I come from Norwich. "A fine city" or so the motto likes to say. in Norwich we are truly blessed to have an international airport. Sadly the destinations were not that glamourous. To an eighteen year old, Geneva is not a name that sets the pulse racing, nor is Aberdeen or the East Midlands. But one glorious summer they decided to add a new name to the list. This was a name that instantly conjured up visions of exotica and erotica that to the hormonally charged adolescent male could not be resisted.
Amsterdam.
One of these is a Fine city, one is a Fiiii-iine city.
Between our friends we managed to rustle up the typical English herd of 'lads on tour'. Think of every stereotype of young British tourists and you have a fair representation of the group. I, of course being the paradigm of maturity was interested only in the quality of the architecture of the churches. The idea of coffee shops and windows of naked young ladies barely caused the slightest flutter in my stoic heart..........
So we set off for the short hop over the channel and before long we found ourselves in a coffee shop, where the only thing thicker than the laughter was the acrid smoke coming from an array of over priced spliffs. As the evening drew on those of us not immobilised by the potent combination of smoke and booze dared to venture to some of the less reputable establishments that Amsterdam half-proudly boasts.
Sure enough, we managed to promptly find our way to the seediest, grottiest brothel in town. A slightly older lady listlessy went through the motions with a rubber appendage for the dubious pleasure of the onlookers. Here in the story enters my old and dear friend Steve. Now apart from his many other talents and quirks, Steve has a reputation as being quite a sexually adventurous fellow. True to form, at some point he disappeared and it didn't take a genius to figure out what he was up to. Eventually we decided to head to our hostel and let Steve make his own way back.
The next morning we find Steve sitting over breakfast with a disturbingly large Cheshire-cat grin. Naturally we asked him what happened. Steve had set his sights on one of the ladies and asked probably the worst question that could possibly be asked in that setting.
"What is the dirtiest thing you will do?"
He was escorted into a back room where these encounters take place and was confronted by a bed covered in a clear plastic sheet. They get down to business in the standard fashion until the girl grabs a small tea towell, ties a knot in it and with great efficiency, popped it up his arse. Taken aback, Steve politely said "What the fuck?"
"Trust me, just tell me when you're about to come" Came the respose.
The secret to infinite pleasure.
Once more, they got underway and once more came a knot up the bum. Eventually Steve had three pleats up his person. Steve being the bodily extrovert that he is, was getting into it and finally he got to the climactic point. "I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come!!"
At this point the mistress yanked the towell out with full force ans Steve's bowells evactuacted completely. Everywhere. And he promises to this day that it was the best orgasm he had ever had by a million miles.
Sadly the mistress felt like earning her money that evening and proceeded to start rolling around on the bed(with now obviously neccessary plastic sheet) and smear herself in his recently departed fluids and solids. That was Steve's cue to leave. We have been trying to discover how much he paid for the privelege of this service ever since. He has never told us but we are assured it was alot.
Hear more about my disgusting past by following me on twitter @GregTheBastard.
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