Kranz Back from Cuban Blast
Kranz Back from Cuban Blast
I just got back from a once-in-a-lifetime trip to old Havana. It's no secret that the Castro
regime is desperate for hard currency (especially U.S. dollars). I'd also heard that the Cuban
Ministry of Tourism was pulling out all the stops in a last-ditch effort to attract white upper
class U.S. males (translation: disposable income) who were seeking nontraditional vacations.
Fellow members of the above target group, stop and think a bit about what you'd like in a
no holds barred tropical vacation:
1) Smooth, aged in wood, dark rums for around $2 a bottle?
2) Absolutely stunning senoritas who do anything you want for $100 a night, or if you're
on a budget, a first-class blow job for $20, no extra charge for a facial cumshot?
3) Primo Columbia flake cocaine at $500 per oz? This is absolutely fresh
unstepped-on high quality nose candy -minimum 95% purity. WARNING: Do not, under any circumstances, try to leave Cuba with even a trace of this shit on you.
4) A wild deep sea fishing expedition where you fish with hand grenades and belt fed
machine guns?
All this and more is available on what the Ministry of Tourism has dubbed their "Silver
Bullet Package." The package consists basically of prepaid hotel accommodation and prepaid
meals. The hotel was clean, comfortable, but a little run down. Even the best hotels in old
Havana seem a little seedy by American standards, but the staff go out of their way to make
sure that the package members are pampered. The meals were a very pleasant surprise-unlimited quantities of fresh seafood, fruits, and fresh bread - but be warned that lunch and
dinner are strictly BYOB. The hotel provides setups and mixers of course. This could have
been a problem except that black marketers hawking good rum are numerous in the
neighborhoods around the hotels. A small tip to a bell hop will put you face to face with a
fellow selling hootch out of a suitcase. The bottles are unlabeled, but the dark rums I tasted
put Myers Dark, Mount Gay, and Bacardi Dark to shame for about $2 a bottle!
As you might guess the day to day routine involves lots of eating, drinking, snorting,
dozing, and loitering. Taxi rides to the foreign beaches are fairly easy to find but I found the
beaches strangely boring - most of the USDA Grade A pussy centers around the hotels and
doesn't really get strutting 'till early evening. The ritual is as follows: Interested gents should
sit out on their balconies an hour or so before sunset and look for young girls sauntering down
the boulevard. The "working girls" are hoping to make eye contact. If you see a senorita you
particularly like, wait 'till you catch her eye and give the universal "come on up" hand signal.
The more seasoned pros will find your hotel room from your balcony's location. Sometimes it
pays to run down to the lobby to meet her but it's usually not necessary. My favorite was a
young slender brunette who called herself Maria. She claimed to be 14 (but was more likely
16 or 17), was light-skinned and a dead ringer for Paula Abdul. I nearly ejaculated when I
heard her prices - $100 U.S. for the night, any sex I wanted, or if I was in a hurry $20 for a
blowjob. I've never been comfortable with long term relationships, so I was leaning towards
the latter option. I asked her if she was an expert at oral sex. She must have read my mind -she swore she gave the best blowjob in all Havana, then smiled, and put her arms around my
neck and added: "If I like your cock you can cum all over my face." God, that settled it. I
slipped her a $20 bill and she put a pillow on the floor to kneel on. This wasn't one of those
midtown Manhattan "hurry up and come so I can cook up another shot" blowjobs, no
siree. This was more like "Honey, I really really love my new mink coat. " Full eye contact, lots of
licking and teasing. She must have liked my cock, because when I was ready to shoot she
lifted her head back, positioned the head of my cock just over her chin and jerked me off - my
favorite way to cum. She got up smiling and asked "You like?". When I caught my breath, I
sighed "Bueno, muy bueno".
When she had tidied up and left, I laid out 4 fat lines, snorted up, and called room service for
more diet coke, ice, and limes. I fell asleep sucking up rum & cokes, reading "Boy Clinton" by
R. Emmet Tyrell, and day dreaming about Maria. What a country, this Cuba!
About the cocaine: Shortly after they check in each package member will be invited by the
hotel manager to stop by his office for a drink. There he'll introduce you to a
bureaucrat in the Cuban government who will offer you top quality cocaine at a fantastic price (see earlier
reference). Don't panic. The Cuban government is getting this shit straight from one of the
Colombian cartels and using it to generate cash - one potential group of customers being foreign
tourists. If you decide to buy, you'll sign a form declaring that you will not sell, trade, or give
any of it to a Cuban national and that you will not attempt to leave the country with any in your
possession. Unless you like having cattle prods shoved up your shit chute in a vomit splattered
cell in the basement of a Cuban jail, I'd strenuously adhere to these two provisions. Rememberthis isn't America where you can whine for a lawyer and be out on bail in a few hours. DON'T
FUCK WITH THE CUBAN POLICE OR MILITARY.
Next morning it was up and at'em early for the craziest deep sea fishing trip I'd ever been on.
After a nice breakfast of dramamine, diet coke, cocaine and bananas I trundled on down to the
hotel entrance where a taxi was waiting to take me and two other guys to the marina. Imagine
our surprise when we pull into what looked like some sort of Cuban Coast Guard Station. We'd
booked the trip at the hotel and had assumed we'd be going out on a typical deep sea fishing
boat. It turned out the boat we'd be on was a small cutter complete with twin light artillery guns
toward the bow and 3 belt fed machine guns, 2 on either side of the bridge, and one mounted at
the stern. Also, my guess was correct, we were in fact at the Cuban equivalent of a Coast Guard
station and the boat would be manned by its usual military crew. I was beginning to lose
interest in the outing when the two other tourists and I were introduced to the three "mates" for
the trip - perfectly tanned foxes sensibly dressed in deck shoes and thong bikinis. My curiosity
aroused, we boarded ship and were soon underway. I settled into a comfortable snooze in one
of the three captain's chairs at the stern until we were well offshore.
I was woken up by the unmistakable feel of a large warm breast pressed into my cheek and
nose. I opened my eyes to a bird's eye view of a fine pair of hooters. Readjusting my focus, I
realized I was being offered a drink by one of our mates. She said we'd fish soon and trotted off
to fetch more drinks. It was then that I noticed the complete absence of deep sea fishing rods,
outriggers, etc.. The boat droned on for a while longer, then my mate came back with a fresh
drink and a fish net. Two sailors carried a wood crate over to where we sat and put it on the
deck. From the bridge I heard some shouting and saw the captain pointing to the sea near us.
My mate told me we'd found a school of dolphin (the fish, not the mammal). She slid open the
top of the wood crate and handed me a pineapple grenade. Sensing my confusion, she smiled
and said, "You fish, I net."
What the fuck, I pulled the pin and tossed it overboard. A few seconds later, a low thud, a
spray of water, and a bunch of floating dolphin! My mate started scooping them up and
throwing them into the ice chest. The two other tourists and mates had been doing same, and it
appeared that our 3 grenades had decimated the school, so we motored along in search
of more. We spent a pleasant morning fishing in this manner. Around noon, a sailor lugged out
a few metal boxes of belted ammo and loaded the stern machine gun. He turned to me when
done, smiled and said, "Now, big game". I couldn't imagine what the hell we'd be shooting at,unless it was shark. My mate brought another ice cold drink, cozied up to me and clued me in:
"We're shooting what you call illegal aliens; they're scum on rafts and homemade boats that are
deserting Fidel's paradise." Hmm- I'd have to play this one by ear. We had shifted course a
little while ago and in about an hour came within sight of a group on a raft trying to make it
to the Florida Keys. The captain came down from the bridge, introduced himself, and took up
position at the stern machine gun. As we drew along side, and just passed the raft, I saw his
thumbs press the spade trigger. There was a deafening roar. Everyone on the raft was wasted.
He turned to me, smiling apologetically, saying, "It may seem cruel, but these people, if they
make it to your country, are just going to wind up on welfare or in jail. We're doing both of our
governments a favor." He paused a few seconds as if for emphasis and added, "Here, it's your
turn next."
I thought about what he said, what an overcrowded cesspool the U.S. was becoming, and I
realized he was right. The last thing our country needed was more penniless, illiterate niggers.
I hopped up in the captain's chair behind the stern gun. By God, here was my chance to do
something positive about the situation when all of our fucking politicians were busy
transforming the whole goddamn country into Newark, N.J. My mate whispered in my ear, "If
each guest gets one boat, the three mates give everyone on board a blow job." That's all I
needed to hear. I'd done 4 fat lines in the head below deck just a while ago and I was primed.
After about 30 minutes of search time we spied another raft. The captain pulled along side
about 50 yds. away and then turned to give me a full field of fire. I lined up my sights on the
middle bunch of wretches on deck then pressed the spade thumb trigger. Some of them were
blown overboard, some cut in two by the burst. I lingered on the trigger just a tad longer than
professional, but God it felt good. A cheer went up from our crew, and I moved out from
behind the gun for the next tourist's turn. We scored our next two refugee crafts in about 1 1/2
hours, and I and the other two tourists were treated to first class blow jobs below deck.
Afterwards we retired to the stern to sip drinks and watch the mates service the crew. It was a
beautiful finish to a beautiful day - the late afternoon sun, the rum and cokes, and all the cock
sucking. The only thing in life that comes close to watching your cock slide in and out of a
beautiful girl's mouth, is watching someone else's cock do the same. On the taxi ride back to the hotel, I thought that with all the vomit inspired tourist spots in
the U.S, like Disney world, our sterile National Park system (No Hunting, No Fishing, No
Camping, this is your National Park, enjoy it!), the usual obsolete and meaningless monuments
(Statue of Liberty), why the fuck hasn't someone come up with a Silver Bullet Package for the
good old U.S.A? Why the fuck do healthy normal males with normal interests have to travel to
Cuba for something like this?
Oh well troopers, if you've found a hot foreign vacation spot let good buddy George Kranz
know.
Later.
George Kranz
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