Amsterdam Boy-Love Weekend--Chapter 1



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This is a work of total fiction and is intended for adult readers ONLY!!!

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 Ah, but where do I begin to tell this tale of exquisite boy-love that happened to me so many years ago...the memory of which continues to vividly and erotically haunt me to this very day? Well, I guess telling you who I am is as good a place to start as any. My name is Gary Parker and I'm a 42-year-old father of two beautiful young teenage girls, and I have been living a double life for as long as I have been sexually active:

-- First, the super-secret homosexual experimentation with my neighborhood pals when we were 11-15. From hairless sexual ignorants, we became scholars of the male genitalia, using each other's soft growing bodies as our classroom.

-- Next, during the very rare (almost chance) gay encounters that occurred between 16-26, when women were my principal objects of desire. Usually it was a stoned or drunken encounter while bar hoping, or during a summer back home from college with one of the old neighborhood boys.

-- Then, the next 14 years beginning with my marriage to by beloved wife and the raising of my treasured children...a time of total gay abstinence. Though I was not immune from gay flashbacks during sex and I certainly invoked those memories when masturbating.

--And Now, during the past 2 years actually, where I find myself possessed by the loving memories of my past gay experiences and I covertly seek out new ones.

It seems as if the struggles of mid-life have unearthed these cloaked memories and have forced me to squarely face the duality of my existence. While I am a devoted husband and father in the bright light of my societal surroundings, in the shadows or in the dark where that light cannot find me, I am gay. More to the point, although my occasional adult gay love experiences over the years have been exclusively with men who were 18 and older, I am most certainly a lover of boys.

In my gay fantasies I am often a boy again myself, amorously wrapped in the tender form of another...sharing the power and exploring the secrets of that most delectable of all experiences: the male orgasm! My primary fuel for this erotic fire is the vivid sexual memories that I am capable of recalling at will. Memories of myself and others when were on the verge of puberty, or going through early pubertal development, or when those chance occasions arose as a late teen when I was able to love a much younger boy...just like the memory I am about to share with you NOW!!!!

It was the summer of 1980, and I would turn 20 in the fall of that year following my return from a summer semester at the London School of Economics. I and 30 other students from around the U.S., had been accepted for admission into this prestigious summer program abroad, where we would join students from the UK and many other countries. While my mind was certainly on my studies there, ample time also existed for partying! I wore my dark brown hair long in those days, just off the shoulders, and I stood an athletic 5'10" and weighed 165 lbs. I was clean shaven, without choice actually, because I had a very weak growth of facial hair in those days.

In fact, the only body hair on me other than my head, was the black hair on my shins, forearms, armpits and the neatly trimmed crop that rested above my 7", when erect, circumcised penis. I had always been told that I was very handsome, and I had little problem under the right circumstances in getting girls to do my bidding...those circumstances in the promiscuous 70's and early 80's requiring only the right combination of booze, drugs and bullshit! I had my recipe down pat in those days and I reveled in the hunt as much as I did in the capture and the kill.

The women of London were enchanting and accessible, and the London pubs were fun. But the group of guys that I primarily hung out with were "stoners" and we were becoming increasingly irritated at the cost, dubious quality and availability of pot and hash on the streets of London. We finally decided to take matters into our own hands and, after pooling our not insignificant financial resources, we drew lots to see who would be selected to go to Amsterdam or Copenhagen that weekend to secure a sufficient supply to get us through the summer on the high mental plane to which we had become accustomed.

It would be easy...the winner got an all expense paid trip: air fare, hotel, food and beverage, and of course sufficient funds to purchase the hash and pot. Instead of risking detection by couriering the contraband back to London, we had secured (for a price) the mailbox key of a student who was gone for the summer. Therefore, it was simply a matter of mailing a discreet package to that university mailbox address. Because an Amsterdam address might raise suspicion, it was decided that the agenda would include a little day-trip into the Dutch countryside, from whence the package could be mailed.

The plans now made, all that remained was to see who the lucky winner would be and, as luck would have it, I won. Having been to Copenhagen two summers before, I chose Amsterdam as the venue for the weekend's shopping errand. In order to get an early start, I flew out that Thursday evening, having decided to "bag" all of my Friday classes. On the flight over I studied an Amsterdam Tourist Guide and immediately circled a tour of the Heineken Brewery as one of the events I would treat myself too. Of course, I had no way of knowing then that I'd never make it there. In fact, except for the first day there, most of what I saw of Amsterdam was through the windows of the hotel room I occupied that long weekend in the company of the 12-1/2 year old Dutch boy who would share my bed!!!

Being that my trip was a well-financed first class operation, I checked into a 5-star hotel, whose name I have long forgotten, in the upscale "Singelgracht" district of Amsterdam. It was late when I arrived, and though the mysteries and allure of the famous "Walletjes" (Red Light) district beckoned, I decided to dine in the hotel's outstanding restaurant and then visit a few of the nearby bars before calling it a night. At one of those bars, I smelled the distinct aroma of hashish while visiting the restroom and was invited by its owner, to partake of its pleasures. We drank together and chatted for several hours, during which time he educated me as to the best locations in the Red Light District where I might purchase some hash and pot of my own. Then, thoroughly stoned and drunk, I shakily navigated myself back to my room and fell deeply asleep on the bed, having only removed my shoes.

I awoke around 10:00 a.m. the next morning, fully dressed and somewhat cloudy from the festivities of the night before. After a hot shower and a good breakfast in the room, I set off to make the day's purchase. I exchanged $2,500 of US Travelers Checks for an equivalent amount of Dutch guilders, and then hopped a cab to one of the destinations that had been suggested to me. It was just after noon when I arrived at the foot of the Red Light district...just in time to see this famous area of debauched conduct begin to wake itself up from the prior day and nights revelry. As I walked its streets and saw its pub and restaurant doors start to open, the smell of cannabis soon began to drift through the air.

Within 30 minutes I arrived at the door of a hash den and walked into the sounds of men laughing and talking in Dutch, as hash smoke bellowed around me, beginning to deliver a "contact high." When I said, "Excuse me" the proprietor quickly addressed me in near-perfect, though heavily accented, English as we began our negotiation. After he understood the large volume that I intended to purchase, he said that we should speak in private in the back room of the shop. After calling to one of his assistants to mind the counter while he was away, I was led into a back kitchen area where we sat at a table and hammered out the deal. Then, after sampling the product I was left alone in my stoned bliss with a cold bottle of local beer, while the shopkeeper left to gather the combination of hash and pot that I would be purchasing.

As I sat there drinking my beer and surveying the room, my eye suddenly caught a pile of magazines that I walked over to inspect. My jaw dropped as I looked at the cover of the magazine on top. There, in vivid color were two naked prepubescent boys busily sucking on each other's small erect hairless penises. As I turned the pages, I saw those two thin angelic boys and many others engaging in every sexual act imaginable and with close-ups from all angles. The quality was exceptional, you could see every pour on their bodies and every hair...or the lack thereof. The photos of their dry orgasms were outstanding as they clearly showed their straining faces and the upswing of their testicles while their hips gyrated. Then one picture showed the boy who had just climaxed prodding at the tip of his exhausted little penis and stretching a thin clear strand of the boy juice droplet he had produced.

All of the boys in the magazines were uncircumcised, although many pictures were taken with their foreskins drawn back exposing the tender heads of their lovely penises. Having seen but never touched an uncircumcised penis before, I found myself far more attracted to the exposed head pictures than the others, although I was intrigued by the thought of how I might have played with that extra length of skin back in those younger days when I was inclined to seek out my sexual releases with boys.

Then I saw a series of photographs of a young boy, with only 4 or 5 dark hairs at the base of his hard uncircumcised penis. He was being masturbated by the small hand of a hairless boy until he orgasmed. When I studied the 5 or so frames capturing the erotic joy on his face as his modest ejaculate spiraled out from his erupting penis before landing softly near his naval, my hand reflexively reached inside of my pants to reposition my growing erection that was trapped against the tight fabric of my jeans. My back to the door and totally engrossed in these magnificent pictures of young boys making love, I never heard the shopkeeper reenter the room. Having seen my "readjustment" he startled me with his laughter before saying, "So you like the young ones too I see!"

My mind raced with embarrassment and confusion as I turned to face him, still searching for words in response. I wasn't gay...Hell, I hadn't been with a boy in over a year and I'd conquered more than a dozen women during that time and had a semi-steady girlfriend back at college. The one time I had slept with a boy was on a drunken night at home the past summer, and he was one of my boyhood suck-buddies. Even then, the only reason we had done it was because neither of us had been successful in landing a woman that night. We were both confirmed womanizers, but we were also drunk and horny so the "any port in a storm" theory soon came into play and before we knew it, we each had a big fat dick in our mouth...just like back in the old days. Unlike the old days however, we soon received a deposit of man's milk that far exceeded the meager offerings of our prepubescent and then young teen cocks.

While still trying to mentally reaffirm my denial, here I was stiff-cocked and busted by a hash den proprietor. Then I heard the words tremble out of my mouth, "Yes, where did you get these, I'd love to buy some!"

"Oh these are everywhere," he laughed in his heavy Dutch accent "the shop around the corner sells them, but they are cheaper at the shop 2 blocks down to the left. BUT, my young friend the question I have for you is this: Would you like to see and even maybe touch such tender young boys as these?"

His words hit me like a bolt of lightening and left me trembling and dumbstruck. Between the shocking reality that his question posed, the excesses of the night before and being high on the freshly sampled hash, I slumped back down into the chair by the kitchen table and struggled to reply. "Is that kind of thing legal here?" I asked looking up into his smiling face.

"No, not at that age...but it is available nonetheless...for a price," he said as he took the chair across the table from me. "As long as it is kept quiet, the authorities do not try to stop these things. There is a Club not far from here where I could send you and I could call to see if they will let you in. It is very private and expensive. Usually I charge for this information and the call, but since you are going to pay me well for the hashish and pot, I will take you there myself as a favor! Besides, I am going to go myself tonight anyway."

" much does it cost?" I asked.

"In US money about $200 to get in and then $25 to watch each show. Then for $150 you can spend 1 hour with a boy you choose. If you want to spank him also, then it costs $200."

"Spank him??" I said in shock "I don't want to spank some little kid!"

"Oh they are all used to it," he replied brushing off my protest "I spank them all the time, but you must only use the strap and paddle they provide and if you really hurt them, then you will be hurt in return! You are locked in the room you see, and they inspect the boys very carefully before you are allowed to leave, so God help you if you break one of them."

"Well," I said not believing the words were leaving my mouth but knowing they were true "I'd like to go with you and I'll want to be with one of them, but I'm not going to hit him."

"Whatever," he laughed "but you will see it in some of the shows so be prepared to watch. My name is Bertold, but you may call me Bert...and what would your name be, first name only."

I thought about making up a name but didn't as I replied "It's Gary, and I'm glad to meet you." Extending my hand we shook before he bundled up my goods and then told me to meet him back here at his shop around 10:00 p.m. and we would walk to the Club from there. Bert also told me to help myself to the stack of magazines, because he was tired of them and was going to throw them out. I thanked him and put them in a large paper bag and then left to return to the hotel.

When I got to my room my head was still spinning and I collapsed on the bed with the packages of dope and the bag full of kiddy porn. It took all of my willpower not to start jerking off to those intoxicating photos right then and there, but I wanted to save it for that night. A cold shower is what I needed...that, another taste of the dope, a nice early supper and some beer! I locked the dope and magazines in my suitcase, there being no safer place to store them. Part of the reason for selecting a 5-star hotel had been predicated on the safety and security that it would offer. Still, I was concerned that I might be robbed as I left the room and headed to the elevator. Certainly anyone who found the dope know they could steal it with out the risk that I would complain. But, nothing was going to keep me from the events of that night...not even the nagging concern that I was redefining who I thought I was.

As I walked down the hallway my mind was full of the images from the magazines as well as the sights and sounds and smells and tastes from those glorious days of my youth when I loved and was loved by young boys...just as I surely would tonight! And then I congratulated myself on having selected a loose fitting pair of slacks and a long pull over sweatshirt, because my penis was again erect and pushing full bore ahead of me as I repositioned it upwards and trapped its head in the elastic waistband of my boxers. I tried to think of something else but couldn't as I looked at my watch and wondered how I would make it another 6 hours until my meeting with Bert.

"No fucking way!" I shouted to myself as I wheeled around and headed back toward my room almost running "I've cum more than once in a night dozens of times and tonight won't be any problem" I concluded correctly. As I came through the door I was tearing off my sweatshirt and fumbling at my belt. I stripped naked in seconds and quickly removed the magazines from the suitcase. Then I grabbed a towel and the body lotion from the bathroom before diving onto the bed.

My straining erection was screaming for release as I started to look at the beautiful photos. First I looked and two older teens with modest pubic patches and respectable length penises. One was blond and fair, the other dark haired and olive skinned. As I turned the pages I watched as they kissed and groped and then sucked on each other. The last pictures of the two were dedicated to them plunging into the depths of their anal recesses as they grimaced and moaned and then pulled out and ejaculated on the back of the boy who lay before them.

The next scene involved a threesome of 2 hairless young boys of about 11 and a very light wispy haired 12 or 13 year old. The close-up of the older boy's erection showed two thin round patches of dark brown hairs at either side of his penis and no hairs at all directly on top of it. As one of the younger boys sucked him, the other one tongued at his hairless hole. Then the pictures showed his face as it contorted in the raptures of his orgasm. Instead of launching into the air, his release of boy juice merely trickled from his engorged penis head as the sucking boy's mouth slid sideways across the erect penis allowing a fully exposed side to be photographed for my viewing pleasure.

The look of ecstasy on his face and the sight of his tightly drawn scrotum was more than I could stand and I rolled to my back and began to stroke my hard cock in earnest. I knew than my orgasm would come soon and it would come loud, so I put an end of the towel in my mouth and I put a large amount of the lotion on my hands. With one slippery hand I fired up and down my length, giving extra attention to the knob of my now-reddening penis head. With the other I pulled and massaged my testicles before rubbing down that short joyous strip from behind the base of my penis that led to my puckered and twitching sphincter. After a few circular swirls of my slimy fingers, I pushed my index finger in hard and deep and then stroked in rhythm to the beat of my clenched fist as the first sparks began to shoot through me.

"OH MY GODDDDDDD!" I screamed into the towel as my anal ring clamped tightly on my invading finger. As I pulled long and hard until my finger popped out, my testicles were suddenly freed and they fired up into me with a force that cause the first jet of my semen to land across the side of my face and on the towel that I held clenched in my teeth. The pleasure was overpowering and I cried again as the next 3 incredible spasms of heaven attacked me and I writhed and came until I was seeing stars. "UUURRRRRAAHHHH, UUUUMMMMMM, AAAHHHHHHH!" I crowed into the towel. Though my testicles would rise no more, I continued to stroke my still straining joystick as the bolts of bliss began to slowly weaken until they had stopped all together.

Completely spent, I spit the towel from my mouth and then laid one of my arms across my eyes as I breathed heavily and reveled in the excellence of the pleasure I had just given myself. In a daze I drifted off to sleep awaking a few hours later, hungry, thirsty and in need of another shower to wash off the crusted remains of my seed which had dried across my chest and abdomen as I slept. As I rose to bathe myself, the promise of holding a tender young boy that night caused my penis to stir and confirmed to me that earlier release would in no way diminish my ability to perform later that evening.

While I showered, I began to conjure up the image of the kind of boy I would want...not one of those skinny waifs that were so prevalent in the magazines, and certainly not an overly-haired boy either. No, what I wanted was a larger boy who was bigger boned and more filled out. A late bloomer was what I was after...big of body, small of genitals and almost totally devoid of hair! God how I would love a boy like that and how I would pleasure him as he would surely pleasure me...and God how I wanted the coming hours to pass quickly so that I could partake of this forbidden fruit and suckle at the silken loins of a young innocent!!!!!!!!

Author's Note: If you liked this story, check out "The Order of the Rope" in the High School directory...last posted on 1/6/03.