Christening the Jaguar Temple


So, I’ve known Anjin (pronounced like “lawn-jean”) for 7 years, & been married to her for 4 of those. It’s a great life, let me tell you. This story is about how we met some new friends on a trip and, well, it’s a little bit racy, and doesn’t make me look real good. Still, I may as well tell it like it is: there’s little enough in life worth really worrying about, so why get embarrassed, eh? But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

This all started last winter, when we realized we were finally getting a little money socked away. We figured that when the tax return came in, it would cover the bills that month, and we had enough for a vacation. Now in late February, if you live in Boulder Colorado, you’re thinking MEXICO! Well to get past the beginning, we got on the internet and found a cheap all included deal in the classiest place we figured we could afford, and off we went!

I was really psyched to get my wife on the beach: she’s HOT. A lanky 5’10” long brown hair in a pony tail with a few wisps loose around her face, and maybe 130 lbs, all muscle and tits. When I go in a grocery store, I like to hang back and watch her stop traffic at the cash register. The checker boys are unABLE to look down at the groceries they’re supposed to be bagging: they just keep on moving their arms, feeling blindly for the food, with their heads on a swivel looking at her. It’s pretty funny, and would be a cause for jealously, except I actually pity them a little cause this little look is all they get, while I know I’ll be getting the whole package, undressed, later that night. It’s hard not to say something to that effect, actually. Anyway, you get the picture.

In Mexico, we got off the plane and onto the bus without a hassle: they had a tour guide waiting there. He wanted to get our luggage but we didn’t have anything besides a carry-on each: couple of swimsuits, t-shirts and a nice outfit, basically. By the time we got to the hotel, way south of the Cancun airport, it was late and we were tired of sitting on our butts. The hotel room was fine, but on our budget, it was kinda industrial scale, one of hundreds, and not a spectacular view or anything. So we left.

The resort complex itself though, that was another story. They had all kinds of stuff going on, bars, a big dance pavillion, and a fire on the beach next to another bar. We picked that one and danced to some reggae band (all played my Mayan locals: go figure). I suck at dancing, but who cares: I get to see her shake it, right? A little later, at the bar, watching other better dancers shake it, Anji says to me, “Hey Jago (my name’s Jago) let’s sign up for the tour to go see that pyramid!”

She was pointing to a poster on the wall of one of those ancient temples, a thousand steps high, surrounded by jungle and covered in green moss and ancient runes, probably of guys getting their heads chopped off like in that movie, Apocalypto.

“Sure,” I said, “that’ll be cool. Only maybe we can get a cheap trip over there for less than that price though…” It said $89 per person, on the legend under the poster on the wall.

“Aww, let’s splurge. That’s less than the price for the room, and all we can do there is sleep.”

“You gotta be kidding! That had better not be *all* we can do there, cause if it is, this iw the wrong vacation, and you’re the wrong Anjii” I joked back. immediately.

“Ok,” she replied, grinning, “you got me there. The room may have SOME uses I guess, but we’ve got to spend some time outside, so we may as well do it Mayan style, with stone temples and jungles and iguanas, right? Anyway, just imagine what your Mom would say if we come back and didn’t see that thing?” (My Mom’s kind of a history buff.)

“You’re right. It’s only money, let’s blow it ALL.” We asked the bartender how to sign up, and he took care of us right there. Old Mexico is a lot more efficient than the stereotypes give it credit for, at least in terms of separating gringos from their dinero.

We finished the night with the usual festivities, proving I was right about the usefulness of a hotel room on a Caribbean vacation, and basically staying up ’till dawn. After that, the plan was to spend the day hanging on the beach, getting a head start on our sunburns and recovering from all the travel with a few drinks. The drinks were free, which was a good thing, ’cause I got one sticky chick drink poured on my head for spending a microsecond too long checking out some hot topless Swedish babe under the next cabana. Ok maybe it was 30 seconds, but it was just looking!

Hey, it was impossible NOT to: she had really huge boobs, long blond braids, the most gorgeous, nut brown breasts that looked like they’d never been cooped up indoors, and, did I mention her tits? Not only that, but she wore bangeley gold nipple rings that sparkled and swung in time with the anatomy while she rubbed suntan lotion on her shoulders. You could NOT take your eye off her, or I didn’t, anyway, until Anjin poured that whole drink down my Escort bayan shirt!

I yelled so loud people took notice, even the Swedish chick. She laughed and that just made her boobs bounce more, and I found I couldn’t look away from that either, so I got punched, hard too. This caused Anjii, who up until then had been downright modest in her string bikini, to get a little bit actually pissed, and out for revenge.

“So, is that all you want, some shameless T&A?” she asked. “Well maybe I should just go for a swim, since you’ve got such a Radar lock on Heidi over there that you can’t give ME Any attention!”

And with that she sat up, reached behind her neck and pulled on the string. After untying the top and throwing it at me, she got up, adjusted her suit UP, INTO her butt crack (the reverse of the usual motion), and walked down to the water. I followed, not wanting to miss this, and having a certain amount of coconut goo in my hair and all over my pants that I kinda wanted to wash off, before I had to explain it to anybody. As I scrambled to follow, I looked back over for one final peak at Heidi’s milk chocolate tits, and saws her pointing us out to her predictable good looking boy friend. The caught me looking, he waggled a finger, she waggled a lot more than that, and I gave the sheepish trademark Michael Jordan shrug as I ran off after my Anji, to do some apologizing.

At first she played angry, and I had to say she was cuter than any giant breasted Aryan breeding machine. And she said to prove it I should have to go apologize to her tits in person, for a minute each. Since they were underwater, this was a challenge, but I managed it on two breaths. Then going back to get her top, she wanted me to make a promise to fuck her especially good tonight. Now, I was really beat, and this meant she wanted a serious marathon of fucking, I knew. So please don’t blame me for saying, “How about tomorrow, Anjin-san, I’m kinda tired today.” Now, usually that gets a rise out of her. When we first met, I started calling her that because of a book I read, where the main character is a sailor who travels to Japan, and they call him Anjin-san. But that’s not what I told her. When she asked me about the nickname, I told her it was a famous Hawaiian Sumo wrestler who weighed 400 lbs. That was a good laugh for a couple of years until she happened to read the same book one rainy weekend and my joke was ruined. Think I got punched for that one, too.

This time though, she didn’t react overtly. Just tipped her head to the side for a second, swimsuit forgotten in her hand, pondering, and then said, “ok.” …just like that, and then continued putting her top back on. I realize this was the beginning of a plan now, but at the time I had no idea.

So the next day was Jaguar Temple day, starting with a bus ride that erased any memory of any shower you ever had inside the first 5 minutes. Luckily I’d expected something like this and brought a backpack with a lot of water, and all the spare fruit and nuts from the hotel minibar (also free!) just so we wouldn’t die of hunger or thirst on this expedition. I started to think we might die of heat stroke anyway before we got there though. The bus had little windows, but nothing seemed to come in but more humidity. There was a bright side though: it made all the girls shirts pretty clingy, and Anjii was no exception. The rest of the ride was uneventful until right up at the end when we got there. If you can believe it, I saw that same Swedish girl and her boyfriend getting out of a car a couple of parking spaces down from our bus.

“If you even LOOK at her you’re getting another drink on your head, mister,” I heard from the direction of the hand that was grabbing my ass hard enough to hurt. I wasn’t noticing Heidi this time though, I was noticing their little POS rental car which must nontheless have had Air Conditioning, and I was pretty jealous of that. Oh well, THAT wouldn’t last. We got off the bus and (oh shit) onto a big golf cart thing: same temperature but no shade.

But it was mercifully short: end of the transporting and we were at the ruins at last. It was really neat, jungle and stone and parrots in the trees. We did the Temple of the Jaguar first, it was th biggest. There was an excellent view from the top, buy we couldn’t stay long ’cause there was a long stream of people coming, and only room for about 4 couples on the very top, arranged around this big low stone bench made from a single giant hunk of rock. Surely they sacrificed people right there. You could imagine it. I looked for bloodstains on the limestone, but it was mostly corroded to black and of course that was centuries ago. I thought “it didn’t look comfortable…” crazy thought, like they’d care how the doomed guy might get a sore back or something.

I had a good time following Anjin’s ass up all the steps. It was just SO fucking hot outside that clothes were ridiculous. Even though she was wearing just a tank and some little Bayan escort shorts, those came off almost right away, revealing a bikini bottom. She took the top out of her backpack and just changed into it on top of one of the lesser pyramids, giving a show to maybe 100 people, if they were looking just then.

Next we took a little tour. It cost money, but there was a movie about Mayan life, and they advertised air conditioning, so we fell for it. The one little wall unit hardly qualified, but hey, it was shade, and we had a chance to eat something.

When we came out it was raining like crazy. People were sprinting for the tour bus. Or walking, I should say: it had been a long day of going up literally hundreds of stairs.

But not for us. One benefit of living in Boulder is you get pretty good lung capacity from hiking in the mountains, and it’s high altitude. So these pyramids weren’t that big a deal for us, and we had only got a minute on top of the Jaguar temple. Now the place was practically deserted. Anji must have been thinking the same thing…

“Hey Jago, let’s go back up the Jaguar one, can we?” she asked. “We only got a second to look around the first time. I want to take in the view.”

“you’ll get all wet” …I said.


“That sounds good to me!” I chuckled, and pretended to grab for her. So naturally she ran away into the rain, laughing. I chased her all the way over to the temple, and most of the way up it before she gave up. A couple dozen steps from the top she stopped, turned around and plopped down. We sat together holding hands and looked out at the emptying parking lot.

“We better go, catch our bus…” I said.

“There’s another one at 5:00. It’s the last one and we can take it, I checked this morning” she replied.

“Wow, aren’t you all organized?”

She came back with, “Yep, you better believe it. So now we can just sit here and enjoy the view for…” She looked at her watchless wrist, “…umm, a Nice Long Time!” And with that triumphant recovery, she reached back and untied that bikini top again.

In a few seconds, my wife was leaning back into the rain, eyes closed hair plastered to her shoulders, beads of water collecting on her breasts. I thought of all the sacrifices they used to have on these temples, wondered if the ghosts of those Mayans could see her now arching her back to offer her tits to those same gods, like some modern sacrifice. I did what I thought the ancient priests would want me to, I reached over and grabbed ’em and stuffed one in my mouth!

“Ahhh! Get away! Pig! Worse: Man!” she yelled. “A girl tries to commune with the natural world for One Second, and right away some horny dude comes out of nowhere trying to milk her dry!” She slapped me away laughing and ran up the last steps, fast. On the top, she turned around with a final taunt: “Next thing I know, there’d some big ole penis out, waaaaving it around in my face like it was some kinda special rare artifact I should take a picture of!”

She vanished over the edge, giggling.

I got up nice and slow, chuckling, and cupped my hands to yell up the stairs. “Nice try, chica, but there’s nowhere to go up there, and here I come, so plop those boobs on the altar and get ready for the fertility ritual to begin!” I yelled, walking slowly up the last flight.

I had no idea.

When I got to the top, Anjin did not have her tits on the stone altar like I hoped: instead, she was lying on it. Naked. She’d stretched herself right to left lengthwise across the big stone bench, maybe 8′ x 3′, with her knees spread wide so her lower leg could hang down on either side. I remember her calf standing out in relief as it pressed against the stone dias. Anjii had her arms above her head, pretending like she was tied there, and was writhing back and forth like she was trying to get loose.

In her best stage cry, she called, “Oh no, woe is me, it’s the total solar eclipse, and I must be sacrificed to the great fat Jose Feliciano, god of sex, lacrosse and fish tacos!”

Ok, so I’m not the smartest gringo ever to visit the ruins, and I HADN”T got my Mom’s grasp of Mayan ritual, but I was pretty sure I had this one figured out about right, and I got straight to it. It didn’t take me long to lose the camelback, shorts and my shoes and jump up on the table between her legs.

“Who you callin’ fat, senorita gringa dumbass?” (Yah, not my best line, but I had to make this stuff up on the fly.) “I will now show all these gathered peasants,” and at that point I gestured in kingly fashion to my subjects, the thousands of palm trees standing silent below, like good peasants, “how Jose treats his favorite naked slave so that they may send their virgin daughters unto me!”

The dialog gets a bit fuzzy in memory after that. Next I made up some shit about corn festivals and bringing the holy rain from my shaft of power and got down to the fucking. Which was fine with her.

Now’s the time Escort to tell you a little about our relationship. Anjii can fuck for a LONG time. She is very interested, but at the same time very hard to get off. You can imagine, I love it, but it is a big job to screw her properly. Hey, I can run a freaking Marathon, and this really isn’t much different. Usually when we have sex, we have to change the CD before it’s over, and I try to sneak a couple-a advil ahead of time. Maybe a banana or glass of Gatorade too, to ward off muscle cramps. Why does it TAKE so long? I suppose you could say I haven’t found her groove, and maybe it’s true, but really, so what? Who cares? I think it’s absolutely excellent, fantastic even, and she doesn’t seem to mind. Plus, I don’t give up until she’s satisfied, or one of us falls asleep (ok, usually that’s me, while she’s changing the CD, and yah, she does mind that) Anyway, we have a great time. It’s basically a challenge we have, a game to make the other cum first. You can imagine this might present a certain problem for me, ’cause she could get me off every time in 5 minutes or less if I’m not really, really careful, but I usually solve it by trying to beat off ahead of time, so I can resist her. After that I’m usually fine until exhaustion sets in. I once thought of quitting triathlon before I met Anjin, now I keep doing it mostly to make sure I can keep up with her in the sheets! So, that’s our sex life in a nutshell: strenuous, and worth it.

But today was gonna be a challenge. We hadn’t had sex for a day and a half, the surroundings were stimulating to say the least, I was already WAY fired up, and I was a lot closer to exhaustion than I’d like to admit. We must’ve climbed a thousand stairs that day. Eaten nothing but a mango and some hotel nuts since breakfast, and hadn’t had sex since the night we go to Mexico. I was at a serious disadvantage here. I needed a quick solicitous blowjob, an ice-cold beer and a nap, preferably all three in the same hammock, not a 45 minute, anaerobic redzone boinking!

All the her play acting didn’t help either. She had painted some sort of tiny hummingbirds on her breasts in blue (again, the movie came to mind: all that blue paint), drinking from her nipples. These were obviously designed to stay unnoticed under her bathing suit until now. Anjin obviously wasn’t making it up on the fly, and I thought back to the promise she’d let me off on back at the beach: she had probably been cooking this up since right then. There were even two little blue penis characatures painted on her groin, dripping and pointed down to her pussy, like I needed THAT clue! I was about ready to spurt before I even got inside her, which gave me pause. I mean it literally made me stop and think for a second, on my knees, with my dick in my hand an inch from her cunt, on top of this temple, with the pressure of the entire Mayan civilization on my back, “How am I going to fuck this woman now?”

Of course, all the men reading this can answer easily enough: “I don’t know but I am sure-as-shit gonna give it a try!”

…which is about exactly what I thought, and what I did. We got after it right away with a pretty minimal further pretending that I was that hot Mexican guy from the movie and she was some virginal sacrifice. Almost right away I HAD to stop once or else cum and blow the whole sacrifice, so I said I had to do the ancient rain dance to ensure the harvest, and I pranced around the dias a couple of times, (hoping the last few people in the parking lot didn’t see me), waiting for my hard-on to cool off just a little bit while she laughed at me and yelled stuff like “Get me a fresh priest, this one’s overheating!”

…and that wasn’t far from true.

After a couple of minutes of that, it was down to business. The usual sweet, sweaty business. I started to settle down into a warm-up rhythm and started looking (way too early) for my inner second wind.

My stomach and ass started to cramp and shake after a while: all those stairs, – so she gave me a turn on the bottom which was a much needed breather. I lay there as she sat straddling me and bouncing, enjoying her tits and watching my cock go in and out of her. Sex with Anjii is like a Gatorade commercial where the guy sweats radiator-fluid-neon green, and was like my three blissful minutes on my ass, relaxing between rounds. There was even the rain coming down on my chest and running off her body onto my crotch, cooling me. It was great. I started to feel just awesome and a little bit of energy trickling back into my legs. I leaned back and started to help some, lifting my hips in time, finding her rhythm and closing my eyes and leaning back off the edge of the stone table while the rain fell on my face. It was perfect. I grimaced and put my back into it. My quads were burning and I could feel the rough limestone scratching my ass and shoulder blades as I ground into her just As Hard as I could.

Just then I heard a little gasp and opened my eyes. Straight ahead and upside down (ok, actually it’s ME that was upside down, but it looked like that) was the top half of the blonde Swedish chick from the beach, ponytails, soaked-wet shirt, one hand to her mouth. What the heck, now?

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