by Guy Lilburne
Porta asked if she could bring a couple of friends with her that night to meet me. They were her best friends and she had already told them a lot about me. Porta told me that at 24 years old they were 10 years younger than Porta, but they had just become big friends anyway. They were a married couple and good fun to be with. Their names were Jose and Maria. It was arranged that I went to meet them all at 9.00 pm in our usual bar. Again, Porta was already sitting at the bar waiting for me, this time with her friends. Jose and Maria stood out from the rest of the people in the bar because they were dressed like typical hippies, but the thing that struck me was how beautiful Maria was. She had beautiful exotic looking eyes and the most fantastic smile that made you smile back without any thought or control. Despite her unattractive new age traveller attire, I fancied her immediately. Then I noticed that they had a little black dog tied on a piece of string. The dog was called Jimi Hendrix. And then I noticed Jose. Jose was instantly very friendly and laughed a lot at whatever he said. He must have thought that he was really funny. He was quite fat, not very handsome and smelled like he needed a bath. He smelled like he had probably smelled like that for some time, possibly a month or two. I felt sorry for Jimi Hendrix. Dogs are supposed to have an acute sense of smell. I was surprised the little fucker wasn’t keeling over on its back and gasping for air. I know I nearly was.
Jose had a very strange hair thing going on. On his face his eyebrows were really thick and black and they joined together. The thick hair also grew about half an inch upwards onto his forehead at the bridge of his nose and downwards along his nose to the tip. I’m not kidding. He had thick black nose hair growing on the outside of his nose. I’d never seen anything like it. I found it very distracting and looked at it a lot. Well, just stared at it in disbelief really. It looked like a black hairy crucifix on his face. I’m sure that in some parts of the world people might have worshipped him as some kind of religious miracle, or some kind of divine sign. I just took it as a sign of neglect in a good pair of tweezers or a razor blade. Maybe this was the reason that he had become a hippie, because he had a big black hairy cross on his face.
I kept thinking to myself ‘what’s going on with the hairy face thing?’ and ‘why the fuck is the beautiful Maria with someone like you?’ I think I managed to hide my initial shock quite well and the four of us dropped into busy, excited conversation with lots of smiles and laughter. I didn’t mention Jose’s scary look or the fact that he fucking stank the place out. He also had a habit of leaning into you. When he spoke his breath wasn’t any fresher than the rest of him, and it made my eyes water. He probably thought that I was a very emotional person.
Jose and Maria invited us back to their house for drinks and food, I winced at the thought of what the house must smell like, but how could I resist the beautiful Maria. After a couple of beers we crammed into their little car and drove into the old part of the city. I opened the window and when I couldn’t hold my breath any longer I breathed gently through my mouth. Their house was old and minimally furnished, but was very Spanish and quite charming and the air felt surprisingly cool and smelled fresh. We drank wine and smoked a lot of dope and ate a selection of tapas that Maria had prepared. They were all very kind in making sure that I kept with the conversation, and some of the simplistic explanations and mimes made us all fall about laughing. Well a combination of that and the cannabis we had smoked. As midnight approached I told them that I would have to go because I had to put the kids to bed. Jose insisted that I borrow his car, put the kids to bed and come back to the party. After a little resistance I agreed and Porta came along with me. We told Jose and Maria that we would be back in half an hour. We returned exactly half an hour later and I followed Porta as she let herself into the house. We walked along the cool dark corridor and into the main room where we had left our hosts half an hour before. As we walked in Jose and Maria were completely naked, making love on the floor. I have to say I was surprised and a bit shocked. Porta laughed and said.
“They love each other very much, always making love.”
Maria looked fantastic naked and not dressed up like a hippie. I allowed myself a long look, taking in every inch of her nakedness, before I turned back towards the door. I was going to walk back out because it seemed like the polite thing to do, but Porta grabbed my arm and we went and sat down on the settee. Jose carried on shagging his wife and in between laughing he asked me if I would like to join in. I didn’t know if he meant for me and Porta to join in and start shagging, or if he meant that I could have a go on Maria. Jose was laughing while I tried to consider my answer, work out the question, stop staring at Maria’s beautiful naked body and just generally take in what was happening. Porta answered.
“No thank you, Jose.”
“Oh!” I said, a bit disappointed because I was still thinking about my options.
Everybody laughed and they carried on making love there in front of us. When they finished Maria slipped her long tasselled hippie gown over her head and Jose got up and sat on the edge of a chair. He put his shirt back on and then just sat there with his bollocks hanging down, and one of the biggest dongas I’d ever seen, still wet and dripping on the floor. Porta didn’t bat an eyelid and I realised that this wasn’t the first time she had seen his gigantic cock. At least now I could stop wondering what the beautiful Maria was doing with someone like Jose! He sat there like that while he smoked a cigarette. Maria got us drinks and I sat stunned at what I had just witnessed.
I kept thinking ‘what a horrible man’ and ‘what’s the lovely Maria doing with a dirty animal like you, even if you have got the biggest cock in the world?’ I think it was making me a bit sad. I liked Maria and she was wasted on Jose. What on earth did she find attractive about him, I hate to admit it, but I think the answer was still hanging down over the edge of the chair, dripping on the floor. I think Maria liked me, there was a lot of eye contact and I think she was a bit embarrassed that I had seen her like that. I decided that Jose must have made her do it against her will, and he must have made her marry him, because maybe he knew a deep dark secret that would destroy her family if she didn’t agree to be his wife. It was the only explanation that I could think of. They were a real life beauty and the beast couple, except this ugly big dicked fucker never was and never would be a Prince Charming. After a few hours more they went to bed and Porta and I slept on the settee. We undressed and made love.
I saw Porta every day and every night. After making love for the first time at Jose and Maria’s house and at Porta’s house, we spent a lot of time with Jose and Maria too. The attraction between Maria and I was getting stronger. We seemed to be spending more and more time looking into each other’s eyes. We talked together more and more and touched each other a lot, not in a sexual way, only hands, arms and legs, but they were long lingering touches. We kissed a lot too, but only on the cheeks. It would have been stupid to have taken it any further, but I just knew that we both wanted to. After a few days Maria stopped dressing like a hippie and dressed… well, normally really. She even started wearing make-up. She looked better and better every day. I don’t know how she explained the change of image to Jose, but I’m sure that he would have noticed. I’m sure Porta did too. I wondered if they both realised that it was for my benefit. They probably did, but nobody said anything and the four of us carried on as a group. I had a holiday romance with Maria, but it was a forbidden romance and only consisted of secret glances, looks, stolen smiles, touches and kisses on the cheek. I think I could have fallen in love with Maria had the circumstances of our lives been different. I had gotten to know Porta and her daughters really well and spent more and more time at their house. Porta’s relationship with her girls was a very loving one, but explosive and erratic at times. They would be talking quite calmly one moment, hugging, kissing and laughing. Then suddenly they would be shouting, hitting, kicking and screaming, throwing things at each other. Then, just as suddenly
, crying and hugging each other again, saying sorry and telling each other how much they loved one another. Again, I was shocked at first when I first witnessed it happen, but you sort of become acclimatised to it all when you realise that the extreme sudden violence wasn’t quite as extreme or violent as it first seemed. It was obvious that it was all just very normal to Porta and her girls.
One night I had stayed over at Porta’s house and, in the morning, I awoke to Porta giving me a blow job. She then straddled me and we started to make love. The old iron headboard was banging on the wall. This had happened on several occasions but this time for some reason her eldest daughter started banging on the wall and shouting at her mother, Porta shouted back and was laughing. I could hear her daughter laughing too, in between the shouting. Next minute the door flew open and her daughter walked in naked and carrying a jug of water. She walked up to the bed and threw it over us. They started screaming at each other, Porta jumped off and they had a fight in the bedroom, hair pulling and slapping each other. I was naked on the bed and used a pillow to hide my quickly deflating erection. My Spanish wasn’t good enough to catch everything that they yelled at each other, but her daughter thought that Porta was a whore and that I was the son of a whore. Within minutes they were crying and hugging each other again. I decided that the Spanish were indeed a passionate race of people.
In one way or another it had been quite an eventful holiday but the most memorable thing, the best thing that happened, was when we were at the airport waiting to fly home.
Porta, Jose and Maria had come to see me off. We all kissed and hugged. Porta was crying and we all promised to write and keep in touch. I promised to go back again in August for some festival. We went to get some coffees before I went into the departure lounge, and we sat chatting. I went to the toilet and when I came out Maria was waiting outside. We smiled at each other and then just put our arms around each other and started kissing. Not a kiss on the cheek, but a full blooded passionate snog. Maria started crying and went to the ladies loo. When she came back to the table she was composed, but had to wipe a tear from her eyes a couple of times. I never did write and I didn’t go back in August. Another holiday adventure was over.
Chapter Eight: A Lads’ Holiday.
Raz Dawlins is one of those people in life who everyone likes. The girls like him because he is funny and charming, powerfully built and 6’4”. He’s a handsome looking bloke and smiles a lot. The blokes like him because he is easy going, has a great sense of humour, he does good impressions, and can laugh at himself. He is good company, and very tolerant of people, even the ones he doesn’t like too much. He’s amiable and has more ‘best friends’ than anybody I’ve ever met. He became my best friend too.
Raz will be the first to admit that he was never the sharpest tool in the shed, but he is nobody’s fool either. He was a manager in one of our superstores before he became an area manager. He joined the company in 1990. He eats enough food for a family of six and drinks alcohol in amounts that would kill most people. He enjoys farting, does it a lot and, for some reason, it always seems to make him giggle. I have been caught in the backdraft on more occasions then I would have liked and I can assure you, it’s not funny. The smell can cause vomiting. Raz has a party trick whereby he will lie on his back and bring his legs up to his chest and fart over the naked flame of a lighter. The first time I saw him do it I was amazed. It looked like a flame thrower. On an average day Raz will produce enough gas to heat a small family home.
I first got to know Raz when he came to one of the area meetings and, along with everyone else, I liked him instantly. Early on in the meeting one of the company directors asked him if he would like to take over one of the big north-east areas.
Anybody else would have just said ‘Yes sir’, because these things are not open to negotiation, but Raz replied “No sir. I would rather put my tads in a vice and let everyone in the room have a turn on the handle.”
The look of shock on the director’s face was a picture. Everyone in the room fell about laughing. Raz didn’t even realise what was so funny but, in any event, it was decided that he would take over the new area. After the meeting we all went out for an evening dinner at the company’s expense and afterwards Raz and myself went on a pub crawl. So this was how our friendship was formed.
In August of 1999 my ex-wife made contact with the children, after more than a year since I had got custody of them. They decided to go on holiday with her and her boyfriend, to his mother’s place in Scotland for a week. I have to say I was quite delighted at the prospect of having a break all to myself for a week and decided to book a last minute holiday. Raz happened to come into the office to say hello while I was looking at some holiday brochures. He had just split up with his live-in girlfriend and said he wouldn’t mind coming with me. We decided that we would go on holiday together and just share the accommodation, but basically do our own thing. After all, we didn’t know each other so well and I was used to going away by myself. Raz was happy with the arrangements and we booked to go to Corfu two days later, for a week in the sun. It didn’t work out as planned and from the time we set off for the airport to the time we got back we spent most of the time together and never stopped laughing. We came back from the holiday the best of mates and still are to this day.
We arrived at the accommodation at 4.00 a.m., dropped off our cases and went out to find a bar. The sun was already coming up, the night was over and it already felt like tomorrow, but we found a bar, got pissed and had some breakfast. We found a great beach bar called ‘Diesel Bar’, where we would spend a lot of time over the next week. In the late afternoon or early evening we went back to the room, to sit out on the balcony and have a few brandies, before having a sleep for a few hours before a long night out. This was a pattern that we kept to for many holidays in the many years to come. On this occasion, as we sat there, a slow dribble of water trickled down from the plant pots on the balcony above us. We watched as the dribble became a steady flow. We watched in silence for a moment and then I said.
“Raz, taste that and, if it’s piss, I’ll go up and give them a piece of my mind.”
We fell about laughing. Things always seem funnier when you are drunk and we spent a lot of time in that state over the years.
That night we went round the various bars and found a good club called ‘Bambola’, which was to become our main night time place for the holiday. We split up and wandered around. A few hours later I returned to find Raz with three of the fattest girls I had ever seen standing unaided. One of them had short cropped hair dyed bright orange. You could only describe her as gruesome, although it was a description that could fit her mates just as well. Raz waived me over.
“Mate, I want to introduce you to some friends of mine. They are from Holland” he beamed.
“Raz, what the fuck are you doing? They’re fucking gruesome!”
“They are a good laugh, and they speak English.”
“So does Bella Emburg, but you wouldn’t want to shag her.”
“They have got really nice personalities. Honest.”
“Mate, I can’t stand here. They are ruining our ‘street cred‘. There are loads of nice girls in here. You don’t want to ruin it by getting off with one of these Dutch babes.”
“Dutch babes!” Raz repeated, laughing out loud.
“I’ll see you later Raz.”
“I’m pissed mate. I can’t help it. I just like fat girls and kebabs when I’m pissed.”
I didn’t realise it at the time, but years later, I was going to become just like Raz, and make a decline into fat girls and kebabs. But the twists and turns of fate were yet to turn me into Raz.
I left him to it and wandered around some more bars. I went home alone at about 5.30 am and went to sleep, only to be awoken at 7.30 am by Raz coming into the room with the ‘orange haired Dutch babe’. Raz introduced us and
they got into his bed. She really was a monster. I discreetly turned my back on them and listened to the grunts, groans, puffing and panting, and that was just the Dutch babe getting undressed. Then I listened to Raz shagging her. It took all his 6’4” and 17 stone body mass to shag her. Any lesser man would have been squashed and probably killed.
At the time it amazed me why someone like Raz, who could get girls a lot nicer than the Dutch babe, would shag a girl like that. But over the years I have got used to it. When he is drunk he really does like fat girls and kebabs. It has been a running joke between us ever since. Every time we go on holiday, from the time we get to the airport, we start spotting fat girls who might have Raz’s name written all over them. We call them ‘Razzets’.
I didn’t hear the Dutch babe leave and around mid-morning we got up, had breakfast and went to the beach bar. Me and Raz were the only English people there all week. We made a lot of friends of all nationalities including German, Polish, French, Dutch and Italian. They all spoke English and, most days, a group of between 10 and 20 of us met up at the Diesel Bar. Everybody was amazed with Raz’s capacity for food and, whatever meal anybody ordered, they would pass whatever was left on the plate for Raz to polish off. I swear people bought extra meals just to watch Raz eat. They thought of him as a funny gentle giant, which was really exactly what he was. The nicest person I have ever met.
