In the Valley of the Mountain Lions - Book 5
Copyright© 2024 by August the Strong
Chapter 30: Selling Gold in Lima
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 30: Selling Gold in Lima - The people of this once remote valley in the Andes have new prospects. They now have phones, internet and contact with people. They can finally buy the basics. The group of twelve-year-old girls abducted to Peru are integrating better and better. They often look enviously at the pregnant teenagers and want to have their first sexual experiences too. Above all, there is one important task: to track down the billions of dollars belonging to the dead criminal Rus and put them to good use.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft ft/ft Teenagers Consensual Fiction Harem Interracial
Thursday, 26.12.2025
Shortly before the end of the year, I had another important appointment: the first sale of fine gold produced by us to the Central Bank of Peru. This was essentially a sample shipment. If the gold met the Central Bank’s specifications, an armoured car would collect the valuable cargo from us every month. For the journey over the mountains, we took 100 small 100-gram bars and one 1,000-gram sample bar initially. Based on the agreed purchase price of $41 per gram, our initial sale would generate a profit of over 2.7 million SOL, which would secure the long-term financing of our valley.
In recognition of their hard work producing gold, I allowed Luca and Diego to accompany me to Lima. I called the short trip a ‘honeymoon’ for Daja and Luca. Mayari accompanied us as a translator and in recognition of her excellent work as a PE teacher. As we had obtained permanent residence permits for all twenty-four of the girls who had been smuggled into the country, travelling with them through Peru was no longer a problem.
We set off at around 8 a.m., as the journey was expected to take at least eight hours. We had packed the gold bars in a small box, with each bar individually wrapped in bubble wrap. We hid the box in a large corn husk basket, amongst the potatoes and carrots. You never knew. As usual, Luca safely drove our Land Cruiser to the petrol station in San Huano. Aged fourteen, he was a particularly valuable member of our community. He had grown up well with us and was almost a grown man. He was only seven centimetres shorter than me and towered over all the other men in the valley. His brother Diego, who was probably about to turn thirteen, had also grown rapidly recently and therefore appeared somewhat lanky. Initially, he was the object of affection for several of the new girls at his school. However, the mood soon changed when he started hitting on every dance partner. Recently, there must have been problems with petite Theres, too, because she had turned away from him as well.
Although we still had almost 500 kilometres to go on Route 3N to reach Lima, meaning time was short, Mayari was now permitted to drive the car. The idea was that she would learn to drive more safely and confidently. She found going uphill easy, but going downhill was more challenging. She initially felt a little hesitant but then drove our Toyota quite fast down the valley to the main road.
From the main road 3N, I took over the driving. From here, we had to expect police checks. It wasn’t an easy ride. Soon, we were on unmade roads with no guardrails or other barriers. Although today’s route was a considerable shortcut to Lima, I soon realised that we wouldn’t save much time. Instead, we were able to see completely new and often barren landscapes. When the road finally became partially paved again, I sped down the steeply sloping road towards the coastal road PE-1N, also known as the ‘Pan-American Highway’. We reached it just before Chimbote. Here, we had time for a fortifying snack. The world-famous north-south route through South America was paved for most of its length, and after the short break, we made good progress.
Compared to our valley, the arid outskirts of Lima appeared desolate and almost desert-like. As we drove into the city, my four passengers were torn. There was dramatic traffic in the afternoon, and the noise was unusually noisy.
The Pan-American, here just above the coast north of Lima
My children were amazed to see our beautiful hotel, the Costa del Sol Wyndham. It wasn’t easy to allocate rooms because Luca wanted to share with his ‘wife’, Daja. Despite our unofficial wedding ceremony, this wasn’t allowed in an international hotel. I had booked three double rooms: Daja and Mayari got one, Luca and Diego got another, and I got the third.
The two boys had never seen a lift before. The luxury of the lobby made them stare in awe. I was fascinated by everything they discovered, and by the things they pointed out to each other. The rooms weren’t luxurious, but my four companions were thrilled. If only they knew about the luxury that Olivia and I had experienced at the gorgeous Miraflores Park Hotel. However, paying more than a thousand dollars for just one night seemed excessive to me.
Diego and Luca were already waiting excitedly in my room. I quickly put on my swimming trunks and a bathrobe, and we set off. We picked up Mayari and Daja from the room next door and rode the elevator to the rooftop pool. I had, of course, taken our gold with me to the hotel and deposited it in the safe. While my companions frolicked in the pool, thankfully, Diego and Luca had learned to swim fairly well in our pool at the Palazzo weeks ago, I enjoyed a beer and my first cigarette of the day. Life outside our valley could be very nice, but you needed the ‘change’ to make it happen.
Daydreaming, I imagined what it would be like if all my loved ones could take a holiday here or at another beautiful hotel. It probably wouldn’t relax me, but we should plan to do it in smaller groups next year. I resolved to do so firmly. The young girls would gain new inspiration for shaping their lives, and the thirteen mothers would experience great emotional enrichment from being able to take their children on holiday in such luxurious surroundings.
In the evening, we went for a stroll, picked up a few things from the nearby market, and enjoyed a pleasant dinner at Restaurante Los Reyes. Despite the approaching dusk, we strolled along the beautiful green areas by the ocean towards the hotel, despite all the recommendations. Luca and Daja were a little way ahead of us. Suddenly, two men asked our couple for a light for their cigarettes, pulled out their knives and demanded money. The robbers had obviously realised that Daja was a foreigner, and, in their view, foreigners were always rich. Luca told them in Quechua that they didn’t have any money and pointed at us. Luckily, I had my pistol with me. I pulled it from my belt holster, released the safety catch and put it in my jacket pocket, holding it with my right hand. Diego and Mayari had to stay back a bit while I approached the men seemingly calmly. “How much?” I asked.
The answer was, “Everything!”
I would have given a small amount of money to the robbers, but from their greedy looks, it was clear to me that we were going to be hurt or even killed by them.
“Daja, Luca, behind me!”
The muggers looked startled when I pointed my gun at them, and I succeeded in getting them to back off. One of them jumped at me. I shot his leg and the other one backed away.
“Run to the street! Mayari, get a taxi, hurry! Daja, be careful not to go too fast.”
I slowly backed away. Once I had gained enough distance, I ran after the others. A little later, I almost caught up with my companions.
Mayari darted through the bushes towards the road. When we arrived, there was a car waiting with its doors open. We were in the taxi in no time and, shortly after that, we were near our hotel. However, I had told the taxi driver ‘Lima Modern Hotel’ as our destination, as I didn’t want to risk arousing the police’s attention. From there, it was about two hundred metres to our accommodation. Everything had worked out, but I was the reason for a negative experience because I had been too careless again. Compared to most other South American countries, Peru is basically a very safe country. However, if you don’t follow a few basic rules, the risk is relatively high.
Nevertheless, I told everyone not to mention it to anyone. I put the pistol in my belt pouch and stashed it in the hotel safe with the other package. Afterwards, I scrubbed my hands in case the police came. I hid my jacket in the girls’ room, but luckily, we were left undisturbed.
However, Daja needed a few calming strokes from her ‘adopted father’ more than from her husband, who didn’t always understand her. His difficult childhood and experiences with the bad gold diggers had dulled his feelings somewhat. However, when he saw how quickly Daja calmed down in response to my kind words and gentle touches, he took over completely, and Daja enjoyed his affection. So, I left the two of them alone.
A little later, everyone had calmed down. Enjoying a small snack near the rooftop pool while taking in the magnificent view of the wonderful Peruvian capital and beautiful disco music lifted our spirits. Late into the evening, there was still some movement in our corridor. Mayari asked me to let Luca sleep with his wife. This made the night shorter but much more pleasant for me, as I didn’t have to have sex with the young Brazilian. We just cuddled and enjoyed each other’s company.
In the morning, we checked out and drove to the Banco Central de Reserva del Perú. Everything went perfectly. A guard immediately waved us into the car park behind the building. We were expected, which was a relief. Daja and Diego were allowed to stay in the car. The security guards stated that initially, it was not intended that anyone should remain in our vehicle. But I didn’t like to mention that. Ten SOL were more helpful than an offered cigarette. With Luca, Mayari, and our precious box, we walked to the back entrance, which was guarded by two armed men. All three of us were checked at security and taken to a meeting room. The bank employee and his companion wanted to examine our bars straight away, but I suggested they wait a few days.
“We have complete confidence in you. Please, could you provide us with a receipt confirming the receipt of the 100 small bars and the 1 kg bar? Then please let us know if any of them do not meet your requirements.”
However, the buyers disagreed. The woman picked up two 100-gram bars and the large 1-kilogram bar before leaving the room. She returned a few minutes later. The gold was perfect in terms of its density and weight. She confirmed that she would purchase our goods at the current exchange rate in SOL, which equated to an estimated $802,000, provided that all the bars met the specifications. I congratulated Luca pointedly. The department head asked, astonished, “I assume the boy makes the gold himself? Is that even possible? He’s an Indio.”
Indeed, even among the country’s educated elite, prejudices against indigenous people were deeply rooted.
“That’s precisely why I have complete trust in him and his brother. All the Indios with us are fundamentally honest and extremely hard-working.”
Luca was kissed on the forehead by me. He beamed back at me with his big brown eyes. We arranged for the first gold pickup in the valley to take place on 15 January. An armoured car would collect the agreed quantity of 100 small 100-gram bars and five 1 kg bars. These were to be manufactured exactly according to the bank’s specifications. However, we were given a template for marking the large bars differently.
Daja and Diego passed the time by singing and playing high-fives. We could hear the loud car radio from afar. The two guards had been threatening me from a distance, but they calmed down when I gave them a pack of cigarettes on the way out.
We explored the centre of Lima, starting at the Plaza de Armas, where we could see the Presidential Palace and the cathedral. Then we drove to Miraflores to the hotel where Olivia and I had previously stayed. However, the traffic was a disaster once again. We were stuck in it almost the entire time on the way to the marina. I therefore cut short our stay in the city and drove along the Pan-American Highway towards the desert and the world-famous Huacachina oasis. I had planned to let Luca drive, but the entire route was monitored by the police. We could have swapped for the short stretch through the desert, but the satnav showed only five minutes left. Mayari tried to book a room at the ‘El Huacachinero hotel’ online. It was surprisingly inexpensive at €70 for a double room with breakfast included. However, there were only two rooms left on the website, and we needed two double rooms and one single room.
As we crossed the hill, we could hardly believe our eyes. Before us lay a valley surrounded by majestic dunes. In the centre, like a mirage, was the Huacachinero oasis. The lake shimmered in the blazing sun. Lush green palm trees waved unrealistically at us from afar. It was a small paradise in the middle of the dusty desert, like a fairy tale from One Thousand and One Nights.
Huacachinero oasis
While my four friends were already frolicking in the pool, I was still trying to find somewhere to sleep. From my table in front of reception, I enjoyed a fantastic view of the stunning scenery. Mayari and Daja greeted me happily. Daja exclaimed, completely delighted, “Thank you, Michael, for this experience. Is there a more beautiful place in the world?”
“We’ll see what you think tomorrow. Hopefully, it will be just as special then.”
Daja asked curiously. “Please wait, Daja. We want to enjoy the day first. How’s your baby?”
She had almost forgotten how much her stomach stuck out under her swimsuit. She placed both hands on it. “He’s doing wonderfully, just like me.”
At the same time, Mayari and the expectant mother kissed me on the cheek. Hand in hand, they ran to the pool, with Daja following at a fairly brisk pace.
Later, the five of us went across the lake in a pedal boat. In the past, the lake was fed solely by an underground stream from the Andes. However, due to increasing tourism, water now has to be pumped in from the town of Ica, five kilometres away.
Shortly before 5 p.m., we were called out. The desert tour that I had booked upon arrival was about to begin. “Would you like to come with us to the desert, Daja? But you can’t join us. We’ll be climbing some particularly steep dunes and then sandboarding back down. It’s tough and slightly dangerous, but it would be great if you could take photos and videos.”
Everyone grabbed sturdy shoes and a simple T-shirt, and then we set off. The driver roared up and down gigantic dunes, which were sometimes even frightening. Then the real fun began, sandboarding down a dune. At first, we all tried sitting down. Mayari was the first to try standing up on the second descent. She fell, but the tour guide was impressed with our Brazilian friend. Soon, the two boys tried it standing up, too.
After this exciting adventure, we travelled a little further into the desert. We sat on the boards and Daja got a blanket. The driver handed out small snacks and drinks. Luca, Mayari, and I had beer, while the other two had Peruvian cola. Our mood was indescribable. We hugged and kissed each other. I had never experienced such a magnificent sunset before, and with it came a sense of mutual love and deep friendship. The only thing missing now was one of our perfect singers. Fortunately, the driver had a pan flute with him and Luca played his favourite song, ‘El Condor Pasa’ as Mayari and Diego cuddled up to me; things couldn’t have been better.
Two other tour groups joined us to enjoy the sound of the pan flute. Then something incredible happened. Diego stood up and sang ‘Contigo Inca’ to the accompaniment of the pan flute in a raspy voice unlike anything we had ever heard before. He sounded even more plaintive and sad than Luisa. The first two verses, in particular, seemed to be an indictment of the Spanish conquerors that destroyed the Inca civilisation. Mayari translated the lyrics for the other travellers. An older woman apparently understood Quechua. She cried and hugged our youngest. As he couldn’t play the flute himself, our driver gave it to Luca. He was captivated by the boy’s playing.
In complete darkness, our guide explained the glittering starry sky above us and pointed out the Southern Cross in particular. Not a single ray of light spoiled the view, and we felt as though we were aboard a spaceship. What words can describe it? The view and the sense of wonder were indescribable. My knees trembled as Mayari described her feelings to me. Despite the other groups, I gave her a long, lingering kiss. Our senses were intoxicated.
After having a snack in the desert, we skipped dinner at the hotel. Luca and Mayari wanted to play football on a small pitch with a group of men. The teams played their game in a cage-like enclosure with small hockey goals. As they hadn’t had the chance to play, Mayari arranged a match against the winners, who laughed when they accepted the challenge. The teams were very unequal. There were four of us: the scrawny Luca, the short Diego, the slender Mayari, who still looked somewhat childlike, and me, an old, awkward man in goal. After our PE teacher scored three goals in quick succession, the laughter stopped. The men played more physically this time, however.
The final score was 5-3, an easy win for us. Our opponents weren’t very well trained. With Babette in goal, we definitely would have kept a clean sheet, but I still tried hard. We hugged each other as though we had just won a major tournament. Daja had taken some lovely photos. It was a perfect evening, but it was about to get even better!
Most of the day-trippers had left by this time, and the hustle and bustle of the afternoon had died down. However, all twenty rooms in the hotel were still occupied. The manager offered me the only suite at the special price of €100. Soon, the five of us were sitting on the terrace outside my gala room upstairs, looking out at the pool and enjoying the colourful lamps and lanterns. When the music from the speakers stopped briefly, Luca played a sombre Indio song. A few couples gathered below our balcony. They whistled as the disco music started up again. A hotel employee called us downstairs and connected a microphone because Diego’s singing had just started and was too quiet. ‘Contigo Inca’ sounded again. All the Indio waiters, kitchen staff, and chambermaids were captivated by Diego’s singing. This was followed by an eerie silence, then the first cries of joy, thunderous applause, shrill whistles of approval, and the throaty twangs of the Indio women. There were hugs and kisses for our singer. The employee who had given Luca the flute asked for ‘El Cóndor Pasa’ again. With the microphone amplification, it sounded mesmerising throughout the night. But everyone was especially taken with Diego. He was showered with hugs and celebrations.
Later, some people were dancing wildly on the small dance floor. Meanwhile, several men were fighting over Mayari and Diego was dancing with the staff. Suddenly, Diego disappeared. A waiter reassured me that he was in ‘good hands’. He didn’t reappear until the next morning. At breakfast, I saw the ‘good hands’, a petite Indio girl who looked about fourteen. I couldn’t be sure if the two had just exchanged kisses, but what could I do? Diego worked hard, brought us good results, had unsuccessfully tried to chat up some of the girls in the camp, and suddenly seemed to have achieved his goal.
I ruffled his hair, feeling slightly angry, but he was beaming from ear to ear. His look said, ‘No one can take this away from me!’ I gave the waiter my card just in case Diego had been ‘too successful’. Later on, the drive to our next destination, however, I wanted to call him out. I had to absolutely forbid him from trying anything similar with the girls in the valley. After all, he was only twelve, nearly thirteen years old, as were most of the girls. In retrospective, I have to admit that my reprimand wasn’t very successful. Enzo’s daughter Ana, who was just thirteen, became pregnant in April, and Diego was the father. But more on that later.
By the way, I gave my suite to the newlyweds. Mayari slept in my quiet room, which faced away from the pool. But things were far from quiet for us. First, I cleaned her grazed knees and gave her a foot massage, as two of her toenails were stained red. She was in pain and had been limping during the game recently. However, she was determined to give herself another climax after such a wonderful day. Smiling wickedly, she spread her legs and showed me her bare lower body. I pretended not to notice, but she lay on her back and began to moan with pleasure during my foot massage.
“Mayari, stop it! You know my verdict, and you know my stance on this. I will stick to it: No sex with minors.”
“But the other day, you said that if one of your partners is in distress and begs for release, you might consider it, didn’t you?”
“What kind of distress are you in, my dear?”
“You know that perfectly well. I haven’t had sex in over five weeks. After today, I need it; I need you inside me. And don’t worry, I’m on the pill.”
My body betrayed my thoughts. The young woman captivated me more and more. My arousal was visible, and a longing hand reached out to touch it. It took only seconds before I gave in to her ‘need’. I was ashamed of my weakness, but my mind shut down when she kissed me passionately, threw herself backwards onto the bed and pulled me on top of her. After a passionate kiss, her hands guided me downwards. She didn’t let me caress her breasts. She wanted me to kiss her somewhere else, somewhere she was especially sensitive.
I gladly obliged, pushing her thighs further apart to find the centre of her pleasure. She soon began to moan, lifting her lower body towards me, eager for my caresses. My lips and tongue worked tirelessly. My middle finger explored her insides. She made kittenish sounds, becoming increasingly wild, and then suddenly collapsed onto the bed, having enjoyed her first true climax.
She didn’t allow me to give her time to recover, pulled me onto her again, and her hand brought my rod to her entrance. She wanted it immediately, while her orgasm was still fading. I wanted to be gentle, but that’s not what she wanted. She wrapped her legs around my hips and set an unbearable pace. I played along, increasing the frequency of my thrusts and pressing my erect penis into her more and more forcefully. She was beside herself; her body practically danced beneath me. She was completely exhausted until, gasping for air, she surrendered to her orgasm.
I kissed her tenderly, barely moving, yet still consumed by my unfulfilled desire. When she came out of her trance, she smiled and said, “I needed that. It was simply hot. Can you still do anymore?”
I proved it to her immediately, but on my own terms. I slid up a little, wanting to stimulate her clitoris with every thrust. If she was going to seduce me into making love, she was going to have to do it properly. And it was right. I could feel her inner muscles clenching as she rushed towards her next orgasm, and I went with her, eager for my own release. Her orgasmic singsong didn’t stop me from savouring my pleasure. A little later, my body released me from my unbridled desire. I sank down onto my playmate, fully enjoying the way my body discharged itself into her. It was more intense than it had been in a long time.
After we had parted, I asked her with a smile, “Well, dear May, has your emergency been resolved?”
She smiled back. “It was great, but I could do it again.”
“Never overwhelm an old man. Someday you’ll find a younger partner, and then you can let off steam.”