The Client Who Invited Me to a Club in Rotterdam

His name was Niklas, he was thirty-six years old, and he lived in Rotterdam. For weeks he had been buying content from me almost every day; in less than a month he had spent more than a thousand euros, and one day, in the middle of our messages, he suggested I come see him. At first I didn’t know what to say. I had met up with clients before, but always in my own city, never thousands of kilometers from home, in a country where I didn’t even understand the language.

I thought about it for several days. He kept insisting without pushing, with the calm of someone used to getting what he wants. He offered to pay for my flight, my accommodation and any expenses I had, plus a very generous tip in exchange for spending the weekend with him and letting myself be carried away by whatever he asked of me. In the end I said yes. This was about a year and a half ago, although I remember it as if it had been last week.

When I saw him at the airport, I thought he was even better-looking than in the photos he had shown me in chat.

Tall, with a short beard and a calm smile that was disarming.

“Good flight?” he asked me in surprisingly good Spanish.

“Better than I expected,” I answered, and it was true.

Thank God he speaks my language, because with my English this would be a disaster.

He took me to his car, a graphite-colored sports car whose brand I couldn’t have told you. I only know it was low, throaty, and smelled of new leather. We drove around the city, he showed me the canals, the bridges, that strange modern architecture Rotterdam has, and then he drove to his house.

It was a magazine house. Huge, with a fireplace, a garden, and a pool reflected in the living room windows. There was a woman who took care of the cleaning and cooking, and who greeted us naturally, as if she were used to guests arriving. Niklas never told me what he did for a living, and I quickly learned not to ask.

***

We spent a while talking on the sofa. He told me things about his life, his travels, the house, but never about his job. When the woman finished and left, we were alone, and the air between us changed all at once.

He came closer slowly and kissed me. It wasn’t a timid kiss: he held the back of my neck with one hand and kissed me hungrily, as if he had been waiting for that moment for weeks. I matched his rhythm. I was wearing a tight black latex dress, one I love because when someone touches me through it, the sensation multiplies, and he immediately started running his palms over my breasts.

I slid my hand down to his dress pants and felt him hard before I even touched him fully. I was surprised by how quickly he had gotten like that; that man was hotter than I was, and trust me, that’s not easy to achieve. When I set him free, I discovered he wasn’t especially big, about twelve or thirteen centimeters, but I would learn that night that size didn’t matter to me at all.

“Get on your knees,” he asked quietly.

I did as I was told. I undid his belt, pulled down his pants and underwear, and took him all the way into my mouth with no effort. I went slowly, playing with my tongue, looking up at him from below.

“No one’s ever done it to me like that,” he murmured, his voice breaking.

It wasn’t the first time someone had said that to me, but I liked hearing it from him.

He barely held out. He asked me to get on top because he didn’t want to wait, and I obeyed. I rode him slowly at first and faster after that, my hands resting on his chest and my eyes locked on his. He came almost immediately, barely giving me time, and apologized between laughs.

“It’s just that you’ve made me way too nervous,” he said. “Tomorrow will be different, I promise.”

He didn’t leave me hanging. He laid me down, spread my legs, and went down with his mouth and fingers until I finished too, trembling against the sheets. On that front, the first night was more than good enough.

***

The real heat came the next day.

That afternoon he told me he wanted to take me somewhere special, a club similar to the swinger venues they have in Spain, where couples mix and nobody asks names. He explained how it worked while he drove, his hand resting on my thigh, and I could feel curiosity winning out over fear.

“If anything makes you uncomfortable, we’ll leave,” he said. “But I want you to see it.”

“I want to see it,” I replied, and I heard my own voice was huskier than usual.

The club was on the outskirts, in a converted warehouse with dim lights and background music. The first thing I saw when we went in was a small stage where a couple was fucking without a shred of embarrassment in front of a crowd watching in silence. We sat nearby for a while. I couldn’t take my eyes off them, and all the while I was stroking Niklas over his pants and feeling him harden again. I was getting seriously turned on just from watching.

After a while he took me to another room, one that was more private and at the same time more chaotic. Inside were about fifteen or sixteen people, men and women, spread out in groups: some were fucking, others were giving oral sex, and a few couples were just kissing in the corners. The atmosphere was thick with moans and heat, and I stood there for a moment in the doorway, not knowing what to do with my hands.

“If you like someone, you go up and touch them,” Niklas whispered in my ear. “No need to talk. That’s how it works here.”

There was a fair-haired guy with big eyes who caught my attention right away. But I was embarrassed to move with Niklas right there, and he noticed.

“Don’t be shy,” he murmured. “We’ll go together.”

I took his hand and we approached together. The blond guy was getting a blowjob from a woman kneeling in front of him, just like I had done to Niklas the night before. I started stroking his thighs while he watched me. The woman looked at me, I didn’t understand what she said, but she gave me a clear nod of her chin, an invitation to share.

So I joined her. Each of us from one side, working him with our tongues without taking him all the way in, taking turns, brushing our lips against each other now and then. His was big, very big, more than twenty centimeters, and it was hard for the two of us to fit around it.

Niklas undressed beside me without rushing, and while my mouth stayed busy he was stroking my back, my hips, my ass. The other woman, seeing him, turned to him and started sucking him too, so that each of us ended up servicing a different man, shoulder to shoulder. I assumed the two of them were a couple.

***

The blond guy said something and Niklas translated it to me under his breath:

“He wants you both on all fours.”

I obeyed, because I had decided to obey for the entire weekend. I got on all fours on the low mattress, and the other woman did the same beside me. Niklas got behind her and started fucking her hard, grabbing her hair, while the blond guy settled in behind me.

“Slow, please,” I asked before he went in, one of the few phrases I could manage in English.

He understood me. He slid into me very slowly, not going all the way in, and I appreciated that patience. I could feel my body opening little by little for him, every centimeter costing me a little less than the one before.

I was at that point when another man came over. He sat just over a meter in front of me, completely naked, and started masturbating while staring straight into my eyes without even trying to hide it. It was a situation I had never experienced: someone watching me so closely, so directly, while another man was inside me from behind. It drove me wild.

“Come on,” I said, and I made a gesture with my hand for him to come closer.

He understood immediately. He positioned himself right in front of me, with his knees beside my arms, and brought his cock to my face while the blond guy kept moving slowly inside me. I took him into my mouth, feeling his thickness and hardness, letting him push in gently. The mix of sensations was too much: one in front, one behind, and Niklas beside me fucking the woman without stopping, all of us breathing hard, all of us lost in the same thing.

The man in front began moving his hips with an ever-deeper rhythm. Each thrust drew a muffled moan from me that he seemed to enjoy. Niklas, seeing me like that, smiled with satisfaction and leaned toward me without letting up with the other woman; he stretched out his arm and started rubbing my clit with two fingers while the blond guy kept penetrating me.

It was too much. I felt my whole body tightening, pleasure rising from my belly to the nape of my neck. I tried to hold on, but I couldn’t. I came hard, clenching around the blond guy, moaning with my mouth still occupied. He sped up when he felt it, giving me even more, and Niklas watched me with an expression that was part pride and part desire, as if all of it were a gift from him.

***

After I came, I could feel the man in front was close. I kept going eagerly, looking him in the eyes, until he finished with a deep growl. When he moved away, the blond guy slipped out of me, stood up, and silently asked me to turn toward him. I knelt in front of him. He stroked himself for just a few seconds and came too, this time over my face and neck, and I smiled, enjoying the moment more than I ever would have imagined.

At my side, Niklas was finishing with the other woman. Then he came over, helped me to my feet, and kissed me with an intimacy that felt strange for the place we were in, as if after all that he wanted to remind me that I had gone there for him.

We said goodbye to the others without names or promises and went back to his house in the early hours of the morning. I was exhausted, but also strangely calm. I curled up beside him in that huge bed, my body still buzzing, feeling a gratitude that’s hard to explain for having been shown a world I didn’t know existed.

The next morning we slept together again, just the two of us this time, quietly, and it was very good. But it was nothing like that night.

Of all my encounters with clients, Niklas was the best, and I doubt anything will ever match that weekend in Rotterdam.