vi -   Tijuana         

      “Hola Seniorta” Kirt slurred with a Speedy Gonzalez accent.

The dark skinned girl raised her eyebrow and sauntered past him toward me. I sat drunk slumped on a ripped bar stool.  

“Wass name baby?” She asked me in her broken English.    

“You can call me baby, baby.”  Was my clever reply.

I can’t remember the name of the bar. We had been drinking for nearly two straight days. 

We were heading out to an address that some guy gave us, to watch a cock-fighting match, when we spotted the slutty looking Mexican babe walking into the bar. 

Her mouth was exotic and her features, although blurry to my juggling eyes were quite succulent. So, we followed her in.

I wanted her and she quite obviously wanted me. However…  

Kirt was all over her.

A contest was brewing.     

A couple shots of tequila later, cock-fighting forgotten and we were staggering through the back streets of Tijuana on our way to our hotel room.

Not five minutes after we arrived the Mexican honey was already stripping her clothes off. Dancing back and forth between Kirt and I, while we eyed each other; each of us waiting for the right opportunity to present itself. The right contest to materialize.  

While the babe did a sexy tease on the bed, Kirt strolled over to me and said,

“Okay, so looks like we are both prime to get lucky tonight. How about we see who can make her squeal the most, huh?”

I admit, I was intrigued.

“Your on.”

Before the last word escaped my mouth Kirt was on her, pawing at her remaining clothes.

I sat on the dresser and watched. Can you believe that? I just…watched.

Five minutes into it and Kirt was getting mad. And tired.

Two days of constant alcohol abuse and very little sleep takes its toll on the human body. He was about out of gas and had yet to even make her whimper.

“Times about up sport.” I managed through a gulp of tequila.

He looked at me in irritation and began to pump harder, sweat pouring off his body onto hers. 

I’ll never forget the look on her face. Pleading to me silently. With her eyes.

Looking at me like I was the sensitive one. 

Begging for me to make him stop as he rammed into her again and again.

But not making a sound.

Kirt finally climaxed with a primitive grunt and slid off her wet body unto the sheet-less mattress.

I looked at her there…glistening in the lamplight; no doubt the glorious sight intensified by my intoxication.

I wanted her, yes.

I even needed her.

But there was no way I could possibly do it with her. I couldn’t get it up. Not a chance.

Luckily, it wasn’t about her. Or me. It was about the contest.         

She looked up at me as I approached her and she actually grinned.

That’s good I thought. For a while there I was wondering if we had inadvertently raped this poor girl.

But no. She knew what she was in for. Coming back to a strange hotel room with two drunken and horny Americans. She knew she was gonna get ****.       

I reached a hand out and massaged her left breast. It was slick with hers and Kirts sweat.

She seductively bit her lip.

I took her thick brown nipple between my finger and thumb and I gently caressed it.

She moaned lightly.

I looked at Kirt.

“No way man, not even close.”

So I squeezed. Hard. Her nipple pressed between the white-knuckle grip of my thumb and finger…she let out a pained yelp.

I looked at Kirt again…

“I win.”