"Chaquéño chamamecéro" , píjas sin rúmbo.

I was walking around with a burning ass all the time, curious but well discreet, hiding my sexual beast with a monk's and student's disguise; which had served me to learn that in the hole where the neighborhood ended in fives lived a group of rustic and unfaithful men, solitary drunkards and rough old hermits and brave ones.

Don Luisito was a 60-year-old guy whose wife worked inside and only came on Saturdays.


My labor as a 'missioner' was to bring him the faith and the word, turn him back to the flock.
Two times a week I would approach the old chamamecéron's hut and instead of the Bible, I'd bring two wines Reséro to get him drunk and make me feel rich by that solitary man who enjoyed possessing me, 'making me his slut'... and I'd comply with everything and abuse him while he begged me not to tell anything, whispering phrases in Guarani as he did.The body and groin of that old man were my training ground, the live model where I reenacted what I learned from the sluts who visited my house.
The little country boy, ripe and rough, was being offered to me on a platter at the fourth glass of wine with soda.
















Two times a week, the little preacher, with the lame excuse of bringing catechism to the sinner neighbor; he would arrive at his house to evangelize that big and rendering fart that would escape when he was drunk.


I loved the threesome when that old pervert made me his and put me to lick that huge and needy cock.