Dutch Weekend Treat

"Cabin doors to Manual and Cross Check"

Unless you share my terror of flying you will not believe the relief with which I greeted those words, the follow up platitudes from the pilot went largely ignored, I didn't really care that they had selected partners who could provide me with a hire car or they hoped I had a great weekend. Why they can't be more honest in their scripts I do not know. I let my mind wander...

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Amsterdam, I hope you have a great time.
The best weed can be found at the following coffee shops..if you are lucky you may meet Snoop Dogg at the second one
I recommend the live sex show in these clubs....
and for all your sex toy and pornography needs I recommend Arjen's porn emporium on the bloedstraat
Of course the best action will be in about an hour and a half in Nic and Chris's hotel room because she hasn't seen him for three weeks

As I stood up, I forgot to bend my head and made contact with the overhead locker causing a loud thunk. Bending down I held my head in both hands and swore under my breath. The closest steward was totally distracted by the view down my cleavage from asking if I was alright as he took in the view.

And I thought all air stewards were gay.

I swore again, slightly louder in an effort to get him back in the room, which sort of worked, he asked if I was ok but maintained steady eye contact with my 34C tits. I will give him this, they were worth looking at, encased as they were in my most expensive and sexiest lejaby underwired plunge bra but I was still in pain.

I was flying out to join my husband who'd been here for three weeks commissioning a data centre for Al-Jazeera Europe. I've no idea what it means, apart from paying off half our mortgage, buying a new car for me and a motorbike for him with a stack of cash left in the bank.

It was by far the biggest job he'd taken on in the twelve years his business had been going and it had meant long hours and time away from home but it was finished, on time and on budget. He'd sent me an e-ticket and asked me to come out to join him for the weekend to celebrate completion. Apart from the flying bit I'd jumped at the chance, having been reduced to facetime and phone calls, and I've never really been one for the whole phone sex thing, so I was looking forward to the reunion. I'd worn the uncomfortable lejaby set because I know how much he likes it and wasn't planning on keeping it on for long.

I finally got my bag from the overhead locker, made it through customs and walked out of the airport into the train station concourse, next departure to Amsterdam Centraal was from platform 9 and I jumped on the next train. I jumped off in the central station twenty minutes later and called Chris as I walked the short journey to the high-rise ibis hotel on it's own island in the centre of town.

It was mid afternoon and Chris was just finishing with the client when he answered, he gave me the room number and told me he'd be twenty minutes.

I got to the hotel and booked myself in, they were expecting me and had a key card waiting. I rode the lift to the ninth floor and let myself into our corner room. As with all mid-range hotels it emphasised functionality over luxury, a short entry lobby with the bathroom off to the left led to the room, a big double bed took up most of the space with a flat screen TV on the wall opposite. To the right of the bed was a small coffee table with two chairs by it, a built-in desk took up one side wall, above it a wide picture window had a view over to the docks, to the right was a full length glass wall facing into the city.

I quickly hung my clothes in the wardrobe, stripping down to my bra and thong I rummaged in the bottom of my bag and found my four-inch heels that I referred to as my bedroom slippers as that was where I mainly wore them. I don't get that whole heels and stockings thing, probably because I'm the one wearing them and they are, and I'm sorry to tell you this boys, hellishly uncomfortable.

I know Chris likes them though, so I rolled a new pair of black lace topped holdups over my legs, put my shoes on and poured a couple of gin and tonics from the minibar, I had a moment's concern as I walked across the open curtains, wondering if I'd given anyone a free show but as I was on the ninth floor it wasn't a massive concern.

I switched on the TV and searched for something to keep me entertained while I waited. I was not surprised it was set to a French Sports channel showing back-to-back rugby, I know my husband and his vices. I flicked through a range of different languages, most of which I didn't speak, pausing briefly on one of the porn channels, wondering why they had to do it in such uncomfortable looking positions and whether it might be sexier if they looked like they were enjoying it more. I winced in solidarity as the poor girl was penetrated vigorously by an unnaturally big looking penis, but at least she was lying down and seemed to be having more fun now.

I put the rugby back on and waited, the anticipation, and probably the gin and, if I'm honest, the porn, all combining to get me very horny. I had another sudden moment's concern that he might bring the customer back with him, then mentally slapped myself reminding that this was reality not some nineteen seventies sitcom. All the same I made sure I had a robe very close by.

A couple of minutes later the red LED on the inside of the door flashed green, I reached for my robe and in walked Chris, alone in all his six foot hundred kilos of solidly built, black haired, gorgeousness. I crossed one stockinged leg over the other, all the better to display my shoes, offered him a gin, and in what I hoped was a sultry voice said "Hey mister, are you looking for some company?"

He played along. "We'll have to be quick, my wife's on the way."

"Oh that's a shame" I pouted, "I wasn't in a mood to be quick"

He shut the door and crossed the room, taking the gin from my outstretched hand he knocked half of it back in one go and bent down to kiss me.

In a rush the three weeks crashed in and I was desperate to get him naked and inside me. I pushed up with my neck and head, forcing my tongue into his mouth, telling him I loved him and wanted him.

He unclipped my bra, pulling it off my arms and bending further to push his head in between my tits, reaching to the coffee table he nearly dropped his gin glass on the floor but recovered to avoid spillage. I felt his finger, chilled and wet from holding the glass, roll my nipple making it stand up like a sentinel, I dipped my finger in my own drink and dripped onto my other nipple, he took my hint and sucked hard on it. I dripped more gin into his lips as he sucked.

His icy cold fingers slipped down the front of my thong to caress my clitoris, already swollen from the anticipation, I lay back and let him do his thing, sipping from my drink as he knelt in front of me, pushing the sheer fabric to one side he stroked me with his tongue, flat on the face of my pussy then pointed and deep into my depths. I put my drink down on the floor and used one hand to grip hard onto his thick black hair, the other twisting my nipples as I started feeling something rushing up on me.

Pushing my hips up I brought more of my pussy to his mouth, he sucked hard on my clit sending a shockwave through my spine, I panted hard. My heart was racing, and my skin was on fire. A bright light bust somewhere in my head and I gasped as my orgasm coursed through me, I locked my legs around his head holding him hard against my sex.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, I realised he was tapping on my bum, and with a guilty start I let go with my thighs, allowing him to take a deep breath. Laughing at his discomfort I pushed him back and stood up, dropping my now damp knickers to the floor and stepping out of them I walked over to the bed and looked demurely over my shoulder, peeping through my dark chestnut wavy hair.

"Have we got time before your wife gets here?" I asked, knowing exactly what the answer would be.

"Oh yes, if we're quick. Why don't you just kneel there?"

I climbed up onto the bed, feeling the bounce as I dropped forward onto all fours, then down onto my elbows raising my bum into the air and resting my breasts on the covers. I looked back over my shoulder, Chris was pushing his trouser and pants down and trying to step out. I'd been much more elegant, and sexy, he just looked desperate as he sat on the coffee table, narrowly missing his glass again and struggled.

"Hurry up" I begged, "what will you do if she comes?" I reached back with my right hand as I said "Comes" and stroked my wet pussy, pushing two fingers inside and giving myself a bit of a mini fucking as he watched, "Hurry"

He stood up, I was delighted to see he had a massive hardon, and by the lust on his face he had every intention of using it.

Turning my head forward I rocked my hips back and forth slightly, knowing it made my pussy seem to throb and open and close in a 'come and get me' style.

I felt the cool head of his cock reach right under me and rub on my clit, he pushed back and forth a couple of times, rubbing along the outside. I wanted fucking and I wanted it now, I pulled my hips down and lowered my body to catch him as he moved forward, feeling him drive deep into me.

I groaned in pleasure, enjoying the moment and hearing him make a similar sound. The heat inside me was stoking up again as his cock moved in and out. Harder and faster the movements grew, I pushed a finger back, two fingers, three and started pinching and rubbing my clit in time with his movements, he moved faster and faster, my nipples rubbed on the bed clothes adding to the sensations assaulting me on all sides. FUCK he had better cum soon or I'll be doing it again on my own.

I could feel his breathing pick up a pace, the frenzied pressure forcing itself into me increased and in a shout and a hot burst he shot three weeks of desire deep in me, the sudden release of pressure pushing me over the edge, and I gasped out a second orgasm of the evening.

I vaguely felt the hefty weight of my husband collapse next to me, I rolled over and backed into him, his left arm sliding over to cup my breast as he pulled me to him.

"I love you so much" he whispered in my ear.

"Love you too, Now, Showers and show me the fleshpots of Amsterdoodle."

I dressed in jeans, flat shoes and a stripy white and blue top, he was in jeans and a rugby shirt, it's pretty much all he wears if he isn't in a suit and by 6 we were out walking the streets.

We started with a drink in a busy bar not far from the hotel, as it was a Friday evening Amsterdam was filling up with stag and hen parties, although there were plenty of couples and groups around as well.
I wanted food, I had eaten a boots prawn mayo sandwich at Gatwick seven hours ago and nothing since so the gin earlier and the Amstel lager I was getting myself outside were adding to an early evening buzz and some tummy rumbles.

He genuinely surprised me by taking me down to a canal side office where we were shown onto a low, wide, cruiser style boat and to a table where a bottle of champagne was chilling ready for us. We had a lovely meal cruising the canals and seaways of Amsterdam. Once we'd eaten the staff cleared half the tables away and opened a small dance floor so we and the twenty or so other people on the boat could party on until midnight. We pretty much kept ourselves to ourselves, apart from a German couple that shared our table, they were considerably older than us, recently retired they were spending a couple of years eating on as many capital cities waterways in Europe as they could. It's a hobby I suppose.

Wilhelm (Ach you should call me Bill) asked me to dance towards the end of the evening, being a modern, self-sufficient woman, I was a bit miffed when he asked Chris if he could ask me but he was an amazingly accomplished waltzer so I couldn't stay annoyed for long.

We went back to the hotel as soon as the boat docked, and I for one slept solidly for about eight hours. I found a point of annoyance in that there were no tea making facilities and I do like a cup of PG first thing.

Chris was up and about already, which was a big mistake on his part because a blowjob was on the cards if he'd been around, sadly for him there was a text message from Al-Jazeera asking for clarification of a point on his invoice, so he'd kissed me on the forehead and disappeared at seven thirty. I took a shower, dressed in my jeans, flat shoes, stripy top combo and went down to the second floor for breakfast alone looking at the boats.

There was a stag group from England in the dining room, all hangovers and banter from the previous evening, snippets came across "When she pulled all them flags out man" "Mate I was so out of it I had no idea" "I bet you I could"

This last one sounded ominous, I could see their reflection in the window and two or three were pointing in my direction. With a sinking feeling I watched one stand up and pour two glasses of orange juice. He walked across the room and sat down next to me. I had a copy of private eye on the table next to my teacup so I couldn't play the "don't speak English" card.

He must have been about twenty-four or five, so at least ten years younger than me, I should probably be flattered that he was putting in the effort. I was feeling relaxed, I'd had a nice sleep, some great sex the day before and a lovely evening. Breakfast had been a bit pork and cheese centric for my liking, but we are in the Netherlands and that's sort of what they do. "OK" I thought, "Lets see what you've got."

My first move was total silence, I picked up my tea, sipped it and waited. I took a second sip. And waited.

"Hello love" as a first move it was weak.

Silence seemed to be working for me, I kept with it.

He tried again. "Hello love, I noticed you'd run out of orange juice, you'll need some to keep your strength up". He had a bit of a north eastern accent, Newcastle maybe? Not strong, but it was there.

He was taller than me, not as tall as Chris, maybe five-ten. Quite thin, but in a sporty way. Probably football, five a side on a Tuesday, eleven a side on Sunday mornings. He had a polo shirt on with "Wayne's Stag. Damsterdoodle" embroidered on the left breast, under that was a stylised barmaid, topless with four huge steins of beer and enormous tits. Underneath her it said "Other Jon"

"Really, what will I need that for then" I asked, thinking I could always go back to silence if I needed it later.

"I'm five times a night guy, that's why" He stood and started pelvic thrusts, counting "One=Two=Three=Four=Five" and sitting down again.

Despite myself I smiled. "What's the crack then Jon? Why are you over here with me when you ought to be over there with your mates discussing last night's sex show and who paid for a blowie off a hooker?"

He smiled; he actually had a nice smile. "Last night was the Moulin Rouge, it's the best one I think, the performers look like they are enjoying it. It's a small venue but you sit right by the stage, so you see everything. Beer's at normal pub prices. No one paid for a blowie but Gripper and Kinger asked a girl if they could both go together and fucked off when she said yes for ten euro extra."

I was warming to him, his attempt to shock me was nowhere near good enough to work, I've been with a rugby player for fifteen years and have seen it all before, he was putting in some strong work though, or it may be I'm out of practice.

"So you still haven't told me why you're talking to me."

He looked a bit sheepish, "We're here on a stag do."
"I know" I said, "Wayne's"

He looked a bit rocked by that, then remembered the shirt, pointing at me he smiled. "Ahh right, that's how you knew my name n'all"

I smiled back, "Why 'Other Jon'?"

"Ah well y'see we all play Sunday morning football and when I joined the team there was already two Johns in there. There was John, and Welsh John, so I was Other Jon. They've both gone but I'm still there. We got another but he's New Jon. And his wife didn't let him come."

It was all clear.

He cut to the chase, "Thing is we've got challenges like. Things to do. Y' know"

I told him I knew what a challenge was.

"Yeah well, one of them's er get the um pants off a really fit woman like."

Really fit. Still got it then.

Luckily for him, I'm married to a rugby player or I might have smacked him. Unluckily for him, here comes my husband.

Chris was about twice the side of Other Jon, none of it fat, and as Jon was sitting down and Chris was standing the difference was quite distinct. He was also wearing a polo shirt, but his had "Westway Panthers Ist XV County Champions" embroidered on the breast, it was also half a size too small so it clung to him and he's big and solid.

He stood next to me, I puckered up and called him down for a kiss saying to him "Missed you, I wanted to give you something special this morning and you weren't there. Listen, my friend Jon here has something to ask me. Go ahead Jon, what was it again?

Time for our old friend silence to come back. I used it and Other Jon tried to use it, badly. He clearly saw his life flash before his eyes as he looked at my husband. All 100 kilograms, that's 220 pounds, of solid, muscular, Openside Flanker.

"I just need to slip to the loo, see you both back here in a moment." And I was up and gone, biting the inside of my cheeks to stop myself laughing. I shut myself in the stall, pulled down my jeans and took off my knickers. They were acceptable, in that they were newish, not ripped or stained and not huge. I was a bit disappointed I hadn't worn a thong, but these were small enough. I pulled my jeans up again and went back to the table.

Give him credit, Other Jon was trying to style it out, he was chatting to Chris about motorbikes, Chris is after one and doesn't want to go Japanese. He leans Italian but doesn't trust their electrics so is probably after something German. Jon was nodding and talking in initials. "Yes, KTM, BMW. Mmm"

I sat down again, "Hello Jon, I don't mean to interrupt but what was that question again?" I had my hands clasped together in front of my boobs, I was making him work for this.

"Erm one of our challenges is to oh fuck I'm really sorry, look, let me buy you both a drink, put it on my room tab and I'll be gone." He tried to get up.

I shot a look at Chris who extended his branch like arm and grabbed a shoulder. "Sit down. You were going to ask my wife a question. Well, go on. Ask it."

Looking as if he was the condemned man sitting in the electric chair and someone had just plugged it in, Jon gave me an imploring look. I half smiled and unclasped my hands, showing him a flash of red lace.

"Well, you see, one of our challenges is to get the fittest woman we can find and get her knickers off her."

Chris rolled his eyes in an "is that all" kind of way. I stretched the knickers out, showing that they were definitely knickers, quite small and lacy. I handed them over. warning him "They're still quite warm, I only just took them off. They're part of a matched set." I reached for my top, I honestly think he was about to pass out when I relented and just pulled my collar aside to show my scarlet bra strap. "Now run along and join your mates, and let Kinger and Gripper know I think they are pussies the pair of them, Ten euro extra? That's fucking nothing."

He was almost catatonic with shock by now and could only just manage to stand up unaided. As he left the table I stood up and took Chris by the hand, pausing I leant over and kissed Jon on the cheek and whispered "Well done. Good sport. One final move coming up"

I let him get back to his table where his trophy was admired by all parties before we walked by. I stopped and reviewed the suddenly silent table. Kinger was a fat bloke with glasses, probably the hooker was as close as he'd ever been to a girl. Gripper was taller, and bigger with a pronounced brow overhanging his pig-like eyes. I pointed at them both. "You two. Have some respect for those women. They are doing a shitty job, imagine being so bereft of options in your life that the only way you can survive is to take money to shag the likes of you, and then you turn it into a wind up. On behalf of females everywhere, we'd have more respect for you if you went through with it, as it is we've got as much as you deserve which is FUCK ALL."