Are You The Quiet Type?

Are You The Quiet Type?

The quiet ones are the ones you need to watch.

My name is Mikey. My parents are Dutch, this is my story. It all started with my end-of-senior-school term report, when my housemaster gave this character assessment of me.

'Shy in public settings, which is holding him back from revealing his potential.'

Where do we start? I was on my second day of boring financial lending review meetings. My mind was fatigued and drifting as I began to reminisce about my college Fresher's week.

On second thought, it might be better to start a bit earlier with Joyce, my first serious relationship, that changed my whole outlook on life. We had known each other for several years, growing up as friends, nothing more. Well, except for that time, we got caught naked in her bed by her mother.

After an afternoon 'sex education' class. Where we were shown naked pictures of males and females embracing each other, neither of us had a boyfriend or girlfriend, sisters or brothers. We wanted not just to see it but to feel what it would be like to hold someone naked.

We got grounded for a month, after that, we explored the web.

We were now in pre-apprenticeship courses at the same College and had started with similar character assessments. I was studying business and psychology, Joyce was studying business and performing arts, her love in life.

We attended business lectures together. The College had weird carryover, even for the Dutch. Seating arrangements to help students remain focused during lectures, dissertations, and assignments.

We were not to sit or work with friends, but sit in birthday-date order. We were the unforeseen, our birthday's fell on the same date. This is how we got to re-know each other as college students. Also, we had to select a sport, a life balance thing. I took up badminton, Joyce, Neo-Burlesque dancing. I didn't know what that entailed, but I was soon to find out.

One Friday after college, as I left the badminton courts, I had actually won a game of singles for once. I was on a euphoric high as I walked back to the locker rooms. There had been a fire alarm test just before I left the court, this happened weekly, when all the corridor smoke doors were released and closed automatically.

All you had to do to reopen a door was, give it a firm double-hand push until it pressed against the magnetic retention locks. I heard the first one's metallic click as it locked, I turned to walk on. In front of me was Joyce. Standing, stark naked, forcibly banging and kicking as she tried to open the female locker room door.

She turned, looked right at me, not trying to hide her nakedness by putting her arm over her breasts or covering her pussy. I couldn't take my eyes off her as she stood there all grown up. She pulled me out of my lustful glaring trance when she panic-shouted!

'Help me open this f**king door, it's stuck!

The late study classes are starting to come out!'

Her panic spread to me. I rammed my shoulder hard against the door, again and again, as she pressed her naked body against me, adding force to my now aching shoulder. It wasn't stuck, it was locked, part of the fire alarm test protocols.

Classes were starting to come out, and we could hear them heading our way. Smoke door after smoke door loudly clicking against their restraining clamps as they approached us. I grabbed her hand, and we sprinted to the adjacent male locker room, which I knew would be unlocked and hopefully empty.

We crashed in together, closed and manually locked the door behind us! I could hear someone singing 'loudly' in a shower cubicle. Plan B: I grabbed a towel from my locker shelf, pushed her into the nearest shower cubicle, and followed her in. I hand-signaled her to turn the shower on full to hide us from whoever was there or might come in.

I closed the shower splash curtain behind me, stripped off my shorts and top, adding to the illusion of someone showering. I turned, stepped in, sharing the steamy water with her as it seductively, cascaded over us.

We stood naked, facing each other as we pressed together. The shower cubicle wasn't big. Our second time being naked together. I developed an instantaneous rising erection that pressed up and touched her smooth wet pussy, like the last time. Our faces were nearly touching as her rock-hard nipples pressed and rubbed against me.

We stood there, as the steamy water cascaded over us. I felt her hand drop down, she slowly started rubbing my dick, up-and-down, up-and-down. My hand slipped down until I engaged her pussy, I let my fingers do the walking as we both pressed and body-rubbed until we had brought each other on. Like the time her mother caught us.

I could feel her heartbeat thumping in rhythm with mine, both wanting to satisfy each other's lust here and now. Our intensity eased as we heard the singing showerer leave. We turned off the water to listen for others. Slowly we dried each other with my towel, affectionately and genteelly.

Both dry, wearing only my towel, I checked the corridor. Empty, then the female locker room door. It opened. I waved for her to come over, she had pulled on my top.

We should have thought of that in the first place.

Dressed, we met in the corridor and left together. As we lived near each other, we talked as we walked home, both still high from tonight's events.

Joyce explained that the girls in her dance class said she was boring, against their lifestyle, she admitted she was. I, amongst others, got a mention in the boring league table. They baited each other, and her, into doing a group striptease routine in the empty dance studio. Joyce's routine surpassed and impressed them, which didn't, go down, very well.

After their striptease routine was completed, it was proposed that they do a show-type group exit, as a dare, and run along the corridor in a dance line, naked, to their locker room.

As they ran along the corridor, naked, Joyce was last, the fire alarm went off, smoke doors were released, and non-escape route entry doors were barred. Being last, Joyce got caught on the wrong side of the locker room door as it locked. That's when I came along.

We both wanted to talk about what happened between us in the showers, but avoided it. I think our silent plan for that night was to go back to her place, which I had been banned from. Her parents were out for the night. As we arrived at her door, her father opened it, home early.

As we parted, she kissed me, and asked.

'Do you want to take me, to the end-of-term prom dance on Saturday?'

I didn't hesitate; 'YES.'

That intervening week at college, leading up to it, we seemed to attend a series of lectures together on behavioral psychology and how sex was used to sell. Were we being taunted? Normally she wore baggy trousers and loose sweaters. That week she wore short skirts or shorts, no tights, and clingy, hard-nipple-revealing tops.

During lectures, she lifted my hand, inciting me to caress her between her legs, which I did, she did it to me too. As we debated the benefits and morality of using sex as negotiation incentives. We had a few wet wardrobe mishaps that week.

Each night under the guise of working on joint dissertations, we worked together in each other's bedroom after college. They say mothers know, both our mothers interrupted our joint dissertation work with offers of tea or coffee or whatever.

Prom Saturday arrived, my parents had forked out for a big white stretched limo to take us to and from the Prom. As I arrived at Joyce's, her mother and father were loading cases into their Range Rover. They both worked for a Rescue Charity as in-country rescue Team Leaders; there had been an earthquake or landslip somewhere in Asia.

I couldn't take my eyes off her as she walked to the limo with a seductive, model-style swaggering walk. Wearing an expensive short flared one-piece dress with matching white silk stockings, with untie bows, at the top of each leg.

Sitting in the Limo on the way to the Prom, we were silently thinking of one thing. We would be alone in a parent-free, empty house.

We arrived at the venue with all the pomp and circumstance expected for an end-of-year prom. As we danced and danced that night, I could see and feel her rock-hard nipples tantalise me seductively through her sheer white dress.

At the witching hour, the dance finished, which was slow but seductive in its arrival. The stretched limo was waiting, whisking us off into the darkness together, far from prying eyes.

She bleeped the alarm to home mode, then unlocked the door. I surprised her by lifting her in my arms over the threshold as we giggled together.

It really was that time.

I stood her down in the living room, curtains closed, bright overhead light on. We stood looking at each other. She leaned over, unbuckled my trousers, and let them drop. Turned, lifting her hair, exposing the zip at the back of her dress, inviting me to undress her.

As the zip slid down her spine, she wasn't wearing a bra. I continued the zip down until I could see the top of her thong, as she turned and faced me. Slipped her dress forward off her shoulders, stepped out of it, then draped it over the back of an armchair.

Stood looking at me, her perky breast nipples glistening, her thigh-length stockings with bows at the top, a suspender belt holding them in place, piece de resistance was her heart-shaped thong, tantalisingly setting her ensemble off.

She came over to me, slowly undid my bow tie, unbuttoned my shirt, one button at a time, in exchange for one kiss at a time until my shirt hung loose. She slipped it backwards off my shoulders, symbolically placing it intimately on top of her dress over the back of the armchair.

Apart from her white stockings and matching suspender belt. We were down to matching thongs, someone had bought for us to wear tonight. They were quick-release, that seductively twanged off. She released mine. I could feel intense pressure escape as it twanged free, like that day in the shower. I released hers, they both disappeared somewhere into the room, no doubt reuniting behind the armchair.

She took my hand and led me up the stairs to her bed, her house, her rules, her agenda. As I relaxed, so did my erection. The bed was somehow fully turned down, waiting for us. After I released her from her suspender belt, she sat down, offering me one leg, then the other to remove her white stockings.

Both naked, masked by the room's darkness, her rules, I was told to lie back on the bed, she climbed over me and sat on my now throbbing anatomy. My steadying hands were on her hips as she straddled me and brought me on and on and on, we could hear each other's excitement, and we weren't hiding it. My ecstasy started to rise and rise to the occasion as did hers.

We both let go vocally and climactically. That night, until well beyond daylight, was frequently exhausting but didn't deter us, including a morning encore against the shower wall.

For breakfast downstairs, we wore matching oriental shorty robes and matching thongs, another gift from her friend Kat from Australia for the morning after. I asked;

'How did she know what was going to happen last night?'

'I told her.'

I asked how and where she had met Kat (Katarina); I didn't expect this answer.

'I suppose it all started with my love of dancing. When we were 18, my friend Poppy and I joined an adult-themed dance class. We became engrossed in pole and erotic dancing, we became good at it, and both loved wearing skimpy outfits.

We were invited to join other adult-themed classes where we learned how to do, stripteases. It's amazing how quickly you can be relaxed about dancing naked in front of people. We were invited to audition for a Cats-type show in the chorus line. It was a success, and we were invited to appear in other shows for Unicorn (ladies-only) clubs.

Poppy and I were paid to dance at an exclusive private birthday party. They wanted more than just watching us dance, that was when I had my first same-sex experience with a long-legged Swede, whose long blond hair got everywhere.

As you know, my parents work for a disaster-rescue charity, they were asked to go to Manila in the Philippines to help set up a new Rescue Coordination Headquarters. I had a choice; go with them for a three-month deployment, or get a summer job stacking shelves in a supermarket. Poppy had met someone and was touring, striptease-dancing in clubs over the summer.

I was invited to join them but declined. I had decided to go with my parents.

Our flight had an overnight stopover in Dubai. A problem involving an aid worker the charity employed, which I became inadvertently involved in. We were invited to an afternoon tea party, at the charity's offices, where I was introduced to a Saudi Prince. There are a lot of them.

He liaised with the Charity on behalf of the King, was about my age and was going to Cambridge University the next academic year. He was dressed in a Thawb, one of those white, flowing Laurance of Arabia robes, nice-looking, tall and lean, with gorgeous skin and an athletic, sculpted body. We chatted, and he invited me out to a fancy restaurant in a very, very high, skyscraper.

My mother, as mothers do, overheard the invitation, apparently, you don't say no to a Prince. She took me to a fancy, expensive dress shop in the adjacent mall, the charity bought me the dress I wore last night.

He was well educated and courteous, meal was out of this world, no idea what it was. He told me what the issue was with the aid worker.

Apparently, one of his cousins, a Prince too, who had a reputation, had been sleeping with an aid worker, an Indian Immunology Doctor.

Prince's family were concerned the King would find out. To protect him, they complained to what we call 'morality' police. Said their son was seduced by the doctor, and was blackmailing him for medical aid funding.

The doctor was arrested and would be tried the next day in a 'morality' court. Meaning they could be jailed, stoned, deported or worse. This type of relationship was not allowed.

I was angry and asked him bluntly. 'If I slept with you, would this happen to me?' 'No!'

I asked, 'And why not?' You would be my British guest, not Indian. I had walked right into it; he saw an opportunity; he offered.

If I slept with him tonight and the aid worker agreed to leave on the next flight tomorrow, and not return. They would be released, and he would make sure all the charges, were dropped.

Without thinking, I saw a way out, and said 'OK'.

'Consider it done. I will show you the way a Prince has sex,' phoned somebody.

Don't know why, on the way up to his penthouse, I hinted this would be my first time. I wasn't nervous, just excited about what I had agreed to. He slowly and gently undressed me, until I was standing naked in front of him as he stood watching me.

I was shaking inside in erotic anticipation. I lay down naked on his bed, opening my legs seductively, as you see them doing in films. I watched him tantalisingly smiling, watching me as he undressed. It was a water bed with a wave thing.

Our foreplay was fantastic fun and arousing for both of us, as we athletically cavorted about as the wave machine brought us together, then pushed us apart. We managed to engage and stay locked together. Self-masturbation may be fun, being masturbated by someone great. As he seductively slid in and out of me, in and out, we harmonised squirming and cavorting about. It was fantastic.

We had orgasms after orgasms that night. I don't think we slept. In the morning, bathed together in his apartment whirlpool bath, then his servants came in and served us a traditional breakfast as we sat looking at each other, in see-through silk dressing gowns.

A car took me back to my parents' hotel. They were furious with me. So much so that I thought they were going to send me home. They didn't, as their Indian Doctor had been put on the first flight back to India unharmed, and 'advised' not to come back.

My new Prince friend allowed a very large donation from the King to the charity to go through.

On our long flight to Manila, I slept or read a book. I couldn't get out of my mind the fantastic sex I had. They said nothing more about it. What I hadn't told them, he insisted on paying me $5,000. If it ever got out, I would just have been a one-night Western concubine, a trophy.

By the time the flight landed at Manila Airport and we transferred to our apartment for the duration. I was fully recovered, no jet lag, just as well, as we were invited to a meal at the newly appointed, Australian, Director of Operations for the Philippines' apartment.

That's where I met Kat, she was a couple of years older than me, taller, with fantastic long blond hair, the type of hair I always dreamt of having.

After the meal and domestic small talk finished, Kat invited me to her room. In her words, to 'let the grown-ups talk.'

After we arrived, she locked the door, took off her silk blouse, short skirt and bra, and sat on the bed, invitingly. Even with the air-con on due to the humidity, I stripped off and sat beside her on her bed. We sat there naked except for our pants; it's a fantastic way to get to know people and chat with them.

It turned out we were both into dancing. I had to confess first. Told her about my dancing, my striptease escapades and what happened after that, including in Dubai with the Prince. Which, somehow, she seemed to know all about.

She clarified the Indian Doctor was a guy, the sleepover friend was the Prince I had slept with. Immediately, a question I had, was answered. In a shared shower in the prince's apartment, with my back against the wall, we had erotic, lustful sex as I had my legs wrapped around him.

After he climaxed, I stood back. Turned my back to him, placing my hands against the wall, letting the warm water cascade over my head, run down my hair and down my back. He started to seductively massage my back all the way down to my buttocks, then in between them with his fingers.

I felt him reposition as he engaged me in a back door romp. Apart from trying a vibrating dildo, this was my first time. It wasn't what I expected, I enjoyed it, he did too. His climax was memorable.

Don't know why, I turned to Kat tucking my left leg under, she turned to me with her leg tucked under too. Both with open legs suggestively exposing an invitation, we knew we wanted it, and my sexual adrenaline and thrill with the Prince were still driving me.

Kat was aroused too, we didn't have long before our parents would come looking for us. We enjoyed a no-holds-barred quickie. Afterwards made arrangements for me to join Kat in her dance practice tomorrow. My parents knocked on the door asking if I was ready to go.

We were in the next apartment block, the refreshing wind off the sea had picked up. In my haste to dress, I had left my knickers and bra on Kat's bedroom floor. I was now in danger of experiencing a public wardrobe malfunction in full view of evening strollers. It was exciting each time my dress lifted, letting in refreshingly cooling wind.

Following morning, we got a taxi into town, I paid in dollars, to what, turned out to be one of the red-light districts. We went to the stage door entrance where we met the club owner, his lead dancer for his Cats look-alike show had just twisted her ankle during rehearsals. He asked Kat if she could do it.

'No, but my friend Joyce here was a lead dancer in a Cats show in the UK, and a leading light at the after-show parties, including with a Prince.'

After a full striptease dance audition, no audience, only rehearsal onlookers. Soon Kat and I were getting made up as cat dancers. There were three shows that night. Our parents never found out. There was not an after-show party that night. Every night thereafter, there was, until their lead dancer returned.

We let our parents believe we were out with some of Kat's friends, if they knew what we were doing never said anything. Most nights after that, we attended private parties.

I had told the Club owner about the ladies-only Unicorn clubs in the UK, that my friend Poppy and I entertained at. He started one as a novelty night. After that, Kat and I were making money hand over foot each night.

Three months later we all headed back home. As our stay in the Philippines was a success, we stopped over in Hawaii for a few days. 'That's why I missed Freshers' week and your Freshers' debut.'

'Ok your turn. Tell me about your Freshers'.'

"It actually started before Freshers, after I had turned 18.

My friend Stephen and I went round to one of his parents' friends' houses. It was my first visit; it had a fantastic, secluded patio and hot tub. As we sat talking on the patio, another of his friends arrived. The four of us chatted as we drank coffee from small cups taken with water.

Discussions migrated then onto the merits of hot tubs Vs Jacuzzis. It was then that Stephen asked, 'could we try the hot tub? 'Yes.'

I followed Stephen indoors expecting to see swimwear for us to change into. He stripped off, standing naked, told me. 'You too!' I had been naked in communal gym showers and locker rooms before, this felt different.

I was nervous about being naked, my developing erection gave me confidence. We walked across the patio enjoying being watched and admired. Confidently, I clambered into the hot tub, pausing at the top of the ladder, giving them time to ogle as I stepped over the rim of the pool.

About half an hour later, we exited, dripping all over the patio. We had been stroking each other under the water by the time I stepped onto the patio. I was rock hard. The two guys came over with towels and started to dry us, which was thrilling.

This had happened to me before in the gym showers. Stephan had been washing my back when a stranger who was very camp came into the showers. After Stephan left the showers, he came over to me and tried to stroke me from behind. He stopped when someone came in.

Afterwards I started to wonder what it would have been like.

Sitting on the loungers, this was when things started to happen. Stephen stood up from his lounger and went indoors silently, with his family friend following him. The other guy, by hand gestures, invited me to sit with him on his lounger.

I knew what was going to happen. I could have stopped it, but didn't.

He laid me back on the lounger and started by massaging the inside of my legs, then my body, arms and chest. I was invitingly aroused, no hiding that. That's when he started to hand-stroke me, didn't take long before I was showing signs of enjoying it, eyes closed, waiting for him to climax me.

I thought, if I let him climax me, it would be over and done with.

No! he stopped and started to give me a slow blow job, my first. It was a weird experience on my back, throbbing with ecstasy, he had really, really got me going. I was physically squirming and bumping, noisily and vocally, on the lounger. It seemed to go on and on. It felt never-ending, I got more and more uncontrollably physical and ecstatic. The more I tried to restrain it, the more I enjoyed it, and the more I wanted it. The more he felt challenged.

The result was inevitable and messy. I was still lying on the lounger recovering when Stephen and his family friend came back. He looked as drained as I felt. Quietly, I still wanted more. Stephen's family friend was standing there naked, looking at me as he offered me a hand to join him.

Stephen, took my place on the lounger.

He took me to his bedroom and sat me down on the dishevelled bed he and Stephen had just vacated. I will always remember what he said.

'We will go the full way!'

I lay back on the bed as he clambered over and on me with a raging horn. Hitching one of my legs, then the other, over his shoulders. As he oiled me, I was twisting ecstatically.

Stephen and I had tried a dildo before, a few times, pushing them all the way in before switching its vibrator on, leaving it running until we climaxed.

He leaned over me and started, I became sexually hyper almost at once, then vocal, as I physically contorted, twisting and squirming. Vocally, I shared my enjoyment with anyone who was listening.

We contorted in harmony as he drove it, repeatedly home, then stopped to milk me, another first. My drips soon became squirts. When he let go, it was fantastic and messy.

Afterwards, Stephen and I playfully showered together using a butt wand on each other. As we left were each handed a brown envelope. I went to open mine, Stephen nodded 'no'. After leaving and out of sight, I opened mine.

Inside was a 50-note.

I looked at Stephen, showing him the 50, silently prompting an explanation.

'If I told you, you wouldn't have come. Now we have the money for tickets for the music concert in the Arena next week, we talked about it, remember.'

Stephan took our money to buy tickets, the 50 tickets sold out, only tickets costing 250 each were left. His answer: 'We do another gig.'

This time it was at a Swingers Club. Along with four other guys and girls about our age, we were the 'entertainers.' We all had a rented cabin upstairs. Dressed in a short wrap, I would go down and escort someone back to my cabin. At first it felt demeaning, but that soon passed.

Two nights later we had the 250, actually a lot more.

We went to the music concert, which was fantastic. That's where I met Natacha (Tash). I didn't know until later that week, in the back of her car, that she was Trans and I was the wrong sex. It didn't last long, but I had played with a Trans.

Not long after the concert, Stephen asked me to meet him at someone's house. It was an Airbnb all-day gig. When I arrived, he wasn't there, just a handful of guys waiting. He never turned up with the third person.

It turned out gang-banging was their thing. I received a lot of brown envelopes that day. Stephan tried to get me to go to other meets. I was now finished with it.

A couple of months later I went on a week's holiday to Spain with a few guys I knew. Our first night, we went out to hit the clubs and bars, was my first time on holiday without parents.

To get to the bars, we had to cut through a park, which had a reputation as a place to go if you wanted to pick someone up. It was living up to its reputation, and it wasn't even dark. We visited several bars on the strip, getting tanked-up before going into a strip club. Which turned out to be gay, we were all taken by it and stayed on.

It had male strippers, who went beyond just stripping. We were all shouting as a guy on his knees was getting banged, it was the first time I watched it live. Afterwards, the strippers in all their glory came over and sat on the audience's knees, inviting them to join them on stage.

Some guys went up and let themselves be stripped. They were not banged, although I think they would have taken it if asked. They seemed to be satisfied being publicly groped and body-rubbed athletically; strictly no photography allowed.

We left in the early hours, on the way back through the park. The catcalls, from all persuasions, were provocative and inviting. I thought about it, but didn't have the nerve or the money. Some of our group did.

We all had single cabins in the Hostel accommodation; I still shuddered to think what went on under bedclothes that night.

The following morning, all were hungover. The guys were going on an arranged tour to the national football stadium to train with one of their reserve teams for the day and watch them play that night. The stadium was over three hours away each way, by coach, I didn't expect them back until late. Football is not my thing. Anyway, I couldn't pay the 350 euros and still have beer money left.

I was still hyper from the previous night and the goings-on in the park. I went alone to the park that morning for a walk-by. Wasn't as busy as last night, but things were still happening. I watched and listened to guys negotiate until they walked off with someone.

As I turned to continue my walk through the park, a voice greeted me.

'Want to join me for a coffee?'

I turned and faced the voice. He was in his thirties, with jet-black hair about my height, like me, dressed in shorts and a top, although not as tight or revealing as my running shorts or cropped sleeveless top; It was going to be a hot day.

He produced from a coffee wagon one of those coffees you get in a tiny polystyrene cup with a paper cup of water. We sat at one of the tables, he introduced himself as Peter, on holiday from Cherbourg, where I had been with my parents for one of those weekend trips. We had common ground to talk about, he had also been to my hometown on a visit.

As we sat chatting, he rubbed my leg with his and touched my bare arm as he spoke. I found it seductive. I started thinking, was he trying to pick me up? I let it play, who knows. After about an hour, he asked, if I would like to join him in viewing a photographic exhibition at the far end of the park. He had a touristy camera slung over his neck. I said, 'OK.'

We walked to the other side of the park, near where we were last night, clubbing. Went into one of those large white exhibition tents with row after row of photographs on show. Some in colour, some black and white. They were all of naked guys, some in suggestive poses on beds or couches.

One in particular caught my eye, a near full-size photo of a young guy, face down on a bed, naked, with his head in his hands, gazing up at you. I thought his butt was seductive.

Peter asked me. 'Have I ever posed like that?' Although not completely true, I said, 'No.' Adding, 'If you could, would you like to try it?'

I hesitated, he must have seen it as an opportunity, as he added. 'I can show you some guys posing just now if you would like to see them.'

Excited, I said, 'OK.'

We walked from the park into a building where guys were coming and going. I recognised it! It was the gay club back entrance we came out of last night.

Peter led me downstairs to a basement and along a passageway with windows, where you could see guys naked or nearly naked, posing on couches or beds in pods. Peter explained that they can't see us, as it was lined with two-way mirrors, so they, and us, could see them posing in various positions and angles.

He added, 'The models get paid per viewer. Why not try a free taster hour, go in as you are?'

It was then I realised Peter was a chunter, a come-on artist. The thought gave me a buzz, posing where nobody knew me, I hadn't felt it since Stephan let me down. The guys I was with were hours away, playing at being footballers.

I said, 'OK! I'll try it.'

Peter disappeared, and a new guy, Omar, appeared and told me what it involved. Basically, you went into a mirrored pod, stripped off or not, and posed any way you liked.

Went in; I made a show of taking my top off. All I could see was myself in the mirrors from every angle, including above. One wall had a Euro counter; I could see how much I had earned. Next to it was a message board where onlookers could ask you to do something for additional bounty money.

In the first few minutes, kneeling on a posing couch as I took my top off, I had earned 10 euros, then 15. A message request flashed: 50 euros if you 'fully strip off.' I was so hyped, I did. Slowly and purposefully, as you see them do on the web. Mirrors allowed me to maximise my posing thrill.

After a few minutes of waving and touching myself seductively, the counter flashed 150. My hour taster soon finished. As I left the pod, the counter was at 250 euros. Someone else was about to have a taster.

Omar met me as I came out of the pod and took me to a 'crew' changing and rest room for coffee. I was introduced to Jan, also from just outside Amsterdam. Omar asked whether I would like to do a duet with Jan in one of the televised pods, then go to the Clubhouse as a crew member. Jan would show me the ropes.

I said, 'Ok' after the pod shouldn't be anything more demanding. After we finished another of those little cups of coffee and water. I followed Jan to a duet pod with a large drum bed.

No sooner had we walked in than the message board flashed requests, Jan replied. The first request was for us to strip each other. The second was for us to grope each other 'intimately,' which turned out to be a sort of bare butt wrestling between us, with erotica extras. We really got into it, romping about the bed, it was a lot of energetic fun.

The next bounty request was not as simple. A naked tag wrestling match where we tagged (banged) each other, winner was whoever banged the other first with full penetration. Although I had viewed it before on the Web, I had never tried it, Jan had and was good at it, as I soon found out.

The next one was more of the same but with a visual climax, a bounty of 500 euros for each climax. Turned out it was sponsored by an offshore betting consortium. Jan nodded a yes to me, and I nodded a yes back. After blasting me, Jan said, 'your turn.' As I blasted Jan, it happened for me, nobody knew it was my first time blasting anyone. We got three 500 euros, plus two per cent off the betting, between us. I never found out what the betting was on. I could guess.

An hour later, after another coffee and water. I found out from Jan that the coffee and water were laced with GHB or Rohypnol. This made you harder for longer, with an induced sex craving. Which explained a lot. Jan recommended we take a double coffee before we went to the Clubhouse.

Inside was what you would expect, a dimly lit lounge with horseshoe booths. I was now wearing a blue dongle wristband, with my newly adopted stage name of Tash on it. Found out later this was something to do with sex workers' licenses in Europe.

As we arrived, a repeat of last night's striptease show had started. I watched the 'male' stripper, and I became utterly engrossed in it again. Someone from the audience joined in. Dancers stripped him, then groped him in front of us as he squirmed, vocally, enjoying every moment of it. I knew what he had taken. Later, someone else joined in from the audience, this time more adventurous, ending in climactic sex all over the stage. I knew the thrill and what it felt like.

I was now convinced watching is not the same as doing. I seriously felt it was now my time for doing. I had been so engrossed I hadn't noticed Jan talking to someone until he said.

'Follow me. I will let you see the Clubhouse?'

I was so, so hyped and gagging for it, I said, 'OK!' and hurried after him.

This was where things kicked off. Wristbands scanned, we went in. The first enclave was a Gloryhole, I had heard of them, although I had only experienced it in the shadows of a hot tub. It was more overwhelming to watch.

Viewed three more enclaves, which had, more adventurous activities underway with slings, plinths, toys and machines. Not as overwhelming but still erotically thrilling to watch.

The Clubhouse had fully dressed guys drinking in horseshoe booths, with near-naked guys wearing brightly coloured swimwear and coloured wristbands. Sitting alongside or sitting on their knees, being caressed or groped. Like I saw in the photographic exhibition. Explained where the photographs originated

Jan broke my trance.

'Would you like to try your luck in the Clubhouse?'

I really, really did and said. 'Ok, what do you do there?'

I wasn't taken by surprise when Jan said. 'Same as you saw on the stage,' adding.

'My dad took me to a place like this in Amsterdam for my 18th it's a Dutch coming-of-age custom in the Netherlands.'

Something I never experienced. We went into the Crew locker room. I selected a pair of skimpy, butt-lifting rainbow-pattern Speedos. I always fancied wearing something like that, a fetish, if you like.

As we walked into the Clubhouse, I was so hyper I felt I was about to have a nosebleed. Took a deep breath and walked in with Jan leading.

Jan spoke to the barman, who was only wearing, under his bib apron, a tight-fitting G-string.

He led us to a horseshoe booth, where we were greeted by two Danish guys in their forties.

I was out of my depth, didn't know what to do, and followed Jan's lead. He sat on Hans's knee, and I sat on Eric's knee, who then took charge of me. I was so hyped I couldn't remember what he said. He started caressing my leg until I was bulging, then stroked my bulge with the tips of his fingers. My insides were trembling like jelly, I had an erection of epic proportions, wet-tipped to the point of hurting as it tried to escape.

He pulled at my waistband and put his hand inside my Speedos. His warm hand held my bulge, squeezing it ever so gently. I was starting to get wet as he whispered in my ear.

'I can see and feel it isn't your first time on the game.' That's when the reality of what I was doing struck home. As he said.

'How about you let me take those Speedos off in my cabin next door?' I turned; Jan was walking off hand in hand with Hans.

Eric took my hand as we walked in the opposite direction.

The cabin had a sliding door the lighting dimmed. The walls and ceiling were lined with mirrors. Eric led the way, slid the door shut, the lock's shutting click sounding like thunder. We stood looking at each other as he made a show of stripping, had me sit on the bed, leaned over and slid my wet, marked speedos off.

I lay back on the bed as he clambered over me. Without effort, he hitched both my legs over his broad shoulders. I could feel his fingers slide right inside me as he erotically oiled me. His erection started to position and slide up between my buttocks. Not my first time, I became short of breath as he paused, then started to press his erection fully home.

Instantly, I felt relaxed as I felt him slide firmly in and up and up, an erotic type of shock hit me. This was the real thrill. He didn't stop but kept stroking at me, in-and-out-in-and-out. I was so excited I arched my back, as I became vocal and squirming like the guys on stage. I was living a fantasy as I turned and turned, arching my back again and again as I squirmed.

Eric's rhythm slowed, then lunged in again and again, now erratic. He was pressing up hard against me as he let go. I felt like I was a balloon being inflated as I let out a deep breath, then again and again and again. He pulled back, letting my legs, slide off his shoulders one at a time as my internal pressure slowly drained away.

We both lay side by side, my head resting on his muscular arm as his other hand seductively caressed my back. We were both breathing deeply, almost in harmony, when he said.

'You were worth every euro.'

That's when I realised, what I was, like Jan, somehow, I hadn't thought of it in those terms. I wasn't angry, that's when I realised, I liked it, and even more so being paid for it.

I thought Eric would have wanted to do it again. I did.

He got dressed and left as Jan came into the cabin and said.

'Want to do it again?'

'Yes.'

Twice more that night, we went to the barman and visited cabins. The last one was a threesome, I was kababed.

Exhausted, I went back to my hostel by taxi, courtesy of the Club. I didn't mention anything to anybody about what had happened. I had a brown envelope with the name Tash on it, with fifteen hundred euros in it and a number to call if I wanted to visit again before I went back home.

I went back two days later, this time I went home with a Tash envelope, with almost two thousand euros inside it.

Back home, I returned to my boring night-shift supermarket shelf-stacking job. In the mornings I jogged home through the city's red-light area in my skimpy running shorts and cropped top, which had worked in Spain, but to no avail.

I started college Freshers' Week. Four days of academic introductions, the 5th day was student party day. Although I wasn't in the Halls of Residence, I joined in with the crowd from the Alan Turing Halls of Residence. We started at the Student Bar, it was the first time I got blootered since my Spanish holiday.

Woke up naked in the morning with someone naked spooning me. The beers and the shots had taken their toll, I had to go. Whoever it was, my movement woke them. My discomfort forced me to leg it naked without looking at them or saying anything, into their ensuite.

I couldn't remember anything from the previous night, although I knew what must have happened from my discomfort. As I came out of the ensuite, someone I felt I knew but couldn't remember who was standing naked in front of me. He broke the ice.

'Hi, Mikey. I am Craig, my Anglo-adopted name. We met last night in the student bar, came back here, where we got to know each other and my flatmates. He was Asian, I found out later from Thailand, with jet-black short hair, slim and muscular. We were both about the same age and height.

He gave me an oriental silk wrap to pull on. Then we went out to the living area. Each apartment had a common living area with a kitchen and four bedrooms, all with ensuites.

We were all similarly dressed in wraps with the same logo. He introduced me to each of his flatmates, all from Thailand. Each had an adopted pseudo-English name, James, George and Tai.

Later I found out they were employees of Craig's uncle at a Thai-style club, using the college and student accommodations for work-visa purposes. We were all still hungover, but managed to down a traditional Thai finger breakfast.

Not only had Craig and I done it last night, but we all had at a gang-bang that I couldn't remember anything about. Also, we were videoing ourselves receiving it or doing it. Tai, a cinematography student, said he would edit it and WhatsApp it to us. Two days later, I received my copy. Word had also got out about our gang-bang but not their visa scam.

Studies started. I also started jogging home from my boring weekend night-shift supermarket shelf-stacking job in my jogging shorts and vest, with my work kit in my backpack.

A jogger slowed alongside me and asked.

'Was I available?'

I turned and looked at him as he said.

'I saw your video last night at the Tai nightclub. Craig told me you would be available first thing in the mornings. Anyway, I can always tell when someone is available.'

We jogged back to his hotel room. Who notices morning joggers? That's how it restarted for me. My family never found out, they thought it was extra night-shift hours.

I never challenged Craig about it. One day, we were both playing at the campus badminton club when he said.

'Would you like to be a training partner for one of the Italian National Badminton Team players who are training at the college? My Uncle is one of the sponsors of the competition being held at the Arena this weekend.'

Still in our whites, we went down to where they were training. We introduced ourselves to Marco and Geno. I paired with Marco, Geno with Craig. Even with them coaching us, we were way out of their league. Both taunted us, asking if we would play them at doubles, if they won, we would have sex with them.

I now knew why Greg selected me.

We played them, although trying hard, we were well and truly thrashed. Game finished, both of us totally embarrassed, we all headed to the washrooms. I was washing my hands after a visit, standing and looking into the L-shaped wall, lined with mirrors. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Craig with Geno behind him, both wearing only white trainers.

I looked directly into my mirror. Marco came up behind me in only his white trainers. As he reached me, I felt him lift my top and slip it off over my head. I raised my arms, letting him, then he slid my shorts down. I stepped out of them.

I could feel Marco getting ready for his main event, then, with his hands effortlessly on my hips, he pressed home. Wasn't in a rush, was slow, methodical. I could feel him start to nibble my shoulder, then my ear, it was pure ecstasy as he slid inwards and upwards, then again and again and again until I felt him ready to climax. One final push, he let go.

I could feel sweat run down my spine as I lifted my head, allowing time, for my eyes to unblur. As he stood off, I could see Geno come behind me. He started before I had fully recovered from where Marco left off. This time, I had more than a double ecstasy, he was slower to climax than Marco. I was nearing exhaustion, I needed my hands on the sink to steady me. Then he exploded as the last of my energy sapped away.

A double tap. Looked in the mirror, never so relieved to see Marco leaning on the sink, recovering too. I don't think I could have taken a third tap from Greg after the energy we had expended playing badminton with two champions, who had us running around the court.

We also received Guest tickets for their final game, including an invitation to the after-game all-night festivities. Greg's uncle was so impressed he gave me a retainer and had bought my Tash license from the Spanish Club.

I didn't know this when the College gave me an invite to attend a business seminar as part of our student curriculum, and that Greg's Uncle had nominated me to attend. This was the first time I went to a business seminar to see how they work. Something I would have to do and take part in later as part of my degree.

After the seminar, the students met the delegates socially for drinks & nibbles in a nearby hotel. I knew some of the students from my campus, although most came from other Dutch Colleges.

I was introduced to an Italian businessman, Andrea, whom I recognised from my second night in Spain, although I never knew his name. He smiled as he recognised me too. Tai, the Photography student from my College Campus, came over and invited us onto a patio overlooking the Polder to be photographed for the College magazine.

As we stood there posing, I could see students, some I knew, leaving the hotel with delegates and going into an adjacent day-use hotel, where you rented rooms by the hour.

Andrea commented on the steady procession of delegates and students that they 'looked as though they were going to have some more after-conference fun.' Adding, 'My hobby is photography. Would you let me photograph you back at my hotel, posing for me as you did in the pods with Jan?'

I wasn't surprised by his request as I sat in the taxi taking us to a five-star hotel overlooking the sea. Tai had told me Greg's uncle had privately sponsored me to attend the conference. Now I knew why.

Andrea dressed in an Italian-cut suit and expensive handmade shoes. In his mid-to-late forties, he spoke five languages, three fluently and was a senior partner of a Financing House in Rome.

This time I didn't just have speedos on, he enjoyed undressing me as I undressed him item for item. I think it was our mutual fetish, and when we bonded. We didn't need verbal foreplay, as we had posed together in front of his motion-sensitive camera.

We enjoyed each other's company; what should have been a few hours of relaxation became an overnight of activity, captured on camera. What I didn't know then was that this would become a regular, ad hoc, then permanent arrangement.

The following morning, I didn't have to slip out the hotel back door. We went down for breakfast together. Where Andrea introduced me to his friends and colleagues as his new acquaintance and mentee. Everyone in the know knew what that meant, other than me.

My next big thrill was saving a naked damsel in distress called Joyce."

We had confessed our secrets to each other, now we craved one thing. Sitting on a fancy white leather couch. We stripped each other naked after some erotic foreplay and went upstairs to satisfy our craving.

Halfway up the stairs, Joyce's phone rang, whoever was on the phone with her, I could see, was making her sexually aroused and wet. She hugged me excitedly, saying. 'Her agent had got her a last-minute casting for a Cats chorus line in Paris, starting in two days for a 12-week run over the holiday period. That day and night was our best ever.

The following day we were both teary-eyed as her train pulled out of Amsterdam's station.

Although we are still in contact and share our life's trials and tribulations long-distance, we hadn't met in person for many years. Our careers had taken off after we last met.

For me:

No sooner had the big Orange Thalys, now Eurostar train to Paris, pulled out of the station than my phone rang. It was Greg, his Uncle wanted to see us. This meeting turned out to be the defining crossroad in my career when he told me that he had sold my Tash sex worker's license to Andrea, who would contact me.

That night, sitting in the Clubs Burger bar with Greg, James, George and Tai, my Alan Turing House friends. We were all going our separate ways in life after the holiday period. We had called ourselves the five musketeers.

However, Greg's Uncle had one final request. Could we fill in as his crew, our replacements, were delayed travelling from Thailand and Malaysia? We didn't ask why some things are better not known. For three days and nights, we had the time of our lives.

My parents were in Norway, some accident on a rig. They were insurance loss adjusters. I was alone for the New Year holiday. Andrea somehow found out, I suspect Greg's Uncle had something to do with it. Andrea invited me to Rome for the New Year. Where I was introduced again as his new acquaintance and mentee, they knew what it meant. As I wasn't his first.

Andrea's Company had offered to fund my studies and would give me a career breakthrough. Like many other students on my campus, this is what we were looking for to make our dreams a reality. I wasn't the only student from my Campus that Term to become a 'new acquaintance.'

The price was what Greg's Uncle had offered me. But it also offered a lucrative way out once our obligations were repaid. I made my first repayment that holiday, when I was asked to entertain a client. Sex does sell globally, like we were told at that lecture all those years ago, as I caressed Joyce's leg and pussy.

This arrangement globally facilitated my tuition fees and accommodation. Later, I worked out of Andrea's various offices globally, earned and ultimately built my own book of clients looking for finance for risky projects from unspecified sources.

The prattling-on-and-on voice pulled me out of my trance when he threw down a gauntlet. This meeting had to agree on terms for funding one of these risky projects. He ended his now several-hours-long counterproposals. Giving me a full & final, take it or leave it offer.

I said, 'we will leave it!' I was prioritising my meeting with Joyce, now waiting in my hotel in downtown Amsterdam. We had met by chance at Schiphol Airport yesterday.

When I walked into my hotel suite, she stood there looking at me, her perky breast nipples glistening, her thigh-length stockings with bows at the top, a suspender belt holding them in place, and a piece-de-resistance heart-shaped thong, tantalisingly setting her ensemble off.

She came over, slowly undid my tie, unbuttoned my shirt, one button at a time, in exchange for one kiss at a time until only my shirt hung loose. She slipped it off my shoulders and placed it on top of an armchair.

What happened next, and confessions of what happened to us in the intervening period, is another erotic adult-themed story.

©oxforddon