Amsterdam Epiphany

The story I am about to tell is completely true. I have decided that I need to write it down as I will remember it as the event that changed my life forever. It is also the reason that I now have my tattoo of a tulip. I wear it as a badge of honour to commemorate a trip I will never forget.

The story begins in Rome on New Year’s Eve two years ago. My wife and two friends were waiting to celebrate the start of a new year in the rain. As the minutes counted down we started the inevitable chat about New Year’s resolutions. All the usual ones were there, until it came to my wife. She thought for a long time and then said, “I’m not going to compromise anymore.”

This sounded odd and quite profound amongst the usual joviality surrounding making resolutions. But I ignored it at the time, as she did have a serious side. Three weeks later, she came home from work, sat down, and calmly told me that our marriage was dead, we had grown apart and that she had met a guy and was going to find happiness.

I was stunned. We had always been good friends, although we rarely talked about feelings, and while we had both been starved of some quality time together because of work, there had been no hint that she had felt this badly about our marriage.

We parted on good terms. I had time to reflect on the last thing she said. “If we are being honest, we are more like brother and sister than husband and wife. We both deserve a chance to find what we truly want.” And, as usual, she was right. We hadn’t had sex for years and seemed to coexist, rather than be a couple.

So I was alone, after a twenty seven year relationship, wondering what I would do next. Well I didn’t fancy drinking myself into a stupor, and I wasn’t going to plead her to come back. So I decided to see it as an opportunity to do something different with my life. But I didn’t know what. I decided that I needed to get away somewhere to get my head around what I was going to do.

So I booked a short break in Amsterdam. I’d been there before with my wife and I had always wanted to go back. On the flight over I started to doubt the sense of going to Amsterdam (or anywhere). How could this possibly help? Would I just spend the whole time depressed about the separation? The first night validated my decision beyond my wildest dreams. Having checked into the hotel, I wandered into town and found a restaurant for lunch. I sat at a table by myself and the waitress looked sad as she realised that I was alone. I hate eating in a restaurant by myself, because everyone starts giving you sympathetic looks. I’d come here to get away from all that. It was then that my epiphany began.

At the end of the meal I made my first decision. I hadn’t smoked dope for many years and had always found it to be a pleasant experience. So I went straight to the nearest ‘brown cafe’. I explained that I was a ‘lightweight’ when it came to dope and wanted something to just make me mellow. I didn’t want to end up face down in one of the many picturesque canals! One hour later I was sitting in the corner of the cafe, pleasantly mellow. I had bought a notepad with me, as I thought it may come in handy for writing down anything that occurred to me regarding the rest of my life. Of course it now became a list of all the weird stuff that comes into your head when you’re stoned. The list read something like this:

How many strangers can I make smile in one hour?

How do they make custard creams?

Which restaurant serves the best pancakes in Amsterdam?

But then I wrote something that brought everything into focus.

You have no commitments now. You can do whatever you like!!!

It was then that I made my second decision. I was going to go to a brothel. I had only ever had sex with my wife, and I hadn’t had sex for ten years. And I was in Amsterdam! I got to my feet and asked the guy behind the counter if he knew of a reputable brothel. He gave me an address of a house on the outer ring of Amsterdam and said that I would be well looked after as it was not like the seedy experience of the red light district, which promises much but does not deliver.

To get to the brothel involved a walk through one of the huge parks. The sun was beginning to set and I felt exhilarated. Five minutes later I was standing at the doorway of the brothel. The brothel itself was above a shop on a main street. There was a pair of black ‘saloon doors’ and a larger black door behind them. As I went to push open the saloon doors I suddenly froze. All my years of respectability got the better of me and I walked away, sitting down on a bench around the corner. My head was full of, “What would the people in the street think?”and, “What if someone found out what I was doing?”

I rolled several dope free cigarettes and sat for ten minutes running it all through my head. Eventually it came to me. I WAS FREE TO DO WHATEVER I WANTED. And I wanted sex! So I summoned up all my courage and walked back around the corner and, without hesitating, pushed open the saloon doors a pressed the doorbell. What was on the other side of the door was an experience that I can only compare to that of the children who found Narnia. This was my Narnia.

A completely alien world that totally enchanted me.

The door was opened by a very old and small lady who greeted me and led me up the steep stairs, covered in red plush carpet, and through into a side room. She smiled and asked me if it was my first time. I could only nod and sit down on the leather sofas and were strewn around the room. She then said, “I will tell the girls that you are here. When you have met all of them just let me know which one you would like.”

She disappeared and shut the door behind her. I felt nervous and excited all at the same time. And then the door opened and, if I was in a cartoon, my jaw would have hit the floor. One at a time five of the most stunning women I had ever seen strode into the room, introduced themselves, shook my hand and left the room. At the tender age of forty-eight, after twenty-seven years in a conventional relationship my eyes were confronted with a blur of perfume, lingerie, lace, legs, breasts and smiles. I was so overwhelmed that, when the old lady came back in and asked me who I would like my mind was a blank. I couldn’t remember their names! It had been too much to take in. Eventually I described one of the ladies and, with a nod and a smile, the old lady took my money and disappeared. Seconds later my choice walked in.

Her name was Yolanda. She was taller than me, with curly blond hair, a warm smile and breasts that swayed in front me as she leaned over and took my hand. She led me up a winding steep staircase, affording my eyes the sight of her round buttocks, and into a room which was everything you would expect. There was an enormous bed, mirrors everywhere, and a shower.

I stood, overawed by the whole experience. She smiled and asked what I liked. I couldn’t think what to say. Eventually I said the first thing that came into my head.

“I like your breasts…”

I couldn’t believe what I had said. I’d never said that to a woman before and was mortified that I might have offended her. But she laughed and, easing the straps of her silk camisole off of her shoulders, took my hands and placed them on her breasts. I held them gently, feeling the hard nipples in the palms of my hands. I could have cried. This was becoming an emotional experience. It must have shown in my face because she asked me if I was alright. I explained what had happened to me and why I was now in a room with a woman half my age, fondling her breasts. When I had finished she looked genuinely shocked. Forty eight years old, only one sexual partner and no sex for ten years! It was then that she took me by the hand and instructed me to lay on the bed, face down.

“I will make this good for you,” she said, as if she had decided that I deserved special attention.

Face down on the bed I shivered slightly as she poured some oil on my back and began to massage me with firm hands. It was bliss. Then her hands travelled down to my spine and between my legs, stroking my balls. The massage continued for what seemed hours until she grabbed my shoulders and turned me over onto my back. My cock was now stiffer than I’d ever seen. She grinned at me as she trickled the oil over her breasts and, bending down, sandwiched my cock between them and began to masturbate me. My delight was almost unbearable. My wife was very conventional about sex and would never have even considered this. As I lay there, contemplating an experience of a lifetime she took my cock in her hands, placed her lips around the tip and took me in up to the balls.

This was becoming a cavalcade of new experiences, each one more fantastic than the last. I closed my eyes savouring the moment and then suddenly felt her placing a condom on me and, suddenly, I was inside her. She was riding me, cowgirl style, breasts dangling in my face. I could not resist sucking her nipples. I could feel myself building up to a climax the like of which I had not felt since I was a teenager. I couldn’t speak. She was relentless, bouncing and grinding on me until I couldn’t hold back any longer. Sensing this, she dismounted me and masturbated me until I exploded. I shook with the force of ten sexless years unloading over her gorgeous breasts.

As I lay there, completely spent, eyes closed and the biggest smile on my face, she got a flannel and wiped my cum off of her breasts. I remember that all I could manage to say was, “Wow”. I recovered control of my body and began to get dressed, still in a state of euphoria.

“Are you feeling better now?” she asked, with a big grin on her face.

I couldn’t help myself. I’m sure it is not etiquette in these places, but I hugged her and whispered in her ear. “I don’t think you will ever know how grateful I am. Thank you so much. I will never forget you.”

She led me to the top of the red plush staircase, kissed me on the cheek and said goodbye. I floated down the stairs, opened the door and stepped on the street. I walked away, laughing out loud with the overwhelming joy of it all.

As I’m typing this it still makes me smile. Especially as the three days became seven, due to the grounding of all European flights because of the volcano erupting. Seven happy days spent being me, doing whatever I liked, including feeding the ducks in the park, having wonderful sex with some lovely women, one of whom actually spent ten minutes teaching me back massage and letting me practice on her! It was truly an epiphany.