Visiting The Girls Of Amsterdam Ch 02

Dear readers, in the first installment, Bunkie got to fly to Amsterdam for an education not to be had at an American university. There he met Veronika, a girl his own age that gave him an eye opening night of adventure. It's a pretty good read, according to the feedback, so catch up on that one if you haven't already done so. During that first tryst, Bunkie briefly met another girl named Galena. We'll pick up the story evolving from that chance encounter.

As always, all my stories have a germ of truth to them, either in the setting or events that happened. It tends to keep a story from becoming far fetched or unbelievable. I always relish your comments and constructive criticisms and of course thank you for reading my work. --puppop

I Acclimation

Pieter and I puttered down the darkened boulevards. Mostly all the bicyclists were safely home, the good burghers turning down their beds and making plans for the weekend. I asked Pieter if he had waited outside all the time I was upstairs. He hadn't, instead meeting some friends for dinner and running an errand or two. The car couldn't be used on the weekend, since it belonged to the government. Bicycles would be the order of the day for Saturday and Sunday. As I absorbed this, he finally asked if I had enjoyed myself.

"It was a lot more than I expected Pieter. " I relaxed into the seat and looked out the window at the low clouds and mist."But I didn't quite know what to expect. Thank you for picking out such a good hostess. There's no way things would have worked as well without your help. I had a great time. I mean, I'm worn out, Lord!"

Pieter just grinned and tapped his thumb on the steering wheel.

I asked, "How did you know of Veronika, or is it a secret?"

"I met her by my office not too long ago. She had come to the Ministry for her work visa and I chatted her up. She's a sweet girl. I was pretty sure you two would go well together." He geared down for a red light. "She and her roommate are from Estonia. They escaped from a pretty tough regime."

"I met Galena. She stopped by for a minute."

"I haven't met her. Are you going to see her?"

"That's the plan. Tomorrow night I'll be with her, as long as I can get there."

"We'll make it work." Pieter put the car in gear and we moved on. "You'll need to get by the currency exchange and we'll have to get you a bike. Taxis aren't cheap, plus there's more to learn here than just girls."

We laughed. Arriving at Pieter's at last, I said my good nights and thanks and wearily shuffled off to bed. As I drifted off, I heard a police car in the distance. It might have been some other sort of emergency vehicle but the sing song siren sounded so utterly foreign. I wasn't in Jersey anymore. Saturday spelled new promises for a young man with unique opportunities.

II Meeting up with Galena

The wind had picked up during the night and blew away the fog. I watched signal flags on a tugboat fluttering in the breeze. I had parked my rented bike near an old stone quay where it was reputed that Henry Hudson had sailed for the New World. Lunch was an excellent sandwich and brew from a restaurant that had been there for four hundred years and the tables were worn down on the edges from half a millennia's worth of arms and elbows. I had gone and exchanged dollars for guilders and was starting to learn what things cost.

It was strange to be in a foreign country, even one as benevolent as Holland, but it was the start of a lifelong love for the Netherlands and all things Dutch. It was a clean, unassuming, and as I found out, a very tolerant country. I had ridden through a stop sign, only to have a whistle blown at me by a foot cop who explained to me that bicyclists weren't exempt from any traffic laws. He was really nice about it. He even smiled and waved as I pedaled off.

It was cool in the breeze and I was glad I had on a heavy cable knit over my jeans and boots. I had my Red Sox ball cap pulled low over my hair and I felt clear eyed and fit as a fiddle. With a map in my back pocket, I played tourist, bumping over the cobblestones by the Royal palace and watched the ebb and flow of tourists at some of the museums. Everything seemed old, but well cared for. I was fascinated by the colorful houseboats, the flowers and all the tiny little shops that sold everything from rare books to trinkets and electronics. The narrow shopping district was crowded with people from everywhere imaginable. They clustered around street musicians and portrait painters at the corners just like in New York. But as the day drew on, the ranks of visitors thinned as I made my way back to my evening 'school'.

At the door of my previous evening's tryst, I was uncertain which bell to ring. There was a line of them mounted in brass with a number associated with each. As I stood there, the door opened and a British sailor emerged. We nodded and I caught the door before it could close. At the well of the third floor, I knocked on the middle door, which I recalled would be Galena's room. After a moment, I heard her, asking a question in Dutch. I simply said my name and hoped she wasn't entertaining.

My fears were ill founded. The door flew open and there she was. It was my first meeting with her face to face standing up. Laughing and murmuring,"Ah Bunkie, Bunkie, come," she pulled me inside. We walked down a little hall which opened into her room to the right. She turned to me and gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. Close up, her features seemed Slavic with higher than usual cheekbones and a slight tilt to her eyes, which were deep brown with flecks of gold. Her hair cascaded down to mid back and smelled of lavender. Her wide smile created dimples in her cheeks, all aglow in good health. She was wearing a tight burgundy turtleneck over equally tight bell bottom jeans and lace up boots completed the ensemble. Her breasts were unfettered, naturally sloping apart and her waist flared pleasingly out to a round thick butt. In other words, she was my idea of a full,on the tall size girl.

She gestured to an old brocade covered chair by the window, which was open. I heard people on the street below us, including a woman asking directions to the shopping district in Italian. Half thinking, I muttered the answer in Italian, having just wandered through the district earlier. Galena had turned to unpacking her valise on the bed when she heard me. "Aha, you speak Italian?"

I nodded, "Some, but I'm not fluent."

She replied in broken Italian herself, "I learned some in school and some from an old boyfriend. This is marvelous that we can speak together, no?"

"It solves a big problem." I was relieved. I'd been wondering how in the world we'd communicate and then quite by accident, this discovery. I wanted to lean out the window and thank the lady below for her perfect timing. But then again, everything happens for a reason. As Galena floated a sheet over the naked mattress, I told her as best I could how Italian men would visit my uncle's social club when I was little and how they'd pay me a dime for every sentence I would learn in Italian. "Of course, I've forgotten a lot of what I learned" I concluded.

She came over and took my hand. "Perhaps we'll get to practice that and maybe some other things too? I heard from a little mouse that you are a good learner and work very hard to please the instructor." She chuckled. "Now this instructor has had no dinner. Have you dined?"

I shook my head. "Shall we do so? I've seen many places for food."

She grinned and grabbed a short jean jacket that didn't have the first chance of buttoning over her deep chest.

On the street she easily matched my stride as we walked around dawdlers and gawkers, some of which turned to gawk at Galena. Her hair rose and fell with each step and she took my hand when we crossed the avenue. She pulled me into a little diner I hadn't noticed and we grabbed a window booth. We were flushed from the brisk walk and our attempts to understand each other, which made for some hilarious discussions. The waiter didn't speak English, so I let Galena order for me, which she did in rapid Dutch.

"What am I having tonight?" I asked as the waiter left.

"Bacon and ice cream" came the mirthful reply.

"I'd heard that was the usual dinner fare for Estonians these days" I said, leaning back in my seat.

"Wait until we have strawberries over escargot for dessert" she replied, not missing a beat.

Taking my hand, a mischievous glint appeared in those up swept eyes. "Maybe later we'll have a wonderful Estonian and American layer cake- if you eat all your dinner."We laughed as shadows overtook the buildings and the streetlights started coming to life.

The dinner proved to be good solid sustenance and we left with full bellies and smiling faces. Galena helped me to understand the bill and how much to tip. During the course of our repast I learned that she wanted to save up and buy a motor trawler, much to my surprise. Her father had fished until the Soviet authorities had confiscated his boat. Galena loved the sea and it was her goal to captain her own rig. I had visions of her at the helm during a treacherous storm in the North Sea. It seemed suitably romantic to me as well as reminding me of my uncle's words concerning the equality of women. I was in the company of an adventurous soul, especially for 1971.

We repaired to her den of inequity. As we marched along, I watched her magnificent hips swinging in time with her arms, breasts rising and falling with her long strides. Such a beauty and she was mine- at least tonight.

III Feathering the Nest

A breeze carried the sound of a ship's lonesome horn through the open window of Galena's rented walk up. She'd placed some candles on a table, which she lit while I drew the curtains closed. A thin light still came from under the door and I heard what might have been Moroccan music emanating from somewhere in the building.

"Do you thirst" she asked over her shoulder as she brought a glass from the sink in the corner.

"Only for you" I replied.

A chuckle, then, "This can be accomplished, my new friend and student." A hint to cover expenses, dutifully met and guilders disappeared into a jean pocket. "Now, I have a little treat" She pulled out another water glass, a paperclip and a foil wrapped object the size of a pencil eraser. "This is from Lebanon, another country I hope to visit someday. But for now..." Unwrapping the foil, she produced a small medium dark sticky ball which she impaled on the bent paperclip. "Matches, please" she intoned and striking one, held it to the tarry substance. When it began to burn, she blew the fire out and covered it with the overturned glass. The glass filled with smoke. "Now, do as I do my student." She tipped one edge of the glass up and sucked in the smoke, then reset it. "Wait until it fills anew, then you do as I did. Take it in slow, so you do not choke."

I complied as best I could with her directions as a sickly sweet aroma wafted up from the scarred table. Galena exhaled, "We do this once more, yes, and it will be finished."

"Is this hashish?" I asked, staring curiously at the glass.

"Yes. You will like it in only a few moments. It makes love play more, ah, intense one might say." She grappled for more words. "It expands my nerves and when I am with a man I wish to enjoy, the rewards are, can I say, more plentiful." She tipped the glass again, deftly sucking in the imprisoned smoke. I followed, finishing what was left. "If you will close the window I will put on my, uh, instructors' gown." A wink and a grin, her merriment barely contained.

I got up,closed the window and gazed out. The street tonight was busier than last, with a lot more men perusing the girls in the lower windows. Now I could hear the Moroccan music more clearly. In fact it seemed to come from the other side of the wall. I started thinking about Arabian nights, and then Barbara Eden in the 'I Dream of Jeanie' show and belly dancers, silk tents and scimitars, Ali Baba and old Disney cartoons in Technicolor. I realized the window stool was painted a pleasing shade of aqua. That's when I discovered my mind was shifting to a different plane. The music I was hearing seemed more insistent, throbbing bongos and balalaikas.

Turning towards the room, it seemed dimmer, lit by the two fluttering candles. In front of the bedstead stood Galena.

She wore a long translucent gown held together in the front by a simple sash. She stood in sequined slippers and her flowing hair was pinned up in loose gathers only to cascade like auburn waterfalls over her shoulders. In the fading light her eyes seemed almost spectral and mystic, her pupils reflecting the tiny flames of the candles. Wordlessly, she held out her hand. Telepathically understood, we would be communicating without anymore language barriers.

IV Intimate Galena

She swayed gently to the hidden music as she removed my clothing. I stood before her bare chested as her long fingers traced my muscles and tendons. Warm caressing palms against my nipples, squeezing my biceps, she seemed lost in her own time of discovery. Her pointed tongue licked the corner of her mouth and her luminous eyes looked deep into mine as she undid my jeans, gently pulling the zipper down, anticipating further discovery. I stood mute, hands at my side watchful as my houri took a deep breath and released my tumescence. "Ahhh" she breathed, nodding. Her other hand drew my head down to her lips, feathering my cheek with her fingertips as her tongue sought and gained entrance to mine.

Of their own accord, my hands went to her waist, the ruffled silk warm with the promise of womanhood beneath. She breathed deep, pushing down on my waistband and I complying, became naked at last. The music intensified and we swayed in time tightly and as one, my maleness between us, encased in her stomach's hollow. Wandering hands pulled my loins tightly to her, kneading my buttocks. I found her swaying hips soft, firmness just below, flexing, releasing, pushing into me yet still we kissed more urgently. Pulling away, I released her sash, parting the gown, her flushed skin hot on my own.

A true moment suspended in time, the cleft note wherein the spark reigns supreme, before the flame ignites, that split second before lightning rends a darkened sky and a moonlit torrent enters Stygian depths. Eternity became reality, of souls united, the mortal casings became no longer impediments but extensions of two minds collective, intertwining and blatantly expressing human desires with the illicit promise of Eros' lust impending. I traveled in the kiss. I lost myself into the glories of her embrace. There was no future, just an unstoppable now. Dimly I was aware of my escalating need, but also of the treasure held in my arms, her questing mouth in mine, the pounding in my temples. Behold, my framed mental remembrance of Galena, a portrait even to be carried from one lifetime to the next, a gift of the Goddesses.

I decided I liked hash a lot.

We breathed to each other, the kiss broken. "I am lost in you Galena."

Answering smiled whisper, "You are stoned. Sit before you fall." The low cot was against the back of my calves. I sat as Galena towered over me. She leaned forward, her gown falling forward framing my shoulders. Within were her magnificent breasts, the unbound fruit of her womanhood only inches from my eyes, the nipples flushed and dark and past the pouting belly, the long sable fur encompassing her sex. As my hands came up to caress, she took each in turn, binding them behind me with her gown's sash. I looked up at her questioningly. Her silent reply- a challenging smile below dancing eyes.Her hands to my shoulders, she shifted a breast to my lips.

I licked the slight saltiness from her as the aureole ridged and hardened and her nipple distended. I took more in my mouth, then closing onto her nipple, watching her face above. Her hand went behind my head, pulling me tighter as I began to suck her engorged nubbin until it stood proud and firm in my mouth. Galena sighed and nodded, her fingers combing through my hair. She pushed my head into her heavy orb, then released. She made as if to bite. "Like a grape" she whispered. I nibbled and sucked, nibbled and sucked, then licked her expanse before resuming anew. Her hand fled my neck, still holding my shoulder with the other and quested for my maleness, rigid against my belly. With fingertips, she drew little circles on the tip then barely squeezing. I felt my sac contract and slickness issued unbidden, only to be rubbed, glistening the end.

Shifting, her other breast replaced the first for my ministrations, the nipple already hard and needful. Galena's long fingers continued their tarantella, exciting my swollen need, making it difficult to concentrate on my 'lesson'. Her fingers slid to the back of my cocks head to the sensitive spot, slicking it with my own contributions and then sliding down the shaft, closing gently as she reached the base, pausing, pulling up, and allowing the skin to slide past her moistened palm on the journey's return to the tip. This she did slowly, languidly, almost carelessly. Then bunching her fingers around the head, she squeezed anew with a gentle tug, urging out still more clear droplets.

It made me delirious. My hips began to jerk as her torture continued. It was never enough to build to release. No matter how I shoved or moaned, her caress continued. If my attention to her breasts wandered, so too would her hand, only to return when I resumed. I was beginning to ache when she reached to my scrotum, squeezed, and leaving several fingers there, jacked my base firmly and rapidly. My surprise was absolute, as if a bright light had come on. My knees flexed, my belly tingled as my orgasm suddenly became imminent.

Galena's hands left me and standing, she shrugged off her gown, tossing it on the pillow. I moaned, wishing to grasp myself and finish what she'd begun. I needed perhaps one more stoke for release! She shifted and placing one foot up on the cot, brought me face to face with the lush soft fur of her pudenda, the exotic aroma of feminine arousal wafting into my nostrils. She tipped my head back, rubbing her silkiness across my face back and forth. Her other hand cupped her swollen breast, tightly pinching her nipple, head thrown back, lost in her own world.

Shifting her hips forward forced my lips to her crevice, the labia slack and open, where the pronounced inner lips hung glistening, her clit elongated. I took my first tentative lick, the salty tanginess my first taste of woman, her smell an inviting elixir to explore, kiss and worship. Gently I sucked in an inner lip, kissing, licking the folds and hearing her sigh above in a moment's contentment. I ran my tongue down the folds as she tilted her pelvis more, giving me unfettered access to her secrets until I arrived at her entrance. Without hesitation, I plunged my tongue into Galena's needful hole and felt contractions tightening around my searching licks in and out. My face grew wet with her need, yet I ignored her firm clit rising past its hood resting against my nose. Sucking in her lips together, I suckled back to the top of her furrow even as Galena tried to push my head back down. I wiped my face in her hairs and looked up at her face. Her eyes were narrowed, nostrils flared as she breathed.

I could take no more bondage and loosed the sash from my hands. Grabbing her magnificent ass, I swung her down onto the bed, head to the pillow, knees akimbo, her glorious pussy open and exposed. Her clit, unattended stood out from her freshly sucked lips, her hole ringed in fresh droplets of need, a whitish cream oozing downwards. Leaning over sideways I brought my mouth just short of her rubbery stub and planted the lightest of kisses on its very end. Galena's hips jerked one, then again. She moaned something I couldn't understand, pushing my head hard against her, grinding.