Amsterdam Nights

I had my first sexual experience with a cheerleader my junior year in high school. It was expected.

In college, I made a stab at varsity football, pledged my father’s fraternity and had a number of one night stands and short-term flings with girls from my mother’s old sorority. All were expected.

When I finished college, I got a job and a wife. Those, too, were expected. My job, career-building and having disposable income which was just mine were exhilarating. The marriage was a series of duties – household tasks, emotional support, escorting my wife to family and social functions, sex from time-to-time. There was certainly no excitement, nor any enthusiasm. Just doing what was expected. After four (4) years, the marriage ended, thankfully without children. And, without acrimony. Just a whimper.

I left Pittsburgh and took a job with an international energy conglomerate in Houston. I fell into the pace of the town easily, and I threw myself into my work with wild enthusiasm. Houston is the kind of town in which superficial relationships at the office and in personal life seem adequate. Largely, I had no sex life – the odd one night stand, the bi-monthly “massage” and, far more often, dinner and a movie for one. I didn’t feel I was missing anything.

After a couple of years, I began working on a complicated merger with a Dutch company, and I had to travel to Amsterdam monthly. During my first trip, I walked through the Wallen, became aroused and sought relief with Sherra, a 30 something Dutch woman with a disproportionately large ass. Sherra had a clean room just off the Oudezijds Achterburgwal, and she seemed clean and safe. During the next two (2) years, as the merger negotiations continued, I visited Sherra several times each month. Our time together had a satisfying sameness to it: I would enter her room, she would close the drapes, pull down my pants and briefs and begin sucking me until I was hard. Then, Sherra would turn around, bend over the bed, separate her legs a bit and I would lean against her and enter her from behind through her crotchless panties. I don’t think either of us was ever completely naked. After I came, I would give Sherra three (3) quick pats on her ass. She would get up, fetch a warm towel and clean me up. Then, I would pull up my pants and head back to the hotel for a couple of hours of preparation for the next days’ negotiations. It was the most satisfying sexual relationship I had ever had.

The negotiations were ending successfully, and I had only a few more trips to make. I was told that I was to celebrate the success with a month-long vacation, then begin merger talks with another company in Berlin. I was also told that Brian would be the permanent liaison between the Houston and Amsterdam offices and that I would take him with me to Amsterdam on the last several trips. I was excited about the new challenge and getting to know a new city. I was less excited about travels with Brian. He was affable and bright, but I liked to travel alone.

Brian was not a seasoned traveler, and when I met him at IAH, he was filled with nervous energy. When we boarded, I took the window seat, ordered the Executive Meal Option and made it clear I didn’t care to spend the night drinking and talking. I slept well, scarcely aware from time-to-time that Brian was awake and wandering about the cabin. About an hour before breakfast, I woke up and discovered Brian was spent. Unlike US airports, Schiphol is efficient. Immigration, Baggage Claims, Customs and car rental are quick and easy. I drug Brian through the airport and into the car. I made it to the hotel just off the Prinsengracht quickly, woke Brian up and went to check-in. The Travel Department had made a mistake and booked only one (1) room. After a couple of quick phone calls, it became clear that a second room would not be available for two (2) nights. I wasn’t pleased. The room had one (1) king-sized bed, but in typical European fashion, that meant two (2) twins pushed together. I separated them as far as I could in the small room.

All Brian could think about was showering and sleeping. I was more interested in a drink and a visit to Sherra. So, I let Brian have the bathroom first. He had a loud pee and a noisy shower, not bothering to close the door. All I could think was that the next couple of nights were going to be like living in the frat house. As if on cue, Brian walked into the room, quite naked, drying his hair. I found it all very uncomfortable, but Brian was casual and comfortable. And despite my discomfort, I couldn’t help but notice and admire the well-formed abs, the fair skin and the hair which began with a light brownish triangle at his nipples, which narrowed into a thin line as it encountered his navel and then exploded into a thick, tangled mass at his crotch. I also couldn’t help but notice that Brian had a couple of inches on me and that he had tight, full pink balls. He tossed the towel in the corner, leaned over his bed to pull down the blankets and exposed not only his tight, fuzzy ass, but also a well-formed opening that wasn’t what I thought of as a hole.

I went into the bathroom, showered quickly and put on a pair of modest boxers before I entered the room. Brian was fast asleep.

I had a beer, took care of my business with Sherra, had another beer and returned to the room. Brian was still sleeping. I stripped down to my boxers and t-shirt and settled in for a nap. A couple of hours later, I heard Brian rummaging through the mini-bar. When he saw that I was awake, he turned on BBC-2 and began talking. At some point, he had pulled on a pair of jeans but hadn’t bothered to zip them up. He started telling me how hungry he was. I decided to take him out to an Argentinean steak house on the Leidse Plein. It was an easy walk and a good dinner.

As we followed the canal in the general direction of the hotel, Brian began the inevitable questions all young American males have about the Red Light District on their first visit to Amsterdam. I was ready for an early night, but Brian was almost frenetic. I figured there would be no sleeping in the room anyway, so I pulled Brian into a tram, and we headed in the direction of Centraal Station. I don’t know if it was the wine or the fatigue, but the next thing I knew I was standing in Sherra’s room and she was unbuckling my belt chirping about a “two-a-day” and “two boys”. Everything was proceeding as usual with the exception that I was aware of Brian standing behind me, at first making almost undecipherable sounds and then urging me on. I resented the intrusion, and then the most unsettling thing happened. Brian began rubbing my ass and giving me the odd swat from time-to-time. Involuntarily, I parted my legs just a bit. Brian seized on that, reached underneath me and began pulling at and fondling my balls. Before I knew it, I exploded inside Sherra with enough force that even she noticed. I collapsed on her back as long as I could, then pulled out. When I turned around, Brian was naked and sporting a tremendous hard-on. I couldn’t begin to imagine whether it was the show or if he had been masturbating also. I didn’t have long to look, however. Brian was ordering Sherra to take off her panties and to turn on her back. He pulled her to the edge of the bed and began fucking her, the kind of fucking a sixteen (16) year old boy does – wild, hard, fast. I noticed Sherra smiling the entire time. I also noticed Brian’s fuzzy ass flinch, tighten and wriggle. Unfortunately, the time was short. Brian came as fast and as loudly as a sixteen (16) year old boy.

It wasn’t until Brian began dressing that I realized that I had never put my pants back on and that I was already growing hard again. I was embarrassed.

Brian and I stopped for a beer and decided to walk back to hotel. It was a dark, windy, damp evening and the walk was long and robust. I never quite lost my erection, however. I was reminded of the warnings about “erections lasting four (4) hours or long
er ….” I was also slightly uneasy. Was I aroused
because of Sherra or because of the sight of Brian’s ass? But, mostly, I felt good.

When we got back to the hotel, I needed another shower. The bathroom was one of those typical European jobs, with an open shower, no door, no curtain. I, of course, had closed the door to the room. That didn’t stop Brian from entering without knocking and commencing a long pee. Even in the frat house, this wasn’t done. Then, Brian casually entered the shower, began washing his dick and chattering about what a great evening it had been. He was, again, so casual and comfortable that the occasional contact between us, his ass grabbing and slapping didn’t make me too uncomfortable. It was almost incidental, like a locker room. That made what happened next even more of a surprise. Brian gently dried me off, led me to his bed and began to powder under my arms and my chest. He then turned to my balls and finally flipped me over to powder my ass. He spread my legs wide and rubbed softly and for a considerable amount of time. Then, I felt something enter me. It was Brian, but it wasn’t. Brian had pulled out a large dildo, ribbed and balled at the end. I assume Brian had this in his checked luggage, and I suppose I was glad Dutch customs is rather easy. I hope I remembered to tell him to leave it behind. I can picture an agent at IAH pulling it out and waiving it all about. Another mystery: somehow, Brian had generously lubed the dildo. Brian began pushing the dildo in me, gently, then pulling it out, gently. The pressure began to increase with each plunge. But it was bearable and enjoyable. Brian became aware that I was hard and that I was uncomfortable pressed against the bed. He lifted me onto his lap, and I slung my arms around his chest and shoulder. The dildo had gone in as far as it could, and while he continued to push in and pull out, he added a twist. Each time the dildo entered me and before he would pull out, Brian would slap the end of it, sending shockwaves though my entire body. I convulsed so that it was as if I were giving Brian a lap dance. Each time he did this, I would whimper and then beg him to do it again. That and the feel of Brian’s hardening dick against my chest was all I could stand. I again exploded. This time all over Brian’s crotch and chest and with a thick, ropey, off-colored cum. I suppose this is what might be considered a prostate milking. Brian slowly pulled the dildo out, and I was spent. But, I wasn’t finished. Brian repositioned himself and his dick was on my lips. I took it in as if it were the most natural thing. I took him in deeply and bobbed up and down. His dick was smooth in my mouth and smelled and tasted of the lavender soap the hotel supplied. My tongue was all over the shaft, around the head and down onto his balls. Judging from the moans and the urgings-on, Brian was enjoying it all as much as I was. All too soon, it was over. I had enjoyed Brian’s salty pre-cum, but Brian pulled out just before he came. I was limited to running a finger through the pools on my chest and enjoying small, inviting tastes. We lingered for a bit and then began to notice we were both covered in each other’s cum and that Brian’s bed was soaked. Without saying a word, we moved to my bed and climbed in. Brian settled in the crook of my arm, and we slept silently and peacefully. The sound of Brian showering the next morning awakened me. When he emerged from the shower, he was chattering about the morning meeting. As I climbed into the shower, I was more interested in what would happen after the meeting.