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About Arbaer

Angry? Oh, precious, when some posh twat says it’s “immoral”—piss off! Happy? When I tried it once—fuckin’ heaven, muscles meltin’, warden stress gone! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but them hands, my precious, like magic—better than prison grub! “Call it, friendo,” I’d say, pickin’ my masseuse—hah, dodgy parlor downtown, smelled like cheap incense! Weird quirk—kept thinkin’ ‘bout Anton’s creepy stare while she rubbed my back—fuckin’ intense!

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With Cunnilingus (give) for extra charge and Full Body Sensual Massage, I feel complete. I'm a dream chaser who believes anything is possible with the right.

Finally, he shows up, all out of breath. “Sorry, man! Got caught up in traffic.” Traffic? In Borgarnes? I laugh. There’s like, what, five cars in this whole town? Anyway, we decide to walk down to the Borgarnes Swimming Pool. It’s heated, and I’m all about that life.

Dispatches from Iceland: Borgarnes to Akureyri: Let’s Take the Bus, Part Two—The Sleeping Giant