You connived with my father to put me in prison for a year. A prison where I had to ask permission to go a wedding, for heaven's sake! Where, even at ...he wedding, I was restricted in my activities. You wouldn't forgive that -- why should I?" You're still alive." That's a tired argument. You told me yourself that if I'm Chosen it wouldn't matter if I moved to a mountaintop in Tibet." You haven't been Chosen. You're past the median age to be Chosen. Every day that passes means it's less likely.". I didn't think I could actually do it; it seemed unreal. Just as I turned to return to my hotel, my brain said fuck it—go back. I turned around back onto St Annenstraat and met her in the neon light as she opened the glass door for me. I began my much thought out monologue of what I wanted from her. I had crafted it after reading many posts about Amsterdam’s red light district. She said yes with a cute Dutch accent and turned to climb the ladder steep, narrow stairs. I took in the great view. I explained the facts of what she was going to do and I could see that she was becoming aroused, she began to stroke my stiffening cock. I told her that she would have to choose a man with the attributes she wanted. She gushed 'I want him to be tall, and strong with a long cock. Oh! and bisexual' This really threw me. I had never had any homosexual tendencies althoughI prided myself on an open mind on the subject. I did recall during pubertyhaving, like most men, a gay experience which. Pogánakt dék nad tebe…pogánakt dék nad tebe.’ She knew the words ‘holódnikt’, which meant ‘cold’, and ‘pogánakt’ which meant ‘bad’. She correctly guessed that he had said ‘This rain is cold. It’s not good for you.’ She responded: ‘Ya pogánakt. Ya negát harásh…ya…’ Victor whistled to show his disapproval of her last comment. She had told him in Danubian that she was no good, but with a long low whistle he disagreed. There was nothing wrong with her, she was a nice girl…but he didn’t know how to.