International Foodie - Brazil
 
 
Rio de Janeiro, the Wonderful City, was always brimming with life. Perhaps it was the heat, or the strong personalities of the "cariocas", but the city had an energy that feel places in the world can reproduce.
 
It wasn't without reason that the home of the "Cristo Redentor" and the "Pão de Açúcar" was so popular with tourists all over the world, so much so that neither the gang violence nor the cunning Brazilian swindlers, or even the dishonest taxi drivers scared foreigners away from the place that had at one point been the capital of Brazil, and although that dubious honor had gone to Brasília, Rio was still by far the most popular place in the country, sometimes to the chagrin of the other cities and states.
 
And while it was famous worldwide for it's beaches, culture and food, it was perhaps the women who gave the city it's wonders, at least in the eyes of some single or adulterous "gringos" who came to the South American country only to see if what they had heard about Brazilian women was true. Let it be known that they were seldom disappointed, for if a butt lift surgical process had the adjective "Brazilian" in it, it wasn't without reason. There's no reason to sugarcoat it: Brazil is home to some massive butts.
 
Naturally, not every single woman is built like a model, but one's neck hurts if one feels inclined to look every time they pass a voluptuous lady in the streets of Brazil. It didn't help that the women there walk with a certain waddling of the hips that can be hypnotic to the unused eye, and due to the tropical sun, they wear scant clothing that leaves little to the imagination.
 
It should not be thought that due to their large posteriors they lack in other departments, for Brazilian women often have large breasts as well. It was really a miraculous result of miscigenation, for the Native woman has lent her carefree sensuality, the African slave has lent her sheer voluptuousess and the Portuguese colonizer has lent her refinement, as to result in the current day Brazilian. Once German fraulens and Italian ragazzas were added to the mix as well, it only made beauty more diverse.
 
One such female specimen was walking through the streets of Rio de Janeiro, attracting stares and glances wherever she went. She was a "mulata", or a woman with light-brown skin with both black and white roots, although her curly mane showed that perhaps she was a bit more inclined to the black side of the spectrum.
 
She wore a yellow and green shirt with "Brazil" written on it, but it looked a bit tight considering how her large breasts were so clearly imprinted against it's surface. Her yellow shorts were so miniscule they left the lower part of there buttocks shamelessly exposed for the world to see, and overall, she had a guitar shaped body if there ever was one.
 
Her name was Maria Luíza, but folks mostly called her Luíza, because she thought that Maria was too common a name. Although she had been born in a "favela", or a slum, it wasn't a very violent one, so she managed to grow up without much difficulty and ascend in life and even though she wasn't rich, she was not poor either. She liked nothing better than to drink a cold beer once in a while, preferably while eating some salty appetizer.
 
She loved samba, well, music in general and would dance whenever there was any song playing. She watched soccer matches once in a while, but if they weren't the World Cup, they didn't interest her as much. What's the point of a country playing against itself when it can test it's skills against other countries in much more exciting fashion? At least that was her logic.
 
Luíza was currently single, but she had to admit it was her own fault in parts: she was such a free spirit that she tired of people surprisingly fast, to the point that no matter how large your dick was, or how expensive was your car, she'd rather be sunning herself on the beach than spending time with you.
 
Walking down a lively street, the swaying of her hips attracted the gaze of every man that passed her by. Good thing she was used to it by this point, or it'd blow up her short fuse in no time.
 
"Cara, homens são tão nojentos..." Luíza sighed, before noticing that she was passing by Boteco do Alemão, a bar owned by a friend of hers. She went there to check out how things were going.
 
"Luíza!" The owner of the bar, a Southern Brazilian named Miguel, the "Alemão", or German, in question, greeted the dark skinned woman happily. "Quanto tempo que eu não te vejo! Como vai, menina?"
 
"Ah, cê sabe como é, muito ocupada recentemente e tudo mais. Mas me vê uma gelada aí."
 
"É pra já!" The bar owner, who was short and moustached middle-aged man, handled Luíza a glass and a can of cheap "Skol" beer, which she opened and, ignoring the glass, drank straight from it, chugging everything down.
 
"Isso que é coisa boa!" The mulata said rather loudly, before hiccuping and asking for another one. "Manda outra aí, chefia."
 
"Vai com calma, viu? Isso não é hora de encher a cara," Miguel gave her a word of advice, but still handled her another beer. "Principalmente hoje que a cidade tá cheia de gringo, e cê sabe como esses caras são, vem aqui e pensam que é terra sem lei, que podem fazer o que quiser."
 
"Se fosse pra chutar," Luíza whispered to Miguel while opening her second beer, gesticulating towards a caucasian man sitting in a corner of the bar rather awkwardly. "Eu diria que aquele cara é gringo."
 
"Na mosca. O cara não sabe uma palavra sequer em português, coitado," The bar owner simply shook his head in pity. "E como eu não sei porra nenhuma de inglês..."
 
"Então ele só ficou sentado lá? Que cara estranho!" Luíza said, louder this time that she knew the gringo couldn't understand the Portuguese language. She drained the beer can empty before wiping her mouth and belching rather deeply.
 
"Porca..." Miguel chuckled in mild disapproval, but Luíza just laughed.
 
"Mamãe sempre diz que meus arrotos são o que afasta os homens. Já eu penso que homem é um bicho frouxo, se ficam com medo de uma mulher só por que ela consegue arrotar e peidar mais que eles. Mas Alemão, você não vai ligar a caixa de som não?" The woman inquired about the boombox, which was turned off.
 
"Clientela tá meio desanimada hoje, mas se quiser eu ligo," Miguel offered to turn it on and, seeing that Luíza would very much enjoy him to do so, gave life to the little box and soon the bar was shaking with loud samba music.
 
"Cara, eu amo essa!" The carioca beauty got up with a smile and didn't lose any time, starting to dance, or, "sambar" right there.
 
Now, "Samba no Pé" is a simple enough dance style. You move your legs to the rhythm of the music, bending one knee at the time and moving the feet ever so slightly, following a sort of and-a-one, and-a-two, then back to one patern. Luíza was used to the style, so she could dance it particularly fast, with only the balls of her feet on the ground. There was a slight and graceful movement of the arms, but the movement of the hips was provocative and enticing.
 
The "gringo" sitting on the corner, a man from North America, couldn't help but stare. That voluptuous beauty had caught his attention from the moment she had entered the bar, but now that she was moving her body in such a hypnotic manner, which made it appear that at any moment her large booty was going to jump at him from her tiny shorts, he couldn't take his eyes off the dancer.
 
Then, the music changed into a much more explosive one, and the boombox appeared to be about to explode as it spewed "SENTA, SENTA, SENTA, SENTA, SENTA" and the rest of the monstrously vulgar lyrics of the "funk" style, so popular in the favelas of the Southeast of Brazil.
 
The change in music also asked for a change in the dance style, for the aggressive Bum-Cha-Cha, Bum Cha-Cha beat of funk carioca had it's own overly sensual way of dancing. Reflecting the primal beat and explicit, obscene lyrics about "cachorras popozudas" (fat-assed bitches) and "novinhas safadas" (naughty young women), Luíza danced in a manner that reminded the American of an erotic and incredibly fast version of squats, or the twerking of his own region of the world, except that funk was even more aggressive and quick.
 
Luíza not only shook her massive buttocks in all directions, up and down, but she also got up and down to the point that her asscheeks sometimes hit the floor loudly, the infamous "descer até o chão", clearly meant to simulate the act of "sentar na pica", literaly "sit on a cock", a phrase that was perhaps used in billions of songs of the genre, in multiple forms and variations.
 
The gringo was shamelessly staring, but Luíza didn't notice, so under the spell of her carnal dance she was, and neither did she see him get up from his plastic chair and approach her from behind. When he grabbed her by the waist it was impossible to stay unaware though, and when his mouth opened wide like an Anaconda from the Amazon so it could engulf the Brazilian's fat ass when she accidently sat on the wet tongue she gasped in a shocked way that was quite alien to her nature.
 
"Ei, gringo, o que pensa que tá fazendo?!" She screamed at him, but the North American couldn't understand her and, even if he could, he wouldn't give up on his meal now. Luíza's ass sank deeper into his gullet and she shuddered. "Para com isso! Você tá tentando me engolir?!"
 
The brown woman's legs left the floor and were forced upwards in the air as the lower part of her body was partially folded up by the sinking of her behind. The foreigner's tongue was ravaging Luíza's short-covered booties to such a degree that the woman had no more doubts about his intention.
 
"Eu não sou comida, seu escroto! Me! Deixa! Sair!" With each word, the Brazilian tried to pull herself out of the devouring maw that was quickly covering her body. She could feel the North American's teeth against her back and pressing gently her pillowy thighs.
 
It finally hit Luíza how stuck she was. If the man had been able to gulp down her gigantic ass without choking, what in the world could keep him away from downing the rest of her? Perspirating and holding in tears of fear and disgust, the woman tried to struggle vainly.
 
"Seu filho da puta!" Luíza screamed, her tough persona cracking under the pressure as oily tears rolled out of her eyes like a cascade. "Espero que você engasgue!"
 
By this point, the gringo could make his job easier by just pushing the woman deeper himself. He grabbed a handfull of one of the Brazilian's tits, he pushed her entire body down his throat. His jaws were approaching each other, finally able to meet now that so much of Luíza's body had left the mouth and entered deep into the esophagus. The Brazilian left out one final moan of despair as the light of the tropical sun was hidden from her forever and her assailant's mouth closed.
 
The gringo took a series of deep gulps, the first ones being unable to send his catch down, but eventually the voluptuous bulge of the South American travelled down the man's neck, chest and finally descended into his rapidly expanding stomach. In her tight prison, Luíza was unable to move as the foreigner smacked his lips and groped the bulge of one of her clearly visible boobs. So much for the "mulher independente de alto valor", reduced to a curled up meat-doll inside a foreign, white man's stomach.
 
"Aaaaaaa, now I'm getting why I heard that Brazilian cuisine was underrated, BAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!" A greasy belch exploded loudly out of Brian's mouth, obvious satisfaction in it's bassy glory.
 
"Que porra foi essa...?" Miguel could only gasp, eyes widened with disbelief. One of his oldest clients, eaten alive by a gringo! Surely that must have been a mistake. He rubbed his eyes, but the engorged, squirming white orb of a belly persisted in his line of vision. "Quer saber, o calor já fritou meus neurônios."
 
Throwing his hands upwards in defeat, the bar owner disappeared in the room behind the counter, while Brian was left to rubbing his stuffed gut with the pride of a successful hunter admiring the prey he caught.
 
"You're one tough cookie, with all that squirming!" The North American chuckled good-humouredly while his stomach jumped, bounced and shook under the constant attacks from the prisioner within. "And here I was thinking those dance moves had tired you out! You don't always see food with a strong personality nowadays, so I feel even more grateful for my meal."
 
Quite unaware of the scandalized looks he was getting from the usually friendly Brazilians, Brian braved the streets of Rio with all the tenacity of a jolly tourist, which quite frankly he was now that his belly was filled to the brim with meat. The torrent of curses and kicks didn't upset him, quite on the contrary, although it frightened those who passed him by on the crowded, hot streets.
 
Hot...what did Brazilians do when it's hot again? Oh, of course, they went to the beach! They were one of the main attractions of the country after all, and he was quite near Copacabana, where the beach that gathered the most tourists was located.
 
Arriving at the beach, the carioca swindlers were avoiding him for some reason so moving around was easier for him than for the unlucky European couple being bombarded with offers of insidiously expensive souvenirs and bad bargains from all sides. Reaching the sand, he took out his shirt (a simple enough job, his belly had already done most of the heavy lifting back at the bar) and, finding a deserted canga, or beach towel, he laid down to bask in the sun and in the satisfaction of his bloatedness.
 
How he managed to relax with his eyes closed while a never ending gastric cacophony, added to Luíza's vulgar and furious shouting emanated from his trembling, shaking belly, perhaps only Brian could tell. But relax he did, and he only broke free from his happy stupor when he heard feminine giggling close to his ear.
 
He opened his eyes to find a pair of bikini-clad girls, clearly sisters, talking in Portuguese while glancing at him enthusiasmatically. They were caucasians, with tits so fat that Brian's mouth began to water just by looking at them only for him to remember how stuffed he already was and let out a sick groan.
 
They were saying words in their language, words directed at him. They were undecipherable for the North American, but the sunscreen lotion held in the arm of the taller, and probably older, sister made their intentions clear as day. He smiled and nodded.
 
The two sisters began spreading the lotion over his belly, something that was as enfuriating to Luíza as it was pleasurable to Brian. The helpful ladies left no region uncovered, going as far as to put their fingers on the man's deep bellybutton to get the job done throughly. All that touching at so sensitive an area as a woman-filled belly was bound to make a man burp, which Brian did quite crassly, much to the sisters' amusement.
 
Their job finally done, they waved the foreigner goodbye and walked away, still giggling. Inside the stomach, Luíza felt like she was being cooked in an oven in a simular manner to some of her own recipies, as the heat of the tropical sun seemed to pass through the surface of her devourer's skin and add to the stiffling heat of the merciless organ, forming an infernal combo.
 
She still wasn't so sure of how she found herself there to begin with, for it all felt like a terrible fever-dream caused by an infectious mosquito bite. There was a stinging sensation on her dark skin, but it seemed like a distant feeling, another person's woe, not hers...
 
Then it came back twice as strong and the Brazilian cried out in anguish, only to forget it the next second. It was the damn heat! Her throat was dry from all the screaming and cursing, she could barely speak now, and the heat was cooking the brain inside her skull just like the stomach was cooking her body.
 
Thoughts and sensations came and went as the only constant was the sense of her body wanting to pass out but being unable to do so. Her mind was becoming a mess. Once, she heard the gringo belching and wondered if he wasn't going to share whatever he had for lunch with her...
 
Yes, she'd like that. She'd like to be taken out for lunch or dinner by this Americano. There were many restaurants in Rio, and any would do. Somehow she felt that this tourist was honest about liking her, he was not like those other guys who just pretended then went away. No, he wanted her, wanted her forever and would never let her go.
 
Oh, the joy of being embraced like this! He was hugging her so tight and his insides were so loud that the Brazilian felt like her very conscience would at any moment be squeezed in nothing but gas. She couldn't fell her body, but she knew it wasn't entirely solid by now. He desired her so that he simply had to have her in all three stages of matter, the solid meat, the liquid chyme, the gaseous belch...
 
And the exit of a particularly meaty and disgusting one told Brian that the woman inside him had been obliterated.
 
"Phew, she's definetely trying to make herself memorable, with all those belches bringing back her taste to my mouth," The North American thought aloud, playfully smacking his belly, which instantly liquified some of the meat inside.
 
Soon, the wreck that had been Luíza was pure thick broth being pumped down a foreign man's eager bowels. But they weren't the only thing cooking inside his instestines, as Brian was soon to find out.
 
 
 
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!
 
 
A thunderous fart forced it's way out, shocking even the tourist:
 
"D-Damn, that was unespected..." He blushed slightly, but another loud fart ripped out of his behind. "I had no idea Brazilian women packed this much punch against one's bowels, is this like the feijoada I've been warned about...?!"
 
Brian got up from the beach towel and another airy fart sneaked out with the effort. He wondered why the people around him at the beach were casting such surprised glances. Did they usually fare better against native meat? Anyway, he was making his way out of the sand and back into the streets, for he wished to be ready once the soup within him finished it's trip.
 
It didn't take long for him to find a greenish-blue chemical toilet, put there surely due to the "Carnaval" party that was either soon to take place or had already runned it's course before Brian arrived in Brazil. He rushed for it rather awkwardly due to the extra weight he was carrying and, finding it empty, thanked the heavens and went inside.
 
As soon as the door was closed behind him, a window-breaking expulsion of gas shook the toilet, with an impressive duration that scared away the stray dogs of the neighborhood and made more than one Brazilian matron drop her recently bought fruit groceries.
 
Nor was it the last noise of it's kind, for soon enough there was a cacophony emanating from the toilet that seemed about to burst at any moment. At first, it was only a windy sound, but later the noises of a hard-working set of bowels could also be heard. When the noises finally stopped, there was a sigh and the chemical toilet's door opened.
 
"Real toilet clogger there, phew," Brian patted his much smaller potbelly. "But I haven't felt this well-fed in weeks! Whoever she was, that woman was as great a piece of meat, as she was a talented, sensual dancer."
 
Delighting on his satisfaction and fullness, Brian walked towards his hotel drowzily. A nap would do wonders for him, and then, he could keep exploring this tropical wonderland, filled with beauty and ugliness, and with exceptionally tasty, fat-assed meat.
 
 
...
 
 
Brian, as a certified international foodie, loved to share his experiences with other people. That's why he had created a blog to talk about his trips, a page which had a humble but considerable following online. This was Brian's most recent post after visiting Brazil:
 
 
"Hello, everyone! Brian here, and, attending several requests, I finally came to Brazil! It's definetely an interesting country, although I took some time to get used to the heat at first. What I didn't need any time to get used to, was the food! I'll say, if there ever was a race that BEGGED to be eaten, it's Brazilian women! They've got huge asses and sure know how to use them to work up one's appetite, dancing and shaking all that meat until you can't control yourself and devour them completely in front of friends or loved ones!
 
Oh, and they're spunky as they are delicious, too. You almost think they don't want to get eaten, with how much they fight and talk, but it's pretty obvious that they do it to get you satisfaction, or else they wouldn't behave like huge piles of meat showing off through a glass window.
 
So, using my parameters I would rate Brazilian food this way:
 
 
Presentation: 8/10
Meatiness: 8/10
Saltiness: 6/10
Sweetness: 3/10
Spiciness: 7/10
Squirminess: 10/10
Gas level: 9/10
Nastiness coming out: 8/10
 
The meat is excellent, but I have to warn you about the gas. It's nothing terrible, but there were storms coming out of my ass, which is usually quite amusing but can be awkward if you're sharing rooms with somebody who didn't partake of the same food. Also, they can definetely ruin a toilet so let them out in a place where a nasty mound won't give you any headache.
 
All around, straight to the point meal: super filling, super tasty and super loud coming out! The type of meat that makes traveling the world worth it. I'll be heading out now, so I'll see you guys on my next foodie adventure!"