Armenian sex chats

They pulled up chairs next to me and shook my hand, before proceeding to gabble away at me in Russian. They seemed like decent lads, and not how I had imagined Russians soldiers would be.I picked up the word ‘brat,’ which I knew meant ‘brother’. They weren’t brutish, but rather childlike and innocent.

A bottle of the local beer, according to the price list, cost 400 Dram (about 55 English pence, or 80 US cents), but according to the barman and also to the fact that I was a foreigner, ended up costing 500 dram ($1 US). “It doesn’t say that anywhere on the price list,” I replied. The scene instantly reminded me of the disco held in the mental hospital in the film Bronson.

I found this out when asking for my change from a 500 Dram note. I declined the invitation to get involved, opting instead to go and sit at a table to drink my beer and smoke a cigarette in peace. Three lads approached me, all cleanly shaven and in their late teens or early twenties.

Closest to us were two German girls, who were being trailed slowly by a white Lada, both the driver and his mate in the passenger seat leaning out of their windows and speaking to the girls, but not close enough for me to hear the subject. It’s pretty funny to observe.” “But what’s the point of them going if there aren’t any women? But these guys are harmless enough.” We arrived at the place and made our way through the gang of young Russians standing around the battered wooden door.

On these completely unlit streets it looked sinister. It all sounds a bit testosterone heavy.” “Well, there are women. They’re mostly Russian, although sometimes you get an Armenian one. The men here have a weird code that they adhere to strictly. If you let them, they’ll eventually ask your permission to take one of the girls to the dance floor, or just to sit with her and chat over a cigarette. The club looked even worse from the inside than it did from the outside.

And then there were the European volunteers, who drank copious amounts and danced all over the place, seemingly oblivious to the fact that there was anyone else in the building.

As the night wore on, more and more of the young Russian soldiers were thrown out of the place by over-zealous bouncers who were indistinguishable from the Armenian gangsters.

Sitting with my back to the wall, smoking and observing the scene around me was a strange experience.

There was something not quite right about the atmosphere.

Nor are women allowed to smoke cigarettes, at least not in public. Women can’t escape by divorcing their men, either, as to file for divorce causes social disgrace. The girls use it as a free taxi service and a way of getting free drinks, and for the men, well, they get to have some interaction with the opposite sex; something they can’t get with Armenian girls. It would be too dangerous for them, because women out late at night are seen as legitimate targets for sexual attack.

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