I was in Tivoli Gardens in Copenhagen when I first saw Biff. At the time I was staying in a bed and breakfast miles to the south of the city because anything closer in was far beyond my meagre budget, as were most forms of entertainment in Denmark, where even a beer was a luxury I could hardly afford. So I was filling in Saturday afternoon people-watching in the Gardens.

Biff was an very good-looking young guy with dark close-cropped hair and a little goatee, and I watched him afar as he watched some people on one of the rides. But watching him was only window-shopping. I would never approach a guy so handsome for fear of rejection. So I wandered on, mostly just watching others enjoying themselves and occasionally popping a few tokens into one of the ubiquitous slot machines throughout the gardens. And doing a little crotch-watching of the many men enjoying themselves, mostly with their girlfriends on their arms.

Imagine my surprise when I heard a voice behind me say, "Hi. Are you here alone?"

I turned. It was the young guy I had been watching, some minutes before.

"Oh, hi," I said. "Yes, I am. Why you asking?" I was afraid he was some sort of con-artist trying to sell me the Little Mermaid statue or something.

"Well, I'm alone too, and I'm getting kinda bored with my own company. I wondered if maybe you felt like hanging out?"

"That would be OK," I agreed. "I was beginning to talk to myself! I'm Jeff," I told him.

"And I'm Biff," he said, sticking out his hand for me to shake. "Well, not really," he added. "It's really Berrington, but nobody calls me that. Biff's much easier."

"And more macho," I laughed.

And so I hooked up with Biff.

As we wandered around the park, this Scandinavian version of Disneyland, checking out the sights, mostly just watching others having a good time, I learned a little about Biff. Like me, he was on the "Grand Tour" - seeing as much of Europe as he could in a short time. Unlike me, he only had two months to do it in. He was due back at his American college this very week, the first week of September, whereas I still had four more months before I was due anywhere.

He had started out travelling with a college buddy, but they had had a falling out soon after they arrived in Europe, and had parted ways. Biff, like me, needed someone to talk to once in a while - and for today, he had chosen me.

As we strolled, I wondered whether Biff was gay, but when he looked with distaste at a couple of rather swishy young men holding hands as they walked by, I decided that he probably wasn't, especially when he commented, "You'd never see that in Boston!"

My impression was reinforced later in the afternoon, when a street hustler pushed a couple of fliers into our hands. They were for live sex-show clubs.

"Go see live sex tonight," the hustler said. "Free taxi, free drinks. Very hot stuff. These are your free tickets."

Of course, the hustler got a commission for every customer he sent to the clubs. As he said, the fliers were also the tickets which were printed right into the fliers.The hustler's ID was handwritten in the corner of each flier.

We studied the fliers we had been given. They were very explicit and very graphic. One was for a gay club, and the flier showed several well-hung naked men in various acts. The other was for a more heterosexual place. It featured mostly big-boobed women as well as a couple of husky men.

Both advertised "Live Sex! Non-stop!" and "Midday to Midnight!" and "Drinks Free with Membership!"

"We should go to one of these," Biff suggested. "It sounds hot! Anything's legal in Denmark!"

"Yeah," I agreed. "It would be different, anyway."

"Sure, but not the gay one," Biff said. "I'm not into watching guys do each other."

"Me either," I lied. "But it depends on what membership costs." Membership, of course, was another way of saying entry fee, or cover charge. It also got around Danish laws for these places, which were legal "for registered members only."

"We can ask a taxi driver," Biff suggested. "They always know about these things."

So that is what we did. We went to the main gates of Tivoli and approached one of the cabbies waiting there.

We were told that most of them charge fifty krone for membership. It sounded a lot till we figured out that it was about 10 dollars. It would be stretching my budget, but what the heck. Free drinks were included.

The cabbie offered to take us there when were were ready. We decided to eat at Tivoli and go after supper, so we arranged to meet the cabbie at this spot at nine.

By now dusk was closing in, and the Tivoli lights were coming on. Because it was a warm night, we found a cafe with an outdoor seating area, and a great special of wieners and sauerkraut, a loaf of bread, and a jug of beer for two, for just five dollars apiece.

As he had promised, the cabbie was waiting for us at the gates at nine pm. He drove us not very far, to the opening of a fairly normal-looking side street in the city, a walking-street. Down the road from where he dropped us off, we could see the lights of a theatre, and patrons of adjoining bars sitting in the outdoor drinking areas. The cabbie, too, got a commission from the clubs, so we didn't even have to pay him, but we did give him a decent tip. He pointed out the doorway to the club we were heading to, the first doorway down the walking-street, maybe fifty feet from this main street. It had a dim neon sign over the doorway which said simply and succinctly "Le Sex." If that translated to anything in French didn't matter. It got the idea across.

Inside the door, a narrow set of stairs ran up to the first floor, and at the top was the "reception desk", where we handed over our "membership fee," which turned out to be ten krone more than we expected but still little more than ten dollars, and had our fliers stamped as proof of membership. The "receptionist" was a greasy-looking man who told us our "free drinks" were beer only. Mixed drinks were at bar prices.

The show was already in progress when we arrived. A small, semi-circular stage projected out into the "theater." Some of the seats were actually barstools right at the stage's edge. The rest of the seating was at small bar tables scattered about the room. Music was supplied from a tinny tape player somewhere, and the fact that the club was small and dirty was disguised in part by spotlights and spangles.

We took an empty table and watched the show while we waited for our first beers which took forever to arrive. At other tables in the room sat other men, mostly alone, but one or two with other men, and one with a woman.

On stage, on a mattress, two domino-masked naked women, a Scandinavian blonde, and a huge statuesque negress were busy licking and sucking and touching each other everywhere in time to the canned music.

It was not much more exciting when they started using large dildos on each other, and fucking each other with a double-headed one. At the end, they took bows to applause from the watching men - and the one woman.

They were eventually replaced by two more masked females, both negro, and a scrawny masked white man with a huge penis. Both of them got to suck it before he eventually fucked one in the pussy with his weapon, then did the other in the asshole. He finished his act by jerking off all over the two women as they lay on the mattress.

At this point, I noticed that a few of the men in the audience had their cocks out masturbating, and one actually shot his load onto the floor, wiping his dick off afterward with his drink napkin.

I nudged Biff, and pointed this out to him, and his response was "That's disgusting," but I noticed that he had quite a bulge in his pants himself.

The next act was a dominatrix and her "slaves," a man and a woman, all three of them masked, but the female "slave" in this act was the blonde who had been in the act which was playing when we walked in. By this time I had gathered that the domino masks were either a trademark of the club, or part of the 'kink" because at the end of every act, during the bows and applause, the players took off their masks.

The dominatrix whipped the slaves into performing all sorts of sexual connections, both with each other and with her. The men in the audience loved this, and there were even more cocks in hand under the tables than previously. I saw a couple more guys cum into handkerchiefs and napkins.

Each act of the evening was twenty to thirty minutes long, and included lots of posing and posturing, all to the canned music, but there was no doubt the sex and the penetration was real. We got good views of penises, dildos, and butt-plugs, even the handle of a whip, going into mouths, vaginas, and assholes. And just like porn movies, they made sure you got to see at least part of the male blowing his load, enough to let you know he was not faking it.

Between the acts was a break of about 10 t0 15 minutes, to give the customers time to get their drinks refilled or go to the can.

It didn't take me long to realize that the "free" beer was hardly worth having. It was not a full strength beer, but one of the cheaper light beers available in Europe, and a poor quality one at that. I thought I'd blow some of my hard-earned money on a "mixed" drink from the bar and ordered a rum and coke. I might just have well have ordered just a coke. If the drink had any rum in it at all, it was very little. They had used the old trick of dipping the empty, upturned glass into a shallow saucer of full-strength rum before filling it with coke and maybe a few drops of rum. Unsuspecting customers would smell and taste rum with every sip, but actually be drinking very little of it. This was not the sort of place you complained too loudly in, if you didn't want to end up lying in the alley behind the club.

In the break between another pair of acts, I decided to try the bathroom. I needed to piss badly. Apart from the indignity of having to wait in line in a narrow, smelly hall to take a piss, the washroom itself was disgusting. There was just a toilet bowl and a sink. The floor was wet with piss and cum - yes, cum. Guys who were too shy to jerk off in the dimly-lit theatre came here to beat their meats. There were globs of cum on the walls, the sink, and the door.

When I returned to the theater, Biff had moved himself and our drinks up to the barstools which ran around the semi-circular stage. I didn't notice him there at first, and when I saw our table empty, I thought he must have taken off and left me. But there he was, right up front. I joined him.

"I thought we'd get a better view up here," he told me. A better view of what? Tits and pussy? Or men's cocks?

We sat there through the next few acts, and I noticed Biff was getting a bit tipsy despite the feeble beers he was downing. He seemed particularly interested in the male performers, all of whom had big wangs, and he embarrassed me by pursing his lips and making sucking noises whenever a male performer waved his stiff cock in out faces. So much for the guy who said he was not into homosexual stuff. Even locals were looking at him and his antics.

The final act of the evening was the tall statuesque negro woman who had been in the lesbian act when we first arrived, still masked. This time she was accompanied by two bare-chested masked men, real hunks, dressed in black pants and shoes and socks, white cuffs and collar, and black bow ties. Apparently they were favorites of the regulars to the club, because right from their entrance they got cheers, claps, and whistles.

Both were very muscular, one blonde with a crew-cut, the other dark, with longer hair. I had the instant hots for the darker one.

When the music started and the three went through the preliminary motions of slowly stripping away what little they wore, except for the masks, I felt that the dark man was looking at me. It was hard to be sure, with his face partly concealed by the mask, but I also felt that he looked very familiar. I did not know why, however. I eventually put it all down to a sense of unreality of even being here in a strange country watching strangers fuck each other.

This act was hotter than the previous ones. These three were the club's stars. It was obvious that many of the regulars came here just to see them perform.

When the woman had finished stripping off the the pants from the men, they were both flaccid. But not for long. They in turn stripped her naked, and then the fun began. She went down on her knees and sucked one dick while she masturbated the other, then took the other in its turn, and eventually sucked both hard cocks at once. While she did this, the two men above her were caressing and fondling each other, even kissing. The foreplay went on for a long time, but it eventually culminated in both men entering her at the same time, all three of them in a standing position, the woman part of a sandwich. The blonde guy entered her first, fucking her in the vagina. The dark man entered her from behind, in her asshole. It didn't seem to bother her one bit. The three copulated that way for a bit, then they broke and headed for the mattress. She lay in the normal position, her butt elevated by a couple of pillows, her legs spread. The blonde kneeled between her legs and entered her, his knees apart, so we at the front could see his cock going into her. The dark man straddled her face, and she licked and nibbled at his balls while the blonde man leaned forward and sucked on his large cock.

Eventually, the blonde was ready to cum, and he did so all over the woman's belly. After that, she left the stage, leaving the two men behind.

There was some light interplay between the men, touching and kissing, sucking and licking and sixty-nining and then the finale. The blonde man kneeled on the mattress on all fours, and the dark man took him, doggie style. He fucked the blonde's ass for what seemed like ages before he finally started to cum. He blew part of his load inside the other man, then pulled out to shoot the remainder of his ejaculation all over the blonde's back and asshole.

The audience cheered, and I looked round to see several men blasting their loads onto the theater floor.

Alongside me, Biff looked rather pained.

"Fuck," he said, "I think I just came in my pants."

There was no question now about whether he got off on watching guys do each other.

The handsome black woman joined them once more and the three took their bows to loud applause and catcalls. Then they left the stage, and the lights came up, revealing the place for what a horrid little dump it really was, and the show was over.

When we went downstairs, the first thing we heard was the rain, pounding down. A fall thunderstorm had rolled in while we were in the theater. The rain was beating down and bouncing on the paved walking street outside. We clustered in the doorway recess while the water beat down just beyond. It seems many of the patrons had come prepared and dashed out in hastily donned plastic rainwear. Others took they chances of getting a cab at the main street and ran in that direction. Biff and I, clad only on t-shits and jeans, were somewhat hesitant to make the run.

While we stood there in the darkened doorway, three or four of the performers, including the tall black lady, came down stairs. They carried umbrellas, and quickly ran off into the downpour.

Soon, Biff and I were left alone there, wondering what to do, and how we could get a cab.

At that point, another man joined us in the doorway. Even in the darkened space I could make out that it was the dark-haired man from the final act. He too, had an umbrella, but hesitated there with us. It seemed to me that again he was staring at me.

"Hi," I said. "Quite the rainstorm, eh? I really enjoyed your show tonight."

"Thank you," the man replied, in a quite friendly manner. "Tell me," he went on. "You are from Canada, no?"

"Yes," I replied. I presumed he could tell from my accent.

"From Courtenay on Vancouver Island, isn't it? And your name is Jeff, is it not?"

There was no way he could tell that from my accent.

"How did you know?" I asked, amazed.

The man laughed. "I saw you often at the hotel where I worked in Courtenay," he replied. "I was night manager at the Westerly Inn there for a couple of years. I would see you there in the bar and the lounge, and at the cabarets. It was about five years ago now."

Now I knew why he had looked so familiar.

"Oh, yes," I exclaimed. "I recall you now. Your name is ..." but it eluded me.

"Kaspar," he reminded me. "And your friend here is ..?

I introduced him to Biff. "He's from the States," I added. "We just met today in Tivoli Gardens."

Now that he had made the connection for me, Kaspar came back to me clearly in my memory. I would often see him around the Inn, and had often admired the bulge in his dress pants. I recalled some sort of speculation amongst my straight friends that he might be gay, and I had secretly hoped that he was, and would take a liking to me. But nothing ever came of it.

I remembered, too, a going-away party for him in the Inn's lounge, when he left to return to Denmark because his mother was very ill. I had almost gotten drunk enough proposition him that night. But I didn't.

"You two may be stuck here for a while," he observed. "My flat is not too far away, and my car is just around the corner. Perhaps you would like to come back to my place and get a cab from there?"

"That sounds good to me," I replied, and Biff agreed.

"Let us run for it, then," Kaspar said. "We will get very wet, but we can dry off at my place. Let us go," and he dashed out into the rain, not even bothering to open his umbrella, and Biff and I followed.

It was raining so hard that it hurt when it hit out heads and faces, but we followed after Kaspar to the nearby corner, then about a hundred yards down the main street to a small European car parked at the curbside. Kaspar unlocked the single passenger door and tipped the front seat forward so I could clamber into the back. Biff took the front passenger seat.

The car was ridiculously small for a big man like Kaspar, but he managed to fold himself into it somehow. All three of us were soaked to the skin.

"Not very big," he observed, "but it is cheap on petrol. That's the important thing. Everything is so expensive here in Denmark. That's why I have the extra job at the sex club."

"What is your other job?" I asked, as he started the car and we drove off.

"Jobs," he replied. "I teach high school English by day, and also have a photography business - weddings and so on."

"You teach school and work in a sex club?" asked Biff, amazed.

"There is nothing illegal about it here," he assured Biff. "The big negro girl - she is a refugee from Somalia. She teaches kindergarten as well as stripping. Marcus, the other man in our trio, is a bank clerk. Most of us have two jobs. We are not hiding anything. The masks are just a gimmick. Some men get off on them."

Kaspar's flat was truly not far away. We were there in just minutes. He parked in the street outside, and we made a dash for the door, as the rain was still beating down.

It was an second floor flat, and Kaspar led us up the stairs and into his home. From a closet just inside the door, he dug out towels and thrust them at us.

"Dry yourselves off," he said, "while I get out of these wet things."

I needed to piss again, and he pointed out the bathroom right beside us off the hallway. While I took a leak, I also stripped of my soaked shirt and hung it on a hook by the shower recess. I dried myself off a bit also.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, I got the surprise of my life. Kaspar had shed all his clothes, except for his white boxers. He was leaning against the hallway wall, his boxers pulled down over his hips, his huge cock standing erect. On his knees before Kaspar, Biff was virtually naked, his shirt cast aside, his jeans pulled down to his knees. It was obvious that he had been going commando all evening. No wonder he was upset about cumming in his pants earlier! Right now he was busy licking and sucking Kaspar's delicious-looking cock!

Kaspar grinned at me. "Biff and I are getting better acquainted," he told me. "He just couldn't wait any longer. Did you realize he was feeling me up in the car on the way here?" he chuckled.

So straight Biff was not so straight at all - just another closeted cock-sucker like myself.

"Hope this doesn't make you feel uncomfortable?" Kaspar asked.

"Shit no!" I exclaimed. "I used to daydream about taking a look at your cock when we were back in Courtenay! I even followed you into the washroom one time, but you'd gone into a cubicle!"

Kaspar laughed. "That's funny," he said. "I used to watch you all the time. I always thought you were cute, and always wanted to get it on with you. Time wasted, eh?"

"Damn!" I exclaimed.

Biff was still busy sucking and chomping and nibbling on Kaspar's dick and balls, making all sorts of appreciative sounds. Kaspar pulled his cock out of Biff's mouth.

We still hadn't got past the entry hallway. "Get all your wet clothes off," he said. "I have a drying rack in the kitchen. We can hang them out to dry there. "

Biff and I both followed him into the flat. It turned out to be a one-bedroom apartment, but Kaspar used the small bedroom as his darkroom for his photography business, and the rest of the flat as a sort of bed-sitter.

Now naked, we hung up the wet clothes on the wooden rack in the kitchen nook, and Kaspar set up an electric radiator nearby to help them dry, then all went back to the bed-sitter area.

Kaspar still had a hard hard hard, sticking up at an angle. Biff was eager for more of it.

"Do you have any cum left in that thing?" he asked Kaspar.

"For sure!" Kaspar told him. "I only came twice at work tonight. I can cum four or five times in a night, maybe more."

"Will you fuck me?" Biff asked. "I can't stay long. I'm taking the train back to Amsterdam tomorrow."

"Certainly," agreed Kaspar. "I always enjoy fucking a new ass. I know I already fucked Marcus at the club, but I get to do that ever second night. We take turns. On the other nights, he fucks me. It gets to be routine."

"Can you get it up every night?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, "We use a special creme. It makes us stay hard longer, and makes us a bit insensitive, so we take longer to cum. Even when we cum our dicks will stay fairly hard for about an hour after."

"Wow!" I've gotta get some of that!" Biff cried, now lying on Kaspar's bed-chesterfield, his butt cheeks spread, ready for Kaspar. But Kaspar told him,

"Turn over! On your back! I want to watch your face while I fuck you."

Biff assumed the position, and Kaspar spread Biff's legs apart and kneeled between them. Applying some lube he had handy on an end table, he wriggled forward and thrust his hard cock into Biff, who let out a scream of pain, then a gasp of "Oooh! That's so good."

While I stood by watching, masturbating myself slowly, Kaspar pounded away at Biff, who moaned and groaned appreciatively at the big dick punishing his asshole, crying, " Yes! Fuck me! Harder! Harder!"

While he fucked Biff, Kaspar was busy masturbating him at the same time. Biff was getting pleasured at both ends, while I was just an onlooker. Kaspar soon made a suggestion to remedy that. He pulled out of Biff's ass, and told him,

"Get on your hands and knees. You can suck Jeff's cock while I fuck your ass doggy-style."

So Biff did just that. He didn't hesitate to open his mouth when I shoved my dick toward him, while behind him, Kaspar was spreading his butt cheeks to enter him once more.

Sucking my dick, with Kaspar pounding on his back door, and beating his own meat with one hand, while balancing on the other, it didn't take Biff long to reach a climax. His groans and cries as he ejaculated were muffled by my penis being shoved down his throat, but it was obvious to all three of us that he had cum.

Biff was one of those guys who go soft immediately after they had cum, and lose interest in sex for a while. Even before his plentiful load of cum had soaked into the throw cover of the bed-chesterfield, Biff was struggling to extricate himself from the three-way. He spat out my cock, and pushed himself erect, causing Kaspar's prick to be pulled free of his asshole..

"I'd better get going," he told us. "I have that afternoon train to catch. Do you think you could call me a cab, Kaspar?" he asked.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay the night?" Kaspar asked.

"No, but thanks for the offer. Thanks for everything - especially the fuck," he replied.

"What about you, Jeff?" asked Kaspar. "Are you going, too?"

"No," I replied. "I think I'll stay a while, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all," Kaspar assured me. "We can catch up on old times - and maybe make up for missed opportunities," he ginned, winking.

After Biff told him where he was staying, Kaspar phoned a cab while Biff got dressed into his still damp clothes.

"I had a great time today," Biff said to me. "I'm glad we hooked up. Keep in touch, eh?"

"Sure," I agreed, completely overlooking the fact that I didn't even know his surname, let alone his address.

When the cab had tooted outside a few minutes later, and the flat door had closed behind the departing Biff, Kaspar led me back to the bed-chesterfield, from which he stripped the cum-soaked throw, then folded out into a bed. He gestured for me to get onto it, and I lay face-down, waiting for him.

He used a little more lube from the bottle by the bed, then gently guided his cock to my expectant hole. I relaxed, and I felt his dick-head gently but firmly forcing its way into me. It didn't hurt a bit. It felt good. It felt right. After all, it was overdue. My hole had waited five years for this cock in it.

As he settled down on top of me and began a slow fuck, Kaspar murmured into my ear,

"I hope you are going to stay all night. Tomorrow's my day off. We can spend it together. I can show you my Copenhagen, and we can make up for some lost times."

"Of course," I agreed, savoring his dick deep in my insides. "I'd love that."

And I did stay - that night and the next - and together Kaspar and I explored Copenhagen - and each other.

Kaspar was a great Dane with a great cock!

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