Over the Christmas holiday, my fiance, Stacy, and I joined her parents for two weeks in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. The warm but mostly overcast sky was a welcome break from the snow back at home. Half of the clothes we brought remained in our suitcases and not once did we wear socks. My sandals with the tire tread soles held up quite well but my girlfriend's leather sandals were needing repair as a strap had separated from the side. We asked the hotel concierge if there was a local shoe repair shop and she pointed us in the direction of a leather expert not more than four blocks away.
Stacy's mom joined us on our walk to the shop. We showed the sandal to a man behind the counter and he assured us it was repairable and he could do it as we waited. I chose to wait as Stacy and her mom visited the adjacent boutiques. I ventured to the far reaches of the shop and found an assortment of riding gear and whips hanging from the walls. I reached up to grab a small whip - maybe a foot in length.
"Cuarta," said a man as he emerged from a back room.
I nodded as the handsome gentleman approached my side.
I continued to look at the whips and then asked if he actually made all those.
"Si, si. I make," he said as he struggled for the right words. His English was about as bad as my Spanish so we didn't say much more. He took a long whip down and began showing me how well it was braided. He really did a good job making it and could tell I was impressed.
"You give cuarta?" he asked.
I thought he was asking if I would want to give it as a present.
"No, gracias. No me interesa."
He hummed and then asked, "You like cuarta? You get whip?"
I processed his words for a second and then he made the classic whipping sound: Whoop-pshhh!!
My face suddenly turned red as I realized he was asking if I enjoyed being whipped. There was no hiding my response so I just shook my head and smiled. In fact, the whip has long been a major fetish of mine and in truth I was always curious about how it might feel on my skin. This was something I could never explore with Stacy or any other woman I'd been with. Had Stacy been standing right there with me I would have turned and moved onto something else. But she wasn't there and this whip expert was asking if I was interested in being whipped.
I replied, "Maybe someday."
That took a lot more courage than to deny this desire. What's the worst outcome? We were leaving soon and I'd never see this guy again. I didn't really care enough to respond falsely.
The man reached over to a work bench and picked up his business card.
"How long in Mexico?" he asked.
I told him we were leaving the following day. Then it occurred to me Stacy and her parents were leaving the following day. I would be leaving a day later because I had decided at the last minute to join the three. Their flights were booked and I went with a different airline entirely.
The gentleman wrote his name on the back of the card and handed it to me. He had signed his name 'Sergio' with a heart above the 'i.'
"I train you. Call this."
I dropped his card into my shirt pocket after I pulled out my sunglasses. I was feeling strangely excited but decided to leave the shop and go looking for the girls.
I spent the next 15 minutes going shop to shop but did not find them until I saw the two returning to the shoe repair place. We went back inside and paid for the great work. The sandal appeared to be new and as Stacy thanked the man, Sergio walked from the back room. I smiled and put my hand on Stacy's shoulder just before we turned to leave.
Once we returned to the hotel I emptied the loose change from my pockets and took the business card out as well. I tossed it in the trash but couldn't stop thinking about the display of whips. And what did Sergio mean by training? Was he going to teach me how to handle a whip or was he going to train me how to take it?
Later that evening Stacy's parents invited us to dinner at the resort's fancy restaurant. The heat and humidity make regular showers necessary and I definitely needed one before heading downstairs. The heat also did not help my libido as I was semi-erect the moment I disrobed. Thoughts of the whips and, admittedly, thoughts of Sergio wielding one gave me a hard-on. I don't know why. I lathered up and jerked off to the thought of being whipped. I'd never been whipped or even spanked. Not as an adult and never as a child but for some reason I masturbated over the years to the thought of being stripped and whipped. Usually the fantasy involved a leather or latex-wearing dominatrix but a man holding a whip had some new appeal.
The next morning was spent cleaning and packing up. I helped Stacy and her parents down to the lobby and we summoned a taxi to the airport. Vacation definitely seemed to be winding down even though I was not to leave for 24 more hours. We got to the airport and waited with them as long as I could before they were about to board the airplane. I wasn't wild about the idea of flying home alone but it wasn't such a big deal. By the time I arrived back at the hotel I'd decided to retrieve Sergio's card from the garbage. Unfortunately, housekeeping had already been through and had taken out the trash. I did not need the card. Calling Sergio would've been pointless because of the language barrier. I needed to go see him in person. First, I went down to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic to help suppress any voice telling me this was a mistake. I did not feel the alcohol much as I walked to the leather shop. Sergio was standing behind the counter where the other man had been. His face lit up as he immediately recognized me. He glanced out the window for a moment half-expecting Stacy to walk in behind me.
"No womens today?" he asked.
I shook my head but didn't attempt to explain why I'd returned. I stared at the floor a moment waiting for his next words.
Sergio looked me up and down and then looked to the back of the store. His partner was back there. Quietly he wrote something down on another business card and then handed it to me. He seemed to understand why I'd returned. There was no more pressure to explain or even talk about what I was seeking. Sergio knew and when I saw the place and time I was to meet him, I was relieved.
I don't remember much in the hours between the time I left his shop and the time I got into the cab that evening. I was nervous and slightly drunk after my third gin. I showed the cabbie the address on my card and he began driving toward town. Ten minutes later we stopped on the cobblestone street in front of a bar. The rustic buildings all look the same so I made note of the cross street. There seemed to be a lot of nightlife for a Wednesday night. I went inside the bar and saw Sergio right away. This was obviously a gay bar as the only woman I saw was serving drinks. Sergio had a bag similar to a bowler's bag next to him. I ordered us drinks and paid for his.
"Are you ready for pain"? he asked.
