I consider Amsterdam as the highlight of my summer of 1970 high school-to-college gap year fuck trip around Europe. My parents had given me enough money for the trip down along the Rhine River from Bavaria to Amsterdam and then across to England, but I wanted a car too, so I did what I could to cover travel expenses by selling my ass to men along the way.
It was no big deal. I'd been fucked before. I had enjoyed it. That spring, after turning eighteen, and before graduating from high school, my basketball coach took me camping over spring break; seduced me, which I'd been ripe for; and fucked me for nearly a week. I spent the week on my back on a camp bed, my legs spread and bent and my hips raised on pillows. He had a couple of buddies there and they fucked me too—a couple of times doubling me. No big deal. I'd known it was what I wanted to do. It was a high to be wanted by guys like that—especially older men.
I decided to use my gap year trip, where there'd be no one to supervise me, to see if I liked getting it on with men enough to make a habit out of it. I found I did. I also found I was good-looking enough to pick men up easily—at least at eighteen. Men apparently found me sexy and vulnerable looking—and, they often said, a firecracker in bed.
It had all been pretty straightforward until I reached Amsterdam. I'd meet men in cafés in the morning and earn money on my back in a hotel or their cars to get me down the road. There, I'd go into gay bars at night to have a room for the night with a man on top of me, humping me, before I got to sleep, and often humping me again in the morning to cover the cost of breakfast. It helped that I liked having a man's knees between my thighs and a cock inside me. It was a high to have men worshipping, wanting, my body—using me, sometimes abusing me, entering me, being inside me, trembling, shuddering, thrusting and dying the little death inside me, becoming one with me.
Sometimes I'd get a ride on a Rhine barge for part of the journey. Riverboat men were some of the most muscular, rough, and satisfying tops. There was more money to be had from men I met in cafés and bars, but I got more distance down the river, manhandling, and deeper thrusts up into my gut from the riverboat men. They seemed to understand better not just to poke me till they busted a nut, but to get it up deep in me and to work me in the core while I moaned for it, coaxing us to come together. Riverboat men tended to like the buddy system too, doing me in threesomes, and I enjoyed the extra company. It was all scored up to progress down the river, toward Amsterdam.
Amsterdam was a real eye opener for me. I hadn't contemplated that there was a place as hedonist and permissive as this. There was a whole openly tolerated sex trade section of town, where people played and sex was on display and order without any hassling from the authorities. I had planned to stay there three, maybe four days, and I wound up staying three weeks. There were whole streets of openly gay establishments, where I was welcomed with open arms and erect cocks, all willing to pay for a young, good-looking American being laid under them. I was fucked on an average of twice a day while in Amsterdam and had no trouble building up my cash supply.
After the first week, I settled into an arrangement at a gay cruising bar called Mannen Zone, or Men's Zone in English. I was assigned a small room upstairs for sitting at the end of the bar and visiting that room with men who either snuffled up to me or were sent to me by the bartender. I got the room to sleep in and the bar got half of what I made. There was a guaranteed fee I had to give them, but this was wild and open Amsterdam. I had no trouble giving them way more than their minimum fee.
It was noon on a Friday when Bram came into the bar with Joost in tow. It was, of course, only later, when they were fucking me and calling each other by name while discussing how best to manipulate me to get both of their cocks inside me that I learned their names. Bram was the older of the two and, judging from his clothes, the richer. He also obviously was in charge and this was his fantasy we were going to fulfill. He was a solid man, probably in his forties, well built and good-looking. A solid Dutch citizen, no doubt. Joost was younger, maybe late twenties, not so good looking and a bit nervous. He was taller and rangier than Bram, but he also had good musculature. He obviously was Bram's bought man, though. Bram did all of the talking and dealing. Joost was along for the ride.
I was the one the two of them rode together.
I saw them come into the bar. It was early, but men already were gathering. This was Amsterdam. They cruised often and early here. I could tell by the way that Bram scanned the room that he was shopping. I could tell from the way that Joost followed on behind him, looking at him more than at the men in the room, where Bram was visually separating tops from bottoms, that Joost wasn't the shopper. It was equally evident that the two were together, which immediately clicked "threesome" in my mind and, because this was Amsterdam, maybe even "DP"—double penetration. I hadn't done that since Cologne, in the cathedral, in an isolated sacristy, sandwiched between two priests, my knees hooked on the hips of one, who was thrusting from in front, the other behind me, and also inside me, his lips bruising mine. But that's another story.
I assessed their builds for the likelihood I could and would be willing to take them both. Bram looked like the taxing one. As it turned out Joost fulfilled that role. He wasn't significantly thick, but he was godawful long. And once having sunk into the core, Joost knew what to do with it. Bram was the average. I suppose Bram had enlisted Joost for the length of him and for how he could get a guy to writhe and moan deeply and his eyes to roll up into his head.
The two saddled up to the other end of the bar, Joost following Bram's lead. Bram spoke with the bartender, both of them looking down the bar at me. I gauged I could take both of the men if it came to that and smiled back a "sure, why not?" smile at Bram. Very soon after that the two men slid down the bar and Bram was sitting close to me, a hand on the edge of the barstool behind me as the start of a claim of possession, and Joost was sitting on the other side of Bram, looking at his back. A glass of beer that I wasn't going to pay for was sitting on the bar top in front of me.
Bram was smooth and efficient, very quickly and comfortably getting past where I was from, how old I was, and did I take cock for money, and moving forward to for how much, how long, where—and, as I already had suspected, would I take two cocks at once?
Yes, I was from America. Yes, I was eighteen, traveling through Europe on my own. Yes, I liked Amsterdam very much. It was nice that Bram was a businessman in Amsterdam and Joost was a university student here. It was nifty that Bram lived on a converted canal barge on a canal very close by here.
Yes, I wasn't just warming this stool; I prostituted myself for money.
Yes, I had access to a room upstairs.
Yes, I did threesomes.
"I like to watch before I become involved. But then I work my way in," he said, giving me a sharp look. "Do you know what I mean?" His hand no longer was on the edge of the bar stool behind me. It was on my ass. The other hand came down to my package. I made sure I didn't flinch.
"You're asking if I do DP?"
"Yes."
"I have done it. I'll do it for a price." His hand left my basket, took my hand, and placed it on his package. He didn't feel monstrous. He didn't volunteer to let me feel up Joost too, though. I did then begin to suspect that Joost was the one who was packing the most.
He named a very nice price.
"Yes," I replied.
"What I'd really would like is to buy you for the weekend," he said. "Show you my converted barge. Take you around. Maybe some clubbing. Fuck you a lot."
"Starting when?"
"Now. Upstairs."
"With what involved? What positions? How demanding? How kinky? With how many at one time?"
"Whatever I want. Whatever we get into as the action roles along." He then named a price that had me gulping and said he'd double it if I stayed with him and what he wanted from me until the end of the weekend. He led the three of us upstairs, Bram immediately behind me, a hand already between my thighs, fingering my balls through the wide leg hole of shorts, and Joost behind him. I think if we'd had to climb another story to get to the room, Bram would have raped me on the stairs.
Bram indeed wanted to watch at the beginning. We all were naked. Both of them had nice enough bodies. Mine sent Bram into a swoon and caused Joost's cock to go to immediate, magnificently long erection. Joost sat on the side of bed and lapped me, his cock a good nine inches up into my gut. He had a long, sinewy arm encasing my belly, and I rose and fell on the cock using the leverage of the balls of my feet pushing off on the floor.
Bram sat in a straight-backed chair facing us—the room was stripped-down functional—watching me ride Joost's cock with groans and moans because he was so long. Bram was beating his meat as he watched us. That didn't last long, though. He watched closely to where he saw that Joost had touched me to the core and I stopped writhing on his cock and fell backward into Joost's chest, lolled my head to the side, and my eyes rolled up into my head as ever fiber of my being concentrated on Joost's shaft playing me at the core.
Bram was watching us closely to catch when Joost had dumped his load far up into me. When, with a snort and a wheeze, the younger man had, Bram rose from the chair, approached, leaned down and grasped my ankles, and raised and spread my legs wide. He moved in between my thighs and said something to Joost in Dutch. "
Open het voor mij. Spreid hem open
." I could figure out enough Dutch to know that he'd told Joost to spread me open for his penetration.
Joost leaned back, taking me with him, raised his thighs, which were holding mine spread, to roll my pelvis up, and then I was huffing and puffing, panting and groaning, as Bram worked his cock inside me above Joost's already buried one, sliding with a long "Ahhh" through the cum that had added lubrication to my channel.
"
Het is goed. Heel goed
," he murmured in approval, telling Joost that his entry was good; it had gone well. He was in.
"Humor me," he whispered in my ear. "Respond as if you're being raped."
With two cocks in me, that wasn't hard to do. I gave him a show and felt him get harder inside me, thrusting more vigorously. He even slapped my face and my flanks to add realism.
Joost held steady, spent, but now serving a new purpose of holding me solidly in position, as Bram fucked me in the shared passage. I came before Bram did, though, and, at his instruction, "
Me. laat hem nu aan mij
