MONGER PUBLICATIONS

E-books for the single male traveler...

 

 

 

 

Introduction

 

On the morning of the eighth day of my first visit to Costa Rica I took a good look at the 19 year old, hard-bodied “Tica” who was dozing nude beside me in my suite at the Hotel Presidente in San José and decided that life would probably not get much better for me.

 

What man hasn't had the dream of kicking back in some foreign country where the beer is cold, the weather is warm and the girls are smokin' hot and readily available?   I had certainly spent plenty of time daydreaming about just this and during the week I had been in Costa Rica the dream had become a reality. I had been living my dream.  Living “La Vida Loca”....the wild life that I had thought was over for me.

 

The chica in my bed was the thirteenth young Latina that I had boned during the week I had been partying in the Costa Rican capital and each one had been hotter that the one before. Truly the “Play for Pay” scene in San José had turned out to be all I had been led to expect and more.  It seemed I had finally found THE place to actively pursue one of my favorite hobbies.

 

Guys like me call it “mongering”. The word comes from the term “whoremonger”, which can be defined simply as “A man who associates with or pays for sexual relations with prostitutes“.  Those who practice the ”hobby“ of mongering are men who choose to engage in social and sexual relations with the “working girls” of the world as a form of entertainment and diversion.

 

There are many men who proudly proclaim that they would never pay for sex.  This statement always amuses me.  A guy always pays one way or another...as all of us who have married and divorced American women know too well.  There is no romance without finance!   Often the emotional cost of dealing with “straight” women is the highest and hardest price.

 

When I choose to  monger, rather than to assume the role of a boyfriend, novio, husband, etc., I can maintain control of my sex life and my finances.  I can pick the time, the place, the duration and the terms of each engagement. I can enjoy wonderful social and sexual experiences with beautiful young women who would never even give me the time of day under any other circumstances and best of all…..when I’m done with them they LEAVE. 

 

Why, I constantly remind myself, would a guy choose to live any other way?  And...what a grand place San José, Costa Rica seemed to be to practice the hobby!

 

So, that morning in San José, after giving Chica Number 13 a morning tumble and sharing a hot shower with her, I sent her on her way and started to seriously consider the possibility of relocating permanently to Costa Rica.   After mulling over my situation while downing what had become my basic “morning after another insane night San José” breakfast, four aspirin washed down with three fingers of seven year old Flor de Caña rum mixed with orange juice, I concluded that there was really nothing to prevent me from making such a move.

 

What the hell, I thought.  Aside from a questionable liver and a prostate gland the size of a golf ball I was in pretty good physical shape.  Still looking and feeling more like fifty than my actual age I figured I had a few more years of partying left in me.  I had been living in Southern Mexico since I’d retired early from a government job in the States five years previously.  Divorced twice and finally free of legally binding entanglements, I had some capital and a pension which provided me with a reliable source of income.  My Spanish was fluent and I was comfortable functioning in Latin countries. Mexico had been great. I had some excellent adventures there but more and more I had been getting restless.  I knew the signs. It was time to move on.

 

The bars, massage joints and brothels in San José were full of compelling reasons for me to choose this town as my next stop. Oh sure, I had heard that the weather was pretty good year round, that the cost of living was manageable, that there were plenty of other mongers coming and going to hang out with and all that, but... the chicas were the real draw. Ah, the chicas….so many of them, so hot and such an ever changing selection!  What else could an old monger ask for?

 

This book is a very detailed and personal account of my experiences while living “La Vida Loca” and pursuing the “hobby” for a full year in Costa Rica.  It was a year that changed me in ways I never expected.