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While the face of this world is one of beauty and pleasure, underneath it lies, and has lied for centuries, a deep connection with the underworld, Blowjobs criminal organizations, human trafficking and force, dating back to even the colonial era that made the Dutch into what are today, but at a huge moral cost. On the other hand: despite what happens in backrooms and other off-radar places, the vast majority of what tourists get to see and do is fully legal, well-regulated, and very, very lucrative. But enough about that. For most, the Red Light District is a place of fun. Where in the world can a person walk around a city center, allowed to peek into people’s bedrooms, where beautiful creatures are not only showing themselves off, but also whispering: for the right price, anything is possible. This was not so much a realization I had when I first walked these streets, when I was a young boy, on my way to yet another museum our teacher had lined up for us. Back then, it was merely the sight of a woman in a bikini that did something to this boy in the same way it would at the beach, or the pool. Only when I was a student, and I moved from a rural town to the big city, my fascination for this enclave of pleasure started to grow. At first, I only visited. I walked by, barely made eye contact with the girls behind the glass who were trying to sell themselves. But the greater the fascination became, the more I started to accept the fact that I couldn’t outdoor stay a tourist in my own town forever. Yes, let’s make this fully and entirely clear: on more than one occasion have I spent time on the other side of those walls, accompanied by a beautiful girl. And never in my life have I felt shame, or regret, for doing so. It may sound like an excuse, and I will explain in a bit why it isn’t, but the first time I visited a girl, it was for research purposes. I was writing what I thought then would inevitably become my debut novel, a story about a boy from Amsterdam who is destined to be the ruler of the District. More than once, I had to describe what teen happened between the moment an anxious looking fellow sneaks through one of those doors, and, later, reappears, sometimes fully satisfied, often even more on edge than before. I had no idea what happened, though, and I figured I could ask anybody, but the best source would always be myself. And so, on a hot summer day, encouraged by a few beers and a hormonal destiny to unload, I accepted a girl’s wink and stepped inside. There are two people in this world: those who have been inside one of those rooms, and those who haven’t. To those that have, I would say: enjoy this feast of recognition. For everybody else, I will try to explain the feeling a nineteen-year-old gets in a situation like this. First, there is this realization that Hardcore should not be taken lightly: the realization that sex is inevitable. It’s the same feeling one gets when the girl you met at the bar invites you in after you walked her home; when your crush asks whether you brought condoms; when your girlfriend texts you she is home alone. When the girl behind the window winks, and you accept, it is settled. No matter how many times one has slept with another, no matter one’s age or experience, this is always a big moment for a man - or any other human being. The room in which the action is going to take place, is a peculiar environment indeed. It is usually very small: a bed, a desk and a chair are often the only things in it. It smells of flowery substances, but it is a rather strong, penetrating odor. The light is red, or pink, or purple, and sometimes, one can hear the newly created couple on the opposite side of the wall engaging in their version of this artificial form of love. Once you’re inside, and all of these brand-new impressions are fighting to get the upper hand in your brain, you realize you have no idea of how to behave. Should you pay up Fucking front, or afterwards? Should you get fully naked, or leave your shirt on, or your socks? Surely, you will be using one of her condoms, right? And does she even give head? Luckily, the girl I was with wasn’t born yesterday. Her name was Sasha, or so she said, and she was of Russian descent. She had smiled at me when I walked past, and when I came by again, she had opened her door - which is against the rules - and whispered: come, come, you have me . This simple call to action, along with her gorgeous body and quite attractive face, had drawn me across the line. Marylin then turned her attention to me and tongue kissed me with a teen passion that I never Hardcore experienced from her before. My hand takes a journey down south across her body. This is even better than the stockings-shoes to suspending-thingy Claudia is wearing. First they talked about Fucking what ever was on their minds. "We will decide quickly, Lord Doctor." An involuntary giggle escaped Jordan's lips. outdoor "Ryan was in me and when he pulled out I pooped and he wasn't finished." My brother still had his nasty smile. It was all operational and just short of too well used, and so I spent the first couple of weeks updating and reconditioning it all. I know many people, dangerous people. With just one hand, she gave me the worst Indian Burn of my life.” Leah automatically bent her head and began licking my arm like a cat cleaning itself. “He’s in the math office, doing homework. We reached his bike, putting on our helmets on. But five screaming Blowjobs orgasms will do for now” she joked.