Beyond Curiosity

[Note: this is an entry in an "exactly 750-words" writing exercise. ]

Even after thirty minutes observing Rembrandt's "The Night Watch" at Amsterdam's Rijksmuseum I hadn't exhausted my curiosity. Similarly, the canal-side barge houseboats caught my attention as I walked the city. I was curious what they were like inside. A different curiosity brought me to the De Wallen red-light district, where whores stood in full-length glass windows, flirting silently to lure johns in the street below to the rooms behind them.

Emerging from there, a sleek house barge painted in emerald green and mustard yellow caught my attention and I stood for several minutes admiring it. I turned to see that I hadn't caught all that De Wallen had to offer. On the second story of a building facing the canal, a window displayed a young man, effeminate and willowy, moving languidly in ballet poses—apparently for me.

"Die man is niet voor jou."

I turned toward the canal at the sound of the voice. "Excuse me?"

"Ah, English," the man said, his voice heavily accented, but he obviously had better control of English than I ever would have of Dutch.

"I said that young man, Finn, is not for you. He is girly man. He needs a man's man. I think you need a man's man too."

There was no question that the man framed in the doorway down into the green and yellow houseboat was a man's man. He was solid, wearing a flapping-open black leather vest and low-slung black leather pants. He was bald, but hirsute everywhere else, covered with curly reddish-brown hair. Under the hair was a riot of colorful tattooing in an Asian motif. He could have hung in the Rijksmuseum and attracted as much of an audience as Rembrandt did. He was muscular, a Zeus of a man, and arousingly thuggish in facial features.

"You were admiring the boat. You wish to come inside?"

Yes, I wanted to come inside. I was curious. I could have said no and walked on, but I didn't.

The interior was fascinating, decked out like a Spanish galleon—commodious but all efficiency.

After the tour, he said, "Have you ever tasted Genever, the Dutch liquor?"

No, I hadn't. I could have turned that offer down, but I didn't. Neither did I turn down a few drags on whatever he was smoking.

On a sofa, he kissed and fondled me, undressed me, shed his vest and pants. I could have left then, but I didn't. He pressed my head down into his lap. I gave him jaw-challenging head. He ran his hands up my inner thighs. I shuddered and spread them, rolling my pelvis up to his command. He wasn't long, but he had an extremely thick beer-can cock. I was open to him, and he pressed his advantage. I gasped and panted hard, digging my fingernails into his biceps, as he forced himself inside me, stretching and punishing. I hugged his hips with my knees, clutched his hairy ass cheeks. Collapsing, I surrendered full control. Slow slides, sucking nipples. Feasting and fucking.

"Better in the bed, I think," he said, withdrawing, draping me over his shoulder, and taking me to the sleeping cabin in the stern.

Once there I found out why the change and lost my last chance to leave. My wrists were restrained to two metal rings sunk into the wooden wall over the head of the bed. Face toward ceiling, I was totally his now. He knelt, back ramrod straight, between my thighs, his hands grasping my buttocks and holding them a foot off the bed, squeezing and separating them. Suspended over the bed, my arms stretched and aching, I pressed my feet into the mattress. Again I gasped and panted as he penetrated.

The sounds were my moans and murmurs of "Fuck, fuck, fuck" and the slapping of his meaty balls against the tender skin of my buttocks as he fucked. Surrendering and now open enough to take him, I dug my toes into the mattress and swung with him.

Well into the rhythm of the fuck, I heard the basso-profundo voice in the other cabin.

"Ik ben terug, Liam. Ben je hier?—I am back, Liam. Are you here?"

A massive figure of a man filled the doorway. "Wat hebben we hier. Hij is leuk. Zullen we delen?—what do we have here? He's cute. Shall we share?"

He already was unbuckling and unzipping and releasing a shaft almost as thick as Liam's and much longer.

They shared. I was transported well beyond curiosity.