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I no longer remember the exact date this happened, nor do I know exactly where it happened, but I remember the event itself with great clarity. If that sounds implausible, let me explain.

I had gone to the Netherlands (Holland) to research travel stories about Amsterdam and Rotterdam. I flew from Phoenix, Arizona to Amsterdam and was nearly exhausted by the time I got to my hotel room. Once there, I showered, and then napped for an hour. When I awoke, I called Jan van Gough. I had collaborated with Jan online for more than a year, but I had not met him in person.

After we had talked a bit, Jan suggested that I go to dinner with him, and then go to a club for a few drinks and a chance to get to know one another. As tired as I was, I begged off for that night, but agreed to go with him the next evening.

Jan arrived at my hotel promptly at 6:00 PM and called me from the front desk to say that he would meet me in the hotel's bar for a drink, and then would take me to dinner. Five minutes later, I met Jan in the lounge and had a Grolsch beer while we got acquainted.

Jan, at fifty-five, is an amazingly fit man. As we talked, he told me that he plays soccer every weekend on the senior's team for the village in which he lives. His blond hair is showing signs of grey, but he is nevertheless a man of such good looks that several of the women in the lounge eyed him with hunger in their eyes.

After we finished our beers, Jan took me to a restaurant that features food from Indonesia. The curried fish and rice I had was quite different from the Indian curry I am so fond of. The addition of coconut milk gave it a pleasantly sweet taste that in no way clashed with the heat of the spices that give good curry its fire.

As we talked, Jan and I discovered that we share a strong interest in erotica. As a result, Jan asked if I had ever been to one of Holland's sex clubs. I hadn't; that was actually my first visit to the country, so Jan asked if I would like to visit one.

We finished our dinner, and then got in Jan's Porsche to go to the club he had told me about. The club is not in Amsterdam, but is in one of the nearby communities. Don't ask me which one; I was so interested in just looking at the barges on the canals, and at the Dutch architecture that I paid no attention to which roads we took, or where we went. I could not go back there on my own if I tried. Nevertheless, after about a forty-five minute drive, we arrived at a magnificent home on the outskirts of a town. The building had to have been built during the first quarter of the nineteenth century, and must have been the home of a wealth merchant, or perhaps even a member of the royalty. It had seen better days, but was still an impressive structure.

Jan told me its grounds were much shrunk from what they had been, even when he was a boy, but to me they were still large, almost park like.

When we entered, a gorgeous girl about nineteen met us. She wore only a black apron trimmed with white lace, and a little lace cap. The apron barely covered her ample, firm breasts, and was so short that a few tufts of blond hair peeked out from beneath it. When she turned to lead us into the main sitting room, her bare butt and long, well turned legs made me wish I were a much younger man.

In the main sitting room, the girl took us over to a couple of overstuffed chairs near the fireplace and asked if we would like something to eat or drink. Jan turned to me and asked, "Do you like Pernod?"

"Yes, I do. I don't get to drink it often, however. Most Americans have no idea what it is, and it's not available in most of our bars."

Turning to the girl, he then said, "Hanelore, please bring Mr. Jacquekov a tall Pernod in water, and bring me my usual."

"Yes, Herr van Gough," She replied and disappeared through a side door. As she left, Jan turned to me and said, "Eukan, this is one of my country's most delightful bordellos. The staff is courteous and always discrete. It is a private club, and the board of governors tightly controls membership. Were you not my guest, you would not have been allowed to enter."

"Does the young lady, Hanelore, know all of the members by name?"

"Oh yes. So do all of the other staff members."

Just then, Hanelore returned with our drinks.

I took mine, waited until Jan had his in his hand and had dismissed Hanelore, and raised my glass; "To your health," I said.

Jan returned the toast and we began to sip our drinks. As we did so, Jan resumed the conversation he had begun before the drinks arrived.

"We have some very entertaining live shows in the theater. If you wish, we can watch one. We also have a number of girls who can satisfy any sexual desire you have. Not all of them perform the bizarre acts that a few of our members want, but a couple of the women specialize in such things. Also, some of our members are voyeurs, so the club has several rooms arranged so that those who wish to can go into a darkened passageway and look through a one-way mirror to watch couples on the other side having sex."

"Do the couples who are being watched know they are being watched?"

"I'm sure they know that they may be, but they never know for sure."

"Doesn't that put a damper on their performance?"

"No; not really. The men who request those rooms tend to be exhibitionists, and I suspect that they relish the idea that they may have an audience."

"How does one know which girls are available for sex?"

"They are all available. That is a condition of being employed here."

"Can a girl refuse a request for her service?"

"Oh yes. If a member asks for a sex act that the girl feels is too dangerous, or too degrading, she can politely refuse, and perhaps suggest to the man that he ask one of the girls who she knows provides that kind of service."

"Are there any women members of the club?"

"Certainly. They have the same privileges as the male members."

"Are the male staff members required to provide sex to the female members in the same way as the female staff is required to serve the male members?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Do male and female members ever have sex with one another."

"If they are both agreeable to it."

"Hmmmm. I would say that being a member here is quite a rewarding privilege."

"Yes, it is. However, it also carries an obligation."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Since AIDs and herpes have become so common, all of our members are required to have a medical exam before they are accepted for membership, and are pledged to not have sex with anyone outside our club. We want everyone here, both members and staff, to feel safe in the knowledge that they will not become infected while having un-protected sex."

"What about pregnancy?"

"All of our female employees take birth control pills, and as for our women members, they are either on the pill, or can request that their partner wear a condom."

"You said all members must be screened before being accepted. I haven't been screened."

"That's right, and I'm sorry, but you cannot have sex with any of our staff, or any of our female members until you do pass the medical exam and are accepted into membership by the board of governors."

"That's disappointing, but I can see the logic behind it. May I watch one or more of the live shows?"

"I was hoping you would want to. Please follow me into the theater."

Jan led me from the sitting room down a hallway lined with magnificent oil paintings, all of which showed people engaged in various forms of licentious activity. At the end of the hall, we passed through a curtained doorway into a dimly lit room in which a dozen tables were arranged around a horseshoe shaped stage in such a way that everyone at each table had a unobstructed view of the performance on the stage.

A stunningly beautiful Eurasian girl greeted us as we stepped into the room.

"Good evening Herr van Gough; good evening sir."

"Good evening Greta. This is Mr. Eukan Jacquekov. Mr. Jacquekov is a colleague of mine from the United States. He's here to write some travel articles for a magazine in the US."

"I'm pleased to meet you, sir. Are you going to be here very long?"

"Unfortunately, no. I'll be here no more than a month."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy the time you will be here. Would you like something while you watch the next performance?"

Jan looked at me as if to ask what I would like. Taking the clue, I said "I would like another Pernod and a little something light to eat so that the alcohol doesn't make me tipsy."

Jan then said, "The food sounds like a good idea. Please bring us one of Elka's snack trays, and I'll have my usual drink."

"Right away, Herr van Gough."

We seated ourselves at one of the tables at the rounded end of the stage. The stage was not very high, little more than a raised platform about two feet higher than the room floor. On it was a round bed. At the opposite end of the stage wine colored velvet curtains hid the back-stage area. A bank of loud speakers were tastefully hidden behind cloth panels on either side of the stage. The panels were decorated with airbrushed scenes that set an erotic mood without being so busy that they would distract the audience from the activity on stage.

As Greta returned with our food and drinks, a drum roll came from the speakers, the curtain parted at the end of the stage and a muscular nude man came on stage. He looked like a weight lifter or wrestler. His biceps and his thighs were massive and bulging. His abdomen was a washboard of muscle. His long penis lay sleeping on a blond haired scrotum containing a pair of testicles that any bull would have been proud to have.

By now, the other tables in the room were also occupied. I was surprised to see at least half a dozen women present. More surprising was the fact that nearly everyone was nude. Jan and I looked quite out of place sitting there in our business suits.

The nude body builder stepped to the front of the stage and began to speak. He spoke in Dutch, but Jan translated for me.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight's presentation. Tonight the beautiful Helene will present a solo performance on the skin flute accompanied by the music of Rampal. Please welcome the lovely Helene."

The curtain parted again and out stepped the most beautiful black girl I have ever seen. She was tall, perhaps five foot six and had firm, conical 36D breasts, a narrow waist above a pear shaped 37 inch ass supported by beautifully curved slender legs. Her pubic hair was trimmed so that short, tightly coiled spirals of coal black only partially hid the coffee color of her mons and labia major. The head of her clitoris poked tantalizingly out at the top of her slit.

Applause rippled through the room. Helene strutted across the stage to stand beside Mr. Bodybuilder. She curtsied, smiled, and dropped to her knees as the strains of flute music filled the room.

She took Mr. Bodybuilder's flaccid eight-inch penis in her hand, held it lightly, slid the foreskin back to bare the mushroom shaped glans, and lightly kissed the little lips of his pee hole.

Then her bright pink tongue darted between her lips and danced across the head of the man's penis. Her touch was delicate and followed precisely the rhythm of Rampal's flute playing. Mr. Bodybuilder's penis began to lengthen and grow thicker. Soon it was easily ten inches long, maybe more, and nearly two inches in diameter.

As soon as it was fully erect, Helene began stimulating its length with her lips, tongue and teeth.

Let me tell you, my own penis is no where as large as Mr. Bodybuilders, but it was a hell of a lot harder, and was leaking so much pre-cum that I had a dark wet spot on my trousers near the zipper. Thankfully, it was where my suit jacket covered it when I stood. Damn, I wanted to trade places with that blond Adonis.

You will have to imagine what Helene did; I cannot begin to describe the virtuosity she showed as she played his skin flute to the strains of Rampal's music. It was fascinating to see the contrast between his tannish pink penis with its plum purple glans and blond pubic hair against her coffee colored face and raven black hair. And, meijn Gott, when she took his massive tool into her mouth. A snake would have had difficulty swallowing his cock, but Helene, somehow, took its entire length and nuzzled her nose into his blond pubic mat.

I'll have to give Mr. Bodybuilder his due. He lasted a hell of a lot longer than I would have, and longer than probably 90% of the men I know. But, when he let go...

Helene had removed his penis from her mouth. She must have felt a change in it that told her he was about to come, or perhaps he signaled her in some way that I missed, but anyway, she took it out of her mouth, licked a drop of pre-cum from the tip, and slid her hand along its length twice. Then that monster erupted like a volcano. Ropes of white semen spattered across her face. It coated her nose, cheeks, and lips and dripped from her chin onto her breasts.

She licked her lips to clear the semen from them, and then engulfed his cock head for another powerful suck to get the last of his ejaculate from him.

They had timed his orgasm perfectly. She removed his flagging dick from her mouth and stood to join hands with him and bow to the audience just as the last strains of flute music died and was replaced by the applause of the audience.

No, don't ask me what piece of Rampal's music was played for their performance. I'm not a music fan and wouldn't have known it was Rampal playing had Mr. Bodybuilder not said it would be when he introduced Helene to the crowd.

There was a brief intermission during which Jan told me that Mr. Bodybuilder's name was Hans, and that he and Helene would return in about an hour for a display of erotic gymnastics on the bed that was on the stage.

Greta came by and asked if we wanted more to drink. Our plate of snacks was still almost as full as it had been when she brought it to us. I was beginning to feel the effects of the Pernod I had drunk and declined another one. Jan also said he had had enough for a while. When Greta left, I turned to Jan and asked where the men's room was.

"I have to go too; follow me."

We returned to our table just as a fanfare announced that it was time for the next performance.

Two women who were in their mid-twenties came on stage. They were dressed in traditional Dutch costumes: wooden shoes, striped cotton hose, flaring blue skirts overlain by white aprons that strained to cover the bulging tits that filled their blouses. And of course, they wore the traditional little lace caps on their blond heads.

After bowing to the audience, they did a short little clog dance that made the room reverberate to the tapping of their shoes against the wooden floor of the stage. When their dance ended, they embraced and glued their lips together in a hot, open mouthed kiss.

While they played tongue tag, they began undressing one another. It was one hell of a strip tease. Their movements were perfectly choreographed to the music playing on the sound system.

That tease lasted perhaps five minutes. As they stripped one another, they caressed and kissed each body part they bared. Then, when they had only their striped, knee length hose on, they tumbled onto the bed that was on the stage and began the hottest lesbian lovemaking I've ever witnessed.

They kissed deeply. They sucked one another's nipples. They fingered one another's muffs. They sixty-nined. Finally they brought their groins together in a troibadistic coupling that left no doubt in anyone's mind that they were truly enjoying grinding their vulva together. The sound of their wet pussies sliding together as they humped and ground could be heard throughout the room. They achieved orgasm at the same moment. Their screams of pain/pleasure made the hair stand on the back of my neck.

When they finished, I discovered that I no longer had just a dark spot caused by the leakage of pre-cum; my shorts were full of come, and it was a sticky mess all over my belly. Damn! Those two had given such a show that I had come in my pants, and had not even touched my cock. During the intermission, I returned to the restroom, went into a stall and used several sheets of toilet tissue to sop up the mess on my belly and in my shorts.

When I got back to our table, Jan had re-ordered drinks for us, but this time he had ordered cognac for both of us. Just as we finished toasting one another's health, Hans and Helene returned to the stage, which had been set to look like an apartment bedroom. Both were dressed in casual street clothes.

Their dialog was in Dutch so I won't try to tell you what the small talk they engaged in was, but after a moment of mock arguing, Hans (Mr. Bodybuilder) grabbed Helene and kissed her forcefully. At first, she struggled against him, and even managed to plant a stinging slap on his cheek.

He was too strong for her, however, and before long she quit struggling and began to melt under his impassioned attack. All of this was taking place to specially selected music that set the mood of the skit perfectly. It was as if the music had been especially composed for them in the same way movie mood music is composed to underscore and emphasize the action on the screen.

Before long, both were nude. Hans was fully erect. Helene's nipples were stiff and standing our proudly form the silver dollar size areolas of her breasts.

In their first skit, Helene's clitoris had been visible between her labia major. Now it stood out prominently. It's head was smooth and hard.

Both Hans and Helene were breathing hard as they went through a wide array of foreplay exercises on the big round bed. The kissed passionately. They stroked one another's bodies paying special attention to their buttocks and genitals. They went down on one another. At one point, Helene even stuck one of her long, erect nipples into the pre-cum slobbering mouth of Hans' cock as if to fuck him with it.

"Stop teasing me. Put it in me. Fuck me!" or something like that, Helene screamed in Dutch.

Hans picked her up and lifted her off the bed. He told her to kneel on the floor. When she did, he grabbed her ankles and pulled her legs up and out, placing one on either side of his hips. She was in a wheel barrow position now, supported only by her hands on the floor, her arms out stretched to keep her head off the floor.

Hans moved in. His cock head pushed between her slick labia and into her cunt. They fucked like that for a couple of moments with Helene walking on her hands around the stage so that the people at every table could see Hans' long pale penis sliding in and out of her dark cunt.

Next, Hans again put her up on the bed and for thirty minutes, they fucked in so many different positions that I lost track of all of them. Not one of the positions they used was the old missionary position, nor even the standard doggy position. Each required a degree of gymnastics that made me marvel at his strength and her limberness.

They finished with Helene on top of Hans and positioned so that her pussy was in clear view of the audience.

I never saw the video camera, but one with a telephoto lens was trained on their genitals. Suddenly, a giant TV screen on either side of the stage lit up showing the gigantic image of his pale cock sliding slickly in and out between Helene's rich coffee colored labia, and the almost blazing pink of her vaginal opening.

That lasted about three minutes. Then Hans rammed upward. His shout reverberated throughout the small theater only to be matched by Helene's soprano keening.

A moment later, Hans collapsed back onto the bed. His rapidly softening cock slid from the gaping pinkness of her cunt and flopped against his belly. As it did so, a stream of his come flowed like a white river from her fiery depths down across her clit and onto his cock and balls.