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Growing up in Meppel
My name is Jeroen de Jong I grew up in a small town in the North of the Netherlands called Meppel. Growing up in this place was like living in a close-knit, cozy corner of the world. It's a small town, so you get used to seeing familiar faces wherever you go. Whether you are at the local bakery or the town square, you always bump into someone you know. This creates a warm, connected feeling. People look out for each other. But the downside is that there is very little you can do without anyone finding out.
One of the things I loved most about growing up in Meppel was how close we were to nature. I remember riding my bike through endless fields and small forests, with the crisp Dutch air in my face. Like elsewhere in the Netherlands, cycling is practically second nature here, and as a kid, I'd spend hours riding with friends, exploring little canals and open countryside. You'd think living in a smaller town would feel limiting, but it never did. The landscapes around Meppel were like a giant playground.
School was a big part of that small-town feeling too. I went to the same school with many of the same friends for years, and we became more like family than classmates. The teachers knew everyone's names and knew our families, and you couldn't just be another face in the crowd.
There were local festivals and events throughout the year too. I especially remember "Gondelvaart," the illuminated boat parade. The whole town would gather by the canals to watch these magical floats drift by, lit up in every colour. It was one of those times you felt the whole town coming together, and as a child, it felt almost fairytale-like.
Even though Meppel is small, it's surprisingly well-connected. We'd take the train to nearby Zwolle or even head to Amsterdam sometimes for a taste of the city. When I was young, I always liked coming back. The hustle of bigger cities was fun for a day, but Meppel's quiet streets, the windmills, and the peaceful canals always felt like home.
I guess what stood out most about growing up in Meppel was the simplicity. Life wasn't fast paced, but it was rich in its way. But as I got older, I loved my trips to Amsterdam more and longed to spend more time there. I had my first sexual experience on a trip to Amsterdam, the "city of sex." Hans, a friend from school, and I took the trip to Amsterdam when we were fourteen. We had booked a room in a youth hostel and planned to explore the city; we had also booked to see a play by a Dutch playwright.
We bought four beers. Hans looked much older than fourteen, after a quick supper in a fast-food restaurant, we went up to our room. It was a tiny room with one bunk bed. We sat cross-legged on the top bed playing Uno. It was a hot summer evening, and we had stripped down to our underwear. It didn't take long for us to finish the beer. My head was spinning, and I couldn't help noticing Hans' erection in his underpants. His dick stuck out of the top of his underpants. This was a complete turn-on for me, and I felt my dick pressing on my boxers.
The talk soon turned sexual, and Hans asked me how often I masturbated. I had never spoken to anyone about the subject before and I am sure that if I hadn't been drinking, I would feel embarrassed.
"I do it at least twice a day, if I can do it more, I do. I learned how to do it through porn on my phone. How often do you do it?" I asked. I'm an addict he said. I love doing it. I do it as much as possible. I didn't tell Hans that I was gay and that I loved dicks, I thought that might scare him. Hans reached out and touched my dick. He then gripped it and slowly wanked it. That gave me the courage to do the same thing to him.
We climbed off the bunk and took off our undies. We both stood there naked and for a moment I did not know what to do. But I needn't have worried because Hans grabbed my dick and started to wank me. I grabbed his dick, which was bigger than mine and started to wank him. He then surprised me and kissed me briefly, and my heart raced faster. His breath smelled like beer. I kissed him and my mouth lingered on his. I felt his tongue come into my mouth and that excited me more. At that moment I felt his dick jerking and he was breathing faster, and I felt his warm cum shooting onto my body. He then surprised me again when he went down on his knees and took my dick into his mouth. The feeling was indescribable, and I shot my load into his mouth. Hans surprised me again and swallowed my cum. He stood up and threw his arms around me and hugged me. Our flaccid dicks touched, and my sticky tummy touched his.
We wrapped our towels around our waists and headed to the communal shower to clean up. When we returned to our room Hans stood and hugged me again and m dick grew hard in no time against his. We kissed again, his hands slipped down onto my arse cheeks and squeezed. I did the same to him. We stood there again and wanked each other and shot our loads before hitting the sack.
After breakfast, we made our way to the Stedelijk Museum where we handed our rucksacks over before exploring the museum. We had visited the museum on a school trip and had always been keen to return. There were some interesting installations and there was a special exhibition on "Nature in Art", the curators had assembled works from Picasso, Monet and Renoir. The catalogue produced for the exhibition included contemporary poetry and some interesting collages. Here is a Haiku written by an AI: Canals whisper love, Tulips bloom in passion's dance, Amsterdam's heart beats.
Later that afternoon Hans and I set out to find one of the famous coffee shops. We walked along the canals. Everything was grey under a cloudy sky. City sounds filled the air, and some roads were crowded with tourists. The coffee shop was a first for us, even though some of our school friends had tried cannabis before. But because of our conservative families, we hadn't. The Sky-High Coffee Shop staff were helpful, provided lots of guidance and told us we were underage. The names on the menu were crazy: Amnesia, Orange, Rolex, Ice Cream Cake, Lemon Haze, Green Gelato, Kosher Kush, and White Widow to name a few. We looked at the edible menu and chose the banana bread (even though it would take longer to kick in). We bought a pizza to eat in our room, and went back to the hostel. The marijuana started to kick in and I felt far more relaxed, Hans said that he was also feeling more mellow. We sat in our undies on the sagging bed and ate our pizza. After supper, we squashed into the tiniest shower I had ever been in and soaped each other and washed. Our bodies were pressed against each other, and a lot of water splashed onto the floor. We both had erections but there was no space to do much about it. I enjoyed Han's hands exploring my body and it all seemed so much more sensual after eating the banana bread.
Read more about Jeroen de Jong in Edinburgh: https://new.nifty.org/stories/summer-in-edinburgh-10763/1/