What's the sexiest thing that's happened to you on a trip?
Jan 7th, 2004 | 04:58 PM
#64
Joined: Jun 2003
Posts: 283
Likes: 0
"during the attempt to mount"
I never thought that I'd see these words in this order in this context on this forum.
This is not the sexiest thing that's happened to me on a trip by far, but it is sexually related and is a story that I has entertained many of my friends.
When I was in Rome last September I met a guy (go figure). We spent a few evenings together, dinner, sight seeing, etc. After a couple of evenings of driving around with him and stopping at various piazzas I realized that the reason that you see so many Italians making out in public is not because they are overly romantic, but because they all live with relatives and have nowhere else to go. Alas, I digress.
One evening the guy calls me and asks if I want to go to some parties. Of course I want to go to some parties. I'm thinking dancing, drinking, mingling, meeting new people, etc. I get dressed in my newly purchased black leather pointy-toed, spike-heeled, lace up to the knee black boots, a very nice black skirt and new white top. I look good, I feel good and I'm ready for a night of partying.
We end up at the "party," which is hosted by the Italian Friends of Cuba. An extremely left wing political group. There was music, food, and lots of pro-Castro, Anti-American literature. We hung out with the organizors of the group and had a great time.
We leave after 1am. Upon driving away the guy asks if I want to go to another party. I'm wondering how many political groups he's involved with. Sure, I want to go to another party, especially since I don't feel that my new boots and top have had an appreciative audience.
We drive and drive and drive. We drive out of Rome. We drive into what appears to be the countryside. It's dark. Finally we end up at a nightclub in what appears to be the middle of nowhere. Yipee, a disco, I get to dance!
The guy tells me that his "friend" is having a private party at this nightclub. The guy pays 20 euros and gets a drink card. He says "stay with me." Okay, whatever guy I make no promises.
This club was playing the absolutely worst American music imaginable. I didn't even recognize the artists or the songs. There was a guy, quite unattractive, with plucked eyebrows, wearing cut up jean shorts and combat boots, dancing in a cage. There was another person, the fattest Italian man I've ever seen dancing on a cube. He was bald and appeared to have breasts. The guy tells me that the fat big-boobed man was the owner of the club.
I look around and realize that many of the women on the dancefloor were wearing what can only be described as stripper outfits. Then I notice that there are *groups* of people, men & women dancing really close together, almost as if they were in a huddle. Hmmm.
So I ask, "where's your 'friend'?" The guy shrugs. I eye the drink card. Finally, he gives up the drink card and I get a drink of something that tasted like Tang, which was served in a dixie cup. I think it's going to take a lot more than a dixie cup of this stuff to get me feeling this nightclub.
After what seemed like forever, my friend takes my hand says we'll look for his "friend." We walk around and I realize that what I thought were velvet wall coverings were actually curtains.
The guy pulls one of the curtains aside. Inside is a completely dark space. So dark that I can't see how big it is or how many people are inside. But, I can definately hear and SMELL them. The guy looks at me. I look at him. He moves to the next curtain. Again a dark room with a lot of heavy breathing. We continue this process until we reach the last curtain. This time the guy steps inside the dark space. I step into the space behind him. There is clearly someone directly in front of us. This person is either really short (sorry, vertically challenged) or on their knees in front of another person who is sitting down. It's so dark that I couldn't tell if they were male, female, or any combination of the two. They could not have been more than a few inches in front of us. The guy just stands there. I back out of the space. I mean come on, how rude can you be?
We then walk upstairs to the balcony where there is series of very large rooms. There is a sign above the entrance that says coupli something or other. The guy asked if I knew what that meant. Well I don't speak Italian, but I'm not an idiot. Si, couples only, right? The guy says, let's look. Okay, I'm here now, why not? I must admit that my curiousity was peaked.
We entered a large room with assorted furniture, beds, couches, chairs, etc. The lights were low, but there was at least some light unlike the curtained alcoves downstairs.
We stood in the doorway while our eyes adjusted. I realize that there are people having sex everywhere. Strangely, the only sound that I hear is one woman moaning. I desperately try to figure out what body the sounds are coming from (no pun intended).
There was a pile of people on a round couch off to one side of the room. It was nothing but a mass of sweaty limbs. I couldn't even figure out how many people were in that group.
We both stand there transfixed by the sight. I slipped my hand in my purse and felt my camera. I wonder if I could take pictures without the flash. I weigh the odds of being attacked by an angry mob of sexed up naked people. I wonder if they would chase me out of the club sans clothing and if I could outrun them in my new boots.
Out of nowhere I hear a spank. A loud spank. It is repeated and then followed by moans. The guy starts to laugh, LOUDLY. This snapped me back to reality. What the hell was I doing there? Why did this guy bring me to this place (a rather naive question, I know)?
I walked out. I walked slowly, calmly, purposefully, leaving the sounds of group sex behind me in the dark. The guy chases me.
What is wrong, he asks. I give him the look that has sent many a man scurrying away with their tails between their legs. He stupidly persists. I ask him where his "imaginary friend" was? He becomes defensive. He declares, you are crazy! He states this over and over again as if they are the only english words he knows. These words become his mantra.
The more defensive he got, the more angry I got. All of a sudden I thought, screw this trying to be the nice and appreciative tourist crap. I got ghetto on him, right there, right then, right in the parking lot. Yes, ghetto. I had the neck moving, the fingers pointing, and my pointy toes tapping. Who do you think you are kidding guy? Be a man and be honest.
He got in his car and demanded that I get in too. Uh uh. Nope. I wasn't getting in that car until he acknowledged the error of his ways. After a lot of his pleading, I finally got into the car. Whereby, I proceeded to grab the keys out of the ignition. He looked at me with pure shock and amazement. I've never seen a woman do that, he says. Well you haven't tried this with too many Americans have you, Mr. MyFriendIsHavingAPrivateParty?
I finally relinquished his keys and he brought me back to my hotel. Believe me, it was a long, very quite ride back into Rome.
All's well that ends well as they say. Afterall, you can't blame a guy for trying. The guy is still my friend, although he noticebly avoids touching me now. LOL.
In the interest of providing informative and useful information for travelers, I have two things to tell anyone who is thinking of placing this "nightclub" on their trip agenda:
1. I didn't see any condom usage. Bad, bad, bad.
2. All of the furniture was upholstered in fabric. Fabric! With no protective covers. Gross!
I never thought that I'd see these words in this order in this context on this forum.
This is not the sexiest thing that's happened to me on a trip by far, but it is sexually related and is a story that I has entertained many of my friends.
When I was in Rome last September I met a guy (go figure). We spent a few evenings together, dinner, sight seeing, etc. After a couple of evenings of driving around with him and stopping at various piazzas I realized that the reason that you see so many Italians making out in public is not because they are overly romantic, but because they all live with relatives and have nowhere else to go. Alas, I digress.
One evening the guy calls me and asks if I want to go to some parties. Of course I want to go to some parties. I'm thinking dancing, drinking, mingling, meeting new people, etc. I get dressed in my newly purchased black leather pointy-toed, spike-heeled, lace up to the knee black boots, a very nice black skirt and new white top. I look good, I feel good and I'm ready for a night of partying.
We end up at the "party," which is hosted by the Italian Friends of Cuba. An extremely left wing political group. There was music, food, and lots of pro-Castro, Anti-American literature. We hung out with the organizors of the group and had a great time.
We leave after 1am. Upon driving away the guy asks if I want to go to another party. I'm wondering how many political groups he's involved with. Sure, I want to go to another party, especially since I don't feel that my new boots and top have had an appreciative audience.
We drive and drive and drive. We drive out of Rome. We drive into what appears to be the countryside. It's dark. Finally we end up at a nightclub in what appears to be the middle of nowhere. Yipee, a disco, I get to dance!
The guy tells me that his "friend" is having a private party at this nightclub. The guy pays 20 euros and gets a drink card. He says "stay with me." Okay, whatever guy I make no promises.
This club was playing the absolutely worst American music imaginable. I didn't even recognize the artists or the songs. There was a guy, quite unattractive, with plucked eyebrows, wearing cut up jean shorts and combat boots, dancing in a cage. There was another person, the fattest Italian man I've ever seen dancing on a cube. He was bald and appeared to have breasts. The guy tells me that the fat big-boobed man was the owner of the club.
I look around and realize that many of the women on the dancefloor were wearing what can only be described as stripper outfits. Then I notice that there are *groups* of people, men & women dancing really close together, almost as if they were in a huddle. Hmmm.
So I ask, "where's your 'friend'?" The guy shrugs. I eye the drink card. Finally, he gives up the drink card and I get a drink of something that tasted like Tang, which was served in a dixie cup. I think it's going to take a lot more than a dixie cup of this stuff to get me feeling this nightclub.
After what seemed like forever, my friend takes my hand says we'll look for his "friend." We walk around and I realize that what I thought were velvet wall coverings were actually curtains.
The guy pulls one of the curtains aside. Inside is a completely dark space. So dark that I can't see how big it is or how many people are inside. But, I can definately hear and SMELL them. The guy looks at me. I look at him. He moves to the next curtain. Again a dark room with a lot of heavy breathing. We continue this process until we reach the last curtain. This time the guy steps inside the dark space. I step into the space behind him. There is clearly someone directly in front of us. This person is either really short (sorry, vertically challenged) or on their knees in front of another person who is sitting down. It's so dark that I couldn't tell if they were male, female, or any combination of the two. They could not have been more than a few inches in front of us. The guy just stands there. I back out of the space. I mean come on, how rude can you be?
We then walk upstairs to the balcony where there is series of very large rooms. There is a sign above the entrance that says coupli something or other. The guy asked if I knew what that meant. Well I don't speak Italian, but I'm not an idiot. Si, couples only, right? The guy says, let's look. Okay, I'm here now, why not? I must admit that my curiousity was peaked.
We entered a large room with assorted furniture, beds, couches, chairs, etc. The lights were low, but there was at least some light unlike the curtained alcoves downstairs.
We stood in the doorway while our eyes adjusted. I realize that there are people having sex everywhere. Strangely, the only sound that I hear is one woman moaning. I desperately try to figure out what body the sounds are coming from (no pun intended).
There was a pile of people on a round couch off to one side of the room. It was nothing but a mass of sweaty limbs. I couldn't even figure out how many people were in that group.
We both stand there transfixed by the sight. I slipped my hand in my purse and felt my camera. I wonder if I could take pictures without the flash. I weigh the odds of being attacked by an angry mob of sexed up naked people. I wonder if they would chase me out of the club sans clothing and if I could outrun them in my new boots.
Out of nowhere I hear a spank. A loud spank. It is repeated and then followed by moans. The guy starts to laugh, LOUDLY. This snapped me back to reality. What the hell was I doing there? Why did this guy bring me to this place (a rather naive question, I know)?
I walked out. I walked slowly, calmly, purposefully, leaving the sounds of group sex behind me in the dark. The guy chases me.
What is wrong, he asks. I give him the look that has sent many a man scurrying away with their tails between their legs. He stupidly persists. I ask him where his "imaginary friend" was? He becomes defensive. He declares, you are crazy! He states this over and over again as if they are the only english words he knows. These words become his mantra.
The more defensive he got, the more angry I got. All of a sudden I thought, screw this trying to be the nice and appreciative tourist crap. I got ghetto on him, right there, right then, right in the parking lot. Yes, ghetto. I had the neck moving, the fingers pointing, and my pointy toes tapping. Who do you think you are kidding guy? Be a man and be honest.
He got in his car and demanded that I get in too. Uh uh. Nope. I wasn't getting in that car until he acknowledged the error of his ways. After a lot of his pleading, I finally got into the car. Whereby, I proceeded to grab the keys out of the ignition. He looked at me with pure shock and amazement. I've never seen a woman do that, he says. Well you haven't tried this with too many Americans have you, Mr. MyFriendIsHavingAPrivateParty?
I finally relinquished his keys and he brought me back to my hotel. Believe me, it was a long, very quite ride back into Rome.
All's well that ends well as they say. Afterall, you can't blame a guy for trying. The guy is still my friend, although he noticebly avoids touching me now. LOL.
In the interest of providing informative and useful information for travelers, I have two things to tell anyone who is thinking of placing this "nightclub" on their trip agenda:
1. I didn't see any condom usage. Bad, bad, bad.
2. All of the furniture was upholstered in fabric. Fabric! With no protective covers. Gross!
Jan 7th, 2004 | 06:01 PM
#67
Joined: Jan 2003
Posts: 1,283
Likes: 0
Who couldn't be curious enough to check out this post? 
Too funny!
I am regretting ever having gone ANYWHERE in my travels with a guy ..look at all I've missed! Sigh. Actually, that's not completely true..my first trip to Europe was to Spain, specifically the Costa del Sol.
I got a "reputation" there, as each night I went to the same bar with different women from the group I was with. The next morning whatever woman I had gone with never showed up for breakfast, and was quite hungover and sick for a day or two, while I was just fine, thank you!
Not what I'd call romantic, but on our last night there (and with the only girl left who'd go out with me) we met some obnoxious, fanny pinching Spainards who would not take "NO" for an answer..we ran to the car & I had the keys in my hand; the other girl jumped into the passenger seat. Right, we slammed the door, locked them, and the guys were upon us, whereupon the passenger seat window fell down and a guy stuck his hand in and groped the other girls boob!
Fast forward to the next trip where my then husband was ill so I walked around Rome by myself. Just like in the movies, a handsome Italian guy pulled along side me at the curb in a red sports car asking me for a ride - I flashed my left ring finger saying "marito" whereupon he flashed his!
Last year in Sydney on business I was walking back to the hotel when I heard the voice of an angel singing (think Andrea Botcelli). I sat and listened and then walked up to him and asked if he had a CD...we chatted for awhile and then he asked if I would mind if he dedicated a song to me? Um...let's see, do I mind if tall, dark, handsome Italian / Australian men sing to me? I think not. Months later, I did get an email that his CD was finished and have purchased it, and it's wonderful.
June 2003 I was in Avignon and while my husband was in the Popes Palace I was finishing up gift shopping and stepped from bright sunlight into a dark shop...temporarily blinded, very close to my left ear, I heard "Bonjour Madame"....blinking (unattractively, I'm sure) with my vision clearing there was this guy with a ponytail who was absolutely gorgeous...I have no idea what either one of us said...
Geez, this is so PG rated compared to everyone else! I will continue to monitor this site and live vicariously!
Melodie
Too funny!I am regretting ever having gone ANYWHERE in my travels with a guy ..look at all I've missed! Sigh. Actually, that's not completely true..my first trip to Europe was to Spain, specifically the Costa del Sol.
I got a "reputation" there, as each night I went to the same bar with different women from the group I was with. The next morning whatever woman I had gone with never showed up for breakfast, and was quite hungover and sick for a day or two, while I was just fine, thank you!
Not what I'd call romantic, but on our last night there (and with the only girl left who'd go out with me) we met some obnoxious, fanny pinching Spainards who would not take "NO" for an answer..we ran to the car & I had the keys in my hand; the other girl jumped into the passenger seat. Right, we slammed the door, locked them, and the guys were upon us, whereupon the passenger seat window fell down and a guy stuck his hand in and groped the other girls boob!
Fast forward to the next trip where my then husband was ill so I walked around Rome by myself. Just like in the movies, a handsome Italian guy pulled along side me at the curb in a red sports car asking me for a ride - I flashed my left ring finger saying "marito" whereupon he flashed his!
Last year in Sydney on business I was walking back to the hotel when I heard the voice of an angel singing (think Andrea Botcelli). I sat and listened and then walked up to him and asked if he had a CD...we chatted for awhile and then he asked if I would mind if he dedicated a song to me? Um...let's see, do I mind if tall, dark, handsome Italian / Australian men sing to me? I think not. Months later, I did get an email that his CD was finished and have purchased it, and it's wonderful.
June 2003 I was in Avignon and while my husband was in the Popes Palace I was finishing up gift shopping and stepped from bright sunlight into a dark shop...temporarily blinded, very close to my left ear, I heard "Bonjour Madame"....blinking (unattractively, I'm sure) with my vision clearing there was this guy with a ponytail who was absolutely gorgeous...I have no idea what either one of us said...
Geez, this is so PG rated compared to everyone else! I will continue to monitor this site and live vicariously!
Melodie
Jan 7th, 2004 | 06:04 PM
#68
Original Poster
Joined: Jan 2003
Posts: 5,112
Likes: 0
Oh MizzEve, I hardly know where to begin.
First of all, I told you those boots were bad for your feet, and now you realize you can't even run in them!
Your story is funny, but has its scary side. I'm glad you had the true grit to stand up to this guy, but how well did you know him? Seems like a potentially dangerous situation to me. Unknown drink (there are some nasty drugs out there these days), weird place, you are alone and don't speak the language, and this guy has clearly lied to you. Definitely not sexy.
On the other hand, you get big points for even thinking about taking photos. Made me laugh out loud at the thought. Was your camera digital? They are so handy in low light situations.
Thanks for sharing!
First of all, I told you those boots were bad for your feet, and now you realize you can't even run in them!
Your story is funny, but has its scary side. I'm glad you had the true grit to stand up to this guy, but how well did you know him? Seems like a potentially dangerous situation to me. Unknown drink (there are some nasty drugs out there these days), weird place, you are alone and don't speak the language, and this guy has clearly lied to you. Definitely not sexy.
On the other hand, you get big points for even thinking about taking photos. Made me laugh out loud at the thought. Was your camera digital? They are so handy in low light situations.
Thanks for sharing!
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