The Movie Lovers

In the preceding chapters I've described how I came to meet my boyfriend Nick, how he introduced me to pornographic movies, and how, ultimately, he persuaded me to make one of our own.

Having now performed in two such productions in barely a month, I was growing a little concerned that this might turn into an obsession for him. Fortunately, my worries dissipated when he didn't even mention the idea over the next few weeks.

Our relationship, which had moved quickly in the beginning, (i.e. I slept with him the night we met and moved in with him barely a month later) seemed to have moved to a new level of intimacy and trust. Although I didn't attribute our growing love affair to letting him film me masturbating and fucking, I was now confident that it hadn't hurt things either.

As for the sex, well it just seemed to get better and better. At least two or three nights a week Nick liked to set aside an evening for romance. I loved the fact that he always seemed to vary his approach. One night it would be a candlelit dinner, champagne, and tender sex and the next might have us watching porn and me getting my ass fucked. It was all good and I preened under his attention and affection.

About a month after the 'premier' of our second movie Nick announced that he had to make a business trip to Germany in two weeks and invited me to come along. I had been to Europe only once before and spent most of that trip in London, so I was excited at the opportunity. I'll also admit that traveling with someone wealthy sounded like even more fun than London and Spain were when I was a student.

My boss wasn't thrilled that I wanted to take nearly two weeks off after barely six months on the job; but I reminded him that I had been working six years for our company in NYC prior to my transfer and had plenty of vacation time set aside. He couldn't really object after that; but I knew that I was not making any points by demanding time off when we were fairly busy.

I gave Nick the good news that night and we began discussing our itinerary. Nick needed three days in Frankfurt and the same number in Berlin to take care of the business part. That was fine with me as there were plenty of sights to see in both cities and he would be free most evenings. Then he mentioned wanting to go to Amsterdam.

"You want to smoke good hash that much?" I asked.

"Well there is that," he said.

"You don't want to visit the Red Light district do you?"

"No, no," he interjected quickly. "There's also an amazing Van Gogh museum and then there are the

parenclubs

."

That was a new word for me and I guess I looked at him quizzically. He explained that

parenclub

is the Dutch word for swingers club and I was outraged.

"Do you really want me to have sex with other men or do you just want to fuck other women," I said, stunned by what appeared to be our beautiful relationship collapsing.

"Neither," he insisted earnestly. "I didn't mean anything like that. You don't have to fuck other people in these places. A lot of couples go just to watch each other. I thought it would be a fun adventure - what with you the exhibitionist and me the voyeur."

That calmed me considerably. As I began to envision watching couples fuck and having them watch us, I had to admit that it did sound pretty hot.

"You're not just saying that to lure me into a gangbang, are you?" I asked, making it obvious I was teasing.

More seriously, I added, "And what if someone we know sees us?"

"That's not likely in Holland," he objected. "And besides, how could they say anything, since they would be there also."

"Maybe they'd be people who are comfortable talking about what they do," I countered; but I realized my argument was sounding pretty weak.

Nick asked me to check out a website with him. Basically it seemed to be devoted to all the things you can do legally in Amsterdam that are illegal here.

Brothels, sex shows, and drugs dominated the site; but it also included a section on parenclubs and briefly described about a half dozen in or near Amsterdam.

There was one, however, named

Kasteel Waterloo

that was located an hour's train ride out in the country near the German border. Its description did indeed sound intriguing and it also seemed to be the one where we were least likely to encounter an acquaintance.

As we checked out the various clubs' individual websites I was somewhat reassured that they all seemed to share the same motto: "Everything is permitted; nothing is required."

Ultimately, of course, I agreed to a Dutch adventure but I insisted that we see the Van Gogh Museum as well. Nick happily agreed.

Two weeks isn't much time to plan for a vacation; but, fortunately, I already had my passport and before I knew it we were off to Germany. I won't bore you with the details of my visit to Frankfurt and Berlin.

Suffice it to say I had a great time doing the tourist thing by day and meeting Nick's business associates at night. The days flew by quickly and soon we were on a train bound for Amsterdam.

We spent the first day there imbibing great Dutch beer - and hash - and that amazing Van Gogh Museum while quite stoned! The second day we headed off by train for a town named

Roermond

and our adventure at

Kasteel Waterloo

. We spent the afternoon checking out the town and resting up for our evening adventure.

The club opened at nine in the evening; but we planned to arrive about 9:45 so as not to be the first ones there. According to the club's website the theme for that Saturday evening was a "sexy dance party." It said that later in the evening lingerie and similar attire for the men would become appropriate.

I wore my sexiest black cocktail dress. It wasn't all that revealing up top but the hem didn't even reach mid-thigh. Thus it showed off my long legs to perfection. Nick wore grey slacks and a black collared shirt and looked very hot.

We arrived by taxi (how embarrassing telling the driver to take us to a sex club) about on schedule and were greeted by a beautiful woman in a bikini who welcomed us and explained the rules.

There was no membership requirement and we paid in cash. No ID required. That was a relief. She showed us around the downstairs area briefly.

To one side of stairs leading to the second floor, a very nice buffet was laid out. On the other side a bar/lounge area stretched between two rooms separated only by wide open double doors. The bar was at one end of the first room and a stripper pole on a small stage was against the wall at the end of the other. Dance music was playing but no one was dancing. From the website, we knew that upstairs was where the real action took place.

To my surprise, I realized that the "sexy dance party" dress code had already been abandoned in favor of lingerie when I saw a somewhat buxom woman in a

bustier

that merely provided a shelf for her impressive tits.

Of the perhaps twenty couples who had arrived before us, I saw two women who appeared younger than me; but most seemed to be in their thirties or forties. Several men and at least one woman even looked to be in their sixties.

Given that we appeared to be substantially overdressed, we followed our hostess' directions to the basement where lockers were available.

The locker room was unisex and two other couples were already in the process of changing. Even though I assumed that everyone expected to 'see and be seen' nude eventually, it felt rather awkward getting naked under the bright fluorescent lights.

It didn't help that the others openly watched me. At least the men were; their women were definitely checking out Nick. But since they were already well advanced in the changing process, they soon left us alone.

Nick had begged me to wear the outfit he had purchased for my second movie role. If you'll recall, it consisted of shorts made of a lightweight jersey-like material, cut very loose around the thigh and indecently short. From the hip hugger waistband to the bottom of the so-called legs (actually they didn't even reach to the bottoms of my butt cheeks) was maybe four inches and the loose cut offered frequent glimpses of my crotch.

Beneath it I was wearing the same g-string, which had what must be the world's smallest triangle of material that didn't even cover my pubic region. It was intended to cover a minimal patch of pubic hair; but since I was maintaining the hairless look, – at Nick's fervent request – it covered nothing but the hood over my clit. The string below actually slipped between my lips.

My halter top was cut low and ended just below my breasts, leaving maximum mid-riff exposed. With my four inch heels, I stood 6'2" and in the mirror it looked like I was all legs.

I'd gotten Nick a g-string of his own with a brass zipper down the front of the pouch for the occasion. He complained about the butt floss elastic lodged between his cheeks; but with his beautiful big balls – and cock – the pouch was stuffed to overflowing. So I told him to get over it. I allowed him to keep the black dress shirt on, for the moment.

Finally it was time to go upstairs and I don't have to tell you I was nervous as hell.

"I don't want to fuck anybody else," I protested, a little panicked about what lay ahead.

"Neither do I," Nick replied forcefully. "We're here to have fun. We're going to watch people have sex and maybe be watched doing it ourselves. I'm not into sharing you with strangers, don't worry."

That calmed my worst fears. I really had come to trust Nick completely and I was pretty sure that even if some woman offered to fuck him, he would respect our agreement.

So what was going to happen? I was going to get naked and almost certainly fuck Nick with people watching. I could do that. In fact, the flutters in my pussy were even more noticeable than ones in my stomach at that thought.

Finally we made our grand entrance and I definitely felt like new meat at the market as most of the guests turned to inspect us. Nick made his way to the bar to order much needed drinks and I tagged along close behind.

As we waited for drinks, the couple next us, having heard our English and our accents, asked us if we were Americans. They were Dutch, and locals, and were surprised to find Americans so far from Amsterdam.

I confessed that this was my first time at a swingers' club and wanted it to be as far from home as possible. Elena, an attractive woman in her mid-thirties I'd guess, said that they were there with some local friends. She added that many of the other guests probably were, like us, seeking anonymity and so came from nearby Germany and Belgium.

Fortunately, it seemed that nearly everyone in Holland speaks English. So when she introduced us to the two other couples at the bar the conversation shifted easily to English.

With some alcohol to lower our inhibitions, we soon joined our little group in observing the other guests and making witty - and sometimes catty – comments about the tits and dicks and butts, at least partially, on display.

In fact, the bodies I saw were, at most, a slightly more attractive bunch than your random slice of the population. A few, particularly the men, were substantially overweight and there was definitely some cellulite and sagging tits on display.

But everyone, it seemed, had made an effort to dress sexily and a ribald attitude prevailed. I had found a seat at the bar and by the time I was half way through my second drink, I was feeling so relaxed that when I noticed a guy at a nearby table staring at my crotch, I actually spread my legs a little wider and winked.

Elena noticed and said, "Fun, huh?"

Nick was chatting with some of the others and hadn't noticed; but the guy at the table and his lady were now both staring at me. Her look did not suggest jealousy, especially since her hand was in his crotch as she whispered in his ear.

Our group was kind of overcrowding the small bar; so our new friends invited us to join them at two small tables over near the stage. In the now quieter circumstances, we were better able to chat and I learned that Lars and Franny, David and Elena, and Eric and Marie were all three married couples and longtime friends who had started swinging together three years earlier.

All were in their thirties, I'd guess, and looked like what you would expect of the Dutch: tall and fit and tending toward blonde; except Marie who unlike her name was of Indonesian ethnicity and a bit younger.

She was short and brown and exotically beautiful. I noticed Nick looking her way frequently and she was returning his stares. I guess bold stares should be normal in a place where people come to strut their stuff; but nonetheless, I felt twinge of jealousy.

David said they had started coming to the

Kasteel

a year ago, at first to show off their little group; but since then, they had done some swinging with others here as well.

Franny, who was buxom and bubbly, broke in to add that they'd come once to a "Black and White Night," where they provided black studs for women looking for a thrill. She had fucked three of them she told me proudly.

I wasn't sure what to say to that, so I asked, "How was it?"

"Marvelous!" she said enthusiastically.

Lars was somewhat bemusedly watching his wife; but I also noticed him checking out my crotch and tits. Given the situation, I figured it was flattering to be ogled; but I wondered if he was hoping to do more, later.

Lars was a handsome guy and under the right circumstances I could see myself fucking him; but that was not our plan. And even if it would have been fun, I knew that I wasn't ready to watch Nick doing Marie or anyone else.

About that time our hostess took the stage to welcome everyone. After mentioning the buffet, she went on to gesture toward the pole, which dominated the small stage behind her, and began encouraging any women who fantasized doing a striptease to try it now.

With no immediate takers, she kept on trying to entice someone and I soon realized that she kept looking at Elena in particular.

"Have you ever done that?" I asked her.

"Yes, a month ago," she said, as she rose from her chair to immediate and wild applause.

As she approached the stage our hostess/MC introduced her by her first name and said she was a local friend of the club. Elena was about 5'7" and stacked. Having produced two children, her body wasn't porn star perfect; but even with a little pooch in the belly and less than perfect thighs, she carried herself with a sexy saunter that would have made my dick stir, if I had one.

She was wearing fishnet stockings with a garter belt and thong and up top, a lacy bra that barely contained some really big boobs.

The DJ started up a new tune - something Euro-techno I guess – with a danceable beat and Elena started to perform. It didn't take her long to shed the bra and everyone cheered as she shook her tits for the crowd.

She then played with her nipples and teased the crowd by acting like she was going to shed her thong. But ultimately, she just flashed us briefly by pulling it aside as the song ended and the crowd cheered.

Two other women followed Elena. The first was one of the youngest women I had noticed. She was perhaps twenty-five and seemed really nervous. She did remove her shear baby doll top to reveal very nice breasts but danced rather awkwardly, as if too embarrassed or self conscious to get into being sexy.

The second woman had to be in her mid-forties and her body showed it. But man could she dance. In no time she was down to just a g-string. Of course her large breasts sagged but the way she pinched her large nipples and even sucked on them as she danced was truly hot.

Then with her back to her audience she bent at the waist and looking at us from between her legs while wiggling her ass, slowly slid the g-string off. Naturally our small crowd, by now maybe 50 people, whistled stomped and cheered in approval.

Those who were in the back, by the bar, moved forward for a better view when she dropped to the floor and did some moves, which all involved spreading her legs and showing us her pussy, until the song ended. Cheers and applause and cries for more erupted but the woman quickly gathered her clothes and stepped from the stage proudly with a wave to her admirers.

I looked over at Franny and she was practically jumping up and down in her chair with excitement.

"I want to do that!" It's OK if I do that, isn't it, Lars?" she begged.

"Of course, go for it darling," he replied.

Lars looked over at me as she bounded off for the stage.

"Your wife is very enthusiastic, isn't she?" I asked.

"Can you believe she once thought that only the missionary position was acceptable?" he replied. "Now she's crazy for sex; but then so am I," he added with a seductive look that left no doubt of his plans for me.

I knew it was time to let him know my limits. "Ah, Nick and I agreed that we are here to 'see and be seen,' so to speak. I mean we're not really planning to have sex with other people."

"Oh," Lars said and his lecherous smile faded.

"But if I was going to, you'd be the very first man I'd choose," I added brightly.

The music was starting up. Franny was on the stage and Lars smiled again before we turned our attention to his wife's striptease.

Franny may not have been the greatest dancer; but she was definitely into putting on a show. She was rather short, in her mid-thirties, and a little chubby but she had clearly lost her inhibitions since her 'missionary-position-only' days. She wasted no time getting rid of her top to show off her impressive tits.

The crowd was really getting into it now. Lars and various other males were shouting encouragement in German and Dutch that I assumed went along the lines of "take it all off!" At least that's what she did, slipping off her thong to the cheers.

She then moistened the fingers of one hand in her mouth and, with her legs spread, slipped them between her thighs and slid them along her pussy. Then she grabbed the pole and doing deep knee bends pretended to be fucking it.

Soon she lay down on the stage and spreading her legs finger fucked herself lewdly for the crowd. Everyone cheered loudly but Lars leaned over and whispered, "If you think that's wild, wait until she gets upstairs."

When the song ended, Franny slipped her thong back on, but remained topless. Even though she'd had a baby three years earlier her breasts were plump and hardly sagged at all. Maybe the extra pounds helped in that regard.

She came bouncing over to the table, her face flushed and breathless. We started complimenting her on her show but Franny cut us off.

"I'm so horny! Let's go up stairs."

Lars and Nick objected saying they wanted me to dance next but I told them firmly there was no way that was going to happen. Actually, there was a part of me that was secretly thrilled at the idea of getting up there and taking my clothes off in front of all those people. But I wasn't ready to admit it.

I got around the problem by agreeing with Franny.

"Let's see what's upstairs, Nick," I said, not fully realizing what I was proposing.

The other two couples were quite ready to go as well. So off we went.

At the top of the stairs, we faced a long hallway with doors opening off of it on either side. As we entered the first room on the left, bubbly Franny explained that this was the bondage room. Actually it contained a number of different devices. One was an actual OB/GYN exam chair with stirrups and all.

I whispered to Nick that I had NO fantasies at all in that regard; but clearly another woman felt differently. The woman, in her late forties I'd guess, was settled in the chair while her older partner (husband?) crouched before her pussy. They had drawn a small crowd.