We rolled into town. It was Saturday night in Akuryi. We set up camp and bumped into our friendly Swiss friends and Seth. Here, the Swiss informed all of us that we were in for the “fuck ride of our life.” Every night was, as the Swiss put it, “goal!” They said it was simple to "score" because hot girls completely recruited foreigners for sex. About time!
Okay, there had been some sexual disappointment so far, but supposedly my wait had come to an end. After one week in a foreign country, and one week in a tent, I was very ready for the warmth of a lady.
I brushed my teeth like a madman. Preparing for a potential hygienic experience with a female, I almost brushed the enamel off my teeth. Here the events took a twist.
“WE ARE READY TO FUCK!" came out from the Swiss tent.
I was starting to question the techniques of my fellow Swiss camping brothers.
The Swiss went on, “WHO…WHO IS READY TO FUCK?!!!!”
Hans, Seth and I were now very scared. We acknowledged that there might not be a consensus with the sexual tactics of some of our group’s more active members.
We decided that we would meet them at this “sex-hub club” rather than going there with them. The Swiss agreed. We tactful Americans decided to go and get some soda before going to the fuck-ride-of-our-life club.
Soda? Guess who else had the idea of getting something to drink? The Swiss. That was some plan we had there. We were now stuck with the Swiss for the rest of the evening. Well, of course, only up to the time when we all got, you know, laid.
The Swiss guys were on a one-month pass from the Army. They were both 22 year-old officers. As they described what they did everyday, somewhere in my brain, something told me that something was just not right.
The Swiss gentlemen looked at each other in an almost affectionate manner, smiled, looked back at us and then giggled an answer,
“Then what the fuck do you do?” I inquired now a little bitter.
They went on to explain the surveying, fieldwork, mapping exercises and forestry patrol that they had executed. To rub it all in, they were paid extremely well. They were paid to be in a damn army that would not ever go to war, kill anyone, or even hear a bullet anywhere near them. All that dangerous forestry work, Jesus!
“Let’s go find the girls that we are going to fuck!” announced the hard working Swiss soldiers.
“Swiss Soldier,” just writing that seems silly enough.
We departed for the club. This club was a very efficient club. The club remained open only from 1am to 3am. The club charged $17 for these compact and generous hours. Two hours was our window to be recruited for sex. Our Swiss members didn’t even wait to get in the club. No, these sluggers went right to it. One Swiss associate tapped the foot of an Icelandic girl in line, close in line mind you. The Swiss bachelor informed me and others in our crowded area that she was the girl he was going to fuck tonight.
At the club, there were beautiful women everywhere. Could it be true? Could I expect satisfying experiences from these beautiful, beautiful women?
T-minus one hour and thirty minutes before my getting-laid window was closed. Everything revolved around the dance floor. One had to mingle on the dance floor. After observing what seemed to be the protocol, I ventured to try. Can I dance? Do I like to dance? No. What was I doing?
was actually dancing to the likes of Bon Jovi, ABBA,
Something wrong happened. I started to enjoy myself. With the comforting thought that no one knew me, and that everyone else was drunk, I loosened my hips.
Brothers and sisters a young star was born! A star so bright that neither the people nor the dance floor could hold me. So, with my ever-demanding moves, the floor began to clear--give me space!
As I felt my wings spread open, well, I noticed that no one else was trying any other risky dance moves but me. Everyone was only swinging to the left and then to the right. The natives didn’t use their hips; they didn’t use their arms--just left swing and right swing.
There I was in my own little “Fame” movie, realizing that the space given to me on the dance floor didn’t feel so grand anymore. Unfortunately, only then, in the center of my own marked circle, did I consider that in a land as styled as Iceland, where the citizens all wore the same stylish shoes, pants, shirts, and haircuts, originality was not as revered as I had become accustomed to back home.
Now the circle that I had created on the dance floor felt like a big huge case of boils, pimples, and warts spreading slowly over my now very self-conscious gesticulating body.
Was it time to sit down away from the dance floor? Oh hell yeah it was time to sit down away from the dance floor! First, I had to make a not so obvious get away. So I reversed the dance function that I had started. I tamed my hips. Slowly the dancing area closed in around me. I was again accepted. I then immediately sat down and considered drinking like a sailor.
T minus 45 minutes until the romping window closed. Desperation started to set in. If not in the middle of
They played more Eurotrash, more Bon Jovi, and even the old Dallas TV show theme song! I was driven by succulent fantasies of me waking up in a heart shaped bed with two blonde Icelandic beauties.
At 3am our sex window closed and alone Hans and I scurried and sulked away back to our tent. Hans told me that he saw the Swiss soldiers without women. He said that they were flat out asking to sleep with girls. Hans went on to say that the Swiss even had another girl helping them. No wonder they were getting laid. Everyone eventually gets laid that way. As much as the story was comforting for my dignity, it did nothing for my penis. My penis was swollen with two weeks of bright, sleepless and womanless nights. I was so horny and so frustrated.
Later that same night, I was awoken by hollers three blocks away from the camping sight.
“Arg, woo wee, let’s FUCK!” the Swiss, I assumed, were coming home.
The Swiss, still without women, decided to honor us before retiring to their own tent. They came up and greeted us by shaking the shit out of our tent providing us an instant “El Nino” hurricane moment. The Swiss then went running off howling. At least they aren’t getting laid either, I thought.
Still later that night, one of the Swiss guys somehow managed to lure a girl into his tent. What torture this was. I could not sleep. I was horny and listening to pre-make-out tickling.
I tortured myself by fantasizing about a threesome. The fantasy of some horny Icelandic girl doing a threesome just for kicks was very arousing to me.
There are times when what we envision is so irrational that actually following through with it is so impossible and so far from reality that you find yourself getting out of your tent. You find yourself putting on your shoes, walking yourself right over to a giggling tent, knocking on the flap and greeting a Swiss occupant with,
“You wanna do a threesome?”
Of course, the obvious fact that it should have stayed a fantasy comes crashing down with the answer,
“No,” as the tent flap closes.
You are still standing there. You are wondering what you are doing. You are wondering what you have done. You are still horny. You know you are going to lie on your back and listen to someone else get laid all night. You have two weeks left in this foreign place and you are not getting laid.