, "Ahhh."
At first, I was stunned. I thought the girl had been fascinated with my rugged
good looks. Of course, mature reflection would have made such thoughts seem
ridiculous. I seldom am bothered with mature reflections when beautiful women
are involved. I was disappointed.
I looked at Renata, who was waiting for my answer. I turned to the girl and
asked, "The whole night?"
"You don't want?" she asked.
"No, I would want."
The girl laughed and translated for Renata who smiled and looked down at
the sand then spoke a few words to her friend.
For $68 this lovely young woman would spend the night with me. "How old is
she?" I asked.
I heard the question and Renata answer quinze. I recognized the quin, same
as Spanish, fifteen. The girl turned to tell me and I said, "I understood."
I wrestled with my conscious for a moment. It was a very uneven contest since
I never took my eyes from Renata. She was lovely.
"I would be very pleased if Renata would join me this evening."
The two exchanged a few words and a look in my direction.
"She wish to know why you take time before say yes?" the girl asked.
"Because, I never would have believed such a beautiful woman would want to
spend time with me," I said. "It took me a while to believe it." I laughed
and told her holding out my hand, "Pinch me. Is it true?"
She laughed and turned to Renata talking quickly. Renata smiled and turned
to me and spoke to me for the first time, although very haltingly, "I would
be happy to you night."
I held out my arm from my side and she slid her arm in mine. We started back
along the beach toward my hotel like many other couples walking in the evening
breeze.
I was quite happy to have this lovely vision on my arm. She swayed in the
moonlight, laughing now as we talked, although I was sure neither of us understood
a word the other was saying. We didn't need to.
When she walks, she's like a samba
That swings so cool and sways so gentle,
That when she passes, each one she passes goes, "Ahhh."
She turned male heads as she swayed along the beach. When we reached the
street to my hotel I turned and she smiled, "There?"
"Sim," I answered, yes. She smiled at my accent and hugged herself to my
side putting both arms around mine like lovers do when they're happy. I was
certainly happy.
As we crossed the hotel lobby I saw my friend sitting in one of the big overstuffed
sofas. She looked startled, then raised an eyebrow in my direction and blew
me a kiss. I was sure I turned several shades of red. Renata didn't miss
a thing and once in the elevator asked, "Know her?"
"A friend," I said.
"Girlfriend?"
"No, just a friend. She was teasing me."
"Teasing?"
"You know, teasing." I made a face and tried to act out the idea of teasing.
Renata understood and laughed.
"Teasing. She tease tomorrow?" pointing at me.
I nodded. "Yes, I'm sure she will be all over me tomorrow."
Renata didn't understand all of the words but she got the meaning. She took
my face and kissed me, "Make it..." searching for word, "...worthhile."
"Yes, worthwhile."
The door of the elevator opened.
I was staying in one of the nicer hotels in Ipanema as the exchange rate
made a first class hotel affordable. A little while before this would have
been a $400 a night room. Now, it was $135 a night. But that is Brazilian
first class. It was basically Holiday Inn with tropical mold. Perfectly nice
but nothing to write home about.
Renata fell on the bed and kicked off her sandals. She pointed at me and
said something. I shrugged and she pantomimed, get out of those clothes.
I felt my stomach flutter. Was I really going to do this? The truth was there
was no way I couldn't do this. I unbuttoned my shirt and tossed it aside,
skinned out of my shorts and stood, naked, nude, unadorned before my Goddess.
She smiled and scooted across the bed, stood up and took my face in her hands
and kissed me. A luscious fragrant wonderful kiss that brought full hydraulic
pressure to the system. My cock was poking her in short order.
She reached down and lightly stroked it smiling at me as she did. Then she
pulled her dress over her head, skinned out of her lacy underwear and put
her arms around my neck, pulling me down for a passionate kiss as our bodies
melted together.
We fell to the bed still kissing. Renata scooted down taking my cock in her
soft little hands before putting it in her mouth. Her lips caressed the head
as she gently sucked and kissed my cock. It was driving me crazy. I looked
down at my young angel and I wanted her, wanted her completely, wanted to
possess her, take her, fuck her.
I smiled at her and she could see the desire in my face. I smiled. She returned
the smile and rose above me. She reached over quickly for her purse and pulled
a foil packet out, slid the rubber over my cock and straddled me rubbing
my cock over her pussy. It was a struggle to hold my hips still. I so wanted
to plunge into her.
She slowly worked my cock into her pussy, sliding down lower, then back up,
and then lower, until I was buried completely in her. She looked so young
sitting there and yet she looked completely natural as well. She rose and
I watched my cock appear and then disappear into her, as she pushed down
fucking herself on my cock. I bent forward to take her tit into my mouth,
playing with her nipple, licking and sucking. Renata moaned and leaned forward,
bringing her tit closer to me and rubbing her clitoris along my cock.
She was getting worked up. Soon her eyes closed and she leaned back her movements
becoming jerky. A low moan rolled from her. I felt her pussy spasm around
my cock. She was cumming. I grabbed her hips and shoved up into her, once,
twice and thrice. My climax was rising. Renata moaned louder as I drove my
cock hard up into her. I felt it come, my cock blasting out again and again
until I collapsed back on the bed, sweating and panting. Renata collapsed
over me her hands stroking my sides.
'Damn,' I said to myself. Renata lay on top of me, so light, like a feather.
I gentled her, softly caressing her back.
She looked up at me and smiled. We kissed and she laid her head back on my
chest. There was no need for words.
My cock softened and slipped from her pussy. "Oh," she said looking up. She
rolled off of me and headed for the bath. I followed and started the shower.
We jumped into the shower and washed off the sweat and aroma of our loving.
As I stepped from the bath and started to dress I realized I was already
getting sweaty. Ugh. Renata threw on her dress and underthings as I put on
shorts and a Hawaiian shirt and we headed out.
We walked among the shops and bars of Ipanema, dodging the hordes of people
out at this hour. I wanted to wet my whistle but remembered Renata. I stood
looking at the Chope house wondering if I could get one to go.
"Chope?" she asked me.
Wistfully, "Sim."
She pulled me into the door, found a table by one of the open windows and
plunked us down. The waiter quickly appeared and Renata jabbered away in
Portuguese. The fellow appeared a few minutes later and I handed him a bill.
I had my Chope and Renata had some fruit concoction. I didn't see any requests
for ID.
I put my hand across the table and Renata smiled as she put her hand in mine.
I looked into her soft brown eyes and was entranced.
I felt it then, at that moment sitting across from a lovely young woman in
the heat and noise of the Ipanema night. If you've ever felt it, you know
what I mean. If not, I cannot explain what it was. All else disappeared,
the noise and confusion and lights and people. It was just the two of us,
sitting hand in hand. I felt so close to her that my whole universe expanded
and it was just the two of us in that universe. I felt light and happy, so
happy that I could never be unhappy again. And more, I just knew Renata had
to feel the same as I. We didn't say a thing, just sat and looked at each
other.
We wandered the streets of Ipanema and walked along the beach, smiling, laughing
and telling jokes that neither of us understood but made both of us laugh.
She was so happy, so vibrant that being with her made me smile and laugh
and feel young again.
We stopped for a moment looking out to sea. I turned to look at her just
as she looked at me. Our lips met, we kissed. My desire for her burned brightly.
I think she felt it as well. As we parted, she grabbed my hand and strode
off toward the hotel. We nearly ran back to the hotel, still laughing but
with a purpose.
Once in the room Renata attacked me, pulling my clothes off and kneeling
before me. She took my cock in her hands, cooed at it, and took it in her
mouth laving it with her tongue and lips. Her mouth wrapped around its girth
and she sucked it in, stroking it with her hand as she sucked.
It was wonderful, but I wanted her, wanted to fuck her to feel myself in
her body, moving as one. I reached down and tugged at her shoulders. She
resisted a moment but I persisted. She stood and looked at me questioningly,
didn't I enjoy? I stoked her face and smiled, "Oh yes, it was wonderful but
I want you."
She understood and smiled. I reached for the hem of her dress and she helped
pull it over her head. She slipped from her panties before lying back on
the bed. I moved between her legs. I needed her - wanted her and now. She
looked up at me and she felt it too. Desire was written on her face as I
lay between her legs my cock finding her pussy. I rubbed it back and forth
coating it with her arousal and buried it inside her.
Renata moaned as I lanced into her body. I had already cum this night and
normally that would leave me less frenzied but the passion burned hotly in
me. But this coupling was about passion. Our loins slapped together, again
and again. The heat of Rio, the heat of our passion, soon we were both bathed
in a sheen, our skins coated with our sweat, as the wet smacking sound, as
my body met hers, filled the room. The heat of the room, the heat of our
mating was made manifest in the sounds of our bodies coming together.
I felt it rising, the climax, and let it take me. My mind was taken by it.
All I could feel and experience was the rising tide of pleasure swamping
my senses as it came. I exploded, filling Renata with my cum. She moaned
and cried out, her fingers grasping at my shoulders. Drained, I rolled to
the side, pulling her with me.
Afterward I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Renata was curled up at my
side, softly breathing, asleep. She looked so young laying there but also
heart rendering beautiful.
This is ridiculous I thought to myself. I was in love with this girl. Ridiculous
or no it was true. I could marry her. It was legal in Brazil. But what was
a forty year old guy going to do with a fifteen year old wife? I remembered
a buddy from the Air Force. He had married a Thai girl from out in the country
when she was fifteen, completely normal for Thailand. They had two kids and
a happy marriage. But he was twenty at the time they married, not forty.
I could just see going to the office Christmas party. Oh Lord, the American
women would go ballistic. They are already worried that their husbands are
going to turn them in for a younger model, not without reason considering
the statistics, and would go nuts having their noses rubbed in it like that.
I'd be a social pariah. Everywhere would be the cold shoulders and constant
stares. I wouldn't do that to myself and I couldn't do that to a young girl.
Living in a foreign country is hard enough. As a Pariah, it would be impossible.
I wouldn't be surprised if I got arrested even if it was a legal marriage
in Brazil.
I lay awake a long time, enjoying the feeling of Renata at my side but tortured
at the same time. I knew I wanted her with all of my heart and I knew I should
let her go. How would she react?
The gray light was coming in the window when Renata stirred next to me. Her
eyes opened and she looked out, "Morning?"
I nodded. "Bom gia."
She smiled at my Portuguese and rolled over and looked into my eyes before
kissing me. I couldn't hold her eye so I rolled off the bed and headed into
the bathroom. When I came back she was sitting up in bed looking gloriously
beautiful her skin gleaming in the morning sunlight. "Is wrong?" she asked.
"No. Nothing's wrong," I said airily. I looked at my watch. "It's getting
on and I have to meet some people for breakfast. I need to get dressed."
I looked at her expectantly trying valiantly not to break my act.
I could see her trying to translate and then she understood. "Sim." She nodded
and smiled that same sunny smile as the evening before. She rolled out of
bed and, completely comfortable with her nudity, went into the bath closing
the door behind.
Feeling like shit, I went to the window. I stared down at the beach and saw
the early morning beginnings to another Rio day: the busses roaring down
the street, the early workers on their way to work and the tourists starting
their day. A minute later, the sound of a flush, and the door opened.
Renata smiled as she emerged. She gathered up her clothes and dressed quickly.
Dressed, she finally did look my way. "I go. Obrigada," as she leaned in
and kissed me again.
I nodded, "Yes, and thank you."
"Ciao," she said airily and opened the door. She turned back and smiled a
last time that sunny smile that made my heart melt then hurried through the
door. It clicked behind her.
I rubbed my eyes and went into the bath and started the shower. Standing
under the water, I argued with myself. It was the right thing to do. I couldn't
possibly offer her anything. Yes, I thought we had a special connection,
a spiritual and physical connection but there is more to life than that.
Christ, I'm forty fucking years old and she's fifteen. It would never work.
I stood under the shower arguing with myself until the water ran cold.
Oh, but I watch her so sadly;
How can I tell her I love her?
Yes, I would give my heart gladly,
But each day she walks to the sea,
She looks straight ahead, not at me.
I met my friend at eleven and we took a boat over to Fortaleza Barra Grande,
an old fort on the mouth of the inner harbor. I was moping and blaming it
on the heat. We walked around the fort for a while. Finally she asked me,
"Okay. Tell me about her."
"Who?" I asked.
"Oh, please."
I stumbled and bumbled and couldn't get anything out. She finally stopped
me and putting her hand on my chin forced me to look her in the eye. "You
didn't fall in love, did you?"
I shook my head but she looked deeply into my soul.
"You did. What happened? Where is she?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said.
"What do you mean, you don't know? You stupid shit." That's one of the troubles
with really good friends. They know when you've been a stupid shit and aren't
afraid to tell you.
"She left and I don't know anything about her," I said. She just looked at
me like I'd gone crazy. "Look, there is no way we could ever... I mean, there
were just too many differences." She just continued looking at me. "She was
a hooker for Christ's sake."
"You know why the girls here have to do that," she said quietly.
"She was only fifteen," I said throwing myself down on a bench and burying
my face in my hands.
She sat down next to me, "That's an issue all right. How much of this is
love and how much lust?"
I turned toward her violently and was about to blast her when she said, "Oh."
My anger quickly deflated. "You know soul mates?" She nodded. "I never experienced
it before, not even when I was married. But I felt it with Renata. Like she
was a part of me."
"What are you going to do?"
"Nothing," I told her.
She shook her head, "You damn fool."
I stood up, mad. "It would never work. People would think I was some kind
of pervert."
"Well, if what people think matters more than who you love..." she left that
hanging in the air.
I walked away and back toward the ferry. We spent the rest of the day doing
tourist things. She never mentioned the girl again but I could see it in
her eyes, the way she'd look at me.
Over dinner she gave me one of those looks, "I'm all right."
"No you're not," she said. "If you were all right you wouldn't be snarling
at me."
I was about to really snarl at her but held back.
I started to tell her what I knew to be true but the words caught in my throat.
She noticed and her eyes got wide, "You okay?"
I nodded and forced them out. "She doesn't love me. What I felt last night
was so special. But in the morning, when she was leaving she gave me that
same smile that she had the night before. That smile that made me love her
was the same as she left. I love her but I'm just one more guy to her. She
probably doesn't even remember my name."
"You're sure about that?" she asked.
I nodded, willing the tears from my eyes. "I fell for those smiling eyes
but they were just as happy in the morning as she went out the door."
She reached across the table and took my hand in hers. She nodded compassionately,
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too," I said.
That night I walked down to the beach. I looked both ways wondering if the
girls were out tonight. They would be. I walked part way down the beach.
The sea was crashing against the sand, the wind blowing in off of the Atlantic
and there was a lighted stand just ahead of me. It was just like the night
before. I turned and fled back to the hotel.
We left Rio the next morning. At the Rio airport I was too busy to think
until we cleared security. Then, sitting, looking at the airplanes getting
ready to take us back home, I remembered her.
Tall and tan and young and lovely
The girl from Ipanema goes walking,
And when she passes, I smile,
But she doesn't see, no she doesn't see,
No, she doesn't see me.
She will be on the beach tonight waiting for someone else. No, she doesn't
see me.
Click here if you'd like to hear the music.
Girl from Ipanema
Tall and tan and young and lovely
The girl from Ipanema goes walking,
And when she passes, each one she passes goes, "Ahhh."
When she walks, she's like a samba
That swings so cool and sways so gentle,
That when she passes, each one she passes goes, "Ahhh."
Oh, but I watch her so sadly;
How can I tell her I love her?
Yes, I would give my heart gladly,
But each day she walks to the sea,
She looks straight ahead, not at me.
Tall and tan and young and lovely
The girl from Ipanema goes walking,
And when she passes, I smile,
But she doesn't see, no she doesn't see,
No, she doesn't see me.
Vincius De Moraes, Antonio Carlos Jobim
All models 18 years of age or older at the time of production. The original
source of all images certified that the images were exempt and/or fully complied
with US Code Title 18, Section 2257.
Did you like the story? Let me know what you thought:
Please enter your email address if you'd like me to write back:
Love to know what you think of this story!
Or you can e-mail me directly Anoninsac@yahoo.com
_______________________________________________________________________________
Posted Via Uncensored-News.Com - Accounts Starting At $6.95 - http://www.uncensored-news.com
<><><><><><><> The Worlds Uncensored News Source <><><><><><><><>