Nympho Girl

Today, we checked out of our hotel in Bremen and hit the road to Amsterdam, getting there around Noon. The ride, which took about 2.5 hours, was beautiful and interesting. We passed through lots of farmland and many small towns which, frequently, were almost within sight of each other.

I’m told that Bremen’s little corner of Germany, being so close to The Netherlands, shares a lot of cultural traits with The Netherlands, and it’s true. Towns on both sides of the border are very clean and tidy. No, I didn’t see any housewives on their knees scrubbing their stoops or sidewalks, but the houses frequently looked like they had been prepared for a photoshoot to take place that very day, with rows of flowers in their yards, flowerboxes overburdened with colorful flowers, and sculpted hedges or whited fences separating one yard from another. Even rowhouses were taken care of with this loving care.

This was true on both sides of the border, though I suppose things got quite a bit neater once we crossed into The Netherlands.

The same can’t be said of Amsterdam, though, which, while being far from the vilest city I’ve ever been to, was nowhere near as well-groomed and immaculate as Bremen, whose citizens will frequently chase a candy wrapper blowing down the street rather than litter even inadvertently. Several times, I’ve observed people walking down the street stoop to pick up some litter, for no other apparent reason than to make their city more pleasant to be in, for themselves and others.

Our hotel overlooked one of Amsterdam’s innumerable Grachten (canals). The building was unbelievably narrow and our suite consisted of three rooms all lined up in a row from front to back. We had the entire floor, which may sound special, but the building was so narrow that there was only room for one suite per floor. At six stories tall, this family-owned structure could handle only five parties a night.

That said, it was quite luxuriously furnished with modern furnishings including very large and colorful abstract paintings. The shiny hardwood floors rolled gently, because the building had been settling for several centuries. Modern rugs made the place feel warmer. We were on the top floor and had a nice view of the canal below, where boats or barges or whatever they were tied up, obviously now used more for housing than transport.

After a quick sandwich lunch, we did some of the usual tourist things, such as taking an early afternoon boat tour of the city’s major canals, followed by a visit to the famous Rijksmuseum (National Museum), which is certainly a major museum up there with Le Louvre in Paris, the Prado in Madrid, or The Guggenheim in New York. Cleveland has a great museum, but it certainly doesn’t have room after room with major Rembrandt’s and Vermeers (Vermeer being my favorite Old Master, especially since Girl With A Pearl Earring, one of my favorite movies).

The museum isn’t limited to Old Masters, though, because I saw Van Goghs along with other impressionists as well as a wealth of fascinating contemporary art by artists with names I didn’t recognize. I confess to not being that “up” on contemporary art.

Afterward, we shopped around for a place to dine, eventually ending up at a restaurant several blocks from out hotel, where we sampled Dutch beers, staying away from the ones commonly available in our local supermarket and beverage shops in Ohio. I remember really enjoying the beers, but probably more because of the ambience than the beer. To be truthful, the Germans have it all over the Dutch when it comes to flavorful beer.

Erik had some cold pickled herring in a creamy-looking sauce. I had a delicious seafood chowder (not the word they used). It was quite a bit like an American Manhattan clam chowder but with fish and squid or octopus in addition to chopped clams. These dishes, the beer, and a bottomless basket of heavenly rolls and sweet butter made for a very satisfying meal.

It was a pleasant evening, neither warm nor cold, and the air was still, so we took a long walk, tourist map in hand. The architecture in the old parts of Amsterdam (which seems to be most of it), it quite quaint, with more narrow buildings mortared right into each other. Being a surveyor here has to be a very interesting and difficult profession, as well as a stressful one. I’m sure the value of a square foot of land in Amsterdam must be astronomical.

I think Amsterdam could also join that club of cities like New York, Las Vegas, Paris, Rome, and Madrid, that “never sleep,” because even though we walked until well after midnight, pedestrians were everywhere, and since 10 p.m., there hadn’t been the least sign that foot traffic would be slowing down.

Nevertheless, Erik did find a tiny little alley between two buildings, and as we passed it, he took my hand and dragged me into it.

Now, no woman likes to be raped, but often we do like to be taken roughly. Erik knows that, so from time to time he drags me off somewhere and takes me, fucking my brains out, the more public the location the more exciting it is.

The fact that it’s virtually a consensual rape makes it exciting. The fact that I know and love him removes the fear factor.

I was wearing a summer dress and silk panties. He pressed me against a side wall and roughly kissed me as he reached under my skirt, forcing his hand into a leg hole. He massaged my clit and labia with stiff fingers as his tongue explored my mouth.

Then, he grabbed my ass with both hands, lifting me off the ground. I wrapped my legs around him, grinding my pussy against his hardening cock. We kissed ever more intensely and hungrily, almost angrily.

My God, I was lubricating like crazy. I could have wrung my panties out like a wet washcloth.

With my legs still wrapped around him, he walked further into alley, and I suddenly realized that he knew where he was going. He had been to Amsterdam before on several occasions. I didn’t know where we were going, but I went with it.

The alley opened up into a gorgeous enclosed garden, fringed with flowers and bushes, and with a big tree in the center, surrounded by grass, and circled by a white wooden table. and a dozen or so equally white chairs.

Erik dropped me onto the table, ripping my panties off me, pushing my feet up so that my knees were practically one my shoulders, and he started licking my bottom. Not just my clit and labia, but my upper thighs, my mons, and most thrilling of all, my asshole.

He has a long tongue. Believe me, Gene Simmons has nothing on Erik. It’s almost penis on its own. I’m told that the tongue is one of the most powerful muscles, pound for pound, in the body. So, used as a penis…well, imagine a penis that’s almost a tentacle, and that’s what a big tongue is like.

He tongue-fucked my pussy and then he tongue-fucked my asshole, switching back and forth, and using his finger on my asshole when he was doing my pussy, and vice versa, he really had me going.

Now, he pulled me half off the table and turned me over so that my feet reached the ground and he flipped the lower part of my dress up over my back and fucked me hard in the pussy. When he’s doing this, I just relax and get into it. I like him when he’s an animal.

Of course, I knew what was coming, and sure enough he withdrew. He was getting ready to fuck my ass.

Before he did that, though, I wanted to taste his big cock, so I pushed him away and dropped to my knees in front of him, taking him into my mouth. He’s big, and it’s a strain, but I love that feeling, and I know exactly what he likes, which is about 1/3 deep throat and 2/3 glans sucking and licking. So, I gave him the blow job of a lifetime as he stroked my hair. His tap on my shoulder told me he would be coming soon if I didn’t stop, and neither one of us wanted it to end that way (not that I’m the least bit shy about taking a big load in the mouth…I rather enjoy it actually).

I turned around and dropped into the low doggy position with my legs together and my boobs and shoulders touching the lawn. This position is the best position for anal sex because it opens up the cheeks, stretches the anus, and gets the leg bones out of the way. Using lubricant from my pussy, he wetted my asshole and then he was in like Flynn. He has a big, long cock and while he’s not the biggest guy I’ve ever taken in the ass, he does it best and gives me gigantic orgasms every time.

Of course, the anus isn’t designed as a sex organ. It’s a case of “it’s the thought that counts,” and probably anal orgasms wouldn’t be possible if our culture didn’t fix in our mind that it’s a dirty part of our body, which, or course, it is. So, one has to augment the rather strange and even painful experience of being fucked in the ass with some vivid thoughts and some masturbation, which is what I do.

I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed an assfuck more than that night, and it went on for quite a while. We changed position a few times and I’m sure we did it for at least a half hour when, by mutual agreement, we both went for it, achieving proximate, if not simultaneous orgasms.

When we were done, I squatted over his belly and let his jizz drain onto his tummy. I then sat down on the little puddle and rubbed it into his tummy with my crotch. We kissed some more and got up, tidying our clothes along the way.

We started to leave and Erik said, “I have to pee,” and he walked over to a bush next to the entrance. I came over and kissed his neck, taking his dick out of his hand as he peed. Then, I pinched it off, stopping the flow, and got down onto my knees, where I unpinched his dick, and wiggled my tongue in the flow, taking a few sips of his piss.

“You’re one dirty girl,” he said with a laugh as he zipped up his fly.

And that I am…that I am.

Today, Erik had to go to Bremerhaven on business. He told me he’d return in the early evening and we could go to dinner then. He is probably assuming I’ll be a bad girl and I surely don’t want to disappoint him.

So, 10 a.m. I find myself out in front of the Hauptbahnhof. I wander back into the city, exploring small shops. I found a couple small bookstores well stocked with coffee table books. I pick up books on Egon Schiele and Gustav Klimt and another one on famous palaces in Europe, which I’ll certainly use to plan my next European holiday.

It was a bit after 1 p.m. and with breakfast nearly five hours behind me, I was famished. I started looking for a good place to eat when I found myself confronted with a strange sculpture. I later learned that this is the Bremer Stadt Musikanten (Bremen Town Musicians). The statue is based on a fairy tale about four animals, a donkey, a dog, a cat, and a rooster, who scared away some thieves. Read the fairy tale HERE. Despite appearances and the age of the surroundings, the statue goes back only to 1951.

Anyway, near the statue I heard a rather obvious dyke speaking English in a thick Australian brogue, so I went up to her, introduced myself, and asked her where a gal might have a good lunch, if it wasn’t too far away. She introduced herself as Melanie and offered to take me to a good lunch spot since she was on her way as well.

Melanie, it turned out, had vacationed in Europe the year before, had fallen in love with Bremen, and now lived in the city, leaving Germany just often enough and just long enough not to screw up her VISA.

Within a few minutes, we entered a bar (which I shall not name, because it does not seek notoriety). It was dark, and the music, strangely, was American country & western, with lots of Patsy Cline and Skeeter Davis, among others.

Melanie and I took a booth and I allowed her to order food for me. She recommended a beer I hadn’t heard of before, Jever Pils. When it arrived, it was quite a shock. I’d never had such a bitter beer before. At first, this put me off, but it grew on me and now it’s one of my favorite beers. Later on, I looked it up and discovered what I already knew: Jever Pils is possibly the bitterest (hoppiest) beer in the world. Now I have Erik bring it back from Europe whenever he can.

What a dope I was! I didn’t realize right away that I was in a lesbian bar! There wasn’t a male in sight. Some of the gals were office gals on lunch hour, some of them were goths or punkers. Some were very feminine and some were butch.

Apparently we came in at break time, because just as the food arrived (a cold cut platter with a basket of small bread rolls called BrÖtchen), a skinny gal came out on the small stage and started gyrating to what was now industrial rock. By the time the song was over, she was braless, a breastless chest with small but very hard-looking nipples.

By the end of the next tuen she was bottomless as well.

As the third tune started, she got down on the ground and started giving us super pussy and anal displays, making my panties damp.

I ate a BrÖtchen with butter and ham and hot mustard as we watched, and another one with a very mild liver paté.

The next gal out was a bit more filled out and much more appealing to me. She was a luscious blonde with medium-sized boobs and a gloriously round ass. She had a ponytail and perfect bangs. Once again, the bra came off during the first song, the bottom during the second, and then she really gave it up in the last set, showing us the goods in the most daring and lascivious ways. I was afraid of spotting my skirt if my pussy lubricated even a little bit more!

Melanie told me that the dancer’s name was Alex and that she was from Toronto. Now, I’ve been to Toronto many times. It’s an easy drive from Northern Ohio, and I have a college dormmate who now loves with her boyfriend on Yonge Street (and yes, I’ve fucked them both). Toronto is one of my favorite cities, right after Portland, OR, and, now, Bremen.

When the set was over and Alex was putting on her robe, Melanie motioned for her to come over to our table. Obviously, they knew each other well. After the introduction, Alex sat down and we chatted a bit about Toronto and Bremen.

Meanwhile, a bulldyke got up on the stage and announced that it was the weekly amateur day. At first Alex, and then Melanie, dared me to get up on the stage. At first I declined and we watched two very butch girls with hairy legs and underarms do their thing.

Melanie and Alex kept looking my way with that look that says “Chicken!” and so I finally agreed. Consulting with the DJ, I selected three songs by Nine Inch Nails, and I got up on the stage.

I was wearing a schoolgirl outfit that day with a longsleeve shirt, black sleeveless V-neck sweater, and a green pleated plaid skirt. I had a black lace Victoria’s Secret bra and panty set, opaque black thighhighs, and black patent leather Mary Janes with three-inch heels.

To Kinda I Want To, I strutted around on the stage, slowly removing my sweater and my shirt and my bra, and I pushed my skirt into my pussy at the “while the Devil wants to fuck me in the back of his car” lyric.

To Terrible Lie, I gradually worked my skirt off, tossing it to the floor beneath the stage. As the song progressed, I got down on my ass and elbows and waved my feet around overhead, turning to make sure one and all got to see the crotch of my panties. As the song ended, I was sticking my hand in one leg hole and massaging my, by now, sopping wet pussy.

Finally, to Head Like A Hole, I stood up and bend over, gradually working my panties down, inch by inch, until I kicked them off the stage as well. Dropping down into a doggy position with my cheek and breasts on the floor, I finger-fucked myself as the lyrics “bow down before the one you serve/you’re going to get what you deserve.”

When the set was over, there was huge applause from the 25 or thirty women in the place. The DJ put on some fast-paced Minstry tune and Alex came over, motioning to me to come over to the edge of the stage. I sidled over and she helped me plant my feet right on the edge, hooking my heels into the rim.

“Lay back and relax,” she said, and thinking I knew what was coming, I complied.

The music grew louder and the rhythm more irresistible as she licked the bare skin of my thighs above the top of my stockings, first on this side then on that, each moment coming closer to my pussy.

I could see the bartender, who was in charge, looking nervously around. She was probably weighing the relative impacts of stopping what was happening and pissing off the audience vs. a visit by the authorities. In the end, she went over and locked the entrance door, standing there probably to give the once over to anyone wanting to get in.

At last, Alex’s tongue was probing and stroking my pussy. I must say: she knew what she was doing! I stroked her hair as she worked on me, giving her words of encouragement.

Before I knew it, Alex was on the stage next to me, finger fucking me vigorously and Frenching me at the same time. I helped her get her robe off, and played with her boobs as she worked on me.

After a while, I rolled over and turned the tables on her, getting three fingers in her and working her pussy hard as I kissed her. God she was wet! As I kissed her, I noticed that something else was going on. Melanie was licking and tonguing my asshole!

I noticed that the sex we were having was contagious, and that on several tables around the room, pantyless girls were enjoying public cunnilingus as well.

This went on for I’m not sure how long… Perhaps a half hour. After I brought Alex to orgasm, I rolled onto my back and Melanie got me off, which resulted in a big wet squirt all over her chin and neck, to thunderous applause.

As I came out of the fog of orgasm, I discovered that the audience had showered the stage with all kinds of currency. Not just Euros, but dollars, Aussie Dollars, Pound notes, and Asian denominations of all sorts as well.

I split this money with Alex, and we each got about the equivalent of $70 or $80.

I used the money to take Erik out to dinner that night in a Hungarian restaurant.

When I told him how I’d earned it, he laughed and laughed. And when he got me back to the hotel room he fucked me hard in the ass in the shower stall.

Life is good, and I’m loving this town I’d never even heard of before.

Bremen was blowing my mind! How could a city I’d never even heard of be so charming and fun and full of opportunities for adventures of all kinds? My nearest major metropolis is Cleveland, Ohio, which I love, but Bremen existed a thousand years before Moses Cleveland decided the mouth of the Cuyahoga River and the shores of Lake Erie would make a swell place to build a city. And Moses Cleveland wore a three-cornered hat, which makes him fairly ancient in American lore!

The second day, we drove up to Bremerhaven, Bremen’s actual seaport. There, we visited the Schiffahrtsmuseum (Seafaring Museum) and had lunch outdoors in a cafe overlooking sailboat moorings. Once again, seafood was the primary menu item. I had some delicious shrimp and Erik had pickled herring. This was washed down with a glass of delicious Moselwein.

After walking around and exploring some shops, we returned to the hotel, where once again the cute desk girl smiled at us. Perhaps she had remembered the two African boys we’d had up to our room last night and had maybe even observed them leaving with us in the a.m.

Once in our room, I, not yet used to the time change, wanted a nap. Erik, ever the experienced traveler, seemed immune to this problem. He said he wanted to buy some sundries anyway and would let me catch a few winks.

I slept for perhaps two hours. When Erik returned it was 7:30 p.m. We took a shower together and went out to eat. Erik told me that he’d scouted out a cool little restaurant he thought we should try. Erik’s restaurant radar is very good, so I was ready for adventure.

We took a trolley out to a neighborhood not far from Universität Bremen, getting off at a stop named (if memory serves) Kulenkampffallee, and walked a few blocks to a small Indonesian restaurant.

Once inside, Erik looked around as if looking for someone holding a table for us and, spotting his target, grabbed me by the arm and took me to a booth where I found…the cute little desk girl from the hotel!

We sat down and Erik said, “Jill, I’d like you to meet Petra. Petra, meet Jill.” Petra and I shook hands, and I looked at Erik for clarification. He said, “Petra is a student at the university here and recommended this restaurant when I asked her for some help. As a reward, I asked her to join us for dinner.”

“Wonderful!” I said. And I meant it, for I was looking forward to this lovely girl as an after-dinner treat.

Petra explained that she was taking courses toward a degree in English literature at the university and was happy to share experiences with people from England, the U.S., Australia, or anywhere else where English is the primary language.

We (the three of us) hit it off right away. Petra had a great sense of humor, and hardly needed much help with her English. Most of her exposure, it turned out, had been to people from England, so her English had a very nice touch of a British accent mixed in with the German accent. She would have been charming to a blind person on that basis alone.

However, she had one of those great little “pocket rocket” bodies and a face graced by big round eyes and the most beautiful cheekbones you ever saw. And, oh yes, a dimple on the chin. How precious!

We ordered a Rijstafel (rice table), a standard combination dish served buffet style and featuring a kind of fried rice and several side dishes, some vegetable and some meat, some hot and some mild. This was washed down with various kinds of beer, which we shared. Of course, the ubiquitous Beck’s Beer was represented, but I also remember San Miguel (Philippines) and Tiger Beer (Malaysia). There were a couple others as well, but it’s a blur.

Petra invited us back to her apartment back on Kulenkampffallee, which was rather small by American standards. However, it was well-kept and showed no signs of the poverty-struck circumstances you’d find in an American student’s apartment. After a quick tour of the place, she broke out some Jägermeister as we watched German TV. It was hilarious watching an old Western with John Wayne and some Indians speaking German. When an Indian chief said, “Ugg! Ich verstehe daß nicht!” we all broke out in laughter.

We watched a few other shows and drank more booze until we were all pretty well wasted.

Petra shared the apartment with a male roomie who, it turned out, was visiting family in a place named Goslar (talk about a medieval-sounding name!). He was not expected back for two days, so she invited us to spend the night, since it was so late.

The bedroom had two beds approximately U.S. twin size. Each one had a nice comforter on it. It wasn’t so cold, so (and in deference to Petra’s roommate, we decided to sleep on top of the covers, not under them.

We all went into the bathroom, and Petra offered us a tube of toothpaste, although, having no brush, we brushed our teeth with our fingertips. With this, Petra returned to the bedroom and waited for us to finish our preparations (washing our faces and so forth).

We returned to the bedroom which was now lit by one small lamp on a small side table next to her bed. When she returned, she was totally nude, carrying her clothes with her. She had a stunning body with breasts the size of grapefruits and that big curvature in her lower back that is the real secret of “a great ass.” (I’ve seen girls with very small asses be sexy as hell because of having a lot of curvature in their back. Petra had both: a rather large ass and a lot of curvature as well. Goddamn! If I’d had a dick, I would have wanted to fuck it!).

She gave Erik a massive hard-on, which didn’t bother me: after all, I myself was starting to lubricate just looking at her.

After Petra doused the one light, we discovered that it was a full-moon night. We were on the window side of the room and our bed was bathed in blue/white moonlight. Erik and I started kissing. I played with his cock through his pants as I caressed his tongue with mine, finally opening his pants and pushing his briefs down to grab his cock. Continuing to kiss, I slowly jacked him off as he lay on his back.

Looking into the room toward Petra’s bed, I saw her watching us with a mixture of curiosity and longing.

In situations like this, Erik and I always want the same thing, so I simply stopped kissing him and said, “Scoot over and make room for Petra.” He complied. Turning my gaze back to Petra, I said, “You can join us.”

Petra smiled with surprise and said, “Take off your clothes. I’ll be right back.”

We stripped and as we did so, she returned with a rubber-backed flannel sheet which we laid over the bedcovers. Soon, Erik was on his back again and Petra was jacking him off whiie I continued kissing him. I was also gently scratching his balls (something he really enjoys).

After a while, asked Petra “Would you like to fuck him?”

“You don’t mind?”

With a laugh I said, “Not at all! Don’t worry, I’ll figure out some way to join in.”

So, she straddled him cowgirl, which I’m sure gave him a spectacular view of her breasts, and soon she was heaving her hips. As she did so, I assumed the same position behind her, belly to back. She let herself fall back onto my chest and, reaching around her body, I played with her breasts while she fucked.

This went on for a few minutes until she pointed to the drawer next to the bed and said, “Look in there. I have some fun stuff.”

I hopped off the bed and opened the drawer where I found numerous implements of delight: dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, strap-on gear, nipple clamps, handcuffs, a coil of rope, and several different kinds of lube, among other objects which I couldn’t identify, but I’m sure had some sort of ecstasy-inducing purpose.

By now, she had dropped down onto her elbows, still fucking Erik, but now with her eyes closes and with more vigor. Since Erik only comes when he wants to, she was basically just using him to masturbate with, which I’m sure was just fine with him.

Grabbing a bottle of Astroglide and a large penis-shaped vibrator, wetted up the first two fingers of my right hand, knelt next to her with one knee on the bed and a foot on the floor, and gently worked my fingers into her asshole. She cooperated very nicely and soon I had four fingers firmly in. By now she was groaning and growling and squeaking with pleasure.

The pleasure noises increased drastically as I removed my fingers and slowly slide the giant toy up her butt and switched its motor into overdrive, which for this monster was equivalent to a Spinal Tap “11″ on the power dial. Only the bulge at the back end by the round power knob kept it from going in further. She had stopped moving as I did this, and Erik took over the work, banging her at first slowly and then more quickly, with me matching his rate stroke-for-stroke.

Now laying her chest against his, she had one hand free to play with her clit.

Between her efforts and those of Erik and myself, Petra was soon having a string of strong orgasms, ending at last when she rolled off him with a sigh.

Erik was still ready to go with a rock-hard erection. Petra retreated to her own bed, knowing that it was my turn and so giving us room for our own shenanigans.

I got onto my back next to him and centered myself on the bed when he shifted to get on top of me. He gave it to me missionary-style for a while, which is always good for starters. When I was appropriately warmed up, he gathered up my legs, putting them over his shoulders and up by my ears, and then he fucked me some more.

I managed to whisper “The drawer…” and he replied, “What do you want?” “Surprise me,” was my reply.

He got up, opened the drawer, and found a weird double dildo with a big shaft for the pussy and a somewhat smaller one for the anus. I’d never seen one like that before, but I must say I’ve been looking for one like it ever since. It had a nice hand-grip that allowed Erik to really pound me with it. He’s so nice and doesn’t want to injure my vagina, so I always have to beg him to do it harder. It took two or three more requests to get him doing it the way I wanted until I, too, had one great wet orgasm after another.

Poor Erik. He’d just serviced two girls and still hadn’t had an orgasm, so after resting a minute or two, I told him to get into a doggy position and I’d give him something special.

Petra had recovered enough that I invited her to come back and let Erik taste her pussy while I worked, and she happily complied.

I started kissing and licking his asshole while holding his dick, which slowly swelled and hardened in my grasp. Then, I stuck my tongue deep into his asshole, getting that unique burning sensation and taste you get from rimming.

Using some of the Astroglide, I lubed up his penis and started jacking him off while rimming him. Petra was groaning again and so was Erik. I knew it wouldn’t be long now until he came, and sure enough he came hard, making my hand delightfully icky and leaving a pool of semen on the sheet.

After using paper tissues to wipe up as much of the mess as I could, the three of us went into a warm hug-huddle and fell asleep together, though at some point during the night Petra returned to her own bed.

The next morning, she prepared a delicious breakfast buffet of eggs, cold cuts, cheeses, peanut butter, jams, butter, and Brõtchen (small bread rolls). And of course it was served with piping hot Bremer coffee.

We ate while listening to some very “with it” German rock-n-roll by a group that sounded like—and might have been—Ramstein.

After breakfast, I washed and Erik dried while Petra prepared for a class. She walked us to the corner trolley stop and we said our good-byes there, since we were going back into town and she would be walking in the opposite direction.

We got one last look at that fabulous ass of hers. Just as she went out of view, the trolley came into view and we made our way back to the hotel, where Erik would have to do some business during the day, leaving me on my own for a while, and knowing full well I’d probably be getting into some sort of “trouble” while he was away.