Memories of My Amsterdam Whores

Posted on 18. Jul, 2009 by Colin in other countries

My first trip to Amsterdam I’d recently been dumped by my girlfriend of 3 years, 1½ of which we lived together. A good friend had earlier tried to persuade me to have sex with a prostitute. He likened it to a rite of passage. Paying for sex makes it less important. It’s just sex. I never did because I was in love. Newly single, I fully intended to take advantage of Amsterdam’s Red Light District.

Our first day I hit the Red Light District and walked around on the pretext of checking it out. The Red Light District is 5 blocks along a canal just southeast of the central train station. Along the canal and the immediate side streets are bars and sex industry establishments. Lingerie- or bikini-clad girls pose in glass doors under red lights.

I came upon a beautiful, slim girl with blond hair. I told my buddy we should talk to her. I asked how much and what it includes. She was nice in answering my questions. I told my buddy I was going to do it and he went back to the hotel.

I was very nervous. Difficult for me was how to have sex with no foreplay. I’d been thinking about it as much as possible, but it’s still different to simply take your clothes off and be ready to go. I do it good once I’m doing it, but I’m not as quick as a porn star.

The girl led me inside and down a few steps to a small room with a pseudo-leather bench, sink, and bathroom. The girl told me she’s from Prague. She insisted on collecting the 50 euros before starting. I paid, undressed, and sat down. She laid me down and put a condom on it. Then she sucked it until it got hard, settling my previous doubt. They put a condom on it before touching anything. Then they suck it hard.

We did it missionary and doggystyle. I was nervous. I worked extra hard and started sweating.

After some time, she told me my 20 minutes was up. If I wanted to continue, I’d have to pay for another 20 minutes. She insisted I pay before continuing. I rifled through my pants and paid her 50 more euros. During the second session, I lost my erection. I gave up. I hit the street red-faced and dripping with sweat. Tourists looked at me sweating while coming out of a whore’s lair.

I went to the hotel for a nap. I was frustrated and couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t think about anything but an orgasm. I headed back to the Red Light District. I wasn’t looking for a skinny little cute girl this time, but an experienced professional.

I found a tall, Southeast Asian woman with big breasts. She wasn’t in her 20s anymore, but still beautiful. She told me she was from the Philippines. I told her I was nervous. She said that’s OK in a super-Asian accent. I took my clothes off and she said, “Ah, you are good-looking!”

She didn’t go right for the condom. She climbed on top of me and hugged me, rubbing her body against mine. She said, “A little body-to-body.” She put her boobs in my face. I kissed and licked them and she said, “Yes, yes,” in a motherly voice. I was ready to go by the time she put the condom on. Her oral was unbelievable. A rhythmic, swallowing noise came from her mouth on each pump. She wasn’t at it long before I felt close to orgasm.

I took her shoulders and pulled her up. She sat on it and started to ride. I felt closer so I turned her over for doggystyle. After a few pumps she said, “Easy…” I didn’t let up but it didn’t matter because I was already finishing. It was all over in five minutes.

It was an intense, blue balls-alleviating orgasm. I let out a loud exhale and took a relaxed stance in the middle of her lair. She said, “Wow, you so nervous, but then you fuck so hard!”

While putting my clothes on I dropped and broke a glass marijuana pipe I’d brought from the States. The girl got back into her bikini and in her window before I was even dressed. I told the guys about the Philippine whore, a real semen-extractor. That’s all she was born for, extracting ejaculate. And she’s good at it, God bless her.

We drank heavy that night. One buddy went to sleep and the other came with me for a walk through the Red Light District. We found a different prostitution zone a little removed from the beaten path, west of the canal. This is the low-rent area for value prostitutes. Almost all were black. A couple yelled “20 euros” as we walked by. Probably not their regular price, but a special 4 am offer for guys as fine as me.

I went back to that area the next day. It was difficult to find a diamond in the rough working the lunch shift. I finally found a gorgeous thickie inside a closed-in hallway of windows. “30 euros,” she said. She was Dominican. We switched to Spanish. After I paid and got naked she said 30 euros pays for missionary, not doggystyle. Bait and switch! Well, I’m not going to pay for a thick black girl and not bang her doggystyle. So I paid 20 more and we got started.

During my blow job there was a knock on the door. The girl stopped to answer it! I didn’t see the dude outside. She took a coffee cup from him and closed the door. She set it on the nightstand and turned back to me. When it was over we had a light conversation while getting dressed. She said I should visit Santo Domingo. I agreed, thanked her, and left.

Crazy coincidence landed me in Amsterdam again a year later with my cousin and his buddy. I was no longer suffering a love hangover, but the slut phase which follows. I was sticking it in everything I could.

My cousin and his buddy dragged me to a sex show in the Red Light District. A sex show is exactly what it sounds like – people having sex for a show. Live porn. It got the juices flowing.

By the time we left I had one thing on my mind. This time I wouldn’t take so much time to choose. I saw a thick, thick, thick light-skinned black girl. Some Asian tourists took pictures from the other side of the canal. The girls usually close the curtain but this one had to hold the door open for me. So she yelled, “Fuck you, motherfuckers!” That accent – something was familiar.

She’s from Brazil. I told her I was just in Brazil a few months ago. We went up a full flight of stairs to a large apartment. This was the biggest whore pad I’d seen yet. This girl may live better than most Dutch.

She had a beautiful face to go with her big body. She must’ve weighed 150 lbs – all boobs and butt just flopping around and spilling everywhere. During doggystyle I spanked her. She told me not to spank her. Her butt was so big I had to massage each cheek in two different places with my big hands in order to massage the whole cheek. Huge butt cheeks.

I pulled out momentarily and my jaw dropped. The condom was mangled. Shredded. It was barely sticking to my dick by the moisture and not even covering the dickhole. She took it in her hand and paused, examining it. Then she threw it away and laid me down. She went to work with oral. Then she went to work with just her hands, her huge breasts heaving back and forth. I soon exploded and let out a grunt that caused her a horrified look. I told her to keep going and she finished it off.

She was quite sweet, smiling and cheerful. She asked where I was from. She told me her husband lives in Los Angeles. Really? Cool, I used to live there. Interesting she has a husband. I wonder how that works. We gave Brazilian hug and air kisses and I left.

The next night I was extremely wasted when I stumbled down a basement staircase facing the canal near the street that leads to Dam Square. A scrawny black woman let me in. She was in her 30s. She had a nice little apartment, but not as big as the Brazilian’s.

This one was from Ghana with a gold tooth. Her sex style was interesting. She laid me down for oral, then straddled my chest so her ass was in my face. In addition to the blow job she used her other hand to rub my chode (the area between my sac and where the buttcrack starts). This was a first for me. It was cool, almost painful in a good way. I bit her butt. She turned and looked at me.

She got up after 20 minutes and took a water break. I paid her 50 more euros.

This would be one of several breaks she took. She took breaks for water and to smoke hash joints: tobacco cigarettes mixed with hash. She made jokes and laughed hysterically, touching or rubbing my stomach every time. She held the hash joints to my lips and offered me water.

We never spent too much time on hash and water before getting back to business. I was so wasted it wasn’t easy. I ended up paying her another 50 euros for 150 total. She told me if I think I’ll be an hour I should pay 100 upfront. I didn’t know that.

At one point during missionary I started strangling her. She yelped loudly with every pump. She sounded like a monkey. We switched to doggystyle. At one point I hit something nice for her because she made a sound and slapped my balls. She hit me in the nuts so hard it hurt. I let out a grunt of relief. That’s when I learned that pain’s an important part of pleasure.

Still fucking her doggystyle, she moaned “You gotta cummmm, baabyyyyyyyyy.” She was running out of gas. She collapsed just as I was on the verge. I turned her over real quick and finished up during missionary. She got up and said, “Whew, baby, what you been drinking?” Absinthe, beer, whiskey, more. Weed. And hash with her.

This whore was great. If you’re going to be a sinner, don’t go half-way. Get a Ghana whore with a gold tooth who rubs your tummy and hits you in the nuts and holds the hash joint for you and milks the prostate. That’s how you do it.

I found myself drunk in Amsterdam again on that trip and found my way to the Red Light District. This time I wanted a skinny white girl.

I settled on a very young-looking Hungarian on the main drag. She was probably 18 or 19. I told her I could only do it if she had water. I was dehydrated from drinking all day, all week. She was very eager to get me inside. She led me down a flight of stairs to an unfinished basement. It was big, but dank and musty. A shithole. I drank water from a disgusting sink. I would’ve liked to drink more but stopped because the faucet looked suspect.

All the other whores had a soft leather bench, but this one had a cheap, little cot. She seemed exploited, but she was eager in trying to get me in the door.

She started with killer oral. I got on top. I was inside her for no more than three pumps when she stopped me. She laid me back down for oral, basically refusing sex. I thought, what is this shit? I paid for sex. What would be my recourse here? Is there a Red Light District customer service department or Better Business Bureau for sex workers?

Oh well, I let her do her work, and work she did. She gave me what may have been the best blow job of my life. She used this cool trick – she tried to dig her tongue as deep as possible into the dickhole and wiggled it side to side, up and down, round and round.

She never returned to sex but definitely earned her money. She worked so hard on that thing, sometimes double-fisting it. After finishing she held her hands out to demonstrate she couldn’t move her forearms at all.

I kinda felt bad as I was leaving, thinking about forced prostitution from Eastern Europe. I wouldn’t think those types would be here in Amsterdam where it’s legal and regulated. But why would she be in that shithole when all the others had nice lairs? Then again, if she were forced why would she try so hard to get me in the door?

These are the memories of my Amsterdam whores.

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