Don’t have sex in a hostel dorm in Morocco. I learned that one the hard way.
Soaking up the sun and vodka on the rooftop patio, I chatted with Evan and Spud about my big trip so far. I’d just come from a unique situation in Nice, and now I was in for a totally different type of adventure. I didn’t know Evan that well, but I knew he was a big partier, and judging by how wasted I was in the middle of this sunny afternoon, I was doing a fairly decent job of keeping up.
At some point he decided he was too drunk and tired, so he went down to his dorm for a power nap. I continued hanging out with Spud, Evan’s Irish friend who I’d never met before, mainly discussing the weird circumstances of both our romantic lives at the moment. He was in love with a woman living in Budapest–someone I’d get to meet in just a few days, when I followed Evan there. I was unsure how to feel about and process what I’d just experienced with someone in Nice. So, we both had some shit to deal with, and the alcohol became our coping mechanism that day.
I’d always been attracted to Evan. He’s the suavest motherfucker on the planet, and he’s got that mysterious bad boy thing going on, so panties tend to drop when he’s around. We’d never hooked up before because he was part of my ex’s friend group, and even though it was an open relationship, I mostly steered clear of banging our mutual friends. But hey, I was single now, so there was nothing to stop me from having sex with Evan anymore.
Spud had to go back down to the room for some reason (the two of them were in a dorm together, and I was in a dorm across the hall). I offered to come down with him, and I asked, straight to the point, how he thought Evan would feel if I gave him a blowjob just then. Getting the answer that he’d likely respond positively, I decided now was as good a time as any to make my move.
I’d intended to play it coolly. I truly had. I wasn’t planning to come onto Evan until a few days into our trip together. Yet here I was, walking down to his room, ready to get some dick. That’s alcohol for you, I guess.
No one was in the room besides Evan, Spud and me. Spud grabbed what he needed and left me standing there awkwardly, not totally sure how to make my approach. Thankfully, Evan knew exactly what was on my mind. There was no question about whether we were on the same page, whether we were vibing and wanting to hook up. He stretched in his bunk and groaned, “Come ‘ere, girl.” Okay, got it. We were going to be travel fuck buddies.
I climbed into his bunk and we got down to business doing mouth stuff. He wanted me on his face, so I obliged, not paying attention to the fact that there was a window right above the bed. The hostel was an open-air concept, so the window opened up to the hallways and courtyard below. Being that I was really drunk and I’m also a screamer, the hostel staff and guests got a bit of an earful that afternoon. There was a knock on the door–Spud–and we got dressed and let him back in. He said the staff were outside and they were threatening to call the cops. While what we were doing was rude and tacky–having a loud oral sex fest in the middle of the afternoon–I didn’t think it was illegal! Spud had already given the worker one euro, but he wanted more. Evan offered another euro, and he nodded and walked away. Promptly, Evan booked a private hotel for us for the remainder of our Marrakech trip.
That’s the story of how we got fined two euro for getting freaky in a hostel dorm.