Eric Kollen

The Amsterdam Tinkerbells

An erotic LGBT tale

Eric Kollen

Amsterdam 2015

– 1 –

Fabian Rauschenbach watched the cabin crew out of the corner of his eye as they walked up and down the aisle. The stewardesses wore thin blouses, through which you could see their bras, and tube skirts that tightly hugged their shapely curves. The trousers of their male colleagues were much less revealing. If the dark one with the short black hair assumed just the right pose, he seemed to have quite a large prick, and his backside looked nice as well, but the men’s uniforms were not designed to showcase their wares as much as those worn by the women. Things were so unfair in this world.

Occasionally he was caught at it. The stewards – who were, of course, gay, Fabian had seen that right away – suppressed a smile when they noticed the fifteen-year-old boy ogling them and the stewardesses stuck their conceited noses into the air. But Fabian simply shrugged. He was a long way from home and that made him feel invulnerable.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ sounded over the loudspeakers, ‘this is your captain speaking. My name is Gerard van Soest. May I have your attention? Is there a doctor on the flight? One of the passengers is unwell. I repeat: is there a doctor on the flight? If so, would you please make yourself known to the cabin crew.’

Everyone craned their necks, curious where disaster had struck. The greatest disturbance seemed to be in the front. Fabian bent to the left, into the aisle, to get a better view of things. The flamboyant Latina who was sitting on the other side of the aisle did the same and their hair touched: her luxurious locks long and dark blond, his springy curls a fiery red, orange almost.

‘Excuse me!! Could you let me through?’ came an impatient voice from behind them. Fabian turned and saw a tall, blond man trying to struggle his way down the aisle. He quickly turned to the side and looked up as the man passed. My god, he was gorgeous. Tall, tanned, with beautiful blue-grey eyes. And to crown it all: a pair of skin-tight jeans. Yummy. Fabian immediately leaned back into the aisle to study the man’s backside. Wow! He wouldn’t mind offering to carry his case.

The boy noticed that the sensual lady on the other side was sizing up those buttocks just as eagerly as he was. He giggled. She looked at him and winked, both thumbs in the air.

‘Nice arse!’ whispered Fabian.

‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘And he is a big fellow! Perhaps he has got a huge...’ Her hands, one above the other, clutched an imaginary staff of awesome size.

Fabian snorted and cast a glance to his right, but his father was staring intently at the front of the aircraft and seemed indifferent to the mischief taking place next to him.

The tall blond man was bending over one of the passengers. Fabian quickly wiped his spectacles; he didn’t want to miss a thing. A voice in the back of his mind said it was inappropriate to lust after the posterior of a doctor who was trying to save the life of a patient, but he couldn’t stop himself. And neither could his stylish neighbour: she held her hands in front of her as if she were carrying two large melons, and made kneading movements with her outspread fingers, while the tip of her tongue flashed back and forth across her glossy lips. Every time she looked around, and she did that at the drop of a hat, her two full round breasts would bounce cheerfully up and down in her thin, white blouse. Of course, she wasn’t wearing a bra.

On the spur of the moment, the boy looked sharply to his right. His father averted his eyes, but not quickly enough: Fabian had just about seen that his father was in fact gazing at the bouncing boobs of the diva next to him.

He leaned back so that his father could have a better view. ‘Go ahead, dad,’ he said softly in German. ‘Her name’s Rafaela, she’s from Brazil and she’s all yours.’ His father nudged him in the side.

The doctor said something to the stewardesses and made his way with long strides back to his seat. Fabian stayed draped over the armrest with a worried expression, pretending to be interested in how the medical treatment would proceed, but secretly he only had eyes for the doctor’s crotch. Could he perhaps... You bet! His dark-green eyes blazed with excitement: a spectacular bulge was storming in his direction, exactly at eye level... Only when the man was nearly next to him did he sit up straight in his seat.

He jumped out of his skin when the figure rushing past suddenly tripped and almost ended up flat out on the ground. ‘Holy shit!’ came the heartfelt complaint. ‘Who on earth has left his bloody shoe in the aisle?’ Immediately Fabian looked down at his feet and... oh fuck! Only one sneaker... He looked over his shoulder and saw the other one lying in the aisle. With a red face, he stretched out and grabbed his shoe. When he looked up, he saw the blond doctor give him a demolishing look before continuing on his way.

‘You should keep your shoes near you in a plane, son.’

‘Yes, dad...’

After the doctor had rushed down the aisle yet again, the captain announced that the patient had to be admitted to hospital as soon as possible, and for that reason, the flight would be landing very soon, but in Amsterdam. The passengers would be taken from there to Düsseldorf by bus.

A suppressed grumbling was heard in the plane; the people were irritated by this setback, but in the light of the emergency, it seemed inappropriate to complain out loud.

Fabian looked at his father. He shrugged his shoulders. He was a professor at the university of Düsseldorf, so he still had two weeks’ summer vacation left, and Fabian himself didn’t have to return to school until mid-August either. Next week he was supposed to be going to his mother’s, but that wasn’t until Tuesday. And it was only Friday morning.

Rafaela’s reaction was less restrained. ‘Grande porra!’ Her deep voice could be heard six rows away and some people threw her a disapproving look. Furiously, she scribbled down something in a notebook. She called a stewardess and asked her to send an SMS for her; it was a service provided on this flight. ‘I hate all this pissing about!’ she complained to Fabian. ‘I have got an appointment for a photo shoot. With a top photographer! But now I will never get there in time by bus. Perhaps I could make it in a taxi.’

Get you, thought Fabian. A taxi from Amsterdam to Düsseldorf.

The aircraft started its descent.

– 2 –

In the queue at passport control, Fabian again found himself next to Rafaela. He saw her glancing at the identity card in his hand and showed it to her. ‘Oh, it is your birthday tomorrow! Happy birthday. How old... Oh, sweet sixteen!’ She looked at him. ‘And will you then be allowed to drink alcohol in Germany?’

Fabian nodded cheerfully. ‘Yes! At last. Beer and wine. But no spirits.’

‘Ooh,’ she yodelled. ‘In my country, that is not allowed until you are eighteen! Not that anyone sticks to it. And driving?’

‘No, that’s not allowed in Germany until you’re eighteen.’

‘Is there anything else you can do from tomorrow?’ Fabian seemed to hesitate. Rafaela smiled sweetly at him. She put her arm confidentially around his waist and pulled him against her; despite her incredibly high heels, she was still smaller than him, and he wasn’t particularly large for his age either. ‘You can tell Rafaela everything.’ He felt a soft breast pressing against his ribcage.

He bent over to her ear and whispered: ‘From tomorrow... I can have sex.’

Rafaela’s jaw dropped. ‘You cannot now?’

‘Yes, but only... with boys my own age. Not with everybody. Not with... men.’

‘Oh... and that is what you want, is it? Men?’ Fabian nodded, beaming. ‘Me too! I am just crazy about... big Josés!!’ With a flapping hand, the brunette indicated a man who towered above both of them. ‘In my country, you can have sex with everyone once you are fourteen!’

‘Honest? And... have you...?’

She chuckled. ‘Of course, I was sitting on the laps of the Josés when I was ten! And big Josés too! But in secret. I did not want my mother to find out.’ Her telephone pinged. She looked at the screen. ‘Yesss! My friend has ordered a taxi for me! They are picking me up at the meeting point.’ She looked up at Fabian. ‘Would you like to come with me?’

Well... that wasn’t such a bad idea, thought Fabian. In the bus, he’d have to sit next to his father for three or four hours. He got on well with him, but they’d spent the last week walking round New York together. He’d much prefer to giggle on the back seat of a taxi with Rafaela, with her naughty twinkling eyes.

He tapped his father on the shoulder. ‘Hey dad,’ he said in English, ‘this charming lady is asking whether we would like to share her taxi to Düsseldorf.’

Thomas Rauschenbach looked round. He was a tall, stout man, with a balding scalp with a fringe of thin, grey curls, and he sported a rugged beard. His eyes opened wider when he saw the slim arm around the waist of his son. ‘Well now. That’s an... exceptionally friendly offer.’ His gaze remained just a beat too long on the bulging blouse of the enchanting apparition and Thomas coloured a little when the two grinning faces told him he had been caught. ‘I’ll go in the front,’ he added quickly.

‘Yes please, dad. Then Rafaela and I can go in the back.’

‘No!’ said Rafaela all at once. Fabian frowned. ‘Wait a bit!! Not you and me! You...’ a slender finger jabbed at Fabian’s chest, ‘and me...’ she gestured to herself, ‘and...’ she stepped out of the queue and pointed to the front, ‘and our handsome doctor!!’ The boy’s mouth fell open, and he went on tiptoe to see through the line of people. There... there was the tall, blond man. He couldn’t, of course, see the outline of his tight jeans, but he remembered every single detail from his ogling down the aisle. And that guy could perhaps... Heavens above! Suddenly his stomach began to tingle and he felt his prick getting hard. Ooohhh...

They watched the suitcases glide pass. ‘But now,’ said Rafaela to Fabian, ‘now we come to an important question.’ Her dark-brown eyes suddenly turned serious. ‘Who is going to sit in the middle?’ Fabian pulled a thoughtful face. ‘You cannot have sex yet,’ said Rafaela, teasingly. ‘I can!’

Fabian spat it out. ‘Sex!! With my father there, I suppose? You must be joking.’ He looked up, but his father was engrossed in reading his e-mails. ‘And in a taxi? You can’t be serious.’

‘Oh? If only you knew what I did in taxis with my Josés.’

The boy looked at her. ‘Really? Yes you. But two men...’

‘Yes you can!’ Rafaela screamed it out. ‘My friend has booked me a Tinker Taxi. Tinker Taxis are gay friendly. Guaranteed.’

‘And why would she book you a gay friendly taxi?’

Rafaela smiled. ‘What is good for gays is good for girls.’ Fabian thought about that. ‘Perhaps the doctor is bi,’ Rafaela went on, ‘and he will want both of us!’

‘No such thing as a bi,’ said Fabian decisively. ‘A bi is a homo who’s scared to admit it. I went through that phase myself.’

Rafaela roared with laughter. ‘The world is bigger than you think, honey!’

One man in twenty was gay, Fabian had read somewhere. So nineteen out of twenty weren’t. Statically speaking, Rafaela had a clear advantage. And if the nice doctor turned out to be gay, then he’d naturally think Fabian was too young. Fifteen. Well, almost sixteen. But... in front of his father?! No, forget it. Would it be painful if the blond hunk started playing around with Rafaela, while he sat there twiddling his fingers? Or... or would it actually be rather horny to watch that hand, with its long, painted nails, gently stroke the bulging crotch of the doctor’s jeans? And pinching those muscular cheeks... Rafaela would make sure he had a good view of everything, that’s how crazy she was. Fabian’s prick again stood to attention. Whatever happened, it was bound to be a lot more exciting than sitting on a bus next to his father. ‘Okay, deal! The doctor in the middle.’

‘Are you going to ask him?’

Fabian nibbled at his lip. Shit... The doctor would recognise him at once, no doubt, and think: You expect me to go in a taxi with him? With that idiot who left that bloody shoe in the aisle and nearly made me break my neck? Piss off! And then he would be left standing there, his face the colour of a tomato... Fabian shyly shook his head. ‘No, I can’t.’

‘Honey, you still have a lot to learn tonight!’ Rafaela left the queue.

‘What do you mean, tonight?’

‘You will be sixteen tomorrow? That is when it starts!’ she called over her shoulder with a laugh. She clattered on her high heels along the queue to the front. Her round buttocks jiggled up and down in the gossamer thin dress. Fabian noticed that there wasn’t a man who didn’t look at them. Their wives looked too; some in admiration, others with pursed lips.

‘He will do it!’ Rafaela was jubilant when she returned. ‘He has to talk to a colleague about that passenger, but then he will come to the meeting point. His name is Rodric, he is from London and he is... super sexy!!’ The boy gave her a hi five. Oh, there was that tingling between his legs again!

They would be collected at the meeting point in the arrivals hall by a ‘tinkerbell’, Rafaela’s friend had written. And they would then be taken to the taxi. ‘What is a tinkerbell?’ she asked Fabian.

‘An elf, I think. A fairy-tale figure.’

Rafaela sniffed. ‘What nonsense. It is just a hostess.’

– 3 –

There was a hive of activity at the meeting point. Fabian looked around in concern. How would they...

‘Hey! Look at that!’ he suddenly shrieked. He jumped into the air, to see more of the glimpse he had caught. ‘Come on!’ He wormed his way through the bustling crowd of people, which wasn’t that easy with a case. But he managed all the same! He reached the front and he saw... His mouth dropped open.

And when Rafaela finally found him, he still hadn’t closed it. He stood there, his eyes glazed over, looking at the three figures at the meeting point, who were surrounded by an enormous huddle of people, most of whom were taking photographs of them. There were three tinkerbells.

All three were dressed in purple. The first was a beautiful young woman, in an elegant dress. Her blond hair was millimetred at either side and she had a quiff at the front.

A little way off stood her colleague. A man. But what a man! He wasn’t all that tall, but he was sturdy, and also well muscled and moreover fat. And hairy. And because he was wearing nothing but leather trousers it seemed as if a furry mass of muscle, meat and fat swayed through the airport’s hall.

But the apparition that had Fabian rooted to the ground was tinkerbell number three. This one was black. A beautiful boy, who would have bowled Fabian over just as much if he had been wearing an everyday outfit: he was tall, had an attractive, cheerful face and a wonderful body, with rippling shoulder and chest muscles under a gleaming, dark skin. But... his outfit was far from everyday. He was wearing a pair of low boots and for the rest, all he had on was a pair of shorts. And they weren’t just short, they were... exceedingly short. And too small. And not just slightly too small, but... much too small.

If Fabian had worn that same pair of shorts, he would, perhaps, have been able to show himself on the street, even in a village like Grimlinghausen, where he lived. For he was small and wiry, and unfortunately his red hair and his spectacles were not the only handicaps he would have to bear when entering the love arena tomorrow: he also had... a small pecker. Not extremely small – he had read on internet that it could have been even worse – but he still felt insecure under the shower after gym, for all his classmates had bigger ones. So Fabian’s package would have been easily covered by shorts like that.

But the black tinkerbell... Mary mother of God! Naturally Fabian knew all the stories about black men’s cocks. The porn he had seen on the internet confirmed, almost unanimously, that preconception, and he had often wondered whether, in reality... whether they really...

And now... now he was treated to a pair of shorts that were simply unable to contain a sexual organ of the size which, against all the odds, it tried to encompass: on one side of the fly, where by no means all buttons could be fastened, the textile stretched over two enormous balls, and on the other side, the fabric was put to the test by a formidable trunk that lay over the thigh and then bent downwards; and because the leg was so short and the voluminous bulge pushed the shorts so far forward and, especially, because the fleshy prick was so long, Fabian actually thought, that he... now and then... when the tinkerbell moved... he saw... bloody hell... he saw... he caught a glimpse of the thick head. And it was bright pink.

Fabian’s own prick was standing upright in his trousers and throbbing like something possessed. Only when the boy looked down, to check whether his arousal was visible or not, did he notice that a thread of saliva was drooling from his chin. Quickly he wiped it away and closed his mouth.

‘Oh my God!’ Rafaela grabbed her telephone and started shooting pictures. Fabian didn’t know how quickly to follow her example.

Should he... Go on, Fabian! The boy overcame his shyness and pointed his camera impertinently at the heaving protuberance in the purple shorts.

But could he perhaps... could he pluck up the courage to... He looked the tinkerbell straight in the eye, as if asking permission. He received a cheeky wink in return. Okay, Fabian, go for it! He was a long way from home, so who cared? Without waiting any longer, he dropped down on one knee and aimed at the expansive crotch from below. Click, click! Had he caught that touch of pink? Could he... could he get even lower? In Grimlinghausen he wouldn’t have contemplated anything like that, but... he wasn’t in Grimlinghausen. He was in Amsterdam!

He now dropped down to the floor, onto the cool tiles. He even lay on his side on the ground to get an even lower perspective... The black tinkerbell smiled provocatively at him and threw him a kiss. And then... then he came over, with a few elegant strides, and stood right in front of Fabian, or to be precise... above him... Fabian’s heart was thumping.

With his large, dark brown fist, the tinkerbell took hold of the shorts’ waistband and threw Fabian an inquiring glance. Fabian nodded breathlessly. And in next to no time, three things happened: the tinkerbell yanked up his shorts, which allowed a colossal black prick with a shiny pink head, as large as a chicken’s egg, to appear from one leg and from the other a round, black scrotum. Fabian pressed the button. And immediately the shorts dropped back in place.

A loud mumble grew in the crowd and everywhere there was flashing telephones, but it was too late: the tinkerbell had already safely put away his belongings.

Fabian felt two slender arms around him and a veil of long, dark blond hair. ‘Ooooh! Honey child! I love you!’ And although Rafaela was small, she was pretty strong, Fabian noticed: she grabbed him under his armpits and pulled him effortlessly to his feet.

‘Mein Gott! What is that?!’ Thomas’s unkempt beard appeared in the bustle.

‘Rafaela! Dad! Look!’ cried Fabian.

The black tinkerbell held up an iPad. It said ‘Rafaela’.

‘I’ve never seen such an exhibition,’ sighed Thomas. He looked round anxiously.

‘Do you not think they are sexy?’ asked Rafaela. ‘That blond, she must be your type.’ She winked at Fabian.

‘Yes, it’s certainly sexy. Extraordinarily sexy, in fact. But one doesn’t expect something like that at an airport. What is going on here?’

‘Let us ask.’ Rafaela went straight over to the black tinkerbell and gracefully held out her hand. She cooed when the young man took her fingertips, bent down and kissed her hand, while giving her a sultry look. ‘Hi guys! Is this normal here? Do you always go to work dressed like that?’

‘It’s Gay Pride in Amsterdam, sweetie,’ said the black tinkerbell. His voice was very deep. ‘We are the Amsterdam Tinkerbells and we are here to... serve our customers.’

‘And that is us!’ Rafaela shouted jubilantly.

‘Then you may follow me.’

‘No, we have to wait a minute!’ said Fabian. ‘For doctor Rodric!’

‘Who is doctor Rodric?’

‘A very handsome, blond doctor.’

‘Handsome, blond doctors? We’re quite prepared to wait for those,’ decided the tinkerbell.