Email
Password
Remember meForgot password?
Log in with Facebook Log in with Twitter
Connect your Digital Journal account with Facebook or Twitter to use this feature.
Blog Posted in avatar   Armstrong Vaz's Blog

Russian blonde seduction game in Goa

blog:1487:0::0
By Armstrong Vaz
Posted Nov 27, 2008 in Travel
The sea waves were roaring at a fast pace nothing unusual on a rainy day. But the intensity and frequency deviated. Pedro's life, who sat on the edge of the beach had also deviated and swung like a pendulum over the years. He has seen the bad, good and ugly side of the beach and the beach bunnies over the years.
Pedro was a seasonised beach gazer, his circular shining scalp in the middle of his big skull gave made him look he had look the Bishop whose pictures we were used to seeing in our younger days. To cap with his sparkling white hair he light green yes, a goatie beard with a couple of black hair thrown in all which added to his crescendo as a man of wisdom. He long forsaken his country of birth and made Talpon his home.
Talpon, a sea side beach village where villagers lived off the sea, fishing being there prime business. Some indulged in toddy tapping and others were carpenters building boats for fishermen.
Mystery stories surrounds the time and year when Pedro landed by in this village. But stories woven around Pedro were told to household children and instill fear in them. Some lullabies were scripted around him to put children to sleep by mothers. Yet, no one for certain knew him in and out. Until some part of the mystery came unfolding with his yoga classes.
For any new comer to the village, Pedro from a distance looked a typical Taplonkar with his khasti (lion-cloth) to cover his private parts and drenching in the host sun anytime of the year. Years of tan in the sun had tanned him to give an Indian look. And he was proud of it.
Life has had been unpredictable for this six-footer chosen loner over the last five decades in term of life-partner, it was in the last three decades he had found a new awakening in him and a new message.
Before being marooned in Talpn, Pedro indulge in Hashish, Ganga and a host of drugs. But cut off from the outside world in the island he had no choice. One fine day his experiments of fermenting
came through. He had found the formula to make wine from tomatoes. After having pots and pots of wine which he fermented from locally grown tomatoes he cultivated in the paddy fields, one day he got so sick of the routine and the hangover effect that he said to himself enough of the wine stuff.
That day he vow to become a tea-totaller and continued to this day. But for that he needed scriptural energy to fight the monster of the wine which started in his face. He found one in yoga.
Talpon has changed over the years, he was no longer the lone foreigner in area and the island which remained cut off from the main land was now connected by a bridge and thus had brought hordes and hordes of tourists to once secluded village and Pedro as the first foreigner in the village was
just cashing in on the tourism boom promoting the form of yoga he had learned and practiced over the years.
Five decades later he is a guru deliberating over a handful of his followers. A small bunch of them. All eager to hear his words. Sitting on the white silvery sands they were in the mist of the various postures that the guru was demonstrating to them. The sun was slowly gong down in the back drop of the Arabian sea.
Some of them were gorgeous and tantalizing with sex appeal, Svetelana, a lady with a huge six plus frame with blonde hair was visiting the yoga session for the first time. She came from Russian. And like the tennis girls she looked stunning for her age 40 plus yet looked she was in her late 20's. Poor lady she made herself a laughing stock when she came to the guru and told she wanted to join yoga. It was not
her looks but her dress which made others who were close to hearing distance that made them laugh.
The black rope extended till her foot and unlike the abaiya, which the muslim women wear, hers was short sleeved one and she matched with a contrasting red hat.
She was ready for yoga, in a moment being late for the class, she shed her black gown and joined the class, with just red knickers, shedding her gown and cap. She was the not the only one who had any inhibition of going topless in doing yoga. Several of the white foreigners were doing it, which she witnessed the day before when she came to enroll for the evening classes.
With a perfect figure and matching dress sense made her a stand out in a crowd wherever she went. A sweet talker she could find her way through trouble and here in Talpon she was a Russian tour representative bull dozing her way to make fellow Russians stay in the village comfortable and a memorable one.
She did not mind making odd Godfrey, Dominic or Shiva the local boys happy some day of the week. Here were the boys who supplied her local girls to his male customers while some of her holiday friends serviced the local boys. Theirs was a perfect batter system, which worked well for Stvetlana.
Hers was escape route to India, from the harsh winter and form the mafia control which her business had come across in her home town of Petersburg. She had for long relished the idea of enjoying the Indian tropical climate. Having set the ball rolling on her first visit and having hooked a couple of boy friends in Talpon in her two-weeks stay, next season Stevelana move stock and barrel to frolic in the sun and sand and indulge in bit of sex in the village.
Back in Russia, she was comfortable selling cosmetic goods to customers here in Talpon she was selling goodies in the form of good restaurants to chose, discos to patronize and arranging shopping trips besides a few thing which did not come under her preview.
Stevelana went through the asana of the guru with sincerity. Perdo's disciples came from different directions at the beach side meeting points and no one knew the spot as it remained secluded from the Indian tourists visiting the place. One had to cross a height of six feet water during high tide to go the place and then additionally the hillocks acted a natural blockage keeping the group away from
attention of the other tourists who frequented the beach. On her side was Harold, with long flowing hair and an equally flowing beard which he had taken care to trim and kept in shape. In striking contrast
were his crumbled clothes which stinker of sweat.
Terezina was the lone local lady in the group, two of her Stevelana's friend Abdul and Mark had come along with the Russian lady.
At the end of the day's session it was time to un wind and change to discard the sweaty clothes and taking an opportunity to spring a conversion with the local lady, Terezina, Mark scribbled a note on the paper he was carrying and wrote "Your face is an endless wave in a big ocean. Your lips tantalize me. Your eyes keep me focused. You have mesmired me. Lets talk." At the end of the message was mark's mobile number.
)

blog:1487:0::0
Latest News
Top News
Engage

Corporate

Help & Support

News Links

copyright © 2014 digitaljournal.com   |   powered by dell servers