El Escorpión

Elena likes most to fuck at night, late, after dinner, drinks and copious amounts of marijuana. She calls herself by her full name, and I always wind up using Nena for short.

It was our second night exploring the City of Mexico, and we found ourselves out a hip, packed downtown nightclub in the wee hours of the morning, taking in a bottle of Don Julio tequila with Nena and her best friend, Sabina. Reggaeton blasted on the massive stereo system, the club was packed, and I was the only gringo there. I mentioned this detail to Nena, to which she responded with a big grin and a hand extended, "Querías una experiencia muy mexicana, ¿no?" / You wanted a real Mexican experience, right? I shook my head affirmatively, then bobbed my head to the beat of the new Bad Bunny single blasting through the club.

Elena and Sabina were both trying to nail a "scorpion", a maneuver where one rotates a bottle of liquor around the head and then pours oneself a shot upside down. It wasn't going well. Sabina, had just managed to splash tequila in her eyes, prompting uproarious laughter from the three of us and a nearby group of young and stylish chilangos. After multiple attempts she pulled it off, spinning the bottle around her head and then chugging a shot.

"¡Excelente! ¡Te rifaste!" I told her, patting her on the shoulder and chuckling out loud. / Excellent! You nailed it!

Sabina smiled, her shapely and fit frame shaking with laughter. She had a smile to die for, light skin with freckles, big light brown eyes, and a voluptuous body which she showed off in a skin tight outfit with short tight shorts and a fitted sleeveless top.

As Nena helped Sabina tighten up, I took a look inward in the settings menu of my brain, where I found numerous warning lights were blinking red. I was tired, excessively drunk and stoned to the gills. Partying until 4 AM is not my normal modus operandi, however, I was having a metric ton of fun.

I shared my status in my shitty Spanish with Elena, who raised an eye and warned me, "Podemos irnos cuando quieras mi amor, pero aún así tenemos que coger cuando lleguemos al hotel." / We can leave whenever you want my love, but we still have to fuck when we get to the hotel. She punctuated the "coger" point with a light grab of my package.

"Bueno, está bien, Nena" I replied. "Entonces, vámonos en alrededor de 30 minutos." / Well, OK, Nena. So, let's leave in like 30 minutes.

Nena is cute and petite, with a brilliant smile, high cheekbones, and thin but shapely frame. She wears her long jet black hair down, using a curling iron to put a few spiral locks dangling down around her face. She's smart, informed and sophisticated. She's perpetually positive and in a pleasant mood, even tolerating with joy my terrible Spanish. She's a pro-level organizer, always thinking one move ahead to conjure up the next batch of fun. She's a consummate stoner, just like I am. And she has never sung sob stories or asked me for money, though I always pay generously for her exquisite company. By far, she's my All Time Favorite chica from Hong Kong Gentlemen's Club in Tijuana.

The idea that we might travel to la Ciudad de México together had been baking since our very first arriba in the club at Hong Kong last year. CDMX is the oldest and largest city in the Americas, with an altitude higher than Denver, and a virtually ideal climate year round stemming from that high altitude. I'd never been but always wanted to see it, and when Nena had first told me she was a chilanga (native of CDMX) and would love to show me around the city, I was intrigued.

Almost a year after we first met, we actually pulled it off. My favorite band had announced a tour date in CDMX. I'd messaged Nena, and she'd enthusiastically agreed to meeting up at a fancy hotel in downtown CDMX for a four night bender of sex, drugs, rock and incredibly delicious Mexican food.

When we got home from the nightclub that second night, we had some of the most incredible sex I've ever had. The alcohol and pot had dulled my senses to the point that I was having a hard time busting a nut. At one point, I even suggested we retire and try again in the morning, but Nena wasn't having it. She responded to that suggestion by tearing off the condom I was wearing and giving me a deep BBBJ. We suited up and fucked again, she sucked again, going at it for at least an hour in multiple positions until it was almost dawn. By the end of the evening, against all odds, I exploded while fucking her missionary, both of us moaning in ecstasy. It was exquisite.

---

Logistics & Safety in CDMX

The logistics of any OTC event are a nightmare because fundamentally you have to place your trust in a chica. You have to trust she's not going to flake or be incredibly late. In this case, I flew to CDMX from the east coast, while Nena flew directly from Tijuana. I had paid for her flight and seen the receipt, but until she messaged me that she had actually boarded the plan on Thursday morning, I was tremendously nervous that she was actually going to make it. OTCs in Tijuana carry some risk, but at least if your plans fall apart, you can always fall back on the Zona Norte. CMDX has only a few strip clubs, and they aren't great. There's a vibrant escort scene, but it's sketchy. I don't know what I would've done if Nena had been a no-show.

Fortunately she wasn't. She beat me to CDMX by few hours, and then put herself to use by meeting up with an amiga who sold marijuana and other drugs. She stocked up on joints, vapes, edibles, and also a little bit of mushrooms for us to take during the concert we had planned to attend.

An OTC meetup also carries more nefarious risks to one's security. It's possible Nena could have taken me somewhere to be robbed or kidnapped. I wagered though that I was worth more alive and well to Nena than I was robbed and abandoned. The vast majority of the cash I brought to CDMX was for her anyway.

I was advised by several mongers to be careful in CDMX. We visited a ton of neighborhoods, but all of them felt completely safe to me. The police, Nena explained, are actually quite helpful and definitely not corrupt like in Tijuana.

---

The Meetup

Nena sent me a photo of herself clad only in a bath towel from the hotel room as my flight into CDMX was landing. I had to hold the phone awkwardly to see it without sharing it with my neighbors on the plane. I was stoked, she looked gorgeous, like a Christmas present I couldn't wait to unwrap.

I cleared customs without issue. This is the first time in recent memory that I've crossed into Mexico without bringing weed on me, thanks to Nena's initiative.

I sent her a live location in Whats and she met me downstairs in the lobby of the hotel as soon as I pulled up in a Uber. She looked amazing. After a kiss and hug, she grabbed my hand and led me up to the elevators. Dressed in a miniskirt and tight halter top, she was sexy as hell. I enjoyed watching her shapely and petite ass sway from side to side as we sauntered through the hotel.

When we got to the room, I rushed to unpack and to take a shower after the long flight. "¿Tienes hambre?" I asked as I was getting ready. / Are you hungry?

"Si mi amor," she replied smiling. / Yes, love.

I sat down on the bed next to her and asked, "Y, qué prefieres, tener sexo antes o después de cenar?" / And, what do you prefer, to have sex before or after dinner?

She gave me a deep DFK, put her hand on my leg, then told me with a brilliant smile "Tengo mucho hambre, pero ¡Lo que quieras, guapísimo!" / I'm really hungry, but whatever you want, gorgeous!

I was starving as well, and unlike in a short OTC, I didn't feel the pressure to get down to business immediately. We had the whole weekend to enjoy each other.

Nena suggested dinner at an authentic Mexican eatery a short Uber ride away. The restaurant she chose sat right outside the Ángel de Independencia, a famous monument to Mexico's independence from Spain. The decor of the restaurant matched the golden colors of the monument, making one feel like one were a part of the monument itself. We enjoyed an authentic Mexican meal and a few tequila cocktails while catching up and flirting over my pidgin Spanish.

By the time we hailed an Uber back to the room, I was dying to have this chica.

As we made out on the bed I realized this was going to be a short romp. I was ready to explode just touching her beautiful body. Then she went down on me, showing me her patented deep throat hand job. I only lasted a few minutes before I exploded in her mouth. Moaning loudly as I came, she sat there swallowing my load for what felt like an eternity, drinking every last drop, then deepthroating me a few times more to make sure she got everything.

"¡Qué rico mi amor!" she squealed as she finished me off. / How delicious my love!

It was late. We both cleaned up, put the lights out, and then talked about plans for the weekend before drifting off to sleep naked in each other's arms. It was a decadent start to a decadent weekend.

---

Xochimilco

We woke up late the next morning, and got a quick and vigorous fuck in before heading out for the day. I opted not to take Viagra that morning in order to save it for later in the evening so again. Even unenhanced, fucking this lithe young chica was exquisite.

Nena had big plans for our first day: to explore the waterways of Xochimilco. A traffic-filled Uber ride away from our hotel, Xochimilco is the kind of place that one really needs to experience first-hand to understand. The general setup is, one rents a skiff and a gondolier for a thousand or so pesos, and then you can cruise around these ancient waterways on your own private skiff. Along the way you'll encounter other skiffs with vendors selling cervezas, tequila drinks, and food. There's even one skiff with a mariachi band, and if you pay for the privilege, they'll pull up next to your skiff and serenade you.

Nena had also suggested I bring a speaker on the trip. When we weren't listening to the mariachi, we swapped turns DJ'ing. She likes reggaeton but prefers electronica, and I enjoy both of those genres. I also took the opportunity to warm her up to a few songs I thought we'd hear on Saturday night's concert.

We enjoyed the warm CDMX sun as we made our way around the waterways, drinking cervezas and tequila while also smoking a joint or two. We made out a ton. At one point on the voyage, she was sitting in my lap, kissing me while groping my crotch. It made me a bit nervous, the young gondolier pushing us around the canals gave me pause. Nena didn't seem to mind him. It felt like being at Hong Kong club, except much sunnier and we were in a private boat.

We stayed out on the rivers until sunset, kissing, sipping tequila, and drinking up every last drop of the warm, high altitude CDMX sun.

---

Un Restaurante Para Convivir

Back at the hotel, getting ready for the evening, Nena explained to me in Spanish that she wanted to meet a friend for dinner, at a restaurant her friend worked in. I asked her, "¿A qué dedica tu amiga?" / What does your friend do?"

I was expecting something simple like mesera, o anfitriona (waitress or hostess), but Nena's explanation was long and complicated. I didn't grok what she was telling me entirely. Still, I was happy to meet one of her CDMX friends out, so I told her, "¡Claro que sí! ¡Hagámoslo!" / Of course, let's do it!

We wound up at an elegant restaurant in downtown CDMX. Here Nena introduced me to her friend Sabina, and also a mutual friend Kristen. Sabina, as I previously described, was a stunning culona, Kristen was a tall attractive goth girl, scantily clad, with dark lipstick and sporting a black collar around her neck.

A cute hostess sat the four of us at a table. I was terrified at first.

I realized I would likely be buying dinner for our new foursome, and it didn't bug me, even fancy restaurants in CDMX are reasonable. What terrified me was the idea of holding down a dinner conversation with three native speakers and friends, with all of the rapid cross talk and inside jokes that would imply. Especially with hotties like these. Not to mention, Nena and I had gotten incredibly baked before we left for dinner, decimating my Spanish skills. If I had understood Nena earlier when she told me the game plan, I might have balked, or definitely would have at least toked less.

I steeled myself, reminding myself of the time I've invested practicing Spanish, and that such a dinner would be a great learning opportunity. It was, and it was also a fucking battle. I relied heavily on the conversational tactic of repetition: if I didn't understand the full context I'd just repeat the words I did understand. The conversation moved quickly, and I hung in there, in spite of my clumsiness.

We talked music, politics, and also much about South Park. I was stunned to find out that South Park was popular in Mexico, at least with these three ladies. Of course, Nena and I shared the same favorite character "Toallin" / Towelie. For those who aren't familiar Towelie is a complete mess of a stoner, who happens to be a towel. The ladies taught me a few clutch "Toallin" lines in Spanish like:

Voy a drogarme un poquito. / I'm just gonna get a little high

¿Quieren drogarse un poquito? / Do you guys want to get a little high?

I ordered an Arrachera (a traditional Mexican flank steak) and then excused myself to use the men's room. Here's where I figured out something was off.

The restaurant was crowded, but all the patrons seemed to be men older than me, and they all seemed to be seated with young and attractive women. There was a live band playing salsa music, and occasionally patrons would get up and dance with their ladies. Plus there were also several young, attractive, women seated alone at the bar. What was this place, like a strip club? A brothel?

When I got back to my seat, Kristen and Sabina were having a side conversation, and I managed to whisper directly to Nena, "No entiendo este lugar y ¡tengo tantas preguntas!" / I don't understand this place and I have so many questions!

Nena laughed, placing a hand gingerly on top of mine, and then leaning in for a quick peck on the cheek, she whispered back, "No te preocupes mi amor, te lo explicaré todo." / Don't worry my love, I'll explain everything to you.

Later, over a joint on the balcony of the hotel, I peppered her with questions. She explained that the restaurant was "un lugar para convivir con una mujer." In Mexican Spanish, that means kind of like "a place to spend time and converse with a woman."

"¿Tienen sexo con su clientes, los mujeres como Sabina y Kristen?", I asked her. / Do they have sex with their clients, women like Sabina and Kristen?

"No, cariño, por lo general no, este lugar es solo para convivir," she replied, adding, "Además hay muchos lugares en la ciudad como esto." / No dear, in general not, this place is only for conversation. And, there are many places in the city like this one.

She continued, volunteering, "A veces las chicas intercambian números de teléfono con los clientes para quedar fuera del club. Pero Sabina no, ella tiene un sugar daddy." Pausing to laugh, she continued, "Y definitivamente Kristen no, ella es una mocha." / Sometimes the girls exchange phone numbers with customers to meet up out of the club. But not Sabina; she has a sugar daddy. And definitely not Kristen, she's a prude.

"Puedes bailar o cenar con las chicas, pero no puede tocarlas ni besarlas o te echarán," she continued. / You can dance or dine with the women, but you can't touch or kiss them or they will kick you out.

I asked her if she would recommend such a place to a monger or client of Hong Kong.

"Definitivamente, no," she replied laughing.

Mongering in CDMX

Aside from "restaurantes para convivir", a monger's other CDMX options include a few strip clubs, some massage parlors, and a vibrant online escort scene. It's not a city I would recommend for mongering unless you've imported a chica. However, so as not to disappoint those who came to for mongering information, I'll offer this guide as a decent if not comprehensive resource for mongering in CMDX: girlsheavens.com

On a related side note, Nena was dressed in slinky and revealing attire virtually the whole weekend which she spent hanging off my arm holding my hand, or with a hand around my waist. I'm a middle aged gringo and well dressed but not particularly attractive. I was worried how we might be received at all of the restaurants, bars and other venues we visited. It turns out that people were pretty polite. If they had comments about us, they kept them to themselves.

In the end, our tab at the restaurante para convivir was surprisingly cheap, like the cost of a dinner and drinks for four at any other decent CDMX restaurant. Para convivir no cuesta mucho! But it's low mileage. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to offer either ladies a tip, thinking it might either insulting, or expected, so I did not. I wasn't asked and no one seemed offended that I didn't.

Kristen went home, but Sabina later joined Nena and I at the aforementioned club where they attempted scorpions and much fun was had. Clubbing with these two young ladies only cost me the bar tab on the bottle, which was much cheaper than a bottle at any US club. I think both ladies were just happy to hang out, and I enjoyed hearing stories of when they met and adventures they had together.

My biggest regret at the restaurante para convivir is that I didn't try salsa dancing. Even though I don't know how to salsa, learning with one or more of these three chicas would have been a great deal of fun. Also, I feel like, the dancing is the highest the mileage gets at these joints.

---

Concert Pregame

After staying out late at the club and then fucking until dawn, Nena and I slept in hedonistically late. Mercifully the room had very effective shades which kept it pitch black inside even as the Mexican sun blared onto our balcony.

As we both climbed out of our slumber in the midafternoon, I asked her "¿Cómo estás? ¿Cómo te sientes?" / How are you? How do you feel?

"Muy bien", she replied with warm smile, giving me a kiss. "¿Y tú?" / Very good, and you?

"Neta, tengo un poco de retraso." / Truthfully, I'm kind of retarded.

She laughed at my mistake, correcting me, "No, tienes un poco de resaca." / No, you're a little hungover.

"Ay, mi pinche español," I replied, laughing. I hopped out of the bed and grabbed us both a water, then asked her, "Entonces, ¿cuándo salimos para el concierto?" / So, when do we leave for the concert?

"El conductor llega a las cinco y medio," she replied. / The driver is coming at 5:30. Nena and I had previously discussed the difficulties we'd encounter with transit to this well-attended show. She had recommended we call a driver friend of hers to take us to and from the show. Being high on mushrooms while trying to hail a taxi from a crowded concert in a foreign city sounded like no fun, so I had enthusiastically agreed.

I looked at the time. It was 2:30, giving us only three hours. Painfully, on this trip I'd learned that the time required for both of us to shower was about two hours. Possibly, my biggest gripe of the weekend, Nena had a habit of taking her phone into the shower to watch youtube, and then taking showers for such an egregiously long time that Caligula would grin. She's human and I don't fault her for this quirk, but it made planning for things difficult.

We also needed to eat before the show. Most importantly I was determined to fuck her again before we left. We'd planned on taking mushrooms for the show, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to perform after.

I shared this problem with Nena, and she replied, "Claro que podremos tener sexo después del concierto. Pero, ¿por qué no ambos antes y después?" / Of course we will be able to have sex after the show. But why not both before and after? She followed that up with a deep kiss. Then she paused, and summoned her best Towelie impression:

"¡Primero vamos a drogarnos un poquito!" / But first, let's just get a little bit high!

We smoked a joint on the sunny hotel balcony, and soon we were both back in bed, exchanging marijuana infused kisses.

This session wasn't as much of a barnstormer as the prior night had been, but it was far from a dull affair. After enjoying some of her ridiculously talented oral natural, I fucked her doggy and then had her climb on top for cowgirl, where I finished with her perky tits bouncing in my face. ¡Que rica!

We started the laborious process of showering and getting ready for the show. Because we were pressed for time, I suggested room service, which came pretty promptly and was decent, although hardly the authentic fare we'd been getting at the dinner and lunch stylish locations Nena had been suggesting.

We made it out to the car promptly at 5:30, and as we clocked her driver's car I gave her a quick hug and told her, "¡Llegamos a tiempo! ¡Bien hecho por dos pachecos!" / We're on time! Well done for two stoners!

---

A Psychedelic Adventure

The ride to the show was a baller adventure on it's own. Rodrigo, our driver and Nena's friend was of course a stoner too who was happy to have us smoke our way through the city to the show so long as he could partake.

Nena connected her phone and we blasted some electronica as we rolled around one of CDMX's key arteries to the show. The city is surprisingly modern, with massive infrastructure, and enormously tall buildings. We did hit some traffic along the way, but we mellowed our way through it with la mota and flirty conversation. Nena seemed genuinely excited for the show, and I was stoked that she was stoked.

We endured a painfully long wait to enter the facility. I noticed that everywhere in Mexico there is people, there are popup markets selling the things those people might need, and the line into the concert venue was no exception. It was kind of nice to get a water and a small snack to enjoy during the line.

The security measures at the venue were so extreme that at Nena's suggestion, we stashed our stash in our underpants to avoid detection. After we cleared security I told Nena, "Vamos al baño para desempacar." / Let's go to the bathroom to unpack.

The venue was outdoors, and the temperature was mild. Perfect for a hoodie, which I'd brought. It was tolerable even still when I had to surrender my hoodie to Nena, whose legs, protected by nothing but a ridiculously impractical short skirt, got cold.

We both took a very small amount of mushrooms. I'd explained to Nena, I didn't want to overdo it, just a bit to heighten the mood. She pressed me to take a bit more than I'd planned, and I figured, she had steered me right so far this trip, so why not.

As the mushrooms set in, we enjoyed the opening act. There were plenty of Cheleros (Beer men) hawking "¡Chelas! ¡Chelas!" / "Beers! Beers!" and Nena and I were soon indulging in an ice cold corona.

Nena put her hand on my leg, and leaned in for a quick kiss, then whispered in my ear "¿Cómo te sientes?" / How do you feel?

"Ando perfecto. Me siento... espectacular. Estoy súper high en muchos sentidos." / I'm perfect. I feel... spectacular. I'm super high in so many ways.

"Te entiendo, mi amor," she replied. With no mind to the crowds surrounding us, we made out for a bit. It's hard to describe an intimate act on mushrooms, but it's more sensual, more real, and it feels like it's happening in four dimensional space.

Between the opener and the main act, we met a few of our neighbors at the show, who were all very pleasant and none of whom complained, outwardly anyway, about the obviousness of our gringo-chica relationship, or, the worse offense, my shitty Spanish. The dude next to me had traveled from Los Cabos to see the band, and was hoping for one rarity in particular. The dude below us had seen recent setlists (as had I) and we nodded skeptically.

Soon, it was time for the main event. So that this TUSCL article doesn't become a concert review, I'll simply say it was a psychedelic barrage of video and instrumental art. I kept checking on Nena throughout the show and she was fascinated, clapping, cheering, mouth agape. In a moment of psychedelically-induced introspection, I wondered why it made me so happy that Nena was enjoying herself. I found the answer to be confounding, but ultimately concluded that, "If it makes you happy, it can't be that bad."

During a crowd pleaser that isn't a personal fav, I told Nena I needed to use the bathroom and she asked if I would accompany her too.

"Claro," I replied. We weaved our way through the crowd, with me, and I'm certain quite a few other dudes, enjoying the view of Nena's perky ass under her unreasonably short skirt.

On our way back to our seats, we ran into our biggest challenge of the night and as the end of the band's set wound down. An argentino and his girl had poached our seats. At first, the pair seemed inclined to move, as soon as we'd shown our tickets and gestured to security for help. Then, all hell broke loose, as the argentino demanded we buy him a beer for the courtesy of moving from our seats. Nena, typically calm and bubbly, turned into a raging tormenta, sending this dude and his girl scurrying. This detail that he was an argentino was very important to Nena in her subsequent retelling, when she told me angrily "Damos la bienvenida a visitantes de todo el mundo a nuestra ciudad. Pero no pueden venir aquí y faltarnos al respeto como así." / We welcome visitors from all over the world to our city. But they can't just come here and disrespect us like that.

I understood her point. I resolved also not to get on Nena's bad side.

We toked a bit of a vape pen Nena had smuggled in as the encore began. The joint we'd brought in was too risky, especially just having been involved in an altercation. Frankly, the pen on top of the mushrooms was quite sufficient. The band's encore was mind blowing, sending the entire crowd into a frenzy.

---

A Psychedelic Arriba

I was gripped by a bit of fear and loathing as we departed the venue. Nena seemed to be talking 140% faster than normal. My responses in Spanish were loading at 50% speed. My phone wasn't working. Once we found the exit to the venue, I realized I had paid zero mind to the location Rodrigo had dropped us off at. People were everywhere clamoring for taxis, Didis and Ubers. Everyone around me was speaking Spanish except at ludicrous speeds.

Nena was astoundingly on top of it, given that she must have been intoxicated too. She had Whats pulled up with Rodrigo's live location, and she led me by the hand to a block from the venue where he was waiting.

We were soon smoking our way back through the cool CDMX night, blasting Nena's favorite electronic hits again. She was a flirty party animal on the way home, dancing, twerking, kissing me. It was fun, but suddenly I became worried that she might want to go out again, and I knew, there was no way I could handle another night like the previous.

When we got back to the hotel, Nena put on some reggaeton and showed me some new Anitta twerk challenge making it's rounds on social media. She was good at it and sexy as hell. I was not.

I tried to broach the subject of whether we were headed for another night out.

"¿Qué quieres hacer mi amor?" / What do you want to do, love?

"Es obvio, ¿no? Vamos a tener sexo," she replied with a kiss. / It's obvious, isn't it? We're gonna have sex.

"Claro," I replied, stumbling for the words, "Pero, luego?" / Clearly, but then?

"Pues ¡luego nos vamos a dormir!" she said sweetly. / Well, later we're going to sleep!

"Gracias a los dioses, me preocupaba que estuviéramos despiertos toda la noche otra vez." / Thank the gods, I was worried we would be up all night again.

She laughed, replying firmly "No, sexo, luego dormimos." Then, in her best Towelie voice, "Pero primero, vamos a drogarnos un poquito" / No, sex, then sleep. But first, let's get a little bit high.

"Claro," I replied, laughing. We adjourned to the balcony of our hotel, bringing the speaker blasting Anitta with us. Scoring a hotel with a balcony in CDMX is expensive, but Nena and I were getting high mileage out of this indulgence.

The joints we had been smoking were likely Mexican grown, definitely not Californian, my favorite and hers as well, but they were covered in kief and tasted delicious nonetheless.

"Entonces, nunca he tenido sexo con hongos antes," I shared, after taking a hit of the joint, one arm slung around her shoulders. / So, I've never had sex on mushrooms before.

"Está bien, ya verás. Lo tomaremos lentamente," she replied, patting me on the leg. / It's great, you'll see. We'll take it slowly.

Once we were bien marihuanos, we made our way back to the bedroom.

We made out on the bed for an impossibly long time, as each of our garments slowly came off one by one. She had me explore everywhere, sighing lightly with pleasure as if she were a magical musical instrument.

We wound up in a 69. Or rather, with her blowing me, while I sat underneath her crotch marveling at the shape of her vulva, her clit, and her meticulously groomed pubic hair. I'd make an occasional effort to lick or finger her clit, but mostly, I was too enthralled by the beauty of her pussy and her world class oral skills to be very effective.

She might have blown me all night if I had wanted her too, but I was ready to fuck. Thank the gods for Vitamin V, which seems to grant defense against a variety of intoxicants including mushrooms.

I grabbed a condom from the nightstand. She opened it, stuck it over her tongue and the expertly applied it with her mouth. It was third or fourth time I'd seen her do that trick this weekend, and it was even more amazing in this altered state.

She climbed on top of me to ride cowgirl. She was slow and deliberate mounting me, moaning softly with every inch of the docking operation. Finally, fully inserted, she moaned loudly, and then began gyrating on my cock, continuing to moan.

I hadn't seen her like this yet this weekend. Nena and I were headed for a Schrodinger's Orgasm.

In my altered state, it was as if she were surrounded by electric rainbows as gyrated her way to a climax, which crackled brightly as she launched into orbit.

With her still panting from the effort, I flipped her over missionary, then pushed both of her knees up. With her moaning with every thrust, I didn't last long, nutting while fully sheathed and kissing her on the lips.

If it wasn't the best sex I've had, it was certainly the most vivid. Sex on mushrooms is definitely a worthwhile endeavor, the only caveat being, I think it requires a partner who is empathetic and at least a little familiar. I don't think I could have performed on shrooms with a stranger. Or maybe, that should be a goal one day.

---

Los Niños Héroes

If you're a Tijuana veteran, you've walked Avenida Niños Héroes before. The intersection of Calle Coahuila is home to a renowned taco stand, and the avenida is also home to a club of variable caliber, Dulce Gabbana. Have you ever wondered who these "child heroes" were?

On my final day in CDMX, Nena took me to the Bosque de Chapultepac to find out. Seated at the top of a hill in the forest is the Castillo de Chapultepac, a giant monster dating back to the late 18th century. It was here in this castle that the child heroes made their stand.

During the Mexican-American war, US General Winfield Scott had landed an army in Veracruz and fought his way through Puebla using a similar route through into the mountains that the conquistadors had used. His army found themselves needing to take Castle Chapultepac in order to take Mexico City. Unfortunately for Mexico, the castle, at the time converted to a military college, was poorly defended. Among the defenders were five young cadets, los niños héroes.

The legend goes that one niño, se llama Juan Escutia, wrapped himself in the Mexican flag and threw himself to his death to avoid capture by the Americans.

"Pero es pura mamada," Nena told me, tugging on my hand and grinning from behind a pair of fashionable pair of sunglasses. / But, it's pure bullshit.

"No eran niños, eran adolescentes, probablemente de 18 o 19 años. Y, neta, ellos murieron, pero nadie saltó de las murallas." / They weren't children, they were teenagers, probably 18 or 18 years old. And in truth, they died, but nobody jumped over the ramparts.

We capped off the afternoon with a drink on a spectacular nearby hotel rooftop location overlooking the forest. As we watched the sun set over the mountains, we discussed what the world might look like if Mexico had won that war. Everything from Texas to Wyoming to California would be Mexico. Hollywood and Silicon Valley would be Mexican.

"Me pregunto si Elon Musk tendría un buen acento español," I asked her. / I wonder if Elon Musk would have a good Spanish accent.

"Ay, claro que no güey," she responded chortling and punching me in the arm. / Ay, definitely not dude.

---

One Final TLN

We returned to the hotel and Nena began another long tour in the bathroom. At least this evening, I had a task to complete as I waited on her. I wanted to be 80% packed to buy myself time in the morning before an early flight. For a few minutes I felt pangs of disappointment out that the weekend was ending. Then I considered that if it were a normal TLN OTC, the night would literally just be starting. I resolved to save my loathing for the long flight home the following day.

Nena had been saving her final dinner recommendation for our last night. "Este restaurante te va a explotar la cabeza," she told me, smiling wryly from the bathroom as she worked on her hair. / This restaurant is going to blow your mind.

Access to this particular restaurant wound through a fashionable women's clothing store. In the back of the store was an elevator manned by a sharp mexicano in a suit. As Nena and I boarded the elevator, we were joined by what looked to be three super models, one dude and two chicks.

It made me nervous. If this were the spot for CDMX's rich and famous, would it be appropriate for Nena and I? Nena, maybe sensing my nervousness, gave me a peck on the lips, right in front of these three shockingly beautiful people. This kiss was electric, very much in the WTF are we doing kind of way.

At the top of the hotel we encountered a receptionist who lead us through an elegantly appointed dining area and to a table in the middle of the room. It was only here that I realized the models were part of the "show" at the restaurant. They'd mill about the room, dancing to the music, or just walking around looking generally hot.

As we sat, Nena saw me ogling the models, and laughing, asked me "Tienes tantas preguntas, otra vez?" / Do you have so many questions, again?

I laughed and responded. "No, creo que lo entiendo. Son modelos y trabajan en el restaurante, ¿no?" / No, I think I get it. They're models and they work for the restaurant, right?

"Así es," she replied. "Ya es domingo pero el viernes o sábado, habría casi veinte modelos aquí." / Right. It's Sunday, but on Friday or Saturday, there would be close to twenty models here.

The models weren't the only entertainment. A guitarist would also perform on occasion, at one point seated right in front of our table as we enjoyed our wine. When seated in front of us, he played a mexicano version of "I Will Survive." I thought about my flight home in a few hours, and nodded along solemnly. For a dude relegated to performing for a few dozen souls, he could really play.

Nena ordered a salad an ceviche for us to share. The ceviche in particular, served with crispy tostadas, was muy delicioso.

We were finished with the first bottle of wine before our platos came out. I asked Nena if she fancied another bottle, and she shrugged and smiled coyly, telling me in her best Towelie voice, "Voy a alcoholizarme un poquito." / I'm just gonna get a little bit drunk.

She had the luxury of staying at the hotel until noon check out. I wagered I could nurse a hangover on the flight home. We ordered another bottle.

Getting drunk, we sailed through dangerous shoals as we discussed how we could take a trip that would top this one. I may have suggested I would to take her to Ibiza. Fortunately, I kept one card close to my vest, which was my next planned trip to Tijuana. I will see Nena again for certain, but I'm still not sure yet if I'll plan to see her yet that next trip to Tijuana.

We shared the platos, one salmon and one shrimp risotto, and they were both delicious. We landed the meal with an excellent chocolate desert combo, and me an amaretto and her a carajillo.

And then we returned to the hotel for our final arriba of the weekend. It was a soaring encore of depraved and drunken lust, sending us both into a frenzy.