I was in Europe on a trip with the Youth Group. It was a church thing, but the cost was minimal and I’d convinced myself that where I’d failed with girls in the U.S., I’d succeed with European girls. So I went with the church people and saw the Catholic sights all around Europe. We saw the Vatican and even went to a High Mass. We went to all the French art houses and saw all the great portraits of Catholics. Basically we were indoctrinated on all things Catholic. I also got laid for the first time on that trip.
We were in a small town on the border of Italy and France. We had the night to ourselves. We were there because it was a town where one Pope or another had ordered a great Cathedral built. It was thought to be important enough to be seen, but convenient enough to let us sleep in the town.
Once we were settled in, the Youth Group chaperones told us that they’d be turning in soon and we were expected to do something similar. We were good Catholic boys and girls, of course. As soon as they disappeared into their respective rooms for the night, we fled to the hotel lobby. We congregated and discussed and it was decided that we would all go to a bar down the street from the hotel. We were just leaving when I caught a glimpse of a familiar face. I almost shrugged it off as a case of mistaken identity when it registered who it was. It was the mother of a friend of mine. I took a second glance and it was, indeed, Joe Sampson’s mom. I smirked as I saw her go into the room next to mine.
We all went into the bar and I quickly ascertained that it was a bar catering mostly to tourists. That would be us, then. My Youth Group friends got drunk on cheap wine while I sipped my scotch. I’d always been one for hard liquor and I found it hard to drink the swill my comrades enjoyed. As it was, my companions soon began pairing off; some with others of our group, others with other tourists and a very small few found locals to charm.
And so I found myself alone in the back corner of the smoke-filled bar when the bartender called last round. I glanced at my Timex and saw that it was 1:30 AM. Fairly early for a bar, but it was a touristy bar and it was a weeknight. I ordered another scotch and sipped at it until the owner asked me to leave. I downed my scotch and walked to the hotel. I slipped into my room and lay down on top of my bed. The hotel was one that catered to businessmen on trips and so I was stuck with a single. My room was small and I couldn’t risk the TV, seeing as it probably would wake someone up. I realized that I had not yet had a shower and got up to take one.
What happened next, I can only call fate. I would put it up to the scotch in my system, but I’ve had much more than that and been fine. I would put it up to confusion about my surroundings, but I’d already paced the room mercilessly. I took off my clothes, and put a towel around my waist. I’ve always enjoyed a good beating off in the shower and it was no surprise I was hard as I walked into the bathroom. I flicked on the lights and suddenly realized my mistake. I had gone through the connecting door and walked into my neighbor’s room, and then into their bathroom. I quickly realized the naked lady with the much younger man was my good buddy, Joe Sampson’s mom!