I finished my coffee, left Staromestke Square, and walked through the narrow streets towards the river. It was dark now, and as I came out onto Smetanovo Nabrez, the wide street which ran along by the river, Prague Castle appeared, floating above the silvered water, as though in the air.

I crossed the Legii Bridge above the dark water, and on into the Little Quarter, and after a while turned into a cramped street, tall houses on each side. I examined the street numbers. Number 44 was much the same as every other, graffiti on the walls nearby, a rather dirty passage into which I turned. At the end of it was a plain door, with the one word MODRY written on it. I rang the bell. After a while, the door opened, and a narrow face appeared.

"Dobry vecer," said the face.

"Dobry vecer," I answered. I paused. "Um, Kde je..."

"Ah, you wish the boys?" said the face. I nodded. The door swung open.I had been given the address before I left London, as the best gay club in Prague. Well - was it? The passage on the other side of the door was a great deal more appealing than the outside one. It was clean, the walls papered In bright, art nouveau paper, with framed photographs - all of them of boys in various states of undress, and often without any dress at all.

"Welcome!" said the man who had let him in. He was tall and slim, in an Armani suit and a very good haircut. He had the narrow, high-cheekboned face of a typical East European.

"You English?"

"That's right," said I.

"Ah," said the man, "very sexy, the English." I grinned.

"You come have a drink. One show just begins."

He led me down some stairs into a large room, with low lights; half a dozen men were sitting at tables, with drinks. I was led to one.

"You have credit card?" I produced it.

"I take." I hesitated.

"Is o.k. You check all bill at end; not swindle here! Now, have good Czech beer."

A large glass of Pilsner was set before me - and at the same time the lights dimmed even further while another set came up over a little platform in the middle of the room. Pop music came from speakers on each side, and onto the stage stepped four boys obviously in their teens. I remembered that the age of consent was lower in Czechoslovakia than at home - only sixteen, wasn't it? They didn't look quite that young. They were all dressed in dark blue tights and singlets, their arms and shoulders bare and brown - sun or make-up? - and shone dully in the light: oil. One guy was black, another obviously Asian, one perhaps Czechoslovakian and one equally obviously "western" - whatever that meant; but certainly either English of American.

They all looked good; but it was the black guy I couldn't take my eyes off. He had a cheeky face, his full lips in a perky smile, his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, and his ass, when he turned, was tight and round and tempting.

The boys gyrated for a while, then split into pairs and slowly peeled off each other's singlets, bending to lick each other's nipples. They danced again for a while, their hips snaking to the music, running their hands over each other's chests and backs. They were unmistakably getting aroused; it didn't look as though they were wearing jock-straps under their tights, and the lines of their swelling cocks were clear. The black boy's lay against his right thigh, thick and well defined.

The music slowed, and I realised I was about to find out whether the boys were wearing jock-straps or not. Two of them knelt before the other two, and began to peel their tights down over their bellies, sides, thighs. The Asian boy's cock immediately sprang to attention, right up against his belly; it was small, but thick, the pink head bald and naked. The western guy bent to lick it, from the shaved, hairless balls up the whole length to the tip. The black guy eased the tights over the Czech lad's hips; his cock was limp. His companion lifted it on the palm of a black hand, and in a moment it had disappeared between his lips. I saw the cheeks work and the muscles of the throat contract as he sucked on it, and within half a minute a strong white pole emerged slowly from the dark, velvet, almost purple lips.

Now the couples changed over: the Asian and Czech guys stood, kicking the fallen tights from their ankles, and the other two knelt before them. The black guy, alas, had his back to me - but if I was denied the unveiling of his cock, the pair of dark, shining buttocks which appeared as the tights were drawn down dried my mouth and made my groin contract. His ass was completely smooth, the light making little bright shining reflections on the skin. The black boy put his hands behind him, kneading his buttocks, pulling them apart so that despite the low lighting I thought I caught a glimpse of a darker, tight bud in the deepest part of the gash.

Eventually, he turned - and I almost gasped: I had always heard the rumour that black guys had bigger pricks than white guys. It might or might not be true, generally; but in this case... the guy's cock wasn't fully erect, and hung slightly to one side rather than standing, but it must have been ten inches long, and the head was splendidly bulbous and thick, the foreskin pulled back and the dark purple velvet of the head softly shining and juicy.

The boys cuddled each other, licked, caressed, sucked... as the black lad held the naked Czech boy against him, his back towards me, probing his ass with a finger, he caught my eye and grinned. I realised that unconsciously I was massaging my hard-on through my trousers, In full view of anyone who cared to look.

The boys came down from the stage and moved between the tables. The black guy came directly to mine, that giant cock only inches from my face. I longed to get my lips around it. He grinned at me, then sat on my knees, bent his head and kissed me on the lips, his tongue slipping between my lips. I lowered my hand and felt his thick, warm cock in my palm. He grinned, but then took my hand, and stood up, brushing his hand up the inside of my thigh as he left.

The other guys came over one by one, the little Asian particularly seductive, putting his hand under his balls and lifting them and his cock as though offering them to me. But eventually they went back to the platform, and the man who had let me in got up with them, putting his arms round the shoulders of the two nearest him. He spoke in Czech, then in English:

"Gentlemen now come your chance to buy! We offer today such four splendids boy you will welcome to the bed! We have all facilities here to comfort and upstairs. Now who will offer?"

The bidding was conducted in English, and one Englishman in the corner went to one hundred crowns for the Asian guy. The auctioneer at last slapped the boy on the ass, and he went immediately to his client and climbed on his knee, planting a kiss on his lips and inserting his hand into his trousers. In a moment, they went hand in hand from the room.

The black guy came last.

"Now, for Zito, what offer is that we have?"

Shivering slightly I bid ten crowns - only twenty pence, but that's how the bidding seemed always to start. It went briskly upwards - one hundred, then a hundred and fifty, then up by fives - someone in a dark corner was bidding against me. But finally, "one hundred and seventy five" said I, and there was a pause. It was only £39 or so - surely not enough? But then the auctioneer gave Zito a slap on the buttock.

"Is sold to English friend!"

The black boy came down and stood at my table.

"Now you touch!" he said, reached for my hand, and placed it on his now limp prick. I felt the flesh swell immediately in my palm. I got up.

"Ah - you anxious go up stair," said the auctioneer, grinning.

Up two flights of stairs, in fact, and into a room with a large bed surrounded on all sides by mirrored walls. Zito was already naked: I had had great difficulty in not putting my hands on those beautiful black buttocks as I climbed the stairs behind my purchase. His ass was so beautiful, the two globes gently moving together, the balls gently swinging between then. But after all, I didn't have to wait long. The moment we were in the room Zito turned, and pressing against me from chest to thighs, gave me a great hug. My hands fell to that enticing ass: It was as firm and full and sweet to my palms as I could have imagined. I slipped one hand lower and probed with a finger, and felt Zito tremble as I found the soft centre. The boy pulled away.

"Let's get you bare!" he said, and pulling my shirt from my waist, raised it over my head. When he had loosened my belt and lowered my trousers, he grinned approvingly at the red thong which was having some difficulty in containing my swollen cock.

"Great," he said; "I like. Turn round!"

I turned, and felt the boy's lips on the cheeks of my ass, then his hands pulling the thong down, then - yes, it was his tongue. I bent over and put my hands on the bed, spreading my legs. That lively, pointed, sturdy tongue played about my asshole with a delicate insistence which almost drove me mad. I gripped the edge of the bed until my knuckles were white, while Zito first lightly tickled the entrance, then slid his tongue up the muscle above it to my balls and lapped at them, then returned and probed the hole itself. I let my sphincter muscle relax, so that the tongue was able to enter me, the black guy's hands holding my cheeks wide apart so that I felt as though the whole of the lower part of my body was open to welcome that wonderfully provocative tongue.

At last, the probing stopped, and Zito gently kissed his way up to the base of my spine, and upwards to my neck, his whole body now pressing against mine, his hard cock at last thrusting between my legs. I shivered.

"My turn," I said, turning, and gently pushed the boy onto the bed. Zito lay, his limbs spread wide open, cock up against his belly and large, black balls drawn up into his groin. I knelt between his legs and gently lowered myself until my cock was pressing against the larger, black one, my belly against the smooth black belly, my chest against his. I bent and kissed one hard nipple. Zito groaned.

"I like," I whispered, "I like..."

I gently nibbled the tit with my teeth, taking the other between a finger and thumb and nipping it. Zito lifted his hips and ground his body upwards against mine; I felt a moist slipperiness between our bellies where Zito's pre-cum had dripped.

"I wait no more," said Zito; "we fuck now."

I tipped him off me onto the bed as I sat up and reached down to the pocket of my jeans, at the side of the bed, rIpped open the packet, and rolled a condom down my cock. He reached for a tube and squeezed some lube onto his palm, then gently rubbed it over my cock; It felt like... like... I couldn't think what; I only knew that if it went on longer I was going to come.

But Zito stopped, lay back, and threw up his legs, catching them behind each knee with his hands and drawing them apart in the most lascivious gesture I had ever seen: the black spheres of his ass parted, and between them was a luscious, moist pink bud which, as I touched it gently with my finger, opened like a flower. Quickly I knelt myself between Zito's thighs and put the tip of my cock in place. I slipped in as easily as silk, Zito panting with pleasure as the knob of my cock slid in. I seemed to go on sinking into his ass for ever; but at last the bush of my pubic hair met Zito's balls. Lowering his knees onto my thighs, the black guy reached up, threw his arms around me and drawing himself upward, gave me a hug.

"Slow," he said; "you move slow," and lay back again.

I began the slow tempo, in and out and in again, the muscles of Zito's ass seeming to close and relax so that they stroked my cock as it moved. I seemed to last for about half an hour; but in truth after a few minutes we were both so close to coming that we could wait no longer.

"Now!" said Zito, "right now."

He reached around and thrust a forefinger into my asshole, and as I came I felt a great warm spurting of cum from the his cock, spurting up over my chest and belly.

"That good!" he said, "good when come together."

He grinned, lifted himself and hugged me again, giving me a kiss. He drew in his breath and caught his lower lip between his teeth as I pulled out of him nice and slow. We lay side by side for a while, breath each other's sweat; he gently slid his fingers over my skin, through the still warm slippery liquid which coated it.

I was sorry to go.

"I come again," I told him.

He grinned.

"I don't think," he said.

"Yes, really - I come again."

I slept really well that night - until a knock on the hotel door woke me. Breakfast. I sleepily called "Come in."

For a moment I didn't recognise him in the black trousers and white jacket. But then, as he bent to put the tray on the bedside table, he grinned and winked; then threw back the sheet and patted my morning hard-on.

"No need go to club again," he said; "you come here." And I did.