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Reijer Breed (49)
“Wanna go to my place later?” Paul whispered in my ear. We were at the Amstel Taveerne. “It is ten o’clock, and Wim is probably at home now.” I was fascinated by Paul’s large moustache. It was also obvious he was going to the gym regularly. At precisely that time, we got some more beers.
Mar 2017 read more
I was standing in between Hans and Pim. They were great kissers. Suddenly, I was pushed down. They opened their flies. “Here you go,” Hans said, “Time for you to give head.” I sucked as hard as I could. Pim held my head tight and gave me a corrective slap in the face. “Get undressed!,” Pim commanded. I complied. Hans and Pim were touching my entire body, and I was fingered hard and deep - moaning and squirming.
Feb 2017 read more
I was at the Huntsman having a great time. Egbert and Pim sat next to me, a couple I had known for some time. They were large, impressive men - both bold and with large moustaches. But I had never hooked up with them. Jantje was behind the bar, entertaining the entire bar. I told them I had missed the last train.
Dec 2016 read more
Wim and I got hammered at the Compagnie. The dark room was packed, and we were horny. “Want to go outside for a while?,” Wim shouted in my ear. He took my hand and we walked down the stairs. We took a stroll alongside the Amstel. “I know this alley up ahead. Let’s go there,” he suggested, breathless.
Oct 2016 read more
We were in the aftermath in a cubicle in the sauna, Wim and I. It was a Monday afternoon and I had taken the afternoon off. “Wow,” Willem said, “that was great.” I had another feel, and his ass was completely wet. “A shower?,” I asked. “Yes. Fine,” he said. “And a beer at the bar. My treat.”
Sep 2016 read more
“Look behind you. Not too conspicuous, over your shoulders, to the right against the wall. He’s gorgeous!,” Hans told me. I saw a very handsome guy and I winked at him. We exchanged looks, and he bought us a beer. “You’re a dish,” I said. The atmosphere was sensual in the Web.
Aug 2016 read more
In 1976, I was working at the main office of a public school society, the “Vereniging van Openbaar Onderwijs” on the Jan Luykenstraat. After the Christmas drink, I decided to go into town for a while. I was entirely dressed in black, wearing my black cowboy boots. And under my jacket, I was wearing a very shiny golden waistcoat. At the Amstel Taveerne, I met Rob, a guy from Rotterdam.
Jul 2016 read more
I found a mourning card in the mail. “After a long sickbed, WIM DE GROOT passed away in hospital.” I was upset. That sweet Wim had not survived lymphoma. I walked back to my apartment, thinking. Some months ago I had visited Wim in hospital, where he occupied a double.
Jul 2016 read more
On November 25, I had a cerebrovascular accident. My left arm and left leg were numb. In my last column (in the January edition), I wrote that I was at AMC Hospital on the Neurology ward. After a week, my physiotherapist said: “There’s nothing we can do for you here. We are waiting for a bed in rehabilitation center Reade.”
Apr 2016 read more
Leo and I had just finished drinking coffee and eating our eggs at beach tent “Zeezicht” near the end of the boulevard of Zandvoort. We were now walking along the sea towards North in the direction of the nude beach. It was quite busy, so I was walking behind Leo. I watched the moving butt in his red swimming trunks, and could just make out the beginning of his crack. I thought: “Let’s admit it. I just love those buttocks.”
Jan 2016 read more
I was twenty-eight-years-old and treated myself to eight days in New York. I was so nervous when I boarded the plane that I had earned a scotch. In front of me was a nice girl. Violet from Rotterdam. “First, I am going to New York for four days, and then I’m flying to Los Angeles to visit a friend,” she said. We felt a connection and kept talking, when all of a sudden my neighbor said: “Shall I change seats with her?,” which he did. Violet sat next to me.
Dec 2015 read more
“Doris, can you come over here?” Barney Rapp asked. She was singing with his band and was still in her teens. Her grandparents on both sides were immigrants from Germany, and her full name was Doris Mary Ann Kappelhoff. “We have to do something about your name,” Barney said. He had just heard her sing the song “Day by Day.”
Oct 2015 read more
I was once again on the terrace of Café In de Waag on the Nieuwmarkt with my friends Marion and Anja. “You will never guess where I was last week with my sisters Els and Carolien,” I said. They had no idea. “I was at the Ziggo Dome for the very first time. It was a Sing-a-Long for the sixtieth anniversary of the Eurovision Song Contest. It was wonderful.” “Yuck! That you’re into that! Such bad taste,” Anja said.
Aug 2015 read more
I was working at Amsterdam City Hall at the department of Public Open Space. With working schedules in hand, I regularly had meetings with a group of men who had to do work on the streets in the city center. They used to make fun of me. “Baby doll, you forgot to wear your heels.” “Did you always speak like a little queen?” “What is it like to be a caveman?” And so on.
Jun 2015 read more
In 1974, Lefert, my boyfriend/husband, and I planned our first long vacation, a group tour of Tunisia and a part of Algeria. I was not looking forward to the group, but the travel agency assured us that in that heat, we would see more that way. We weren’t used to being an open gay couple yet, and after the necessary inoculations and preparations it was time to go.
May 2015 read more
It was Monday afternoon. I had an hour off from work and was walking on the Leidsestraat. Via the Prinsengracht I ended up at Raamstraat and entered the Thermos.
Mar 2015 read more
When we were little boys, we were peeing next to each other in a ditch. Being little boys, Jan, a neighborhood boy and I were warned not to pee against barbed wire. But Jan and I were curious. “Do you dare?,” Jan asked.
Mar 2015 read more
In 1971, there was no internet, there were no cell phone numbers and no caller ID. I was 21 years old. Contact ads for gays were only in sex magazines and in “Vrij Nederland.” In “Binky” I read: “2 friends, 38 and 31 years old (both employed in aviation) seek regular contact with a passive guy up to 25 years of age for anal sex. Letters preferably with a photograph under number 7-26-77.”
Dec 2014 read more
Former VPRO colleague and friend Ineke van den Bergen called me. Next to making radio programs, she also wrote a weekly column in the weekend magazine of newspaper De Volkskrant. “Reijer, I’m working on a column about the movie ‘Padre Padrone’ by Paolo and Vittorio Taviani. Have you seen that movie?”
Sep 2014 read more
I was on a terrace with Willem and John on Leidseplein. They had just come back from New York. “It was wonderful. Such an overwhelming city. There is always something to do there, day and night. We are still tired. But you did a great job taking care of our house,” Willem said.
Sep 2014 read more
I was on the terrace of the Waag with my girlfriends Marion and Anja. We were enjoying the sun on the Nieuwmarkt when Anja said: “I’m in my forties now, and I’m starting to notice it’s much easier to pick up younger men.
Jun 2014 read more
A couple of weeks ago the phone rang on a Sunday afternoon. “Hey Breed. It’s John. Why don’t you stop by for a drink? I have something to eat, and I want you.” “Sure,” I said. “I’d love to. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” John and I have sex occasionally. He is a good top and a lawyer. His biggest hobby is bird watching. Sometimes he is out on the fields at five o’clock in the morning. With his friends, he is watching a very special bird. He has asked me to come along. He has extra binoculars for me, but that is not going to happen.
May 2014 read more
Some years ago, I was shopping with my sister Carol. After visiting the Bijenkorf, we walked into the Warmoesstraat. “You know what I’ve been dreaming about for some time now?,” she asked. I nodded no. “Of getting my nipples pierced. And I want those little gold rods through them.” On the corner from the Argos bar, we went into a tattoo shop. It was full of tourists perusing books with tattoos.
Apr 2014 read more
It was early in the evening, and I was walking along the Amstel. I only had to climb the little stairs to reach the Company. It was already quite busy, and my friend Rob was behind the bar. I ordered a bottle of beer. Afterwards I descended into the dark room. At that time, someone came out of a cubicle.
Feb 2014 read more
There is a new Russian phenomenon: catching gays for a date. Those boys are then ridiculed, humiliated and abused. And everything is recorded and put on Russian Facebook. Some of these clips have reached our Facebook. I am watching them full of disgust. I do not understand Russian, but what I see is sickening. Standing there is this big muscular skinhead-like guy.
Nov 2013 read more
VPRO radio had asked me earlier to discuss “Ook Zo,” but often, I did not think the reason was that pressing. “Ook Zo – Mooi Zo” was a radio show I made for some years with Diane de Coninck in the early eighties for VPRO radio. It was aired on Friday night at 20:00 p.m. On average, 350,000 people tuned in.
Sep 2013 read more
Not that long ago, my sister Carol called. “Did you read ‘Het Parool’ on what is happening in Russia? Their so-called parliament the Duma will cast its vote on a horrible bill.” Me: “Yes, it would be terrible if that bill would pass. The emancipation of homosexual men and women will be back to where it was a century ago.” Carol: “They want to ban the propaganda of homosexuality. So you are not allowed to discuss it any more. You cannot show it out in the open.”
Aug 2013 read more
In 1970, I was working on the “SS Nieuw Amsterdam” of the Holland America Line. I was nineteen. After sixteen emigration trips from Rotterdam to New York, things changed. A lot of colleagues I knew went on leave in The Netherlands for a longer period of time. Also Harry, my cabin-mate.
Jun 2013 read more
In 1980, my boyfriend/husband Lefert and I were attending the press presentation of “Taxi zum Klo” [Taxi to the Toilet] in Amsterdam. Very much in awe of this particularly honest film, we spoke with the maker and actor Frank Ripploh. It was so recognizable. We spoke to him about the pictures that were shown in the beginning of the film, of his youth and of his form. We also had these kind of pictures.
Jun 2013 read more
Every morning, also in the weekend, my alarmclock goes at 7.30. My two black cats run straight to their feeding bowls. They each get a handful of dry food and some snacks. Then, I make coffee in my old filter machine and roll a cigarette I put next to my PC. At a quarter to eight I visit my neighbor, miss Van der Vaart. She’s eighty-seven-years old and has arthritis in her hands.
Apr 2013 read more
I have been sexually active since I was ten, in Zaandam. Our family moved to Wormerveer when I was eleven. All new neighbor boys. And I became very popular. In the alley. On the playground.
Feb 2013 read more
The telephone rang. It was Timo from Amersfoort. He was twenty-two at the time, I twenty-eight. “I miss my family so much,” he cried. “Come on,” I said, “I will cheer you up. Jump on a train and come to Amsterdam. We’ll do something fun together.” Timo’s father had come from Italy to The Netherlands in 1962 as a factory worker. He ended up in an expensive boarding house in Amersfoort. A few years later his family came over as well.
Dec 2012 read more
“Hey there, how’s it going?” “Hi Willem! Well, actually not all that great. My almost 23-year old friend cat Ceesje is lying here next to me on the couch, dying,” I said. “Oh dear, that is terrible, is the vet with you?” “No, my friend Lex from the Zaanstreek told me how he’d helped his own kitty and then I decided to do it myself too. I’ve given him medication and I have morphine capsules. My little Ceesje has lost his memory since last week.
Nov 2012 read more
Once again in heat I frolicked around exciting Amsterdam. I was eighteen. Jeans and T-shirt. It was sometime around eight in the evening en it started to get dark. Near the second railroad bridge of the Central Station was a urinal for two persons. There were only a few attractive men. I was just wallking around a bit. In front of the postoffice building a car stopped close to me. The window was opened. “Do you feel like to come with me?,” a nice looking elderly man asked me. I got in.
Nov 2012 read more
My father had been rejected for military service. He was too skinny. Some of his peers in Wieringerwaard who did have to go, came home with great stories. And finally the time came that his first child and only son had to serve the country. He was totally upset, but at birthday parties loudly screamed: “That’s where they will make a man out of him!” Everybody had to laugh.
Sep 2012 read more
I was once in the Thermos sauna, sitting at the bar with Charlie. He was a big broad black guy from Chicago. We’d had a really nice time together upstairs in a cabin and needed to catch our breath with a glass of juice.
Aug 2012 read more
I live in a senior unit of a “fifty-five and over” apartment complex. The complex consists of two blocks: one four stories high and the other six stories. They’re connected with an arcade. At the main entrance there’s the reception. In the arcade there’s a hair salon, a shop, a laundromat, an Internet café and an activity room with a bar.
Aug 2012 read more
Last year I was all of a sudden struck by a rather serious health problem. My two sisters and a few friends rushed to my aid. In a group mail I informed my steady lovers that I wasn’t available for a while. A few of them sent sweet mails in reply. “Take care and let me know when I can come visit you again.” But hey, nothing is very little of anything, so a few weeks ago I thought of a little mischievous plan. I surfed to bullchat.nl and placed the following add: “Senior gay rims young guy!”
Jul 2012 read more
In 1973, on Friday the thirteenth, I met Lefert at the COC in Wormerveer. It may sound as a cliché, but it was love at first sight. I was totally overwhelmed. The only thing I could think of was him. At the time, I was working at the news agency ABC Press Service in Amsterdam. “Come here for a second...” my lesbian boss Loes Robert said. “You are radiating. What is going on?” Well, she was right. I was madly in love. I visited my parents to tell them.
May 2012 read more
The week from the 1st till the 8th of August in 1998 was one of the most beautiful of my life. De Gay Games here in Amsterdam. Our own gay international sports and culture gathering. At the time I was working at City Hall for the center of town. I sent out a group mail to all my colleagues if they wanted to volunteer as a steward during the opening and closing ceremonies in the Arena. Within three days I had seventy-five applications.
Apr 2012 read more
In 1978 my friend Lefert and I went on holiday to Norway. At the Coen harbor of Amsterdam we drove our car onto a ship of the Fred Olsen line. After we’d found our cabin we decided to kick off our trip with a beer in one of the many bars on board. This is where we saw drunken Norwegians for the first time. Because alcohol is so expensive at home in Norway they don’t know when to stop drinking. The men were shouting at each other and leaning on their drunken women. We decided to sit on deck.
Mar 2012 read more
I had met Kurt in Amsterdam. A blushing hot 28-year old guy. We had a lot of sex in the Hans Brinker Hotel where he stayed. Now I was visiting him in Berlin for a couple of days. We walked through the snow on Kufürstendamm. It was bitterly cold. I had an appointment with an active Berlin gay group, the AHA: the “Algemeine Homosexuelle Arbeidsgemeinschaft” [General Gay Working Community]. They had a discussion evening and I was going to tell them about my work at the COC.
Mar 2012 read more
I never liked large cafes and discos with loud music. I always had to depend on my tongue-way. So, I frequented the smaller bars. One of my favorite bars has always been the Krokodil on Amstelstraat. I visited this for the first time when I was sixteen. I was going with thirty-four-year old Klaas. In my opinion Klaas was very old. Klaas shared a large flat in Amsterdam-North with two dikes, Lia en Gré. Lia was femme and Gré butch.
Dec 2011 read more
In 1976, I was working at the main office of a public school society, the “Vereniging van Openbaar Onderwijs” on the Jan Luykenstraat. After the Christmas drink, I decided to go into town for a while. I was entirely dressed in black, wearing my black cowboy boots. And under my jacket, I was wearing a very shiny golden waistcoat. At the Amstel Taveerne, I met Rob, a guy from Rotterdam. We started talking. “I would like to visit the Argos bar. I heard they have a sling,” Rob said.
Dec 2011 read more
It was my very first radio show for the VPRO: the “Homoshow.” The topic was how important it was for famous Dutch people to be open about their homosexuality, as a role model, as an example. It was 1980, I sat next to Klaas, a friend from Haarlem, and we were discussing him. “Wasn’t he gorgeous?” “Yes, he was,” Klaas said. “He was featured on a double spread in the ‘Panorama’ magazine, with only a white pair of pants on and a little golden chain. I’ve saved that issue for years.”
Nov 2011 read more
“What!,” my father yelled. “Have you completely lost your mind? You’re giving up such a gentlemen’s position at the bank. You could work there till your retirement. You want to join a ship? You’ve gone insane. You always have something!” My father was a laborer. He worked as a car mechanic in a repair shop in Wormerveer. Every morning he walked to his work in his overalls. I left half an hour later on my bike to the ABN. I wore a suit with a tie. It was 1969 and there was plenty of work.
Oct 2011 read more
“You never guess from where I’m calling you, sis!” I called Carolien on my cell phone. “No idea,” she says. “In the dunes of Zandvoort, after so many years.” She quickly replies: “And, have you had any visitors yet?” “No,” I say laughing. “I just got here. I have little bottles of water and port with me, still have to settle in a bit. I haven’t done this for ages. First walked all the fucking way from the station to Zeezicht beach pavilion, had a cup of coffee there and then walked into the dunes behind it. It’s lovely here, but not very busy.”
Sep 2011 read more
With straights things are always more straightforward. Like with sex for example: the guy fucks and the girl gets fucked. That’s why gays used to have more trouble. I remember the couples from the Zaan region to the North of Amsterdam: a sturdy laborer from the harbor with a tottering queen with a hairdressing salon. Or another couple: a butch taxi driver and a fragile looking nurse, dressed up in a petticoat and her hair in a beehive. These couples made a clear statement on the streets, but whether the situation was clear-cut in the bedroom?
Jul 2011 read more
I have been sexually active since my tenth in Zaandam. Our family moved to Wormerveer when I was eleven. All new neighbor boys. And I became very popular. In the alley. On the playground. With rented rowing boats on the Guisveld. “The Breed boy dares to take it into his mouth.” The news spread through the neighborhood like wild fire. I got really busy. But things didn’t stay that way. My neighborhood boys all got girlfriends and they forgot about me. And I didn’t want to be different. I also got myself a girlfriend. But I wasn’t completely satisfied. Where to find men though? In the big exciting city of Amsterdam of course.
Jul 2011 read more
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