My name is Charles and this is my story of my first visit to Amsterdam; it all started with our usual Friday night pub meet in the centre of Manchester without wife's or girlfriends; it was our night. Free of ties.
We were having a heated discussion about nothing of importance, as one does on Friday nights. This time was what we would do if we could get away from wives and girlfriends for a weekend. Tom the youngest and quietest member of our debating society said. Let's all go to Amsterdam; he had a friend Paul, a travel agent, who could arrange it. Ok we will was the unanimous reply, in the end only six out the group went.
On a personal front I was moving shortly to Plymouth with a job promotion and a lot more money and was totally stressed out about it. Negative side relocation was involved. We all agreed who would share rooms. I won Tom, didn't really know him, he was in some sort of art job. Bit effeminate in looks and mannerisms.
Friday arrived we all boarded the afternoon flight to Schiphol; it was a good flight; few drinks and good banter on board. We all arrived in Amsterdam Central station. Walked in the direction of Dam Square, followed the crowd, for about 15 minutes or so, our hotel was just off Dam Square. We found it, looked ok, and we all checked in without a hitch. We had three double rooms; problem, although they were all presentable all had small double beds; between six guys.
Tom the youngest was sent down to sort it out with reception; no single bedded rooms, no call for it; he asked; do you normally have two guys sharing a bed. Yes always. Tom reported back; total silence; a lone voice piped up and you better not be thinking of that, looks were exchanged. I was to share with Tom, at least not with one of the two bears that had agreed to share together.
Dissenting voice piped up again; Manchester Ship Canal may soon be polluted by a travel agent when we get back, but; then everyone would know. Silence was the answer.
We all went out together and toured the red light areas and did the usual stuff British tourists do, visit a hemp café. We think; but were all more relaxed when we left. Found a bar with a, on the floor sex show, which hyped us up again about our sleeping arrangements. A mixture of Dutch and Belgium beers helped relax us. It was about two in the morning when we left the bar; without a care in the world.
We went to our rooms. Tom got undressed, he said he slept naked was that a problem? Tom was actually quite a nice looking guy, smooth skin, well sculptured body, longish blond hair. I kept my designer micro bikini type underwear on, but could feel pressure building from within them; pop out was possible. We both lay on the bed, which was small, back to back, touching. Tom wriggled as he settled in; pop out was now a distinct possibility. We both drifted off quickly, latent effect of the evenings drinking.
Morning arrived, I woke up with someone, Tom, pressing up against my back which was wet with sweat; Tom was still sound asleep. Realising I was now naked got up; couldn't remember why; found my underwear, went and had a shower.
We all went down stairs for a cross between a Dutch and English breakfast. The hotel manager came over and asked if we had a good night's sleep and were the double beds comfortable enough for us. A subdued yes was the answer. He gave a cross between a wink and a smile. Tom became engrossed scraping marmalade on to his toast.
