Latvianus

Hiya, Mrs. Balloon Knot, how goes it?

She’s Latvian, I’m from the US…

If we were a couple, we’d be Latvianus.

I thought long and hard about this title because I really needed to capture the relevance of the moment.

Latvianus sounds just about perfection…

So, lets break down the first night in Riga. A play-by-play account. As you are probably well aware, I’ve been on a bit a dry spell. Krakow, Poland was nothing more than a hook up scene with balloontits and Ukraine was like the Champagne Room at the best strip club in the world, except you didn’t have any money so you were stuck in an adjacent glass box and weren’t allowed to touch or play. So yeah, its been slow going.

Couple that with the bonehead play of booking my current hotel on the wrong days makes for an especially rough spell. But remember that front desk girl throwed-ed me a bone by offering up the hotel apartment for me. Only to find out that the hotel apartment was hers and I was in the adjacent room. Well, after front-desk girl’s shift she came back to the apartment and, I guess, forgot that I was there because she damn near screamed her head off. “WTF are you doing in my apartment?!”

Then I explained that I was the guy earlier that she offered up the apartment to… and she quickly remembered. “Oh yeah, sorry, long day. Forgot about it. Wanna go grab some drinks? I could really use some loosening up. Just let me change real quick.”

Well this will be a fun night.

“Plus it allows us to get to know one another better too…”

Yeah, whatever you need to make the inevitable justified.

pay deesman jhees money

So she says that there is a bar nearby that we can go to and hang out. I say that I’m worried about underground bars because of the scams and stuff and she’s like, “but you’re with me. I speak the language. Pretty sure you aren’t going to be scammed.” So I agree and we’re off to some bar that resembled the place in Rounders where KGB plays his cards at. It wasn’t even what I’d consider a bar. It looked like a rec room for a college dorm. And there were these weird wicker chairs like it thought that it was in a Hawaiian setting. Oddest place I’ve ever been to.

Regardless, we start drinking. I ask her if she’s had dinner yet, or if she wanted to get some — because it didn’t look like this place had any food.

“Oh, no. We don’t need to get food. I get from room service. Just as long as we are back before 11 pm — we’ll be fine.”

Considering it was about 8 at that point, I thought we were going to be back with plenty of time. And, we were. But not before this girl just drank four glasses of wine and some Riga Black Balsam — which, at 90 proof, does pack a bit of a wallop. And it is bitter. Sweet, but bitter.

I stuck to the basics, Guinness and some Jameson to ensure that I was in control. I tried the RBB but it was like herbal cough syrup. That is about as appetizing as it sounds.

So we get to chatting, Latvia and I… and we quickly realize that we have absolutely zero in common. Other than the fact that we’re both going to be having sex and ordering room service in the near future. Oh, and that she’s fake blonde and I like blondes (even fake ones).

She’d never been out of Riga. I wish I was kidding. I think my hometown gives Riga a run for its money in total size. Now my hometown doesn’t have bridges and whatnot, but I’d find it difficult to think that walking to Brothers Pizza from my house is longer than traveling from one end of downtown Riga to the other. I could be mistaken but even if I was, it wouldn’t be off by much.

I mean it was kinda adorable but I felt actually bad for her — I mean that is a pretty sheltered life. Anyway, I spoke of my travels and what America is like. She tells me that she learned English from “Fran Drescher, the Nanny.” I try not to stab myself in the neck with a jagged piece of glass but quickly change the subject. She likes basketball, ballet and ice skating. I like not having to fake like I agree with her. She loves Jesus. I love staring at her Jesus cross. It’s so beautiful. Everything that came up pitted us — if I was actually going to be truthful — on polar opposites.

Pretty sure I know what Jesus would do...

But the alcohol started to make her amusing. And finally, she’s just like, “I’m hungry.”

I excuse myself to the bathroom, which is on the street level and say that I’ll be right back and then we can leave. But as I’m leaving the restroom, she grabs me and we walk out. After about 50 feet I ask her how much I owe her and she’s like, “BAHAHAHA the bill? We don’t pay bill here.”

I guess it serves them right for having the bathrooms on the street level and the bar itself two flights of stairs down — and no cameras checking out the action. But I did feel a little bad about it. No mind, just can’t go there again.

So we get back into the hotel and its like 10 pm. She asks me what I want for room service and then walks over to the lobby bar and presumably orders. She walks back to me, “food is going to take like an hour but we’ll get it delivered to the room.” She continues…

“Oh what could we do for the next hour or so? Hmm. Oh I have an idea.”

And I’m on the same page. Yes, that. We can do whatever that is. Because I am so interested in nothing else you’ve said tonight.

She tells me to head back to the apartment and she’ll be there in 5 minutes. Discretion, of course.

So I do… and she does. And soon enough we’re going at it. I’m doing my normal routine with foreplay and everything seems great. I was kinda hungry after all. She reciprocates and we’re getting ready for deep impact. I put on the condom and we’re off. In the middle of the first half, she turns to me mid-canine and says, “anus”.

Um, pardon?

“Anus, you put it in now.” Uhhhh, yeah I’m not so sure that I want to be doing that. So that stops the proceedings. I pull out and we talk it out. Now I’ve tried anal before and, well, emphasis on “tried”. It didn’t work out so well —  for the girl or for me — so I have had apprehensions ever since. She tells me that she loves it but understands. She then tells me to sit down on the couch and make myself comfortable while she’s manually manipulating my joystick. Then she pulls the porn star straddle couch move out of her bag of tricks and its that girl-on-top thing going on.

That goes on for about 5 minutes and then she spins around and does reverse cowgirl. I’m just kinda chilling there and I don’t even realize it but in one fell swoop, the sensation changes. She kind of went all the way up, grabbed my cock at the shaft and came straight down, yet sensationally tighter.

And just like that, I was having anal sex. I don’t quite know if she was the anal champion of Latvia but it was like, “No Whammies, No Whammies, STOP!” and before I could even realize it, my junk was all up in her trunk. And I have to say, it was pretty awesome. Way better than the crying fit that “Hey-lets-have-sex-in-the-butt” girl had during that one time several years ago in the 40 minutes of me-clearly-not-getting-anything-more-than-the-pee-hole-up-in-there.

Rectum? Damn near… ehh, nevermind.

Sometimes, perceptions change. And ladies, I’m here to empower you. If you want buttsecks, and you can work it out so it doesn’t seem like I’m killing you, then you have my permission to buttsecks it all that you want.

Soundtrack of the Moment: My Humps

So there we are, reverse cowgirl buttsecks on the couch and without a care in the world. She’s just doing her thing — whatever that thing is that girls do when they have a penis inserted in their butt. If you know I’m assuming that you just know what that thing is.

To describe what she was doing, I can say that she had one hand on the couch propping her up and I’m guessing the other was playing DJ Hero. This goes on for about 10 minutes until finally she looks up, “Oh, hi, Lars. Yeah, just put it on the table. We’re a little busy.”

I start laughing and I’m like “very funny.”

Then I hear the unmistakable sound of a tray with plates and food on them, along with silverware “clink” off the table. I look around my Cowgirl Up! and I’m staring down the lobby bartender.

Ward. Awk-ward.

The only thing I could come up with was “Sorry buddy, wasn’t expecting company.”

His response: “Please, carry on. Don’t mind me.” Then he walks out.

My first thought comes and I say to Latvia, “Um, is that going to be a problem for you? I mean, you know, having reverse cowgirl anal sex with somebody at the hotel.”

“Oh no, that’s Gay Lars. I was just telling him two days ago that I really need to get laid. He’ll be happy for me.”

Now I would normally ask how people would react to that, if you were found in a similar situation. However, I’m not going to because I already know: I have been on the other side before.

In Philadelphia, after a long day with the Penn Relays, I checked into my hotel room, only to realize that the television was on. Thinking that was a bit odd, yet undeterred, I proceeded through the corridor, past the bathroom and towards the opening of the main room, only to see a man and a woman in reverse cowgirl shooting a porno. I promptly started laughing and then apologizing for obviously being in the wrong room. But not before moving the tripod and camera of the porno to the side of the bed, upon request of the female.

Just a side note, porn is shot in hotel rooms that are furthest from the elevator. Be wary.

So, I did feel for Lars, because that is a lot of sensory overload to take in. Especially for a gay. Seeing, presumably for the first time, a co-worker in the midst of reverse cowgirl anal and playing with her hoohah, vajayjay, Pandora’s box, ATM machine pretty place (except when it isn’t a pretty place, amirite?). And then staring down me and mein Schwanz.

Regardless, we finally finish up the session and have our room service, which now suddenly has a whole new meaning in my world. The night concludes and I retreat back to my room while Latvia passes out.

This morning I woke up earlier than Latvia and took a shower. She woke up shortly after and came in and joined me. No big deal, partner showering saves water and Riga is a green city. Plus hangover hooking up and morning-after-sex sex is fun. Running through a chilly apartment, wet and searching for a condom isn’t though. Thank god for heated floors.

So we did that and she got dressed and went down for her scheduled work day.

I went to breakfast and saw that there was a new lobby bartender. I figured that I was in the clear. And I was…

Until 4 pm today when there was a knock on the door and I answered it.

“Just need to see if the mini fridge is fully stocked…”

Good afternoon Lars. Or should I say, Good afternoon Gay Lars that just saw me have sex with his co-worker the night before. “Sure, didn’t take anything out of it, so go right ahead.”

[Gay Lars checks refrigerator]

“Nothing taken. Good. Thank you.” He then proceeds to the door and I think I’m in the clear based on professional courtesy…

“By the way, she’s walking bowlegged. And for good reason too. Congratulations. I’ll have your order ready again tonight.”

Now it was a compliment so I wasn’t offended. Plus it was funny. But I’d like to get your feedback. Would you be offended or freaked out if a gay guy all but overtly praised your anatomical dimensions?

Discuss.

Looking forward to another Classic Club Sandwich. That was tasty.

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One thought on “Latvianus

  1. Paul says:

    I wouldn’t be freaked out at all. I think it’s kind of like when a gay guy compliments you on your outfit. You know you’re doing something right. Take it for what it is – a nice ego boost

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