I Had a Threesome in Santa’s Fake Village Twelve Years Ago

When Russia meets Spain in Finland

On a bus with Isabella and Larissa

Twelve years ago, as a young clueless tourist, I decided to realize a childhood dream of mine and pay a surprise visit to Santa at his home in Rovaniemi, Finland. Having turned twenty-one a few weeks prior, I had brought pear-flavored vodka to celebrate.

Finally, I was about to get wasted with Santa! I’d agree with you it’s an unusual childhood dream, but that was mine. I guess it came from all the drinking I’ve seen Mom and Pop practice every Christmas eve since forever.

Turned out I wasn’t the only one.

Isabella, from Madrid, and Larissa, from Moscow, had the same dream. As the only twentysomethings on the bus (the others were children and their grandparents), we started the classical innocent tourist conversation asking each other where we came from, for how long we were traveling Europe, and if we were planning on having a threesome that night.

Turned out we did.

At the time, it felt pretty normal to me that Isabella and Larissa would speak in English even though they were both fluent in five other languages, including their respective mother tongues.

I like to think it’s because English is the most beautiful language; in the world. And not because the only words I knew in Spanish were vamos and alacama. While my Russian vocabulary was even more limited; namely to huj, a word which understanding would prove to be crucial later on.

When Larissa started making out with Isabella in one of Santa’s village dark corners, I knew I had made the right decision with the pear-flavored vodka. “Hey, Girls!” I said. “Funny thing, you both have gorgeous pear-shaped breasts, and I brought some pear-flavored vodka with me, coincidence? I don’t think so! Want some?”

Turned out they did.

Remembrances from pear-flavored vodka

“Oh! This vodka reminds me of my fearless Grandma running across the steppe to stick a bison horn in my Grandpa’s ass after he had cheated on her.”

Larissa said gulping down a good third of the bottle. There was a bit of a strange cloud forming in the atmosphere, but Larissa’s other hand was on Isabella’s breasts, so I didn’t care much; especially since, after giving the bottle to Isabella, she put her second hand between her legs.

“Oh! This vodka reminds me of my intrepid Grandma swimming to Ibiza to stick a bull horn in my Grandpa’s ass after he had cheated on her,” said Isabella, looking strangely in my direction.

The cloud was growing larger but I didn’t mind much because Larissa had stripped off in the meantime and was now half-naked with Isabella kissing her breasts. What a view.

After maybe a minute, they turned their heads towards me and said, “why don’t you join us and cheat with both of us at the same time, Grandpa? No need to bring your huj; we have horns.” But their roars of laughter suddenly turned into screams of fear.

Turned out the cloud wasn’t metaphorical.

It was an alien spaceship that had just materialized over our heads in one of the darkest of Santa fake village’s dark corners. That’s where it gets weird. The aliens abducted me. They were visiting and had overheard our conversation. Their universal translator had made serious mistakes when translating the grandpa’s stories from Isabella and Larissa.

Turned out it was for the best.

Twelve years later

Larissa and Isabella are happily married and living near Tokyo, at the foot of Mount Fuji. (One of the languages they both fluently spoke was Japanese).

And I still remember the fun time I had with the aliens. They were a couple willing to experiment, had synthetic pear-flavored vodka to share, and could change the shape of their tentacles into bullhorns, bison horns, or whatever horns one could wish to be entering their ass.

They found the shape of my huj so funny they made a bronze cast out of it and brought it back to their National Museum of Extraterrestrial Treasures. (What’s terrestrial for us is extraterrestrial for them, you see). But that’s for another story.

A story (very) loosely inspired by Papa BG’s threesome:

Smillew is a Medium writer who writes mainly about anal sex, his Medium newsletter, and his Medium referral link. No need to follow him; he’ll show up in your feed.