In this week’s installment of Pennetration, we bring you across many timezones to Australia. The famed junior semester abroad is supposed to be a “cultural experience,” but usually ends up being fueled by sex, drugs and techno music. You take your pick with this tale from way down under:
Before I set sail for my semester abroad in Australia, I frequently fantasized about the possibility of getting lucky on a beach with a gorgeous Australian surfer boy who would rock my world down under, over, and every way in between. But a month and a half in, my fantasies had not yet been translated into reality, leaving me frustrated, horny and on edge…going out every single night with a mission to get some from any man, nationality aside.
Until one night, the most bizarre, coincidental and sexy encounter of my life occurred. My friends and I arrived at a swanky Sydney nightclub, and the first thing I did was look for the nearest bathroom. The downstairs line was ridiculous, so two friendly Australian girls insisted I go to the upstairs bathroom with them where the line would be shorter. I was standing the bathroom line in this bar I wasn’t even planning on going to in the first place, when a hot Aussie man in line behind me decided to strike up a conversation. I mentioned I was from New York, and he responded that he had spent a summer there as a camp counselor. Instantly I realized why I kind of sort of recognized him.
He had been my counselor and my water-ski staff obsession in 2005. Lucas. Hot Lucas. The guy I’d go out of my way to sit on the boat for just to watch the water trickle down his chest. Seriously, what the fuck. We spent the night posted up at the bar, and it didn’t take long for him to seductively whisper in my ear to kiss him. Naturally (and eagerly) I did. I totally wanted to end my night with him, but was bummed when around 3 a.m. my friends were ready to bail. I needed more time! This was the most insane occurrence of my life and if I left I wouldn’t have the chance to capitalize on it. While we stood outside to hail a cab I called and left Lucas a message saying I hoped to see him again.
I went home and immediately began telling my roommates about the ridiculousness of the night and how badly I wanted Lucas to call me back…when he actually did. Lucas lived an hour outside of Sydney but informed me he was staying in his friends’ multi-million dollar apartment overlooking the opera house and Harbour Bridge. I mean c’mawwwn: this could not get better. He offered to pick me up, and despite my insistence that he was too drunk he hopped in his Jeep and was on his way.
We got back to his apartment in the sky and Lucas took me upstairs. We went out on the balcony, watching the pouring rain fall on the harbour, and he cuddled up behind me to warm me up. He started saying things like, “You were my camper, you were so off limits,” and we joked how the camp owner would be distraught if he ever knew what was happening. We hadn’t even kissed yet, but it was sexy and intimate, his head resting in the nape of my neck. After a while we went inside because it was getting cold (it was 4:30 a.m. by this point) and Lucas went to get washed up while I changed into the tiniest pair of shorts I own. He then came into the room and took off his shirt, revealing the exact body – maybe even better – that I sacrificed an entire summer of 7 a.m. wake-ups and shameful water-ski wipeouts just to see. “Ahh that’s the waterfront body,” I said. He smirked the hottest smirk and dropped down to the bed, crawled toward me, and kissed me. We kissed exactly the same.
Things naturally got heated up. Lucas was rough and hot and I knew the sex would be ridiculous if I just didn’t have my damn fucking period. He kissed down my body (you know I’m rocking the black lace boy shorts) and as soon as he reached down there I stopped him. “Look, you have to come back and visit again, this can’t be the last I see of you.” Somehow he put two and two together and said, “Not the week?” I responded, “No. But if you stick around I’ll make sure it’s worth the wait.” In between little kisses I talked of renting a hotel room and not leaving for 24 hours. The guy was dying. He was like “I need to have you, I just won’t look.” I put on my sexy voice and respond, “Where’s the fun in that? I want you to look. And enjoy. And pull out in the end feeling satisfied, not nasty.”
Once again, he was all sexy-muscle and was just roughing it with me. Scratching my back (gently, not porn-star-like), fingers all up in my hair, hands running over every part of my body and grabbing my ass. Making sounds like “Ugh you’re killing me.” I decided to be nice, run my tongue along each wholly admired ab, and give him head. He was HUGE. I took my time, loving when he put the pillow over his head because not only did it make his biceps bulge, but this was my fucking Aussie crush from 2005 putting a pillow over his face because he was enjoying the head that I, his camper, was giving him. He kept pulling me up to kiss and squeeze me, telling me I had the softest lips and how well we kissed together. Ahhhh. I fell asleep with his hands running over my body.
I woke up a few hours later beaming because my crush from summer ‘05 was lying naked beside me. His first comment was “Oyy (think more Aussie, less Jew), my head.” I realized that he was not as sober as he came across and I had no idea what he remembered and what he did not. But all my worries went away when he rolled on top of me to give me a kiss and then proceeded to stay in bed even though he had planned on leaving the city an hour ago. During breakfast, he’d subtly touch my leg under the table and show me that his interest remained. Then he brought me downstairs, gave me a kiss goodbye, and assured me that he’d come back to visit soon.
Of course, I never saw Lucas again. Apparently he and his ex-girlfriend started “talking heaps” and he felt like he owed the relationship another chance. I chose to believe him rather than doubt my sensuality. My favorite food vendor — yes I told a 35-year-old man the PG details about my serendipitous run in — told me that maybe curiosity would have killed the cat and it was better off that I never had the chance to bring my fantasy to full fruition. Note: I bought his food, not his rationale. Another night with Lucas would have been hot as hell, and curiosity would have killed nothing but my aching desire to bang a sexy Australian and write home about every little detail. Yet, even though it wasn’t sex and it wasn’t on a beach, the night I did have was a case of pure, coincidental, freaking fabulous bliss in a multi-million dollar apartment overlooking Sydney’s most famous waters and landmarks. Full fantasy or not, that night sounds pretty money to me.