This episode is part of a series of Travel Tales, about Jason’s backpacking trip across Europe in 1995.
As much as I’d enjoyed my late-night encounter with the boys in the dormitory room at Hotel Kabul, in the bright light of day I felt that maybe the place was a little sketchy for my comfort. I gathered my belongings and set out with my guidebook.
There were gay clubs and restaurants and hotels scattered all over central Amsterdam, but there were clusters in a few areas. The places closest to the center… I’d get back to them. But for now I set out for one of the neighborhoods a little farther out.
Now by “farther out”, I don’t mean the suburbs. I don’t even mean leaving the central district that encompasses the 17th-century extent of the city. I’m just talking about walking half a mile or so. This was all very much in the old city, with the classic Dutch architecture: row houses with stepped brick façades, streets too narrow for automobile traffic, etc
Central Amsterdam is laid out with several streets radiating from the middle like spokes of a wheel, and concentric canals and streets that cross them. Two of these cross-streets had dense clusters of queer establishments, both of them ironically named. The first was Reguliersdwarsstraat, a mouthful (I had to look it up) that means it’s a cross-street named after a group of priests – reguliere – who had a cloister there. The second was Kerkstraat, which was obvious even to my casual-level Dutch: “church street”.
On Kerkstraat I found the Hotel West-End (apparently a reference to London’s West End, because it’s nowhere near any “west end” in Amsterdam… it isn’t even near the west end of Kerkstraat). It had a nice little bar on the ground floor, but it was out of my price range. I paid it anyway, and it was a handy place to bring a couple tricks I picked up at the nearby bars during my time in Amsterdam. I won’t be recounting them all here because I have a lot of ground to cover with the travel tales. I’m just giving a “highlight reel” here.
The gay clubs in Amsterdam were fun, much like gay clubs in other big cities. And not just full of Dutch boys and towering blond Hollanders, but a reflection of the wonderfully cosmopolitan melting pot that Amsterdam became when it was the seat of a global trading empire. I had a blast at them (and afterward at the hotel). But there was one bar I was determined to go to, because it was not like something I could find back home: Cockring.
It wasn’t difficult to locate. It was just a block off the main street running through downtown Amsterdam, and the otherwise-blank storefront was decorated with a huge graphic illustration of… a cockring. Making a note of the location, I went to find a place to get dinner, then picked up some pot to smoke to help get in the mood.
It was still fairly early when I made my way back, about 10:30 or so. But I was stoned, eager for a drink, and more than ready for a little action. I opened the door and went inside. The club has several rooms, each with its own bar and bartender. I got a beer and started to look around, and had few more beers. It was fairly dark, and it didn’t take long for me to get a little confused about where I had gone as I went from one room to another.
But there was no mistaking the entrance to the “dark room”, which people would disappear into from time to time. People probably came out too, but I didn’t notice them. And there was no question that the “dark room” wasn’t a place to develop photographs.
I finished off my fourth beer with a several-second chug, set down my glass, and went inside. It was definitely dark. But as my eyes adjusted, I could make out shapes in the deep shadows, and hear the unmistakable sounds of sex. I had a hard-on just being there.
Now, I’d never been any place quite this raunchy, and didn’t know what the “rules” were. And despite my drunkenness some of my early anxiety started to kick in. I took a quick, deep hit off the joint in my pocket.
I started wandering around, feeling my way. As I went, my hands touched on one body after another. My of them felt very nice, but they often disappeared into the darkness as quickly as they came into contact. My cock was starting to ache, and I figured: what the hell… I pulled it out and started gently stroking it as I stepped cautiously through the gloom.
Suddenly I found myself face to face with the statue of a god. I couldn’t see it as such, I could only see the dim shape of the wall behind a black outline. But as I reached out to it, I felt a body in front of me that seemed to be made of pliable stone. It had hard, sculpted muscles, barely contained by the tank top that covered its chest. Letting go of my cock and reaching out, I felt its hip… its pants were nowhere to be felt, presumably in a heap at its ankles.
The god’s hands returned my exploration. I was a little – OK a lot – self-conscious that I wasn’t nearly as built as the man I’d briefly groped in the darkness, but apparently I passed the test: with both hands on my shoulders, he pushed me downward, and I slipped and dropped to my knees. He’d chosen me to suck him off.
As I recovered my balance, a huge cock slapped across my face. It hit me again on the other cheek. A strong hand gripped the crown of my head as the cock thwacked across my face one more time. I hesitated briefly, and a second hand grabbed my head. But I was ready: my mouth open wide as a big wet head stuffed into it.
I gagged. He held my head steady and pushed harder. I couldn’t breathe, for some reason my nose wasn’t working. I couldn’t back away. So I went the only way I could, sealing my lips around his shaft, and sucking hard. A grunt exploded from above me, and he relaxed, allowing me to pull back. I kept his head inside my mouth but relaxed enough to inhale through my nose before he thrust forward again.
This wasn’t the first anonymous sex I’d had. I’d sucked guys I’d met in the park or in the alley behind the gay bar back home, and didn’t always take the time to learn names, like the guys at the Kabul. But there’d always been at least some small talk… at the very least, an exchange of meaningful glances. I’d never done anything with a complete stranger, someone I couldn’t even pick out of a police lineup!
And neither could he! To this man I was just as anonymous, not a friend or even a person, just a mouth attached to a body in the darkness. Something to use and forget. Which made me all the more determined: I wasn’t going to be just another blowjob… I was going to be a blowjob he’d remember!
Gripping the thick muscled thighs on either side of the cock, I sucked hard and deep, burying my nose in the rough stubble of his pubic hair, shaved several days earlier. I slid my wet lips up and down the shaft, teasing the head a little with my tongue. I exposed my teeth just a little, letting them rub against the head as it re-entered my mouth and catch every so slightly on the rim of his helmet. One time I (accidentally?) nipped his foreskin, which got me a slap on the side of the head. We were developing a good rhythm together, with him firmly setting the pace with his gyrating hips. From time to time I heard a grunt of approval from the god above.
Suddenly, I noticed that the rhythm of the god’s hips had changed, and the angle of the thrusts was different. I reached for his ass, to re-establish our rhythm, and discovered the reason: a third man had joined them and was beginning to fuck the god from behind. With each thrust from the new man into the god’s ass, his cock thrust deep in my throat. The frequency increased and the momentum grew, and it was all I could do to keep myself steady. It was almost like fucked by two cocks at once: the cock in my face and the cock driving it.
The grunts of approval changed to gasps of ecstasy, as the god was sucked and fucked in perfect unison. Meanwhile a new voice from behind the god echoed its ragged gasps. They were in a race to the finish line, but with both holding back, trying to prolong the contest to see who could finish… last. I played the spoiler: as the god’s cock hit the back of my throat, I sucked hard, not letting it slide back out as he rocked backward, trying to draw the jizz out of it by force.
The god howled, as his juices poured down my throat in spasms. I sucked all the harder, as he knocked me off balance, and I gripped his thighs tightly to stay on him. I finally gagged, as his cum spilled out of my mouth, oozed down my chin and onto my shirt. As the flow subsided, the thrusts continued, however, as the god’s fucker let out a “FUCK!” and began to unload into the god’s ass. I relaxed my mouth, and let his still-hard cock slide in and out of my mouth with each thrust into his ass. He whimpered slightly. And when the thrusts finished, I slowly pulled back, kissing his head as it left my mouth.
I staggered to my feet, and saw the figure that had been fucking the god walk away. Figuring that it was over, I prepared to do the same, but the same arms that had previously pushed me to the ground now held me still. The god then knelt in front of me! He grabbed my cock, which had strained into the air this whole time. He batted it around a few times, then grabbed it roughly, jacking it hard several times. I was about to cum when he stopped for about ten seconds. Then suddently his mouth engulfed me. I stood motionless, in shock, as he rapidly pistoned my cock in and out of his mouth. My balls clenched and my jizz welled up inside me. My cock pumped it out hard, at least a dozen times. And he swallowed it all.
And then, in the darkness, he stood and walked away.