(a story I wrote in November 2007)
Craigslist was successful, for once, last night! I finally got that European itch scratched! He tore my shit up. Seriously. I don't think I'll be able to have any type of sexual contact for a few weeks. I'm pretty sure I was a few thrusts short of having to get labial stitches.
I had a pretty great night with this guy (who I will refer to as "The Bavarian Guy"). He was the funniest German I had ever met in my life, considering most of the Germans I've met had almost no sense of humor whatsoever. His impersonation of Romanians, Swiss, and Berliners kept the evening alive and so did the coffee, alcohol, and cigarettes.
Yesterday, he responded to my ad that I posted a few days ago for Europeans and Brits on CL.
Fun in Long Beach sounds great to me.
People always asking me if I was british but I'm german, who living here in LA now for 4 years.
I'm working for a german media company as a manager. I'm single 6 foot tall blonde. I'm a little bored with my life right now and I'm not sure if it's time to move on and go somewhere else. So a blind date in Long Beach Sounds great to me .... so just let me know that I qualify....:-)
[The Bavarian Guy]"
He attached two photos, which were tiny, but looked good and he didn't seem like a pompous ass, so I decided he would be the victor out of all the contenders sitting in my inbox.
We arranged to meet at the Starbucks down the street from my house at 9:00. I ended up arriving about fifteen minutes late and when I got there, I ended up walking right past him as neither of us could recognize each other (he only saw unidentifiable photographs of me on the ad I posted). We ended up hanging out at Starbucks for a couple of hours, smoking cigarettes, drinking coffee, and talking about Europe and random German accents.
TBG: Zee Swiss-German accent eez pretty funny. Zey sound like zis: HHHAWKINDA EINE TOUSAND HAWKAHWNAKDSNJDS
He proceeded to make guttural throat noises for 30 seconds with subtle laughter in between. It was both amusing and sexy.
Me: Wow, that's a real word in Schweizerdeutsch! And in Arabic too! *HAWK* That means something.
TBG: Ja! And zee Romanians? Oh, zey ah so funny. I vent to Romania vunce to meet vis some vork peoples and vee ver een Transylvania. All I heard vas HARRR HARRR HARRR HARRR HARRR. Zat ees how zey talk!
I cracked up the entire time due to a combination of being able to relate to his feelings regarding the Romanian accent (I've hung out with a few Romanian people and that is EXACTLY how they sound) and some relief that there are Germans in America with a sense of humor. After we finished with the coffee, we got into his Volvo to find a bar to get some drinks.
Me: What type of venue are you looking for? Something quiet? Something noisy? Music?
TBG: Oh, just any kind of place vis good drinks.
In European yuppie-speak, "good drinks" translates into "expensive drinks," so I directed him towards the Yard House at Shoreline Village where we imbibed on Lambic, Hefeweizen, and St. Paul-something-or-other-German-beer-I-couldn't-quite-catch-because-he-speaks-very-fast-with-a-heavy-accent. We delved into the sports we were into, the type of movies we like, teenage stories, and his current living and job situation while smoking cigarettes on the patio up until closing time. Once it was time to leave, we got back into his car where he let it be known that he received a breathalyzer as a birthday gift this past July. After seven beers or so, he blew a .08 while I blew a .02 after four drinks. Being a lightweight drinker, I was thoroughly impressed with myself.
After driving around for a while trying to figure out where to go, my mind finally snapped awake and suggested we could hang out at the beach since everything else was closed (drinking and post-drinking is not a good time to ask me questions). We arrived, grabbed a large beach towel out of his trunk, and headed towards the sandy shores of Long Beach where we laid the blanket down in a seemingly remote section of the beach. Not even 30 seconds after sitting down, we were already digging our nails into each other's skin, biting at the lips, and digging into each other's baby-makers. He climbed on top of me as we continued to grope each other when all of a sudden, it got really cheesy.
TBG [making eye contact, thick German accent]: You are so beautiful. You haf amazing eyes. [insert additional myriad of cheesy, pre-coital compliments]
Me: Right. Tell me in German.
Me: You read my ad, man. Tell me in German.
TBG [most seductive voice possible]: Du bist so heiss, sehr herrlich. BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH [insert German dirty talk]
And away we went at it. For like, two hours. On that fucking gritty Long Beach sand. The guy wouldn't climax to save his life and I got sore about 45 minutes into it, which is extremely unusual for me as my sexual endurance and stamina is typically top-notch. I tried to keep it as quiet as possible, but with his guttural German shouting and me climaxing every five minutes with a sore vagina, we ended up gaining a 3 AM audience. There were about five different people watching us at different times and we were fairly certain one of them was taking pictures. The friction of our movement and bodyweight combined ended up digging us a hole about 3 - 5 inches into the sand and it eventually got very, very uncomfortable for us to continue having sex when sand started to get into our teeth, eyes, and eventually, crotch. I, literally, had sand in my clit.
Me [on all fours, completely exhausted]: Do you uh, *huff* wanna uh, *huff* get a hotel instead? This is getting reeeeaaaaaaally uncomfortable.
TBG [on his knees, completely sore and almost bruised]: Ah, ja, vee get a uh, *huff* hotel room. Verr is zee nearest hotel?
Me: Uh, down uh, *huff* that way. Can we uh, get some lube first?
TBG: Some vat?
TBG: Ah, yes! Verr do zey haf at dees time of night?
By the time we got to 7-11 on Pine Ave., my crotch was so sore I nearly collapsed in the feminine hygiene aisle -- the wonderful bits between my legs had turned into the fiery death of Dresden 1945. We grabbed a couple of bottles of water and some smokes and headed out the door with all of the equipment in a plastic bag and drove over to the Westin of Long Beach. We casually walked into the lobby of the hotel, completely covered in sand with a plastic bag full of water, cigarettes, and lubrication, breathing heavily through our mouths. My hair was a hot, sandy, ghetto mess. We didn't look suspicious at all.
Front Desk: Can I help you?
TBG: Vee vould like a room.
Front Desk: What?
Me: Do you have a vacancy?
Front Desk: Yes, we do, but all we have are two bedded suites at the rate of $300.
TBG: That's fine. *drops credit card on the counter*
Front Desk: Key to the mini-bar?
TBG: Yes, please.
Front Desk: Did you self park or was it valet?
Front Desk: Would you like that attached to your hotel bill?
We checked in, DASHED to the elevator, and into the room where we wasted no time disrobing and deflowering the floor, the sink, the shower, and every other top surface in the hotel room. The initial hotel room penetration was almost cut short when I learned (the hard way) that the lube we had purchased was warming liquid lube. I about burst into tears while my sore vagina and its sand-induced cuts about burst into flames and exploded when I let out a blood-curdling scream. I eventually got over the pain and we resumed our humanly activities. In between the loud "OH MY GOD!" "FUCK!" "JESUS!" and "SCHEISSE, SCHEISSE!," one of the guests on our floor ended up calling hotel security thinking someone was getting raped and/or murdered as the emergency loudspeaker blared some type of gibberish about staying in our rooms. We then heard walkie-talkies outside of our door, followed by a loud knock at the room across from ours, but we ignored it and continued with our recreational procreation. It was goddamned awesome.
Finally, after shower blowjobs, mirror sex, and what I assumed to be verbal Hitler Youth rallying in German, he climaxed around 5:00 AM. He finally. Fucking. Climaxed. I was relieved. After all of the sexual chaos, I finally knew why Poland fell to Germany in 1939. I was amazed... and sore. I must have climaxed about 15 times in that evening.
Blitzkrieg: 3; Poland / Czechoslovakia / Asia: 0 - losing a war never felt so great!
I fell into a pleasant sleep, only to be woken up at 7 AM by giant 30 year old Bavarian paws groping my naughty bits. We did it again for a half hour and fell asleep until noon, where he, once again, groped and ravaged me. Still entirely sore, I looked at the clock and told him we had to check out in a minute in hopes of his never-ending hard-on tucking itself away to no avail.
TGG: Vee still haf one more hour, zee clocks haf not changed in here yet.
Stupid Day Light Savings.
Once again, German dirty talk commenced while I prayed for an ambulance for a half hour. Once we were finished, he brewed coffee while we both got cleaned up, gathered all of our things, and got ready to check out. He dropped me off at the parking lot where I had parked my car the night before and I thanked him for a wonderful evening as he did the same. "We should do this again," I said as I grabbed the handle to open the door. He stopped me.
TBG: Can I take a picture of you? You haf sucha beautiful face.
Me: On the condition that I can return the favor.
TBG: Of course! [pulls Blackberry out of his pocket, snaps a photo] Schatzi!
And as a woman of my word, I indeed returned the favor.
This is the "I just fucked a 21 year old Asian for several hours on the beach and in a $300 hotel room" look, circa this morning.