02

This story is about an Asian couple in their thirties, Lucy and Ben. While on vacation in Amsterdam, they are introduced to the pleasures of 'cuckolding'. The bull, their AirBnB host, is a younger handsome Dutch guy.

I like men, so the focus is somewhat more on the bull. I also have a fetish for (male) sneakers and feet, which is definitely reflected in this story. In addition, there is mild 'raceplay' and 'sph' involved. If you don't like any of that, then this story is probably not for you.

Are you still here? If so, I hope you enjoy the story. I appreciate feedback!

English is not my first language. If you find any stylistic errors, please let me know. I am also looking for an editor.

Chapter 1: The sneakerhead

To celebrate the fifth anniversary of our marriage we booked a trip to Europe. Nothing special, we wanted to visit some capital cities and decided that Amsterdam would be the last destination before flying back to Hong Kong, where we lived. Since it seemed like a good idea for both of us to get a little taste of the European way of life, we searched for upscale apartments on AirBnB. For our stay in Amsterdam we booked an apartment near the city's Vondelpark. Quite expensive, but we could afford it. Like I said, our trip was nothing special and you can check my wife's Instagram profile for pictures of us standing in front of the Colosseum, the Eiffel Tower and other bland tourist attractions. You will see a typical Asian couple both in their early thirties, my wife Lucy wearing sunglasses and designer dresses that perfectly accentuated her slim figure. She is 5"4 with long black hair and a fair skin that she is more proud of than she would publicly admit. I am somewhat taller with my 5"5 but still quite short even to Asian standards.

When we arrived at our place in Amsterdam, a pretty blonde girl opened the door. She looked a bit stressed out, but was very friendly and showed us the rooms. Her name was Angela, she told us.

The place was messy, for which she apologized at length: 'I told Nick to clean up, but he forgot. I'm so sorry. He won't bother you since he'll be spending most of his time in my apartment over the next few days.'

They were in a relationship for almost a year now. Angela still had her own apartment near the Amstel Station and her boyfriend had put his place on AirBnB to earn some extra money.

'He has a well-paying job but an expensive lifestyle', she explained.

Then she made us tea and we had a polite conversation. Angela took interest in our opinions on her country. She also asked us about the political situation in Hong Kong and Lucy, who works as a journalist, veered up because that subject mattered to her and she could talk about it all day. When Angela was about to leave, Lucy assured her that we didn't mind the mess. After all, the place didn't look dirty, just messy, with Nick's sneakers and clothes all over the floor, chairs and couch. He had parked a stylish fixed gear bike against one of the chairs and his record collection was scattered across the floor.

And yes, we even found a pack of condoms on one of the nightstands in the bedroom.

Our apartment in Hong Kong was organized like a Marie Kondo project, and Lucy had to restrain herself from cleaning up on our first days at Nick's place. I once read that extroverts don't mind showing their mess when others are around. Nick seemed exactly like that, an extrovert laid-back guy who would invite friends over without ever thinking about cleaning up.

Our stay in Amsterdam went as expected. We visited some museums and took a boat trip on the canals. And we both enjoyed Nick's comfortable apartment. From the bedroom we had a lovely view on the park and the owner had installed a flat screen tv on the wall facing his king sized bed. The walk-in-closet was spacious enough for all the dresses my wife had insisted on packing. Nick's dress suits hung in a neat row along the wall but a white karate gi closed the ranks.

'Don't pick a fight with our host', Lucy joked when she showed me the gi. 'Oh well, he won't be around anyway.'

On the floor was a rack with five or six dress shoes, a pair of old soccer cleats and two pairs of high heels that probably belonged to Angela.

On the second night, we were watching a show on Netflix when Lucy suddenly said she wanted to have sex. She blushed immediately, like she had proposed something inappropriate. We had a great marriage but there was one thing missing and we both knew it. It is shameful to admit, but let's say that I have a little physical problem. I'm not a very sexual person and Lucy had told me she is neither but from time to time she still has the desire to get fucked, which is totally normal of course. She wanted to get me on Viagra, but I had read some frightening stuff on the internet and I hoped that my problem would disappear by itself.

That evening she put her hands on my dick and stroked it for some time, but nothing happened. We kissed and cuddled like teenage lovers in this stranger's bed.

'It's ok baby, she whispered', before she switched off the television.

Within ten minutes she was asleep. I felt disappointed and turned on my phone. It was just 11:00 pm. I read some text messages from friends, then I opened a search machine and typed the word 'Viagra'. Immediately a whole range of pills in all possible packages and volumes showed up. Would it be that easy? Just one magic pill? I was about to put my smartphone away and go back to sleep, when I noticed something on the nightstand. The pack of condoms. Only the two letters indicating the size were visible in the blue light of my smartphone: XL.

I left the bedroom and went to the kitchen for a mug of herbal tea. I wondered if temporarily living in another man's apartment had stirred Lucy's imagination. I mean, everything in the living room exuded a certain 'bro-ish' masculinity, like the den of a frat guy. The Xbox in front of a 65" television screen, Bose speakers in every corner, a punching bag suspended from the ceiling, Twins boxing gloves on a cabinet, packs of cigarettes and empty beer bottles on all tables and many pairs of sneakers scattered on the floor or even next to me on the couch: all these things made it clear that a young straight guy lived here. Nick had a great collection of sneakers, most of them Nike Air Max models but also some pairs of Adidas Yeezy Boost 350s and New Balance sneakers. The most exclusive ones he had put on display on shelves against the wall. And every day in the bathroom we stumbled upon his used socks, underwear, sweatpants and jeans, carelessly piled up in the corner next to the washing machine.

The next day we arrived home at eight o'clock and we found our host in the living room. He was smoking a cigarette on a chair at the dinner table. He apologized -- for smoking or perhaps for just being there -- and said he wanted to pick up some clothes. Unlike his girlfriend he didn't seem very friendly. He was texting someone and ignored us. Lucy walked over to the kitchen, a bit annoyed by his unexpected presence. I tried to break the ice by complimenting him on his sneaker collection and a warm smile immediately appeared on his face.

'Yeah, you like sneakers? I have some nice pairs, dude. I think you've already noticed.'

We talked a bit about this shared interest, especially discussing the differences between sneaker culture in Europa and Asia, and then he proudly pointed at the Nikes he was wearing.

'What do you think of these motherfuckers? Designed by Sean Wotherspoon, I am sure you have heard of him.'

His voice was deep and masculine, with traces of a boyish enthusiasm still left. I estimated him to be somewhere in his twenties.

'Just awesome. I wanted to buy a pair myself as soon as they got released, but it was too difficult to get them. They look great on you.'

He smiled and walked over to the couch where I had made myself comfortable. Then he put his right foot on the arm rest to give me a better view and talked about all the features he loved, the colorful upper, the small yellow swoosh logo and the white midsole.

'I'm in love with this pair', he concluded. 'If I had to choose between my girl and these sneakers, I would dump the bitch right away.'

I laughed nervously, a bit shocked by his coarse language. Like his girlfriend, he was also blond, but slightly darker, his hair short at the sides and the back and a bit longer on top. (An undercut, Lucy would comment on it later.) He had the face of a model with a high forehead, a straight nose and a clean-shaven masculine jawline. And like many other Dutch guys, he was very tall. Perhaps 6"3 or a little shorter. Under the legs of his blue jeans he wore white crew socks. My wife didn't allow me to wear white socks -- it's a fashion crime, she always said -- but I realized that they gave younger guys like Nick the nonchalant look of 'I-don't-give-a-fuck' they apparently liked to sport. He also wore the legs of his jeans in a pinroll to draw even more attention to them. And to show off the black Nike logo.

'Yeah, I would dump her.'

To my surprise he lifted his foot off the arm rest, clenched his fists and delivered a powerful side kick into the air, followed by another that came even higher. I watched as his foot cleaved through the air like a sharp knife.

'I have a black belt in karate', he explained. 'I quit a few years ago and started smoking. But I can still kick some ass, don't you think? Do you practice a martial art?'

I shook my head. 'I like the movies, though.'

He grinned. 'You are from Hong Kong, right? Angela told me. So what's your size, dude?'

I think I looked at him with a puzzled expression. The white guy smiled. 'Just your shoe size, Bruce Lee.'

'I wear a size 7', I replied hastily, using the American scale.

His smile tightened into a slight smirk. 'Damm, that's a bit small. Otherwise I could have sold you some pairs for a reasonable price. By the way, what do you think of the Nike Air Jordan 1s by Travis Scott?'

Lucy came back with two mugs of tea.

'Oh, sneakers', she muttered disapprovingly as soon as she heard what we were talking about.

'You don't like sneakers?', Nick asked, looking really surprised.

'Not really, but I like dresses.'

'What kind of dresses?'

'Just take a look in your closet', she said. 'But the one I'm wearing now is a Stella McCartney.'

She took a few steps in his direction and Nick gave her an approving smile. 'Don't know that brand.'

Clearly he was not an expert on women's fashion. Nick took a seat next to me and lit another cigarette. He had a curious expression on his face.

'Turn around', he commanded. 'I want to see your back'.

She obeyed, like showing off a dress to one of her equally fashion-loving friends.

'Very nice', he just said.

I wondered if he was talking about the dress now. Lucy walked to the couch and I moved aside to make some space. She took a seat between us and gave me the mug of tea. Meanwhile Nick hadn't moved an inch, just sat there with his legs spread wide apart reading something on his iPhone. Lucy started talking to me in Cantonese about one of her friends in Hong Kong, when suddenly Nick crossed his right ankle over his left knee. Now we both had a good view of his limited edition sneaker, especially Lucy.

'I like your shoes', she said out of the blue. 'I read about them in a magazine. I think they are...'

He didn't let her finish, took off his sneaker and held it in front of her surprised face.

'Here, take a look.'

I expected Lucy to protest, but she smiled and for a moment she held his shoe in her hands like it was some sort of trophy. 'Oh, it's so big', she exclaimed.

He fixed his eyes on mine for a second and smirked. She dropped his shoe on the floor and he grabbed it with his foot, slipping in except for the heel.

'I know. Size 12, baby.' The sound of masculine pride in his voice. A cocky smirk on his face.

I watched as he crossed his ankle over his knee again, the loose sneaker dangling playfully from his big foot. In our country we are a bit shy about feet but he clearly didn't notice or care. He was about to say something else, when his phone rang. Lucy took me to the kitchen to give him some privacy and by the time we had finished our tea we heard him leave without saying goodbye.

Lucy frowned. 'That boy has to work on his manners.'

The next days we didn't see him but we spent our time mostly in the city. Occasionally he was home, we could tell by the used plates and mugs on the sink. (Lucy put ours in the dishwasher right away.) And something else happened that made me sure he wasn't with Angela all the time. At home we had the habit to take off our shoes in the hallway and we did the same in this apartment, without thinking too much about it. One morning I walked down the hall to put on my shoes before we went out and I found them right next to a pair of his. Not the shoes he had shown us earlier, but a pair of well-worn Nike Air Max 1s (HOA) in the red colorway. Maybe it was just a coincidence? Or had he put them there on purpose? The difference in size was so obvious, my size 7 pair of Vans next to his massive looking size 12 sneakers.

Luckily, Lucy hadn't seen anything and I hastily put on my own shoes.

Chapter 2: Size differences

On our last night, we decided to go to bed early. But it had been a hot day and neither of us could sleep. Then we heard some noises from the living room, restless footsteps and the 'pling' of the microwave. Half an hour later we were disturbed by loud hip-hop music.

'It's him again', Lucy sighed.

She jumped out of bed, put on her dress and walked to the living room. I turned around and reshuffled the sheets, feeling too hot and sweaty to sleep. Thankfully, the music stopped. I don't know if I slept, maybe just dozed off for a while, but when I opened my eyes my phone indicated that it was 10:00 pm. Lucy hadn't returned. An alarming image ran through my mind. I entered the living room wearing only my boxer shorts and a white T-shirt. They were just talking, Nick on the couch and Lucy on one of the chairs. She held a glass of wine in her hand. Usually she didn't drink but he had probably talked her into it.

Nick looked annoyed for a few seconds, but then a smile appeared on his face. 'Hi there', he just said. 'It's too hot to sleep, right?'

It was also quite hot in the living room and he looked a bit sweaty, only wearing black Nike shorts, white Supreme boxershorts (with only the red waistband visible), white Nike crew socks and the same pair of Nikes that I had found next to my shoes in de hall a few days earlier. I shrugged my shoulders and looked at Lucy, meaning to express: why are you having a drink with this half-naked dude?

'You want a beer, dude?'

Without waiting for an answer Nick walked to the kitchen where he opened the fridge. Lucy avoided my sullen gaze and took her phone from the table. The cold beer washed away my suspicions and Nick proved to be good company. But even at that point, he didn't seem very interested in our lives. He just talked about his demanding but well-paid job, his favorite brands and sports teams and his recent travels. He told us he had taken a couple of beers at his work. I was surprised that Lucy, who almost never drank alcohol, was so cheerful after a few glasses of wine. Everything Nick said made her laugh. With a puzzled smile, Nick kept his eyes on her and when she was about to pour another glass, he grabbed the bottle and put it on the floor beside him.

'I think you have enough for the next two hours, baby.'

That made her laugh too. I had never seen her like this. 'So, what were you quarreling about, you and Angela?', Lucy asked cheerfully.

Apparently he had told Lucy about his girlfriend problems. A shadow appeared on Nick's face. He shifted a little and put his right foot on the table, rather forcefully. The heel of his Nike shoe slammed against the surface with a loud thump.

'Let's not talk about my girlfriend.' He hesitated for a moment, then continued: 'It's not a big deal. We have this discussion all the time. Let's say that she almost never wants to get laid. If we do it once or twice a week, she is fine. I want more, like almost every day. And the thing is, I can get every girl in town, but she is totally against the idea of an open relationship. She just proposed relation therapy, how crazy is that?'

He looked at Lucy again, then at me, with a naughty grin that made him almost charming. 'But I bet you don't have this problem. I mean, look at her. You are a lucky guy, Ben.'

'If you only knew', Lucy whispered and then she giggled.

I think I blushed because Nick gave us a confused look and changed the subject. After finishing high school, he had taken a gap year, travelling through Australia and Asia. He liked Asia, Nick told us, because he had a preference for pretty Asian girls. He smiled disarmingly at Lucy, but she was texting someone. Being her husband for years now, I could see how her slim body froze under his gaze. He didn't notice. Even when she was a little nervous, Lucy could be discrete.

I still don't know where it came from, but I bluntly asked Nick: 'Is it true that those girls are really into guys from the West? A friend of mine from Canada once told me that he had sex every day when travelling through Thailand.'

Lucy gave me a look of disapproval, but Nick immediately started bragging about his conquests. In the Philippines he was travelling in the company of a Swedish guy. They found a local girl in a bar, took her to their hotel room and 'fucked her brains out' until sunrise. And outside a club in Kuala Lumpur he had gotten an amazing blowjob from a girl who looked like 'an Oriental princess'.

He looked so relaxed as he told us those stories, sprawled out on the couch with both feet now on the coffee table. They looked even bigger inside his well-worn Nike Air Max 1s. His shoes were laced up in the style of fashionable sneakerheads -- with the loops and ends kept short -- but his feet seemed rather loose in them. Perhaps he had bought them half a size too large or they had become loosened-up over the years. So every now and then the socked heels of his feet slipped out. Looking back, I think he noticed that I kept an eye on his sneakers. All I remember is that I felt confused. Why was I so attracted to this guy's footwear?

Nick started playing with his Nikes a bit as so many guys his age do when they're feeling all relaxed, slipping in and out absent-mindedly, kicking them around casually or putting a foot firmly on top of one of his shoes. He reminded me of a white American exchange student back in college. During class, he often took off his brand new Jordan's, not giving a fuck what others would think. A few times he sat in front of me, his feet playing with his Nikes while he took notes. Perhaps he wanted to show them off. Or he was just bored.

Nick's voice brought me back: 'Wait 'till you hear about this sexy girl I met in Singapore.'

He got up to take a piss and as he walked to the bathroom I noticed how far the socked heels slipped out of his shoes. When he returned, he had forgotten about the girl from Singapore and talked about his car trip through the Australian outback with two hitchhiking girls from Japan on the back seat. It was the best ride of his life and a tender smile appeared on his masculine face.

He looked at Lucy and pointed at his muscular upper body: 'I was kind of half-naked the whole time, dressed about as much as I am now.'

Then he folded his hands behind his head, giving Lucy a good view of his well-developed biceps. I was amazed by his openness, especially in the company of my wife. He just acted like we were his locker-room mates. He changed position, putting his big feet back up on the table and spreading his legs. Usually Lucy hated man-spreading, but now she just smiled. I knew she was admiring his tall athletic body, which looked so different compared to mine.