I went on a cross-country teen tour for a couple summers in high school, and the second time around, I got lucky. Her name was Amber, and she was a total firecracker of a girlfriend: hot, adventurous, and horny, every high school boy’s fantasy. Problem was, this tour was heavily chaperoned, and finding time alone with Amber was difficult. Most nights, we stayed at youth hostels or in cabins, and the boys and girls were strictly separated. But as luck would have it, we had a couple nights ahead of camping in the woods. An ingenious plan was hatched.
Amber would be spending the night in a two person tent with her friend Sara, who just happened to be going out with my friend and tent-mate Matt. We agreed that at two in the morning, after everyone was asleep, Maria would slip out of her tent and sneak into ours. I would then sneak into Amber’s tent, and the two couples would spend the next three hours getting down and dirty. Condoms were purchased in anticipation of the campout, and the four of us could hardly contain our excitement.
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I was dating a guy I probably shouldn’t have, but I was young (22) and I didn’t know any better. He was 30, he made a lot of money, and he was the sort of guy who liked to show you how much money he made, the sort who would aggressively pay for everything just to show you how little money mattered to him. At this stage in my life, I’d be repulsed by that, but at the time I didn’t know any better (or maybe I did but wasn’t listening to the voices in my head)
Did I mention he was hot? Um, yeah. He was kind of hot, which is probably why I let myself get swept up by him instead of running away.
We’d gone out a handful of times, and while we hadn’t technically slept together yet, we’d gotten pretty close. So when he told me he wanted to take me away for Valentine’s, I was pretty darn excited and very ready for the next step.
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It was Sunday in Madrid, and I was on a 24-hour layover. It had taken two hours from the airport to the bus to the train to my hostel, which had a McDonald’s on one side, porn shops on the other, and a shower that fell off the wall. I needed a night out.
Manuel, my only friend in Madrid, was away for the weekend, “would be back to hang out, but probably late”, and wasn’t answering his cellphone. I didn’t have a phone of my own, but figured I could call him from anywhere. So I set out, armed with Manuel’s number, my Rough Guide, and enough Spanish to get myself in trouble.
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On a recent trip to Mexico, my friend and I met two American guys in an Irish pub (Yes, we went to an Irish pub in Mexico; it was recommended by our waitress). One of the bar’s regulars had already had his hands all over me, so when we were approached by two new guys schooled in American social graces, we welcomed their company. Nice enough guys. We probably wouldn’t have been friends with them back in the States, but good times had by all.
I wound up as the keeper of the email addresses, and upon our return to the States, I sent an email to my friend with everyone cc’ed. “Hey guys, just wanted to touch base with everyone’s email addresses. Photos shortly; hope you had a great rest of trip!”
A few days later, I had an email from Mike, who my friend and I agreed was the cuter of the two.
It began: “Hey, what a surprize to hear from you!”
Continued with a few details about “interesting” museums he’d seen, and ended with “I almost never make it to the city (New York, i.e., where I live), but it’s only about an hour away. Maybe I just need a good excuse, hint hint…”
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