amsterdam-awakening

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Ağu 21, 2022 // By:analsex // No Comment

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Subject: Amsterdam Awakening Amsterdam Awakening This is semi-autobiographical, describing my first-time experience as a teen back in the 1970’s. Several key details have been changed, but it’s generally true. Any questions or comments are appreciated. -Eric I was sixteen when I left the U.S. for the first time. After a rough start in high school, I began to excel and my parents, as a reward for doing so well, sent me on a school trip to Europe for the summer. Nine countries in a month’s time�typical of the sort of whirlwind tours that characterized travel back in the day. Two teachers ran herd over 15 of us�mostly seniors who had gotten the trip as a graduation gift. I was the youngest among them. I was lanky and a bit gawky: 6’2″, 145 lbs. (1.88m/65 kgs. for my metric friends) and not terribly coordinated. Despite my height, most of the rest my body lagged behind. While I sported a small ginger bush of which I was uncommonly proud and a few errant hairs under each arm, my chest was maddeningly bare; worse, a child’s dusting of downy, golden follicles remained stubbornly on my forearms and calves. I had gotten my first electric shaver the previous Christmas; it had gathered dust from utter lack of use. My face and neck were still as smooth as they had been at birth. Truth be told, I looked like a big, nerdy kid. Hell, I WAS a big, nerdy kid. On the other hand, I did have long, blonde hair that curled in the summer sun and bright blue eyes, hardly unique for a kid who grew up in coastal southern California. And although I didn’t realize it at the time, I also had delicate red lips and a peaches and cream complexion. My sisters were jealous. Moreover, having just been through four years of painful braces, I now wore a night retainer across my straightened teeth. I didn’t consider myself that attractive, but looking back I realize I was just the sort of teen a chickenhawk would love. Besides my height, the only other indication of adolescence was my penis. I have learned in the years since that tall, thin guys tend to be bigger between the legs. My (still smooth!) balls had started to drop about the time my first pubes appeared at thirteen and my cock had been steadily growing and thickening over the past three years. From a small nail, it had grown to 7″ inches erect. As an American, I was of course cut and when hard my cock curved pleasingly upward. And I was hard a lot. On average, I had to jack off four or five times a day. As a teen growing up in the late-70’s, I also had to imagine a lot. There was no easy access to porn. A buddy might have his dad’s swiped Playboy (or better yet Penthouse, with its dirty stories) or you might be able to get an adult newspaper from a beat-up kiosk when no one was looking. As I entered my teens, I nabbed those occasionally and kept them hidden under the shag carpeting under my bed. At nighttime I would pull one out and masturbate over the pictures and “articles” until my fingers and cock would be smudged with the cheap black ink and the newsprint would become unreadable with multiple loads of sticky boycream sealing the pages together. At 16, I had also recently discovered that some bookshops had adult magazines featuring guys. I did not think of myself as gay, but I had been attracted to men’s bodies since the first time I saw a Playgirl magazine when I was eight. Blueboy and Numbers were the two I remember the most being around, although the more “hardcore” Honcho and Drummer were also occasionally available. I eventually bought a couple of these magazines at a store in Long Beach with my heart in my throat. Fortunately, either I was tall enough or the clerk pitied me enough to sell them without batting an eyelid. These were my most treasured possessions. I would look at the naked men and fantasize about touching them, they touching me and me sucking their cocks. I remember one hirsute muscular guy with a blonde bush and a long cock resting along his left thigh. The thought of his pulsing, warm hot hard meat in my mouth was often enough to send me over the edge. All that said, I didn’t have the nerve at the time to do anything about my boyish urges. “Fag” in the 70’s was something you didn’t want to balıkesir escort be. So I never considered myself gay. I had dated girls and pictured myself permanently married someday. Looking back, of course, I could have had my chance. My swimming coach�the only sport I was any good at�liked young guys, and I found out later more than one of my teammates had their cherries taken by the hot old perv. There were also a couple of seniors at my school who in retrospect were coming on to me. But I was too frightened and inhibited to do anything about it. So when our class flew over and landed in the UK, I was still a virgin and all my fantasies remained unfulfilled. I made a few friends with some guys from another school group that joined ours, all of us having sex foremost in our minds. We talked about our sexual exploits with girls�mine mostly mythical. One particular teller of tales, Mike, I remember in particular: I once saw his cock when we roomed together in Paris. It was so small that not only did it hold zero interest for me, but I realized that I wasn’t the only guy making things up. All that said, we all had fun, lying to each other. Everything changed when we crossed the Channel and arrived in Amsterdam. The city was known then, as now, for its libertine ways. Drugs and sex were both prominent parts of the landscape and several guys joked about us being here. I admit at the time I was so na�ve that I had no idea about Amsterdam’s reputation. Two events affected me deeply in our following day there. First was, as part of our tour of the city, we came to the infamous Red-Light district. Beautiful and not so beautiful women sat in windows in scantily clad outfits, selling sex. I remember one stern, older woman of considerable dimensions sitting next to a dildo of improbable size. Between their small houses, adult bookstores and cheap takeout places characterized the streetscape. I immediately decided to come back during our free time (and could see that several of the other guys on the trip intended to do the same). The second was even more profound. Our group was standing by a canal lined with houseboats, while the tour guide nattered on about something historical. My eyes wandered to one of the houseboats that had open Venetian blinds. As I looked in, I saw two men. One lay on a bed completely naked, the other standing wearing a t-shirt and jockstrap. Within a couple of seconds, jockstrap guy had drawn the blinds while staring stonily at me and I saw no more. But I knew what was happening. They were going to have sex! My own cock hardened at the thought, and I pulled my baggy sweater down to hide the bulge in my jeans and the not-so-discreet spot of precum blossoming at my groin. The next day proved fortuitous. Because of some foul up with the tour company, we didn’t have any activities slated, so we ended up with an unplanned “free” day. Four of us decided to head back to the Red-Light district. We had some greasy burgers for lunch and then walked into an adult bookstore. I managed to open a couple of magazines, but we didn’t stay long. One of our four looked far younger than the legal age of 18 and that couldn’t be ignored. A harried middle-aged clerk told us all to leave. Our unintentional betrayer headed back to the hotel and my two remaining buds, Tom and Dan, decided they wanted to get their rocks off with one of the many sex workers available and nearby. I told them I couldn’t go�they would certainly card me. But I wasn’t interested anyway. What I really wanted was to return to that bookstore. While there, I had noticed that there were steps in the back leading up to an adult theater. For ten guilders (this was pre-Euro; about seven dollars at the time), you could enter. I had never seen a dirty movie before and I figured it was the best and safest way to see cocks in action. Maybe there’d even be some man-on-man action, but to see dick and any kind of sex would be a turn on. I wandered a while around the district and then returned to the shop. The clerk who had chased us out said nothing as I paid over my money and got a ticket to head upstairs. At the landing ran a small passage that t-ed out to another bartın escort hallway. On a hand drawn sign were arrows pointing in both directions. Below the right pointing-arrow was scrawled “Straight.” Under the left read “Gay.” Swallowing, I turned left. The door stood directly down the hall ten feet ahead. Half in a daze, I opened the door, entered, and quickly sat down. The theater was small and very dark; it held maybe 30 seats in all. It smelled of must, cum and some sort of cleaning agent. No sound was coming from the film except from the projector itself. But on the screen was a closeup of a cock sliding around on a very smooth and cummy ass. It kept slipping in and out of that impossibly smooth hole. After about a minute, the scene changed and there was a young man on his knees with an obscenely large, half hard cock close to his face. The guy looked up with utter longing and lust in his eyes, and the object of his desire was slapped forcefully against his face. He instantly started to suck the turgid shaft like he was born to it. The top grabbed his head and started fucking his mouth. I instantly started rubbing my own hard boy dick and realized I was also salivating. Damnit, I wanted to be the one sucking that juicy, wet knob! The theater itself was not empty. One guy in his 30’s was two rows in front of me. I couldn’t tell much about him in the darkness, but he appeared to have short, blonde hair and sharp facial features. After about five minutes, he stood up, walked back to my row, and sat next to me. He was somewhat shorter than me, but clearly very muscular: I could see bulging pecs and biceps under his collared shirt. I glanced at him briefly and then stared straight ahead, excited and petrified. A few seconds went by and then I felt his hand on my right thigh. Both my cock and I jumped. He leant over and whispered something Dutch in my ear. I shook my head and mumbled “I don’t understand.” A second later, he spoke in English, “You are very beautiful.” Beautiful? Part of me thought, “What the fuck? Guys aren’t beautiful!” But it also pleased me, knowing that I was desirable, and I responded by spreading my legs wider. His hand worked its way up my leg to my crotch and he was soon working my dick through the denim with considerable skill. Meanwhile, his other hand snaked under my sweater and found my left nipple. He started to tweak it, sending waves of pleasure through my body. I never knew they could give me such pleasure. He leaned into my neck and ear and started kissing me, whispering “Such a smooth, pretty boy.” His warm breath, words and ministrations were already bringing me close to orgasm. I couldn’t take it. I pushed his hand off my cock and clumsily unbuttoned my pants. My underwear was already super sticky with by teen precum. Pulling down the elastic of my briefs, my cock slapped wetly against my tummy. I had never been so hard. He quickly grabbed my shaft and leant over. For maybe 20 seconds, he slowly worked my cut dick while breathing in the aroma of my boycock�I could hear his deep inhales. Then his tongue touched my piss slit and he started lapping on the cummy head like a kitten. My legs were tensing and shaking, and my hand of its own volition pushed his head down fully onto my meat. I must have moaned, but the only clear memory was the sensation of the wettest, hottest and most pleasant feeling I’d ever experienced. I could feel my cockhead pass into the constriction of his esophagus. I won’t lie. Within ten seconds, my hips started bucking as I tried to thrust deeper down his gullet. I started spurting, with what I am sure was a gallon of boy jizz sliding down his waiting throat, swallowing it all. I had never cum that hard or that long in my life. Eventually, his mouth became too much; my post-climactic sensitivity was intense. I pulled his head off of me and I could see strands of spit tethering my penis to his mouth lengthen, thin and then break in the dim light. He smiled up at me as he gently placed my slimy, half-hard phallus back into my cum-slick drawers. Straightening back up, he leaned over and gave my undoubtedly red cheek a kiss. “Thanks, beautiful,” he whispered, and started batıkent escort to get up. I grabbed his arm and he stared at me. I didn’t know what to ask or how. “Can I, please? I mean, could I?” I said, fumbling over my words. He smiled and sat back down. I reached over and felt his rigid penis through his pants, just as he had first handled mine. I couldn’t wait, however, and was unsnapping the top button and wrestling the zipper down. He lifted his bottom slightly and I was able to pull down his boxers to reveal his cock. It was not as big as mine, but it was thick. A coarse, blondish pubic thicket extended over his balls and legs. Precum oozed out of his piss slit, barely visible in the half-exposed head of his uncut member. I had never seen an uncircumcised dick and I must admit it was something I was not sure I liked. So I kept my face away from it and jerked my man up and down, watching his foreskin peel up and down his shiny, red glans. After a while, I was getting into the motion and enjoying the feeling of the hot shaft in my hand. I looked at him and he smiled. Knowing I must have been very new to this all (hell, anyone would have known), he said, “You’ve come this far, beautiful boy. Come on.” He put his hand on my neck and I let him lead my mouth towards what I wanted for years. The first thing that struck me was the delicious, clammy odor of his prick. I immediately started salivating as I breathed in his scent. He let me hover over his cock for a minute. Then, taking a deep breath, I sank my mouth onto his cock. It tasted wonderful: salty, tangy and a bit oily. Sweat and precum mixed to make me want to devour his cock. Bobbing up and down on his fat meat, I tried to get him deeper and deeper into his mouth. His cock head banged against my throat and I tried to take it down. But every time I did, I would gag and cough. My eyes teared up as my saliva drooled out of my mouth and onto his naked lap. After a couple of minutes, he whispered, “Relax, little boy. Take it slow and enjoy it. You’re really have another man in your mouth. You’re a real cocksucker.” His words made me hard again. I did have another man’s dick in my mouth. I was a cocksucker! Heeding his words, I did slow down and took it more slowly. I focused on the taste of his penis and making him feel good. After a few more minutes I realized I had wrestled my cock out of my pants again and was jacking furiously. Soon, he began to speak in Dutch and started thrusting. He grabbed my head and jammed his cock into me faster and faster. “I’m going to shoot, boy. Don’t try to swallow it as I am cumming. Keep it in your mouth until I am done. Take it, cocksucker!” With that I felt hot wads of man jizz explode from his meaty head. As he instructed, I didn’t try to gobble his load down as he had with mine, but let it fill up my mouth. His cock was already so slick from my spit that I felt some of his seed escape and slide down his shaft. Finally, his spasms subsided and he whispered, “OK, beautiful boy. Eat your first load.” I swirled it around in my mouth and swallowed it all. I had tasted my own load, but his was different: earthier and sweeter. In a haze, I also realized that I had shot again, this time all over the sticky floor. I started to lift up my head, bur he held me down and whispered again, “Uh-uh. A good boy cleans up after he’s played. I sank back down and tongued his penis clean of the remaining cum and slurped up the small pools of runny cum that nested in his bush. I finished up, tucked his cock downward and giggled as I helped him shimmy up his boxers. “Thanks, beautiful boy. I think you’ll remember this.” I knew I would. As I straightened up, I noticed that we were also no longer alone. A guy was sitting in the back row and, as I passed by, saw him nursing his hard cock in his hand. Embarrassed beyond belief, my inhibited self reasserted control. I ran out of the theater and the bookstore. I have no idea if my man and the newcomer played. On my way back to the hotel, I ran into Tom and Dan. They had spent 100 guilders each getting laid and I suspected that it was both of their first times. They had huge smiles on their faces and Tom told me he was going to go again later in the day�apparently the young lady had invited him back. I tried to sound suitably jealous. They also asked me what I had done. “Nothing really,” I replied, looking downcast, “saw some new sights. Oh, and I got something to eat.”

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