Our meeting was scheduled for Tuesday morning in one of those ultra-sleek, Dutch modern, steel, stone and glass monstrosities out on the A10. To arrive on time, we had to leave the hotel by 7:15 a.m. When we arrived, a bit early, we were met by one of those typical Dutch girls – tall, a bit severe from a distance, but an engaging smile closer up. She immediately apologized for not being able to reach us to tell us the CFO’s flight from Karachi had been cancelled and that he was not expected to be in Amsterdam until Wednesday afternoon. Could we return on Thursday? It was all a bit frustrating, but flight cancellations are a fact of business travel these days. As Brian and I left the building, it had begun snowing. It was one of those typical Amsterdam snowfalls – big wet flakes, but no icing and no build up. Brian was unaccustomed to snow, and he suggested we return to the hotel and change and take a drive through the Dutch countryside. I knew the Dutch countryside around Amsterdam was not much to see, and I also knew the traffic would be terrible. But, Brian was so excited I just couldn’t say no. We raced back to the hotel, changed into sweaters and jeans and headed out the A4 towards Haarlem and Den Haag.
After we got out of Amsterdam proper, the snow picked up a bit, and the traffic remained terrible. We pulled off the A4 at Leiden and stopped for coffee. When we came back out, I glanced over at the A4, saw cars stretched for miles, and suggested that we cut over to a coastal road. We headed towards Katwijk aan Zee. It was mistake. When we saw the sea, we both felt we were in trouble. The sky was gray and heavy, the wind was blowing strongly off the sea, there were white caps, and the ice had begun building up on the windshield. It seemed prudent to head back in the general direction of Amsterdam, so I turned toward Haarlem. By the time we had made it to Noordwijk aan Zee, the snow was building up fast and the road was turning icy. The English television stations had forecast 2º/C for Amsterdam, so I hoped this would end soon. We stopped at a café and had a fairly typical Dutch lunch, a thick soup, some sausages and bread, and, of course, a couple of Grolisch’s each. The storm did not seem to be abating, and the proprietress came over to hustle us out so she could close. I asked if she knew of any rooms available in the area, and, as luck would have it, she ran a gasthaus upstairs and had one room left. We took it.
The proprietress told us the market across the street would be open for another half hour or so, and we ought to get provisions for the night. She doubted that she would be returning. Brian and I darted across the street and bought some snacks and beer and headed to the room. The snow and ice had soaked us. The room was standard fare – a sloping ceiling with dormers and a large porcelain stove that didn’t seem to be putting out any heat. The room was frigid, and the proprietress couldn’t be found. We kicked off our shoes and crawled under the eider down duvet. We were asleep within minutes.
About two (2) hours later, we awoke to a sweltering room. The heat had arrived. We stuck the beer on the ledge outside the window and kept the window cracked a bit. The wind was howling and the ice was hitting the window panes. When I glanced outside, the snow was falling even heavier.
In the now more comfortable room we unpacked the provisions we had purchased, Brian went into the bathroom and splashed some water about, and came out wearing black string bikinis. He paused as he passed me and gave me a long, wet kiss and a nice slap on the ass. I didn’t waste any time undressing, but I had worn only a sweater and jeans, no underclothes, so I was naked as soon as the jeans were off and the sight of Brian in his black bikinis had given me a pretty good hard-on. Brian grabbed my dick and led me to the bed. I crawled under the duvet. He dropped his bikinis and crawled over me, stopping to kiss me once again. Soon, we were both under the duvet, spoon style, with my dick pressed against his ass. Although the room was comfortable, the sound of the wind and the darkness, lulled us back to sleep for a while.
We were awakened by a crashing noise and then complete quiet. I peered out the window, and saw a tree had fallen across the road. All of the power was out, and in the headlights of a passing car, I could see it was still snowing as hard as ever. Brian told me to get him a beer. I opened the window grabbed a couple of beers and went into the bathroom to open them, pausing for a long, satisfying piss. I noticed the beers had partially iced, so I took a look cool swig. As I walked big into the bedroom, Brian crawled out of the bed. I was captive with a beer in each hand, and he paused, kissing me and massaging my balls. I hardened, and became even harder when I heard Brian pissing – one of his torrents. When Brian returned to the bed, he picked up his bikinis and told me to put them on. That seemed an odd order, but I complied. We sipped our beers, and Brian rolled onto his side toward me, began biting at and playing with my tits and massaging my dick still inside the silk pouch. Something about the friction or the added warmth or maybe the softness made me cum almost at once. I filled the pouch and it quickly soaked through. Some cum ran down the inside of my things. Brian set about licking the cum off my thighs and then did something extraordinary – he began sucking on the cum-soaked bikini pouch. Soon, I was even wetter, and Brian would suck so hard he would actually pull the pouch away from my dick. Then, he stopped, raised my left leg and swatted my ass. Soon, and I am not sure how this all came about, I had the soaked bikinis over my head, I was leaning over the bed and Brian was spanking me with his belt, all the time shouting, “You dirty little boy. Cumming in my underpants.” The swats were hard, but not violent and not too painful. Very exciting. I could feel my ass warming, and I could also feel my dick rising again. But, only for a moment. Brian turned me around and put a device over my dick. It appeared to be some sort of sheath with a ring at the base that lifted my dick and prevented it from touching my balls. There was a strap at the bottom that separated my balls from one another, painfully. At once, I had a strong urge to cum or to piss, but I knew I couldn’t do either.
Brian then bent over the bed, spread his legs and gave me a series of instructions: Lick the rim of my ass. Stick your tongue in. Further. Lick my balls. Lick my ass again. Lick you finger. Stick it. Lick two fingers. Then three. I thought I’d rip Brian’s ass open, but he seemed to be relishing it all. I then noticed that he had been masturbating, and he took hold of my fingers and clinched. He was cumming. Load after load. I removed my fingers, turned Brian around, and I ate hungrily until he was clean.
By this time, I needed to cum badly, but Brian forbade it. He made me set in the chair, and then he set in my lap, moving backwards and forwards, and around – an expert lap dance. It was torture. Finally, he bent over me, his ass in my face, instructing one again to lick and probe. Then he removed the sheath and the separator, spit on my dick, stood up and faced me, pulled his cheeks apart, took me in and began moving slowly up and down, never so much that our kiss was interrupted, but constant. My dick was warm and moist and eager to plunge ahead. I fought the urge to cum as long as I could, then I filled Brian’s ass in a series of wild ejaculations. As I began to go limp, I could feel my cum beginning to roll out of his ass and onto me. Then, Brian got up, and we bathed one another, carefully and completely, removing all the cum and the spit, whatever other fluids we had shared. When we were done, we got the beer and the snacks, crawled into a bed and ate. Neither of us was all that hungry, and as we heard the wind continuing to howl and saw the snow falling through the lightening flashes, we drifted off again, in one another’s arms, both won
dering if we’d make it back to
[To Be Continued]