Backbacking with the Boys – Part 8

Everyone in this story is 18+

Amsterdam

We stepped off the train onto the bustling platform of Amsterdam Centraal, the mix of Dutch chatter and the hum of travelers swirling around us. I threw a glance over at Brady, who wore that smug, unbothered look he’d perfected, as if nearly missing the train was all part of the plan. Asher, Cameron, and I, though? We weren’t feeling it. My jaw was still tight from the chaotic dash to catch the train, and judging by Asher’s narrowed eyes and Cameron’s quiet glare, they felt the same.

Brady shrugged as if reading our minds. “Oh, come on, guys, lighten up! You’d be late too if you’d just had a foursome,” he said, emphasizing the last word with an exaggerated grin. He elbowed me. “What’s the big deal, huh? Not like you guys got anything in Brussels last night.”

His words hung in the air, and for a second, I felt a flicker of heat rise to my face, recalling the previous night with Asher and Cameron, our secret moment just out of Brady’s reach. Cameron avoided Brady’s gaze, biting back a smirk, while Asher tilted his head with an expression halfway between amusement and nonchalance.

“Yeah, well,” Asher replied dryly, “not everyone needs a train delay as an excuse to make a grand exit.”

Cameron chuckled beside me, and I had to look away to keep my face straight. The memory of last night flashed in my mind, Cameron’s warmth between us, the tension crackling around us even in the quiet moments. But here we were, in Amsterdam—another city, another adventure, and maybe more chances to push the boundaries we’d only just started to explore.

Brady rolled his eyes, leading the way through the station with his usual swagger. “Right, whatever, dudes. Let’s go find the hostel.

As we followed, I exchanged a quick glance with Cameron and Asher, our shared secret from Brussels giving us a little extra buzz as we stepped into the city. Amsterdam awaited, and I had a feeling things were only just heating up.

Later that night:

The bright lights of Amsterdam’s Red Light District pulsed over the canals, casting a surreal, almost dreamlike glow on the bustling streets. Brady, still buzzing from the edible he’d scarfed down earlier at a coffee shop, was practically bouncing between windows, eyes wide and a grin plastered across his face as he took in every sight. The district’s charged energy seemed to amplify his own, making him louder than usual.

“Man, this place is insane! I gotta come here every night we’re in Amsterdam!” he shouted, drawing a few curious stares and a couple of amused smiles. But before long, his hollering caught the attention of a nearby bouncer, whose glare was anything but amused.

“Brady,” Asher said in a warning tone, nudging him, “keep it down a bit, yeah?”

Brady just laughed. “Relax, Ash, it’s the Red Light District! They’re used to noise.”

But it wasn’t long before he was at it again, trying to start a loud singalong with a group of tourists. Within minutes, two officers approached, their expressions blank and unimpressed.

“Evening, gentlemen,” one of them said with a Dutch accent, his eyes locked on Brady. “We’ve had a few complaints about excessive noise. You need to keep it down.”

Brady rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on! We’re just enjoying ourselves,” he said, then suddenly grinned, as if struck by inspiration. “Actually, you know what?” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed the hem of his tank top and yanked it off, revealing his broad, chiseled chest and arms. “Might as well give Amsterdam a little show, right?”

He struck a mock bodybuilder pose, flexing for a few passing tourists who laughed and snapped photos, clearly amused. But the officer wasn’t. His expression hardened as Brady, still grinning, did a slow, exaggerated turn, as if on display.

The officer’s patience snapped, clearly sick of tourists treating Amsterdam like an adult playground. “Sir, put your shirt back on,” he said, unimpressed. “The Red Light District has its rules for a reason. Consider yourself banned from the area until morning.”

Brady looked ready to argue, but Asher smoothly stepped in, hands raised. “Understood, officer. We’ll be on our way.”

As we turned down a quieter street, Brady grumbled under his breath. “Banned? Just for being loud? I thought this place was all about fun!”

Asher shrugged with a sly grin, clearly savoring Brady’s frustration. “Some of us don’t need to cause a scene to have a good time, Brady,” he quipped, patting him on the back. “But I’d say you made quite the impression.”

Just then, he spotted a striking, dark-haired girl leaning casually against a nearby corner, her eyes catching his.

“Well, that’s my cue,” Asher said, smirking as he adjusted his collar. He glanced back at us, giving a playful wink. “Have fun, lads. I’ll catch up tomorrow.”

And with that, Asher slipped into the night, leaving Cameron and me to steer a grumbling, still-buzzing Brady back toward the hostel.

Back at the hostel, Brady was in full-blown rant mode. He threw his backpack onto his bed with a dramatic huff, then flopped down after it, crossing his arms like a pouting child. “Man, Amsterdam’s supposed to be the wildest party city on earth, and I get kicked out for just having a bit of fun? Seriously? They don’t allow anything here! Total buzzkill.”

Cameron and I exchanged a quick, amused glance. We’d seen Brady frustrated before, but he seemed especially irritated at the idea of being “banned” from his planned night out.

Brady sat up, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m telling you, I can’t go a night without scoring. I’ve been on a roll since Paris! There’s no way I’m breaking my streak now. Screw it.” Without missing a beat, he whipped out his phone and opened Tinder, scrolling with fierce determination.

“Look at him go,” Cameron muttered to me with a smirk, leaning back in his bed. “It’s like a sport for him.”

Brady ignored us, already deep in swiping mode. “One of these girls has got to be up for a late-night meetup. I’m not ending my streak because of a bunch of strict rules.” He glanced up with a grin, looking re-energized. “And there’s no way I’m letting Ash score more than me on this trip. God knows how that stuck-up Brit even scores…”

Cameron started getting ready for bed, pulling off his shirt and jeans and folding them neatly on his bed. As he bent over to grab his backpack, Brady let out a low whistle, chuckling with a touch of surprise.

“Damn, Cammy! I never really noticed it before, but, dude, that ass is something else.” Brady laughed, giving Cameron a friendly shove. “I swear, you’re so skinny, but that... I think half the girls I’ve met would be jealous.”

Cameron’s face flushed, and he gave an awkward laugh. “You’re ridiculous, man.”

Brady shrugged, still grinning. “Hey, just saying. Not every day you get to appreciate the finer things in life.” He laughed it off, but his hand drifted casually to his waistband, giving a subtle adjustment. It was the kind of reflex move you’d expect after a long night out, but there was something about the way he looked back at Cameron that made the moment hang just a beat longer.

Cameron just shook his head, rolling his eyes good-naturedly as he placed his phone on the nightstand and grabbed his toothbrush, heading toward bathroom to brush.

 “No luck on Tinder tonight,” Brady sighs.

I laugh, leaning back. “Maybe it knows you’re a little too tipsy.”

Half-listening, Brady grabs Cameron’s phone on the night stand. “Let me see if it’s acting weird—my Tinder’s been glitching too.” We’re always borrowing each other’s stuff, so I don’t think twice about it.

But just as a thought crosses my mind—Wait, Cam’s Tinder might be set to guys—

Just then, Cameron walks back in with his toothbrush in hand, stopping dead in his tracks.

Brady freezes, eyebrows raised. “Uh, dude, are you gay? Your Tinder’s set to… guys?”

After a moment’s pause, Cameron shrugs, offering a sheepish smile. “Yeah, guess that’s out now.”

Brady glances between us, his expression shifting from surprise to intrigue. “And you knew?” he asks, looking directly at me.

I nod. “Yeah, but only since Paris, when he told me,” I say, my mind flashing to the memory of Paolo, balls deep inside Cameron. I feel my cheeks heat slightly, caught in the thought.

Brady lets out a laugh, breaking the tension with a friendly slap on Cameron’s back. “Cam, man! You could’ve told me. Guess we’ve got a lot more to talk about on this trip.”

Brady, who could easily be mistaken for the classic poster boy of toxic masculinity, surprisingly took it in stride. Instead of making things awkward, he fired off questions at Cameron with genuine curiosity and his usual brashness. Cameron answered openly, revealing a newfound confidence in himself.

As they talked, I found myself impressed—by Brady’s unexpected openness and by Cameron’s quiet strength.

Brady leaned back, clearly intrigued as he peppered Cameron with questions, starting off casually. “So, when did you know you were, you know… into guys?”

Cameron smiled, relaxed. “Probably back in high school. Took me a while to accept it, though.”

Brady nodded, processing. “Makes sense. So… are you a virgin, or…?” His curiosity was genuine, if a bit brash, but Cameron seemed completely unfazed and answered easily. “Nah, I’m not.”

Brady seemed weirdly interested in Cameron’s responses. “So, are you like a top or bottom?” he asked, chuckling, though I noticed the way he continued to rub his hand along his leg.

Cameron chuckled, meeting his gaze. “Mostly a bottom.”

Brady took that in, pausing for a beat before continuing, “But, like… why? I mean, you’re pretty well-endowed. I saw that much when we skinny-dipped last month.”

I stifled a laugh as Cameron just shrugged, still at ease. “Size doesn’t really factor into it. It just feels right for me.”

As the conversation continued, Brady’s questions grew increasingly bold, shifting the tone from casual curiosity to something more charged. “Does it hurt, though? Or… is it more like…?”

Cameron met his gaze, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Depends. But yeah, I enjoy it.”

Brady leaned back, still processing Cameron’s relaxed responses, a mix of curiosity and something else flickering in his eyes. He chuckled, shaking his head as if trying to wrap his mind around it all. “Man, I gotta admit, I don’t get it. But… I guess I’m curious,” he said, his voice trailing off thoughtfully. He glanced at Cameron, then over at me, as though weighing something.

Cameron raised an eyebrow, amused but unfazed. “It’s not exactly something you just ‘get’ without trying.”

Brady laughed, his gaze lingering on Cameron, his bravado shifting into something more contemplative. “So… what if I wanted to see what it’s like? I mean, just as a joke,” he added, his voice taking on a teasing edge, though the question hung heavier than intended. “Think I could, you know, try topping… just once?”

Cameron met his gaze, a hint of amusement sparking in his eyes as he studied Brady. He seemed to take a beat, then smiled slowly. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

The room fell silent, the suggestion hanging thickly in the air, leaving each of us to wonder where this conversation might go next.