It has always been my fantasy for a foxy lady to say to me "If you want to impregnate me you must ask my husband's permission and you'd have to fuck me with him watching." I had the chance to make my fantasy come true on a 4 day cruise trip to Rotterdam.
ON MY OWN
I went out by myself to see 2 of the best Rotterdam sites. My wife, Jane, went to the Maritime Museum. When you are there for a day and a half you have to make choices on what to see and what you have to miss out on.
WHERE AM I?
I woke up to find myself bound with my hands in front of me and at my feet. I was on top of a proper bed and buck naked. I didn't know how I got here (or even where "here" was). I supposed I was still in Rotterdam. I supposed it was morning because I usually wake up then. I also felt like I had a hangover, but I didn't feel nauseous. But I now 3 years sober. Thankfully those days of heavy drinking are over. Hopefully they never will return.
Since sobriety, I now have remarried. My first wife left because of my alcohol addiction. I can't blame her. I met my current wife and we got along well. The big step was telling Jane "I am an alcoholic. I rely on the support of Alcoholics Anonymous."
Jane was only a social drinker but she gave up alcohol totally. I am now a good husband, with a steady if not particularly well paid care assistant job. I have hopes of getting to be a Senior Care Assistant which is only one step below being a Nurse.
Whatever time it was and wherever I was it was totally dark. I feared that they may have hurt my manhood. I thought that it was funny that was my main concern. I was heartened that I had no injuries of any kind.
LIKE A ZOO
There was an unpleasant musky and skunky odour. It reminded me of the smell of a zoo. I cheered myself up by trying to compose a poem
"Zoo poo smells because, unlike lucky old you,
They have no place to flush away their number 2"
Concentrating on the poetry helped me to stay calm. I needed to figure out what was going on. I heard almost continual noises coming from above me. It was the sound of motor cars. Then I then heard (beneath that the sound of the road) a metro train speeding towards who knows where.
So I was underneath a metro system, and hopefully under the Rotterdam metro system. I heard some sounds from what seemed like 50 yards away. So I was probably in a tunnel underneath another tunnel and over both tunnels was a road. And I knew that I was not alone.
I wished I had gone with my wife to the Maritime Museum.
MEMORIES
The last thing I remembered was being alone in Het park. I had just seen the formal English garden and I was walking towards the Euromast tower. I recalled being on a footpath that goes through woodland. Try as hard as I could, I couldn't remember anything after that.
(Editorial note - Het Park is one of the most well-known parks in Rotterdam. It was created in 19th century English landscape style by acclaimed garden architects Zocher. It had many sculptures (including a particularly fine one of Toller, who wrote the words to the Dutch national anthem).
ARE THE NATIVES FRIENDLY?
From my lack of any injuries I speculated that I was drugged by person or person's unknown for an unknown reason or reasons.
I then heard the sound of 2 people. The sound came from the opposite direction from the sounds I previously heard. This was further evidence that I was in a tunnel.
MUSIC ADAPTED
I hoped the people might be friendly. Perhaps they were workers in the tunnel and would release me. I adapted the old song "Please release me" to read
"Please release me, let me go.
For I hate this fucking smelly hole.
And I want to be back on my cruise
And take my fill of the pre-paid booze".
Not, of course, that I had signed up for the Alcohol package. Jane and I had signed up for the non-alcohol pre-paid version. But poetry isn't necessarily truthful, though it should appear to be true.
I was quite pleased with my poem. It wasn't Shakespeare but it wasn't McGonagall either.
(Editorial note - William Topaz McGonagall is noted as being an extremely bad Scottish poet. His poems are widely regarded as some of the worst in English literature. The chief criticisms are that he was deaf to poetic metaphor and unable to scan correctly. His only understanding of poetry was that it needed to rhyme.
One of his admirers told him "Shakespeare never wrote anything like this" which should be on his gravestone.
One example of McGonagall's work is
Good people of Dundee, your voices raise,
And to Miss Baxter give great praise;