The art of the unexpected [MF]

One winter, somewhere between Christmas and New Year’s, life threw me a curveball. I found myself with unexpected free time and zero plans. So, in a spontaneous moment, I booked a ticket to Peru, with a one-day layover in Miami.

I arrived in Miami, hit up South Beach, did some yoga to stretch out the jet lag, and then grabbed breakfast at a nearby café. That’s when I an older guy with a white beard who struck up a conversation. He then introduced me to the woman sitting next to him, explaining that she was upset over some family stuff. He wanted us to cheer her up. I wasn’t sure what I was getting into, but I introduced myself and started chatting with her. Turns out, she was a regular correspondent for Fox News (you know the type).

As a die-hard fan of Jon Stewart, I couldn’t resist a little playful banter. We danced on the fine line of teasing, but thankfully, I didn’t cross it. The old guy suggested we go day-drinking, and since I’m always up for an adventure, the girl and I tagged along.

Now, this old man? Rich. Like, seriously rich. We’d walk into different bars with him leading the way, and the bouncers would act like they were going to stop us—until he’d casually hand them a $100 bill. Just like that, we were in. He tipped waitresses with $100 bills, and it was fascinating to see how everyone fawned over him.

The girl and I flirted and had fun, but as the day wore on, it was time for me to catch my flight to Peru. The old guy, ever the charmer, suggested I ditch the flight and join him on his boat with a crew of Eastern European women. I’m not going to lie, the offer was tempting. But, ultimately, I chickened out and headed to catch my flight to Peru and a night in a hostel. Was it the right choice? Probably not. But I wasn’t ready to give up on my adventure just yet.

In Cusco, I met up with my travel group to start the Salkantay Mountain hike. One of the hikers was a cute, chubby British girl who was, shall we say, a bit slow on the trail. I started chatting with her, and we found ourselves talking about everything from Harry Potter to current politics to the struggles of being an only child.

One night, during the trek, we followed the sound of music to a little bar in a small town. We ended up dancing so closely, it felt like we were the only two people in the room. By the time we were back in Cusco on New Year’s Eve, I thought we had something special. But as the bus rolled into town and we said goodbye, she gave me a hug, then walked off into the night.

And there I was—another trip, another near-connection. But luck didn’t seem to be on my side.

I trudged back to the hostel, nursing my bruised ego, only to realize it was New Year’s Eve. The world was celebrating, and I was just… tired. But I decided to shake off the disappointment, take a shower, and hit the bars.

The drink prices in Cusco were a shock to my system after Miami, so I came up with a crazy idea: I bought three large bottles of beer and asked the waitress for a stack of glasses. I started filling them up and handing them out to anyone standing around. Before long, I had a small crowd of guys laughing, chatting, and having a good time.

Amid the chaos, the waitress told me that someone had sent me a drink and pointed to a girl sitting at the end of the bar. I raised my glass to her and gestured for her to come over, but instead of making it just a one-on-one conversation, I invited her to join the group.

Here’s the kicker: She didn’t speak a word of English, and my Spanish was nonexistent. But somehow, we made it work. One of the guys in the group acted as a translator, and we all had a blast. To be honest, I was a bit worried she might be a hooker (just being real), but the guys assured me she wasn’t.

As the night wore on, the translator had to leave, and it was just the two of us. She checked out my social media to make sure I was single (I couldn’t blame her for being cautious). She suggested we go to a Latin club, and let me tell you: those Latin dances are something else. The bachata? Erotic. The way she danced, grinding so close—it was electric.

Afterward, we were starving, so we went to a hole-in-the-wall place for food. We stayed up talking, laughing, and just… connecting.

She mentioned she wanted to head home, so I offered to walk her back. It was already well into the early hours of the morning—around 4 AM. As we made our way up the hill, I couldn’t help but playfully touch her arm as we talked. Eventually, I got brave and, without thinking too much about it, pulled her closer and kissed her.

In that quiet, deserted cobblestone street, everything around us seemed to disappear. We kissed passionately, and for a moment, it felt like the entire trip—everything before and after—was gone, leaving just the two of us in that perfect, fleeting moment.

As our kiss deepened, we couldn’t seem to keep our hands from exploring each other. Her perky breast with hard nipples fit perfectly into my hands. She, more courageous, ran her fingers to hold my dick in the pants. I pulled her onto the sidewalk where she got to her knees and took the head in her mouth while expertly handling my shaft and balls with her hands. I was in heaven. She got up, turned around and pulled her pants and panties in one motion, bending forward. So glad I brought a condom with me, I fumbled with condom while playing with her wet glistening pussy. I entered her holding her tight little ass. Feeling her breasts I went in and out of that pussy slowly at first and faster when she commanded. She turned facing me and climbed on me with her legs around my waist. She guided my dick into her and in a minute she started cumming so hard holding me tight and saying things in Spanish I do not understand.

As we were wrapped up in the heat of the moment on the sidewalk, morning sun rays hitting us, something caught my eye. Across the street, walking with a casual stride, was the British girl from the hike. My mind froze for a second as I watched her pass …