2. Jacco’s beach adventure

The train journey from Amsterdam had been unbearably hot and stuffy and his tolerance of young children had been stretched to breaking point, as they hurled themselves up and down the carriage, screaming and yelling with excitement and with the apparent approval of their parents. Despite this Jacco was determined not to let anything spoil his optimism that, today was going to be a good day. Elco had told him to go down on to the beach and head left for about twenty minutes and then he’d know it when he saw it but the problem was, he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to be looking for.
He’d bought new shorts and a new T-shirt especially for the occasion and wore his brothers Ray-Bans, which he’d secreted out of the house. Not only did he think they looked stylish but they afforded him some anonymity and thus a little self-confidence. Hoisting his rucksack over his shoulder, he strode through the soft sand as purposefully as he could. Zandvoort itself, had initially been a disappointment and as far as he could see, was little different to Noordwijk where he’d lived as a child. The buildings and blocks of flats were the same, the people were the same and the beach was like all Dutch beaches, long, straight and flat, with the dunes rising up behind.
‘What did I expect?’ he thought to himself, ‘Everything to be swathed in sea of pink chiffon and rainbow flags?’
Still, it was a beautiful, cloudless day and the slightest of breezes coming off the sea made it infinitely preferable to the breathless heat of the city. Although he was on an adult quest, they were childhood memories that came to mind; the smell of the sea, the screams of the gulls and the general feeling of bonhomie amongst the people that only a summer’s day on the beach seemed to engender. Finding the uneven, soft sand hard going, he headed down to the water’s edge where it was firmer and made better progress, all the while checking the groups of people he passed, despite knowing that he still had some way to go. At the same time, he couldn’t help beach combing as he’d always done; looking for unusual shells, or rare flat pebbles to skim over the water, which drifted lazily on to the beach in the still air and heat. After ten minutes or so, he began to have doubts. What if Elco had said turn right and he’d heard it wrong? He looked back but the sea of people stretching into the distance gave him no ideas at all. Then, about fifty metres ahead he spotted the first clue that he was on the right track. Two men, heading in the same direction were walking in that certain way, with that certain look about them. Nobody else would have noticed but Jacco’s gaydar was finely tuned and he knew immediately. Then again, the leather shorts were a dead give-away. He couldn’t understand wearing leather on the beach. Wouldn’t they get sweaty and smelly? His nose wrinkled in momentary disapproval but he kept them firmly in his sights and followed them until they turned up the beach towards a heavily populated area, which was clearly exclusively and thrillingly male. Faced with this particular Mecca, he had a moment’s panic during which he stopped, considered turning around and heading right back where he’d come from.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ he told himself, ‘you’ve come all this way, you can’t back out now.’
Plucking up courage, he headed towards the crowd either lying on beach chairs under umbrellas, or on towels spread out on a spare patch of sand. He hadn’t expected it to be this busy and was forced to stop and scan the area to try to pick out a free place where he could settle. For a few agonizing seconds, he rightly imagined that all eyes were on him, appraising the newcomer and he was sure he could see comments being passed around which could have been negative or positive, he couldn’t judge. It reminded him of his first day at school after the family had moved to Amsterdam but it only took a moment before everybody’s curiosity was sated and he marked out a place for himself as high up the beach as he could find. For the first time, he wanted to be able to see everyone else but preferably not be seen himself, thus sitting behind them was the obvious move.
‘So far, so good,’ he thought to himself as he clambered up the slope and despite a stumble that brought a snigger from a bleached-blond youth to his right, he finally found his place and began marking out his territory. There was no shade whatsoever and he determined that the next time, he’d come early enough to be able to claim a parasol but for now, on this first visit, he just wanted to get comfortable and blend in with the rest. Shallowing out the sand and building it up into a sort of pillow so he could lie down and still be able to see what was going on, he laid his towel down, took out his sun cream and drinks and took a breather. The next mountain to climb involved undressing and after looking around, he realised he had little choice but to take everything off. He’d known it was a nude beach of course but hadn’t really appreciated that it was practically obligatory and that he’d stand out far more if he kept his shorts on. It struck him that this would be the first time he’d been naked in the midst of a lot of men. Sports club showers didn’t count; there was no sexual tension there but even then he’d never felt totally comfortable, preferring to get showered, get dressed and get out as quickly as possible. Jacco’s problem and his recurring nightmare, was the size of his equipment. His father had told him it was average, there was nothing to worry about but his brother had been less tactful and had teased him mercilessly from the onset of puberty to the present day. The one and only man he’d been with hadn’t commented at all, which Jacco had taken to be a good sign but then he’d been much older and he reasoned, had probably been grateful for the opportunity. He sipped his drink for a moment and weighed up the opposition. There was every type of body on view, from the old and wrinkled, whose penises seemed shrivelled up to tiny folds of skin, to the body builders who as far as he could see, were also mostly less than impressively endowed. Perhaps their muscular bulk made it look smaller in comparison? Then again, there were all those who proudly strutted back and forth to the sea with Hema sausages swinging between their legs. Jacco groaned. It was no use putting it off, it had to be done and he shucked off his T-shirt and shorts before he could change his mind. Slightly further down the beach, staring directly at him and smiling, lay a middle-aged man on his stomach. Jacco gave him what he hoped was a fierce and unwelcoming sneer; he really didn’t need close scrutiny at this moment. Fortunately the man took the hint and turned away but it did little for his confidence and he couldn’t resist surreptitiously letting his hand slide between his legs to give ‘it’ a little stimulation. For what seemed an eternity but was only a few minutes, he applied himself to the necessary task of covering his body with sun lotion; the last thing he wanted to do was get burned. Finally, after replacing the sunglasses and trying to resist rubbing his stinging eyes where the suntan oil had inevitably headed, he leaned forward, arms on his knees, tried to look as nonchalant as possible and relaxed a little, though every now and then, when he felt nobody was looking, he felt obliged to stimulate himself just a little, if only to stop it disappearing out of sight.
Actually, he found himself surprised at the lack of eroticism on the beach. Most people seemed relaxed and there purely to improve their tans in the midst of sympathetic company. There were the Meercats of course; those who couldn’t relax at all and sat up every few minutes to examine new arrivals, or give looks to others who took their fancy and Jacco found that comforting. He wasn’t the only one consumed with curiosity then.

“God, will you look at that! How old do you think he is? Sixteen? Younger?”
Ruud lifted himself up onto his elbows to get a better view.
“You’re obsessed Wil, do you know that? What does it matter how old he is? Leave the poor boy alone, it’s obviously his first time here, he looks like he’s shitting bricks he’s so nervous.”
“He can’t see me looking, I’ve got my sunglasses on and anyway, that’s not bricks he’s shitting, he’s continually fluffing himself up and with good reason by the looks of it.”
”Christ, you’re a wicked queen! You’re not exactly super stud in that department either.”
“You’ve never complained.”
Ruud turned away to get his book, muttering under his breath.
“No, you’ve never heard me that’s all.”
“I heard that. Now who’s being vicious?”
“He’s got a nice body though; he’ll do alright for himself.”
“Oh, so you are interested?”
“Not in the slightest. You know I’m not into chickens but you brought the subject up.”
“Which is more than he’ll be able to do.”
Ruud chuckled. He always felt guilty bringing other people down, even if it was only in jest, part of Wil’s bitchy humour and sometimes very funny.
“I’ve had enough, I’m going to the toilet, then I’m getting a beer, do you want one?”
“Yeah, yeah, okay.”
Wil reached for his wallet, all the time pretending to focus on the unsuspecting Jacco out of the corner of his eye.
Ruud grunted, grabbed the money and set off towards the beach café. Wil watched him go, having enjoyed winding him up. He thought again how much he loved Ruud. Despite the fact that they had been together for fifteen years, he couldn’t imagine life without him and however many little flings either of them had, he felt secure in the knowledge that the feeling was mutual. Even the sex was still good and having heard from so many of their friends that their own sex lives had fizzled out with the passing of time and the temptations all around, he felt a sense of achievement that he really did still fancy Ruud, sagging bum, love-handles and all.

Wil’s lecherous leering hadn’t gone unnoticed by Jacco, who did his best to ignore it but found himself frequently and self-consciously checking to see if he was still being watched.
‘Yuk,’ he thought, ‘I hate this. All these old men; why do they have to stare and keep on staring even when it’s obvious you’re not interested?’
All the same, he felt perversely disappointed when out of the corner of his eye he noticed Wil’s attention had strayed elsewhere. The whole experience was beginning to bore him. Most of the men were too old or too unattractive and all the really nice young ones seemed to be in pairs, or what seemed like established groups.
‘So this is it? I could go to any beach for this,’ he mused. He glanced towards the beach café that seemed quite busy and above all offered shade but if he left now, he’d lose his place and people were arriving all the time. He wished he’d brought a book to distract him. All this staring around just gave the impression that he was on the hunt himself and as a result, encouraged unwanted attention from others who were doing the same thing. Slightly despondent, he decided to lie down for a while and close his eyes. After all, why waste a chance to top up the tan? However, after a few seconds on his back he began to feel horribly exposed and turned over to lie on his stomach. This too had its disadvantages as he was now facing the dunes and it meant craning his neck if he wanted to see anything. He turned around and lay facing the sea but the construction of his little nest meant that he was now lying at a downward angle. After a frustrating few minutes during which he built up the sand ahead of him and had to shake his towel several times, he eventually flopped down and resting his head on his folded arms, closed his eyes. He had sand in places that only a shower would relieve later but there was no way he was getting up again, his activities had already reminded the population of his presence and he was glad to shut them out.

“Poor baby, I know how he feels. Can’t settle, can’t relax and the slope’s a bitch to try to lie on. He’ll know better next time.”
Wil’s musings woke Ruud who had been dozing under his open book.
“Are you still fixating on Junior? He’ll get a complex about old men.”
Wil put on his most indignant expression.
“Old! I’m not old; I’m only forty-eight for God’s sake!”
“Sweetie, when you’re his age, people like us are dinosaurs! Ouch! Bitch! That hurt!”
“You deserved it. Besides, you know as well as I do, there’s a market amongst the young for more mature, more experienced flesh such as ours. Look how many young ones on the Net are crying out for ‘older’ men to show them the ropes so to speak.”
Ruud had to admit it was true. Only the previous week, to his surprise, he’d had a brief encounter with a twenty seven year old with an amazing body, who had wanted him and not someone his own age. When he’d questioned why, he’d been told in no uncertain terms,
“Oh shit no; guys my age haven’t got a clue. It’s all ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am,’ then they’re off. They don’t know how to make love like you do; they can’t be bothered to take the time.”
Ruud turned over onto his stomach, feeling a shiver down his spine and elsewhere at the memory. He wouldn’t be seeing the young man again, he knew that and besides, he didn’t want to. All the really good things in his life, the really important things, happened with Wil and he never wanted that to change but there was no harm in a short, meaningless and above all, exciting escapade every now and then.

The afternoon wore on and for an hour or so, Ruud and Wil were joined by a couple they seemed to have known for centuries. They only met each other socially; on the beach in the summer and in the bars in the winter but it was an easy relationship based on familiarity. They even played cards for a while until the others decided to go to the café for a drink. Ruud and Wil were thinking of joining them. They were both nut-brown anyway; there wasn’t much point in lying there much longer.
“Wait a minute Ruud.”
Ruud stopped packing their things up and looked to where Wil was pointing.
“Oh shit! He’s going to suffer tonight.”
Ruud was, of course, referring to Jacco, whose back, bottom and legs had turned a dangerously livid shade of crimson and was clearly still asleep.
“I’m going to wake him.”
For a second, Ruud wasn’t so sure but he recognised the emergency here and followed his partner across the sand, the white hairs on his back gleaming in the still powerful sunlight.
“Uhm, excuse me youngster. I think you’d better wake up.”
Jacco opened his eyes groggily, to find Wil’s wrinkled face centimetres from his own, his white moustache twitching, giving every impression of an ageing walrus.
“What the…! Fuck off you old pervert. Fuck off before I punch you.”
Jacco rolled over and within a few agonising seconds appreciated just why he’d been approached.
“Oh hell! Oh God, it hurts. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
Wil was laughing at the misunderstanding, despite the not insignificant blow to his pride, which he would recall later.
“It’s okay. I just wish we’d spotted you earlier.”
He really meant it; it wasn’t just to make the boy think he hadn’t been the centre of their attention all afternoon, though it served two purposes!
“Listen, I think it would be wise if you got out of the sun straight away. Why don’t we pack up your things and you can come with us up to the bar there. It’s in the shade and we can have a look at your back. I’m sure we’ve got some stuff in our bags somewhere that will help.”
Jacco was awake properly now and began to appreciate the help he was being offered. Apart from that, it was obvious there was no ulterior motive at play here and by the pain he was suffering, he knew he didn’t have much choice.

An hour later, despite the pain he was in, he was in no hurry to leave. Apart from the fact that Wil and Ruud had offered him a lift back to Amsterdam, he found himself really enjoying their company. The sun was beginning to sink slowly towards the sea, there was a slight haze in the air, many people had already gone and the beach was becoming quieter. They were sitting on the veranda, gazing out at the view, the conversation having died down and all three being content to sit quietly. The two older men had beers and Jacco was on to his fourth or fifth cola.
“You mustn’t have alcohol; worst thing for you but you do have to drink plenty of liquid, also when you get home. It’s the dehydration you see; you’ve got to reverse that.”
Wil had shaken his finger, albeit kindly, at him just like his mother would do and Jacco felt safe and quite guilty at the way he’d initially just dismissed these people as being dirty old men. From their conversation, he began to understand that the gay nation contained many tribes and he realised that he had a great deal to learn. For their part, Ruud and Wil were only too happy to impart many years’ worth of wisdom to him, even inviting him for a meal at their house.
“No strings attached you understand,” said Ruud comfortingly, “You don’t need people like us to complicate your life at the moment; you’ve got several thousand others to meet first. Isn’t that right Wil?”
“Absolutely!” answered Wil, twirling his moustache.
Jacco looked at them both, feeling grateful and genuinely affectionate. Ruud was the taller of the two, balding and with crows’ feet and deep lines in his face but with really friendly, honest eyes, which appealed greatly to Jacco. Wil was smaller and hirsute, silver haired and moustachioed but with a sense of humour that Jacco recognised as being similar to Elco’s but totally different in that it was genuinely funny and not just plain nasty. He began to hope that he could become friends with these guys, although they both warned him that he would soon be distracted from all sorts of directions and that they would probably lose touch but that he was welcome to come to them for a chat at any time. After a while, he began to shiver, not from the cold but from the after-effects of the sunburn and it was decided that they should get him home. The three of them set off along the beach towards the car park, Ruud and Wil walking hand in hand and Jacco following happily just behind. He was lost in thought when it happened.
“Hey, Tinkle, is that you? What are you doing here? Are those my Ray-Bans?”

The Amsterdam Series Home
2. Jacco’s beach adventure
There are many books with a strong gay theme but few that attempt to capture the character of gay Amsterdam. Naturally, during the last thirty years, Aids has played a huge role in the gay community but there are already many books with Aids as a central theme. The so-called Rainbow Nation has many other facets, both serious and humorous and not everything is about sex. This book is not pornographic and doesn’t seek to titillate although as in life, sex plays an important role. It is a book your mother can read but don’t be surprised if you find her chuckling to herself on the sofa. Whatever your lifestyle, you’ll find yourself caught up in the lives of the characters as the book builds up to a dramatic, explosive and perhaps somewhat shocking climax.
Nomads on the Amstel
C&C Publishing:Amsterdam 2006
1. Arend’s news

July 6th
Dear Rob,

It was nice to hear from you again. Sounds like life in Vancouver is pretty exciting and your Canadian Grizzly bear sounds very promising; hope it goes well for you.
As you know, my life is nothing without its histrionics. I have been dealing with the usual traumas of a hysterical Michel and a missing Huub. Michel is coming up for his finals and has fallen out with his flatmate Rik. Rik is a nice guy, who has the personality of a burst balloon - but that was the success of their relationship – Michel has too much to say for himself, now I wonder where he gets that from? He moved out of his last house owned by and shared with Frank Deetman (I kid you not), because of a conflict of personalities and I had thought this one would last the course but I underestimated Michel. I really feel for Rik, who hasn't got exams, Michel in normal mode is bad enough but hyped up doesn't bear thinking about. Anyway, it's all sorted out now. I had wanted to be supportive, to give that wonderful fraternal love I'm so famous for, but the bottom line on that was,
“Don't you dare come near me for the next six weeks!”
Actually, he's quite right, we'd have ripped each other’s heads off within the first twenty-four hours. Neither of us is too clever at dealing with stress. I'm much safer giving all that support down a telephone line.

As for the other toad, (Huub that is), he is the complete opposite. He continues to play everything down, telling me all he knows I want to hear,
"I'm getting good grades and having a ball"
There's just the odd frantic call like, "Can you lend me some money?" and "The car battery is knackered" but then last week, when I'd spent three days frantically trying to unsuccessfully track him down, his nonchalant attitude on finally being found, wore a bit thin. It's no wonder I look ninety-five. I've got two aliens as brothers, I really have and the fact that one is a gay alien makes life doubly complicated.
Huub is looking forward to coming here in two weeks,
“Because it will be so nice having my washing done without having to pay for the use of the machine."
And Michel thinks life in Amsterdam sounds cool, "Because maybe I can come and live with you two and then I won't have to pay rent." Oh shit, is this what sums up the last forty years?

Spare no sympathy for me though, Freek’s lot is very much worse. He has me to contend with too; the proverbial loose cannon!
All I wanted to do was earn a little extra money to supplement my Invalidity benefit and indulge myself in my favourite hobbies, so I put an advert onto the Internet. I’ll give it you in full; it might help explain the disasters that followed:
‘Is the pressure of modern living getting you down: nobody to rub away the stress when you get in from work? Massage is not only for the body but refreshes and rejuvenates the spirit. Qualified masseur offers discreet and satisfying service for a reasonable fee.
Would you also like a stunning photo portfolio of yourself to impress your friends and your Internet chat buddies? The photos are digitally processed and put onto a floppy, or for a little extra, placed onto CD Rom. Professional quality for an attractive price.
Interested in either, or both? Amsterdam area only’
E-mail me for info.

My first mistake was in not telling Freek until after the event and my second was in not getting to the computer before him on the next day. I’ll spare you the full details of his explosion but divorce was imminent and I had to use the full range of my diplomatic skills to calm him down and convince him that the spare room wasn’t being used anyway and all it required was the purchase of a second-hand massage table, (which I had just happened to see in the paper that morning). Believe me, in my naivety, I had no idea what the response would be and I started to share Freek’s misgivings the minute the first customer walked through the door.
Here was me, thinking it might be fun to get my hands on a few lithe and supple bodies and I knew Freek wouldn’t be worried about that; his sauna addiction is getting worse! Anyway, after some hours of negotiation and the purchase of a somewhat rickety massage table over which I spread some of our best bed linen, I bought several large bottles of massage oil, made sure the massage gadgets we’d accumulated over the years were still working, and renewed the batteries in the vibrator. We made sure the window in the spare room was properly blacked out, so as not to offend, or turn on, the neighbours opposite, turned up the radiator and put in a lamp guaranteed to give soft lighting. By now, I’d made several appointments and after Freek had made himself scarce; which of course meant his taking the opportunity to go to the bar, in walked customer number one. The moment I saw him, I knew I’d have to refine the ground rules for these people! He was sixty if he was a day, whale-like quantities of fat and with one of those faces you just instinctively want to put your foot in. ‘Okay,’ I thought, ‘business is business; you’ve got to start somewhere,’ and got to work. After asking him to undress, which took an inordinate amount of time I might add and putting his clothes in our spare wardrobe that was now carefully placed outside the bathroom, in he waddled. My God Rob, if I looked like that I wouldn’t dare show my face, never mind anything else, in public but his advert had claimed he was a bear and as you of all people know, bears are ‘in’ but there are bears and there are bears! My idea of a bear is a big man covered in hair and exuding masculinity but this guy was completely hairless and I mean completely! His skin obviously hadn’t seen the sun for years and had that translucent quality that you associate with corpses; you could see all the veins, everywhere! Am I being too bitchy and critical here? You may well think so but let me continue.
Anyway, the first thing he demanded was that we should both be naked. Well, I’d seen enough other adverts to know that this was fairly common and you know me, only too keen to please and reluctant to say no, so I disrobed. I swear he was salivating! Finally, I persuaded him to lie on his belly, no easy feat I might add, and brought in two more pillows from our bed because he was complaining that his neck hurt. Once I’d got him settled, I started to apply the oil to his shoulders. As you can imagine, it was a bit like kneading dough and the last vestiges of muscle were so deep under the fat, they couldn’t be found but I soldiered on and worked my way down his spine. I was beginning to realise that I would need industrial amounts of oil if there were going to be many more like this; he soaked it up like a sponge. Now you know me; I’ve got a fair amount of experience as a sports masseur but after ten minutes I was exhausted! I’d done the neck, the shoulders, the back and the arms, without much response but the minute I approached the buttocks, which were so gelatinous they hung over the sides of the table, he started groaning and moaning. Now, you have to remember that I’m naked here and unavoidably in contact with this man mountain, so along with the moaning suddenly came the grasping hands. I spent the next few minutes trying to pummel the buttocks and at the same time doing a sort of dance to dissuade him from grabbing my balls! In desperation, I decided upon a change of tactics and brought the electrical massage tools into play, which gave me the slight advantage of putting some distance between his flesh and my tender parts. This turned out to be a master plan, for as soon as the vibrations reached the cleft between the cheeks, he let out an almighty roar and lo and behold, climaxed onto my sheets! Believe me, this was a small price to pay for the prospect of him turning over and my having to do his front, which I’d been dreading beyond words. Anyway, he got up without a word, refused the offer of a shower, stormed off to get dressed, thrust a fifty guilder note in my hand and left, all within the space of five minutes. Needless to say, I closed the door without inviting him back, heaved a huge sigh of relief and poured myself a stiff drink.
Fortunately, I didn’t have any more appointments that evening, as I’d wanted to see how the first one went and it gave me time to wonder about what I’d started. Although I’d been heartily glad to see the back of the Michelin Man, I did feel professionally dissatisfied and somewhat guilty. After all, here I was, offering a professional service, albeit with a sexual tint and I hadn’t been able to cope with the first customer because of his appearance. Apart from that, I knew I’d failed with the technical aspects of the massage and I was disappointed with myself. I had three appointments the next afternoon while Freek was at work and I couldn’t do much about those but I could do something about the future. I went onto the Net to see exactly what other people offered and required and to my relief, found that many of them put an age limit on their clients and what is more, asked for a photo first. Now, I’m not bothered about looks; after all, they’re paying me for God’s sake but I might as well make this a reasonably pleasurable experience for myself, therefore a little filtering wouldn’t do any harm, especially if it was going to be as popular as it seemed. You see my point don’t you?
Having found older sheets for the massage table, bought new and much cheaper oil, I decided to do the job shirtless and in a pair of old 501s, the theory being that maybe that would be enough and I wouldn’t have to get completely naked although my chest is still in pretty good condition as you may remember! After that first experience, I was pretty nervous about what was likely to show its face but as it turned out, the first two weren’t that bad at all. They were mister and mister average; you wouldn’t look twice at them in the street, you know the type but at least they were pretty normal physically. They made no demands and basically just lay back and thought of Queen and Country. The first one didn’t even want to be jerked off at the end and they both seemed satisfied that they’d been properly treated, paid their money and left, with vague promises of making new appointments. I was beginning to think that this would be a piece of cake, when in walked number three and what a number he was!
This guy was a postman, twenty-seven and with a body to die for! From the moment he walked in I realised that this job might lead to unexpected complications. For a start, he wanted a photo session after the massage, which I hadn’t known and would overlap with Freek coming home from work but I was keen to attract new business and this seemed too good an opportunity to turn down. Freek would have to get his own meal for once.
This guy had all the ingredients to make me go weak at the knees. Dark-haired, goatee, tanned, a body that possibly owed as much to steroids as to work-outs and one of those flashing smiles that make you catch your breath and I was getting the chance to explore it and get paid for the pleasure. I thought I was in Heaven! Anyway, to cut a long story short, he stripped, climbed up onto the table and lay face down and I was mightily relieved that I had my jeans on. After all, he was just there for a massage and I had to keep reminding myself of that fact but although I do say it myself, I gave him the best massage I could summon up. When I got to his backside, however, I couldn’t resist testing the water and teased him a little with the vibrator without actually doing anything untoward you understand. Nothing; not even a quiver! I thought he actually might be asleep, so got to work on the thighs and calves, only occasionally letting my fingers wander. Well, so would you! You’re also a sucker for a hairy bum! Again, no response, so I started on the soles of his feet.
“Can I turn over yet?”
I jumped. It had been so quiet.
“Yes, of course but just let me finish with the pressure points on your feet. You had some pretty knotted muscles in your neck and lower back, hopefully they feel a lot better now?”
“Absolutely. I’ve never felt so relaxed. The guy who does this at the Fitness centre doesn’t achieve anything like the same results.”
“Okay, done, you can turn over now.”
Of course, this was the big test and my state of arousal, which had abated somewhat, returned with a vengeance. God, I was so green at all this but I’d tried to be professional and detached, I really had! I swear the Angel Gabriel would have turned queer at the sight of this naked postman. Thankfully, he closed his eyes and let me get to work. I’d done the legs and feet first, deliberately keeping away from the crown jewels and thus building up the tension and the tension was clearly there; he was twitching. Then I worked on the arms, shoulders and pecs and moved down to the stomach. Now if you have a six-pack then those muscles need attention but I must admit, I wanted to get them out of the way and move on. It had already taken almost an hour and a half and I realised that time was pressing, however delightful the task in hand.
Okay, enough of the build up. It sounds like a cheap porno script doesn’t it? However, all good things come to an end and this one turned out a little differently to what you might be expecting. I was just about to administer the coup-de-grace and more if I could and I’d moved my face much closer, to give him some special treatment if you get my drift, when I spotted them!
Now as you may remember, my eyesight is by no means perfect and although vanity stops me wearing them as much as I should, I really do need my glasses. In this case, although they were fuzzy, they were unmistakeable; this guy had a thriving colony of beasties surrounding his glorious equipment! You would have been proud of me; I was self-control personified. I did a quick inspection of my fingers, then his chest hair and even the goatee. Yes, you’ve guessed it; this wasn’t just a colony, this was an entire civilisation! My first thought was, how the hell didn’t he know and how the hell hadn’t I seen them before? My only excuse is that my vision had been clouded with lust and besides, you know what devious creatures crabs are: the masters of disguise in the insect world.
Again, to cut a long story short, he maintained that he’d had no idea and pretended to be as shocked as I was. Now, we’ve all had them at one time or another but I don’t believe it’s possible not to know about it, do you? Anyway, I treated his story with the contempt it deserved and got him out of the house as quickly as I could but not before relieving him of an extra ten guilders to cover ‘laundry’ costs.
Freek recognised the smell of the lotion as soon as he walked in, which made me just a tad suspicious, considering he claims never to have been afflicted and created a hell of a scene. I nearly gave up the whole idea there and then. I had to agree with him that two horrible experiences out of four didn’t bode well for the future of my little enterprise but after we’d talked about it and decided to suspend operations for a while, he did acknowledge that it was easy money and there were possibilities, if I could find a way of being a bit more discerning in the future. The fact that he had his eye on a long holiday in the Far East had nothing to do with it, or so he assured me; yeah, right! Anyway, at the moment, things are on hold but I’m working on it. I’ll let you know what happens.
Well Rob, I think I’ve filled you in on all my news; it’s been an eventful few weeks. Your turn now; I want to hear all the sordid details of your latest fling with this Luc, and send a photo; you know I can’t make a judgement without putting a face to the name.
All the best,
PS. The heat here is a bitch!

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