Have a Sexy Cinco de Mayo!

Beautiful Agony

Meg Ryan in every woman's favorite, When Harry Met Sally

I found this very erotic, very cool website called Beautiful Agony.com. It is a site dedicated to the most erotic aspect of sex, the orgasm. Now if you are looking for bare asses, bountiful breasts, or pussy shots you might be disappointed. But if you are turned on by what happens to us when we come, then this is the site for you.

You know, that face. That expression of pain and wonder as you are tossed over the edge into a few seconds of paradise. The little death, it has been called.

Normal people, like you and me (okay, so I'm not so normal), have posted videos on the site shot from the neck up. That's it, just the face. Every horny smile, satisfying grimace, lip biting, tongue wetting moment caught on tape. Just the human face and it's expressions, just the sound of your body as you come closer and closer to orgasm, just the moans that come unbidden, just the natural orgasm how ever the postee chooses to get off. Just...well, Just...hot! Very real, and oh so sexy.

There is something that defines us when we allow ourselves to lose control.

On a personal note. It took me a long time to let go. I was well into my twenties before I had my first orgasm. Sad, I know. And I was a masturbating fiend my friends. I send a shout out to Jessica who bought me my first vibrator. A glow in the dark number that I broke from my masturbating gymnastics. Every day, every night, with dildo's, with vibrators, with fingers. A friend introduced me to erotica, and you all know what a huge influence that has had on me.

But as much fun as I had trying to get myself off, I just couldn't quite let go. Frustrating. Why, I wondered. What was it in me that wouldn't allow me that pleasure? I recently read that 43% of American women are either non-orgasmic or will be for a significant part of their lives. That's a hell of a high number. And 83% of women have faked it. And if you think you have never been with a women who has, just remember, When Harry Met Sally.

I had lovers, men and women. Some put a lot of effort into finding my pleasure, some didn't, but until I met my husband, I guess I never trusted anyone enough to let go. I've heard people say you shouldn't marry someone for sex, but it is definitely one of the reasons I love him. I come every time, multiple times in most cases, and he will not stop until I do. His generosity as a lover is part of why I love him.

I have to say, now that I have found my friend the big "O" I can't imagine life without it. I truly don't know what I look like when I come, but I imagine it isn't pretty. From the look on my husband's face, it sure is hot.

Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid

I was reading something scary in "Writer's Digest" today. Chills ran up and down my spine!

Some publishers are saying they can't publish stories that have been posted on blogs. Blogs are becoming too recognized (Fuck, you wouldn't know that from the lack of comments on mine.) But, but...I want to publish here. I want to feel like someone out there is getting off from my dirty stories.

Personally, I think this sucks ass. I post my stories to get feedback and although I know I hear crickets when I go to my blogger, I still want to be able to post.

This leads me to tell you about my new find, gather.com. This is an awesome sight folks, where I have created my own erotic writing group. You should all join up and share you dirty thoughts with me at erotikryter.gather.com. You know you wanna...come on, everyone's doing it! ;-)

The article in WD said that private writing group sites, where one has to be a member to read, would not disclude the author like a "normal" blog. So sights like gather where you can make a private group or The Fish Tank where we can critique each other's work are still cool. So join me at gather or take a dip in the tank!

All is not lost.

Help!

I am doing research on Persian culture in the Golden Age of Islam, specifically on the culutre of the women and am coming up blank. I had heard somewhere or read somewhere that the women during this time period were much more liberal than they are today.

One of the characters in my novel is a women from the Middle Ages that I want to be strong and independant. She is also foreign, and at the moment from Persia. I set her from this country because of this thing I read or heard, but can't verify. My lead character is facinated with all knowledge of other places and it is one of the reasons she is attracted to the Persian character. I know I am writing fiction, but I also want some sort of fact behind my fiction. Does anyone out there know a good book or a good website on the history of women in the middle ages, specifcally in Persia and Islam?

I was also inpired today to reach beyond my current outline. Perhaps a second novel? or maybe the story I have to tell is longer than what I have down.

Sexy Sage Airwaves!

Just a quick note to those of you in listening range of radio station WFMPin Minneapolis/St. Paul --

Sage Vivant will be interviewed on the Lori and Julia Show at approximately 5:15 pm on Monday, April 16. They'll be talking about her book, YOUR EROTIC PERSONALITY, and of course, about her crazy job: writing customized erotic fiction! Hope you can tune in if the broadcast is in your area.

:-)

No good Mother-fuckers!

A hacker broke into our computer and destroyed all of my writing. AGAIN! ASSHOLES!

Two years ago I was infected with a virus, this time they found a way to break into the computer and alter all the files.

What the fuck!? is up with people? What are they just bored?

Well we fixed you mother-fuckers! This time I had back-up! I just really hate that we live in a world where some yahoo geek, who can't get it on with a living human being feels like he has to get off by fucking with my personal shit!

GRRRRRR!

Be a Good Egg!

Sage Vivant's New Book Now Available

At last! I'm so happy to announce that YOUR EROTIC PERSONALITY:IDENTIFYING AND UNDERSTANDING YOUR SEXUAL SELF is officially available inbookstores everywhere!

ABOUT THE BOOK
If you want more out of s*x, crave insight into what you like and why, andeven learn about the person you're involved with, this book will help youdo that. Self-knowledge is power, and once you know what makes you tickand how to indulge it, your love life will naturally become morefulfilling. It can't help but do anything else.

The book begins with a quiz to help you identify which of twelve eroticpersonality types you are. The rest of the book dedicates a chapter todescribing each type and offering suggestions that will make that typeenjoy s*x to the greatest extent possible.Best of all, however, it delivers one consistent message. Whatever youlike is natural and healthy. It isn't any less sophisticated orenlightened than what anybody else needs for arousal. And that's a notionthat our bigger/better/faster/more culture frequently forgets -- much toeveryone's detriment.

Follow this link to buy the book from Amazon.com:http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0425214346/customeroticasou

FIND OUT MORE -- AND TAKE THE QUIZ ONLINE!

I've created a site to give you a great introduction to the book: http://www.sagevivant.com

Tits Down, Ass Up

Here's my latest bit of sizzling sex writing for your reading pleasure. Entered this in a contest at Desdmona.com with a theme of body art. Let me know what you think...:-)

Tits Down, Ass Up (FF, oral)
Copyright © 2007 by Crystal Barela

“Where the fuck have you been, Cali?” Tony’s deep voice was muffled by how close he was bent over the chick in front of him. He needed glasses and I swear he didn’t get them so he could smell the smooth skin of his female clients as he applied ink to skin.

“Traffic,” I said. The back door shut behind me and I threw my gear in the corner. I ran my hands through my straight black hair to rid myself of helmet head.

“Shit, kid,” he said. “Why don’t you take the subway like the rest of the East Village?”

My wheels were pulled up in the alley behind the shop. The Softail with shiny chrome rims was the perfect reason for braving the streets of Manhattan. “Reputation.”

Tony snorted and said, “That one’s been waiting on you for more than an hour.” He gestured with his head to the front of the shop.

There were half a dozen girls sitting on the red vinyl in front of our shop window. Their tattooed backs and shoulders were the perfect draw for the curious window shoppers cruising by on the sidewalk out front.

“Lucy, who’s my first victim?” Our receptionist—I nearly laughed out loud at the formality of the title given to our single employee. She had taken the position for the free tats and the flow of ladies visiting the shop for my artistic attention.

“Tantra!” Lucy called out, as if our customers weren’t mere feet from her desk.

Was that name for real? I scanned the ladies, clicking the bar in my tongue against the back of my teeth. A nasty habit which I found to be a turn off when other women did it, but I somehow derived great pleasure in doing myself.

“Tantra?”

No answer. Not everyone believes in fashionably late.

***
The shop was silent when I opened the door the next morning. Truth was, I hadn’t gone to sleep the night before. Some might say that I shouldn’t be poking people with sharp objects then, but personally I thought a little overtime in the waking world made me more attuned.

Besides, Tony was in DC. His old lady’s kid was graduating from college. Marco was flying in from El Paso this afternoon to keep the empty chair filled for the next two weeks.

I flipped on the lights. The mirrored wall that ran the length of the shop was framed by thick red velvet drapes. The other walls were black and decorated with photos of all of our celebrity clients.

I paused in front of the picture of me and Jolie. Now those were some mother fucking hot lips. If I do recall, I thought, rocking back on the heels of my black leather boots, we’d held more than each other’s hands. Shit! Don’t believe me? This was before Brad, and truth be told, before Billy Bob. I’d only been eighteen at the time. Barely legal. I was Tony’s apprentice then and only able to touch her skin with my fingers. No matter how I had pleaded, Tony had not let me hold a needle.

I sat into the overstuffed chair, set my feet on the desk, and crossed my feet at the ankles. Lucy would try to kick my ass if she knew. She hadn’t come to the realization that this wasn’t her shop.

The first client under my name on Lucy’s clipboard: Tantra. There couldn’t be another woman with that name, even in Manhattan. Mid-week was usually slow and the mysterious Tantra was due—

The bells on the door chimed and I let the clipboard rest against my forehead, hiding in a few more seconds of silence. She was early.

“Cali! Baby!” Marco tilted back on the heels of his cowboy boots and held out his arms.

I hopped over the desk, and flew into his chest nearly knocking him off his feet. He pounded my back.

“You smell awesome,” I said. A musky cologne.

“Cigarettes,” he said with a sniff, not loosening his hold. “No time to go home and shower?”

“Fuck,” I said. “No time to be a gentleman?”
“Remember who you’re talking to.” Marco leaned back and peered down at me with the devil’s eyes. “Is she done?”

“Thirty-nine hours.” I undid the button fly of my Levis and tugged the hem of my fishnet tee to my braless breasts.

Koi. The Japanese consider them a symbol of energy and power. Chris O’Donnell, a genius with the needle, had tattooed the one swimming from between my legs. The length of the fish’s body wrapped around my hip, circled my waist and reappeared under my arm, the lips stopping to feed at my right breast. This masterpiece of color and grace had taken more than a year to complete and Marco had seen the design before he left for home last year.

“Brilliant.”

“I know,” I said, running a hand down my ribcage. “I wish I could work naked.”

Marco laughed. “Me too.”

***

“Are you Cali?” Her voice was lush. Wet. My imagination sent my pussy swimming.

“Shop closes at midnight,” I called out from the back of the shop, regret in my voice. My back was to the door as I stuffed my face with a hotdog Marco had brought back from the street vendor. It was cold from earlier this evening, but there is nothing like a New York City frank.

“That’s not what the sign says,” she called back.

That voice. I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Look, honey, Marco is gonna be here in the morning.”

“No, I want you to do it.”

The way she said it made my insides burn.

I turned.

Where I was lanky and all limbs, she was hips and thighs. I topped her by a good five inches. Her ass was in abundance and painted into her jeans. Her eyes were that somewhere between blue and green only found in nature, fringed with reddish blonde lashes, and looking at me like she could eat me up.

She took my hand, her sleeveless arm pale and bare of color. Her fingers were decorated in large chunky rings of jewel-colored cut glass.

“Maybe I could make an exception for…?” Was there a discreet way to check my breath for lingering hot dog odors?

“Tantra.”

“It’s you.”

She laughed. “It’s me.”

I took her hand. “I’ve been expecting you for about two weeks now.”

“Nerves.”

“A virgin?”

She raised and eyebrow and her lips twitched.

“Your skin, it’s bare? A virgin to the needle?” Although it would have been nice to have been present for the deflowering.

“Yes, no tattoos.”

“Well then, you’ve come to the right place,” I said, leading her over to my chair.

At the back of the shop I had the sketch she’d left last week on one of her many no-shows. I had thought twice about working on the transfer, considering Tantra’s track record of making appointments and breaking them, but it was an inspiring drawing. It had honestly been a turn-on to spend some time with the sketch.

I had done a tree of life before, but not of this size. The roots twisted into a Celtic circle pattern at the base and the trunk of the tree rose in a knotty line, its branches curling out to the sides about six inches up. Leaves clung to the branches. It was really quite beautiful. Expensive and time consuming too. It had been designed for a woman’s back.

“Turn around, baby.”

As she turned, Tantra lifted her shirt up over hear head. God, I love my job! I got a quick peek at her full, round breasts, tucked into black lace bra cups. This was one ripe woman. Hot.

“You know the lower back is one of the most painful places for a woman to get a tattoo?”

“Yes.” There was a thrill in her voice.

“And that this is gonna take at least three sittings?”

“You can’t do it all tonight?”

“It’s an eight hour job.”

“I’d pay extra.”

“You want color too?”

Tantra nodded. I walked toward the back of the shop, sketch in hand. The leaves on the branches were so delicate, gold and green. They seemed to move as if a breeze were blowing in the background.

Was I actually considering this? I hadn’t slept in more than twenty-four hours, and this wasn’t an easy job. I rubbed the back of my neck and looked down at Tantra, clutching her shirt beneath her beautiful breasts, the bits of lace not hiding the shadows of her nipples. She was worrying her lower lip with her teeth. One tooth was crooked. Sexy.

I patted the black vinyl of my chair and she hopped on board, her feet dangling in cute espadrille wedge sandals.

“Why is this tattoo important to you, honey?” Tantra’s back was to me. I unhooked her bra. She sucked in her breath as I lifted her thick red curls from her shoulders and secured them with a hair clip on top her head.

“My sister, she drew this,” she whispered in that sultry voice. “We’re twins.”

If that didn’t put a wet spot in my jeans.

“In a couple of months I’m going to see her in Ireland.”

“Unsnap your jeans.” The drag of the zipper and a shimmy of hips revealed the white of her skin to the crack of her ass. Was she wearing panties?

I covered my palms with shave oil and spread it over Tantra’s shoulder blades. Her skin was pale and smooth, except for where her bra had left red lines. I lingered a bit too long, massaging the marks away. She sighed, and I found I was in danger of losing my professionalism.

The crinkle of the plastic being torn from the razor and then the smooth swipe of blade across her opalescent skin made my lips ache. Gently, I lay the transfer on her back, and then wet it with a sponge, dabbing at the smooth canvas of her back. I lifted a corner of the paper and drew it across her back.

A sigh tinged with sex filled my shop as I pulled the paper free.

Looked good. Too good. I handed the mirror over her shoulder and pointed her in the direction of the wall. “Check the placement, sugar.” Get a grip, Cali. Work before pleasure.
Tantra went over to the mirrored wall and held up the hand mirror to look over her shoulder.

“Perfect!” she squealed, with a little hop. She turned to the right, then left, and all my eyes saw were her breasts, now bare and free. Nipples puckered from the night air coming through the back door teasing my eyes.

I rubbed my eyes. Tired and horny, that’s what I was.

“Tantra, baby, I think we should reschedule.” Sleep would help me to concentrate on my art and not her ass.

“No!” She bounced over to me and took my hands in hers.

“I haven’t slept in days and—”
She put my hands on her tits and the thought of putting her off was gone.

“Another night won’t hurt.”

“You have a point,” I said, massaging her breasts. I leaned down, her face nearing mine.

A kiss, two nips.

Shook my head, took a step back. “Okay beautiful,” I said. “Tits down, ass up.”

***

Silent tears were running down Tantra’s face, which belayed the soft sighs and moans that escaped each pass of my tattoo gun. She was one of those that liked the pain and although I was known to have a gentle hand, she didn’t want it. I was surprised she wasn’t covered in tats and piercings.

With every gasp I had to force myself not to throw my tattoo gun aside and fuck her. The scent of her arousal was driving me mad.

“Nearly done, baby,” I said. A lie to myself. I had finished the Celtic knot and still had the entire tree to do. The goal was to finish the outline tonight. We were only a half hour in. I wiped my brow, bent and adjusted the knob on my tattoo machine. I was a professional.

Tantra gave her ass a wiggle pressing her pussy into the vinyl. “More Cali,” she pleaded.
Not gonna make it. “Be still, sugar.” My voice was harsh, my throat dry.

I sprayed the inky skin with water and wiped it with the towel, now discolored with black ink. I spread Vaseline across the tat. Looked good.

“Why’d you want me to do you?” I asked.

Wipe, spray, tat.

“Charlotte Scott.”

My hand wavered. Charlotte? Charlotte had a thing for pain too. More than the little the buzz my gun had.

Wipe, spray, tat.

Her ass had been in the exact same spot as Tantra’s pussy. Three in the morning. Clothing optional. I’d worn nothing but a strap-on. Nearly fucked Charlott’s pussy raw, right after piercing her clit. Now that’s pain.

“You trying to tell me something, sugar?” I drew my hand along the small of her back, the trunk of the tree taking shape.

“Breath deep,” Tantra said.

Wipe, spray, tat. Breathe.

“Smell that?” she said. “My pussy’s been hot for you since Charlotte told me how she got her piercing.”

I placed a hand on the small of her back. “Suck it up darlin’,” I said.

Tantra looked over her shoulder and caught my eyes.

“No.”

Oh shit.

“I am so wet.”

Oh fuck. I closed my eyes trying to find my strength of will. “What do you want more, sugar?” I whispered. “This tattoo or my face in your pussy?”

Tantra stood and turned around, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her jeans. The jeans shimmied down her thighs and I holstered my gun. She kicked the jeans aside.

My smooth moves were out the door. All I could think of was tasting every inch of her body. Her lips were plump and sweet. Her neck soap scented. I buried my face between her breasts, nosing around like an animal. The sweat where the soft mounds met her body was salty and bold.

My synthetic gloved fingers slipped through her sopping slit. One, two fingers found a home in her hot hole. I forced her back onto the table, sure to press her tat into the table. She cried out, but her pussy squeezed my fingers.

Tantra clutched my head to her breasts and I devoured her hard nipples. Biting, bruising suction. Her hips bucked and she urged me lower.

I nibbled my way over her soft round stomach, past her belly button, and into the thick curly hair covering her snatch. Her swollen pussy lips glistened.

My hand pinned her to the tattooing chair. My fingers dove in and out, piercing her hungry hole. Her lips became redder and the skin around her thighs flushed.

My tongue circled her clit. A third finger wedged its way into her hungry cunt.

She panted, pushing her hips against me.

The muscles in her thighs squeezed my cheeks.

My tongue bar gave her a kiss.

Fingers yanked my hair.

Tantra screamed.

Tears wet her cheeks as her pussy bathed my face.

Jesus. I pulled my bruised fingers free and sat back on my heels. I undid my fly. Just a couple of strokes and I’d be with her.

“No,” she gasped.

I froze. Not sure I was ready to take orders yet. I just wanted to get off.

“Stand.”

I did, and my jeans fell to my ankles. My cunt pulsed.

“Take off your shirt.”

I lifted the hem of my tee and watched her come to me on wobbly legs.

“So beautiful,” she said. Tantra traced a finger from the mouth of the koi sucking my breast. She followed the orange and gold scales around my torso. Her lips repainted the bold lines of the graceful fins on my shoulder blades with soft kisses and wet licks. They followed the curling trail of ink between my legs and set me free.

Tantra tapped my clit then plunged her tongue into my folds, releasing my koi. The fish burst from my skin and into the air, swimming in circles around my head as I came in dizzying waves.
Tantra stood and lay, tits down, on the chair, her beautiful ass bare.

I buttoned my fly and picked up a fresh white rag. The work I had done earlier was bleeding and the skin red.

“I’m sorry, sugar,” I said.

“Didn’t feel a thing.”

I placed a tender kiss on the abused flesh at the base of her spine and promised myself I would stop thinking about pussy.

Tantra sucked in her breath and I squeezed my thighs together.

I sprayed her skin with water and washed the smooth flesh carefully before turning on my tattoo machine.

“Ready for a rough ride, baby?”

“You promise to kiss it all better?”

The ache she had just eased began to spread through my lower body. “And then some.”

I have a fan!

...who isn't my mom or best friend. My first fan letter arrived today in my inbox. Felt kinda great to know someone is out there reading what I'm writing and liking my words. They had read my story "From the Sea" published in Call of the Dark.

This is definately one of my favorite stories, especially for the story-telling quality. If you want a re-read its in the archives.

"Sipping..." Update

Heard back from S. today. She swam with me when I was in the fishtank (I am sad to say it has been a while since I did the backstroke). One of her current projects is an anthology whose theme is party drinks. My story "Sipping Margarita" is very lucky to be involved in this venture. So the edit is back and I have to take a look and see what advice she has for me.

I really admire her writing. She is awesome at desciption and getting to the heart of her stories.

What is your Erotic Personality?

My friend Sage is working on a fun movie book. Click the link below to find out more!

http://sagevivant.com/your_erotic_personality_movie.php

Who has the time?

Okay, I am always saying I don't have time to write. It's true. An hour a day. That's nothing. Nothing.

But another activity I neglect is reading. Ten minutes on the toilet with "Real Simple" just isn't cutting it. I miss those days in New York, when I had a guaranteed hour and a half a day commuting on the train. For sure time with my books.

A book a month now. Shit. I think it hurts my writing. I write better when I read more. It's a fact.

Good writing also inspires me to write. When I read a chapter from one of my favorite authors, I think, "I want to do that. I want to send someone to another place. A real place, as real as thier living room." Diana Gabaldon has written six books in a series about the same two people, each over 800 pages long! I have yet to finish my first novel. Short stories. Good short stories, but that novel is coming along a page a month.

I am babbling, probably because I am tired. But one of my goals is to read a book every two weeks instead of once a month. Doesn't seem like much, but thats double the inspiration.

A people's sexual revolution in China

SHANGHAI: When Sports Illustrated's swimsuit issue hit the newsstands last week in mainland China for the first time, with the sexy singer Beyoncé on the cover, the competition was fierce.
Readers here had already seen the February issue of For Him Magazine, which features a Chinese singer, A Duo, on its cover wearing a white V-neck leotard that reveals every other inch of her rather substantial figure.

Inside, A Duo poses like a dominatrix, clutching her breasts, wrapping her naked body in celluloid and bending, sweat-drenched, over a submissive man.

The racy For Him Magazine also offers tips on "how to do it in five minutes" (because a "sex break is the same as a coffee break") and features stories with titles like "The Dangerous Sex Journey of QiQi."

Read more of this articale by David Barboza

Quote of the Day

"Of all the delights of this world, man cares most for sexual intercourse. Yet he has left it out of his heaven." - Mark Twain

Psychopathia Sexualis

"Writer-director Bret Wood brings to the screen titillating vignettes that portray the deviant sexual behaviors catalogued in Richard von Krafft-Ebing's infamous medical text that shocked Victorian sensibilities. Dramatizing cases such as those of a masochist seeking carnal fulfillment from being dominated and a lesbian tutor who seduces her female pupil, this provocative film is a study in steamy soft-core fetishism and sexual exploitation."

This movie was strange, but also very interesting. This doctor was attempting to categorizing sexual behavior. Everyone should be put in their neat little box.

Sex can’t be defined this way. Well, at least I don’t think it can.

For example, I love for my partner to be in charge, a little rough, but on occasion I want to whip him into shape. We all know my sexual history. Well we ALL want to know my sexual history…;-) What we can deduce by my published writing is that I think girls are hot. And looky here on my ring finger, a wedding band. Yes, my husband was voted an honorary lesbian in college by the National Lesbian Society at his university, but let me assure you he has all the appropriate parts and knows how to use them amazing well.

My point is, sex isn’t cut and dry. Some days fresh from the shower, the scent of soap and fresh deodorant tickling my nose hairs; and others a sweaty ball sack can get me going. It’s not gross! Try it, try it, you will see…;-)

Anyhow, back to this movie. Interesting and strange vignettes dealing with this doctor’s thoughts on sex. Definitely worth a watch. I found the lesbian sex scene to be, shall we say, arousing. Although I did find a big part of the ridiculous in it.

Who's the Bomb?

Who's a nasty bitch? Why yours truely. I am so psyched to tell my devoted fans that I am the newest staff writer at Custom Erotica Source.com. Thank you! Thank you!

Now lets see if I can do this thing. As I have said earlier it wasn't easy writing that greenhouse number, but it was fun.

Anyhow, I am stoked...truely and for sure.

Have a Sexy Valentine's Day!

Kissing Record

MANILA, Philippines - More than 6,000 couples kissed simultaneously at midnight Saturday in the Philippines with organizers of the event claiming to have set a new world record.
Organizers of the annual pre- Valentine's Day celebration said they broke the record held by

Hungary, where 5,875 couples kissed simultaneously in Budapest in 2005.
"We broke the record, it's great," said Howard Belton, a Briton who spearheaded the event.

With fireworks, confetti, a giant TV screen, and red balloons as the backdrop, couples locked lips and hugged for 10 seconds following a countdown outside a Manila mall.

An unofficial tally showed 6,124 couples kissed simultaneously, organizers said, but the number needs to be verified by an independent auditor and approved by Guinness World Record officials before it becomes a world record.

"It was our first time to join the celebration and we participated to be able to beat the record of Hungary," said Katherine Hermosa, who was with her boyfriend.