by Jerry Cole
“Oh. Nice! Doing what?”
Sherman shrugged. “Just regular bookings and things. Nothing too exciting – here, we’re up,” he indicated to the line, now moving, and hurried to purchase the tickets.
Even if their physical differences were taken out of the equation, Bradley was just so much better than Sherman, at least this version anyhow. Over the course of the day, Sherman was able to get more out of Bradley on his acting and it turned out that the kid was actually pretty darn successful, like much more than he let on. He’d been in shows, movies, ads and plays. The kid was a star!
So why was he hanging out with Sherman?
The two men wandered together through the Van Gough museum for three hours. Sherman had been sure this wouldn’t be Bradley’s scene. Not only was he a lot younger than Sherman, a solid seven years at the least, but he just didn’t seem to be the kind of guy who would be into this sort of thing. And at first, that was case.
He was so damn keen on getting photos of himself in front of different artworks that he hardly even paid the art any attention. Rather, he’d notice the colors of the piece, noting how good they would look in the background of a photo with him, and then he’d ask Sherman to get a pic with him standing in it. And then, once the photo was taken, he’d spend the next five minutes on his phone editing it, uploading it and then checking to see who had looked at the upload. It was a little draining, to be honest.
But then the day wore on and he began to change. Sherman couldn’t pin down exactly when it happened, but it was sometime in the second hour that he started listening to the audio recording for each piece of art, that he began to look interested in the art on its own merit and not a companion to his own photos, that he began to ask Sherman questions and even draw his attention to certain pieces that he liked.
“Fuck,” Bradley had gasped to himself when they came across a piece labelled The Potato Eaters. It was a huge piece depicting a small group of paupers eating potatoes around the kitchen table. It was dark and depressing and had Bradley staring wide eyed.
“What?” Sherman followed up, coming in closer, dropping his voice to match the mood of the piece. “You like it?”
“I think so?” Bradley narrowed his eyes and stared at it, really at the painting, into its soul. “It’s so.... depressing – but in a good way.”
“How do you mean?” Sherman pressed.
“It’s so real... and deep... and I dunno but it makes me sad.”
“Why?” Sherman pressed further. He could see Bradley working to figure out why this piece had touched him so. It was fascinating really and spoke to a side of Bradley that even he hadn’t known he possessed.
“Because... they look like real people. Like, these people might have actually been real and lived like this. They probably had dreams and shit that they never got to follow.” He curled his nose in disgust, but then his face dropped and he looked down at his feet. “It’s sad, is all.”
In that moment, Sherman was overtaken with an urge to reach out and take Bradley’s hand. There was clearly more going on here than just a love of one piece of art, something deeply personal within Bradley. But he didn’t, only because he thought it would be a little inappropriate.
By the time the tour of the museum had ended, Sherman was still at a loss to figure out how he’d gotten so lucky. And not just in the fact that he had managed to pass three whole hours with Bradley, without embarrassing himself or boring the pants off (or on) him. But that Bradley seemed to enjoy it!
The two were just so different. Bradley was eager, loud, easily entertained and to be honest, a little dim. But he was also sweet and kind and obviously had a caring heart, even if he tried to hide it. Sherman was sarcastic, a little too smart for his own good, and where he thought of himself as a nice guy, he also knew he was judgmental, arrogant and a little conceited. He and Bradley shouldn’t have gotten along the way they were. Yet that seemed to be the case.
When the tour ended, and the two men wandered outside and into the open air, Bradley said pretty much exactly what Sherman had been expecting and although his heart dropped, he had spent the minutes leading up to it in mental preparation so it wouldn’t hurt so bad.
“Well, I guess I better get going,” Bradley said with a sigh. “I can only do this whole art thing for so long, you know?”
“Yeah, totally,” Sherman agreed like he was perfectly fine with it. “It gets a little stuffy.”
“Ha, I know right,” Bradley laughed. “But I also have some stuff I need to do is all – plus you said you had plans, right?”
“Yeah, I do.” Sherman was doing his best to sound cool and collected. Even shrugging in as nonchalant manner as he could. “I have this tour I’ve paid for already. Starts up this afternoon.”
“A trip through the Dutch countryside right,” Bradley smirked. “Sounds like a time.”
The two men then stood there for a second, with neither seeming to know what to say. ‘Goodbye’ was the obvious choice, but Sherman sure as fuck wasn’t going to be saying it first.
“How long did you say you’re here for?” Bradley then asked. “In the Dam, I mean.”
“Another two days,” Sherman spoke quickly. “Most of it is with this tour group though – but also, like... I’m not married to the idea of hanging out with them the whole time. We do have a whole month together.”
“Na, I can’t imagine you wanting to marry a tour group,” Bradley joked. At least Sherman thought it was a joke. “Well... like... I’m busy the rest of the day... but tomorrow —”
“Okay!” Sherman could have punched himself. He took a deep breath and said much more coolly, “I mean, yeah —- what were you saying?”
Bradley blinked a few times, like he didn’t understand the reaction. “Just that we should hang out again. Maybe tomorrow? I’m wide open.”
Sherman could have kissed him he was so happy! But he refrained. Instead, he pulled out his phone and added Bradley's number, not his Instagram though, as Sherman wasn’t big into that platform and Bradley was a little odd about handing it over. They then made loose plans – to be confirmed later tonight – to meet up the next day. And then, before Sherman had a chance to do or say anything else that might have embarrassed him beyond repair, he said his goodbyes and just about sprinted from Bradley.
Once he was alone and out of sight, he slowed down, took a few deep breaths and got about unpacking what had been a very unexpected morning.
Working in travel, Sherman had heard his fair share of travel romance stories. They were always hyper-stylized, a little exaggerated and framed as being the most romantic, hottest, best experience of every single trip ever, regardless of how they ended. It was an experience that Sherman had never had, nor even dreamed of, until now. And although he and Bradley were just hanging out and presumably friends, something told him that maybe, just maybe, he might have a chance...
Fuck, even if nothing happened and the two men never saw one another again, Sherman was already sure this was going to be a highlight of his trip. A shame really that he couldn’t add it to the Single’s Through Europe package he was trying so desperately to improve. The darn thing would sell out in seconds if Bradley were attached.
As it stood now, he would have been willing to ditch the tour and hang out with Bradley for the rest of the month he was here, consequences be damned. But then Sherman took another deep breath and gave his head a shake. He was getting far too ahead of himself. Seriously, odds were that Bradley wouldn’t even bother contacting him again. Why the heck would he?
Chapter Five
Bradley had never gotten a blowjob from an older man before. His sexual partners were always in their mid-twenties like him, with the oldest maybe being thirty... but that was just a guess as the man Bradley was thinking about had never officially confirmed or denied his age. But that wasn’t relevant. What was relevant was how freaking good this blowjob was... like, fucking hell! It was so good that it had Bradley wondering if all older men sucked dick this way, or if it w
as just Sherman.
“Don’t... stop...” Bradley groaned through his clenched jaw as Sherman ran his tongue up and down his shaft like it was an ice cream cone melting in the sun. “Please... don’t... stop...”
“I wasn’t going to, babe.” Sherman unlatched his mouth for just long enough to spit the words out, before then literally spitting on Bradley’s cock and swallowing it whole again.
“Good...” Bradley groaned and ran his hand through Sherman’s thick black hair as if petting him for good behavior. This seemed to encourage Sherman, who started sucking harder. “Fuuuuuuuck!”
It was ten in the morning on Bradley’s last day in Amsterdam. He was in his B & B, sitting on the edge of his bed, completely naked and enjoying the best blowjob he’d ever gotten in his life. It was so unexpected, so random, so totally out of left field that up until the moment that Sherman wrapped his lips around his cock, Bradley hadn’t been expecting it. Not one little bit.
Not that he minded. God no, he didn’t mind at all.
Sherman was on his knees, parked between Bradley’s spread legs and of course, fully clothed. He had one hand gripped around Bradley’s full balls, squeezing and tugging them gently; it felt incredible. As he did this, his mouth worked Bradley’s shaft and head like a pro; he licked, he sucked, he spat, he slapped, he nibbled just a bit and he gagged. It was art, is what it was and where Bradley had never been one for art... well, Amsterdam had changed him.
“How do you like that cock?” Bradley asked without thinking. He wasn’t even that into dirty talk! But this was bringing it out in him.
“Are you kidding?” Sherman spat on Bradley’s meat and began to stroke him. As he did, he met his eyes – they were hungry and wild – and smirked. “I can’t get enough.”
“Show me.” Bradley wrapped his hand around Sherman’s head and guided it back onto his dick. Sherman didn’t hesitate.
The more Bradley thought about it though – as Sherman continued to suck and lick at his head like a thirsty puppy finally being offered water – the more he came to realize that there was nothing random about this at all. Really, he couldn’t believe he didn’t see it coming. But maybe that was just because Sherman was so unlike any guy he’d ever met, or been with, before.
It had started at that museum. Actually, it had started before that, when those two dudes had robbed Bradley right on the street. For Bradley, that had acted as a real eye-opener too. He thought this whole travelling thing would be easy, that people overseas would be nice, and that he’d cruise through the month with no real worries. It was around the time he had a knife pointed at him that he realized just how ignorant he was.
But then Sherman turned up out of nowhere and everything just seemed to get better from that point onwards. Sherman had been kind to him, he had been genuine. He hadn’t wanted anything, or tried to take from Bradley. Really, all he wanted was to make sure that he was all right.
By the time that Sherman had walked Bradley to where he was staying, that robbery was a pesky memory at best and when Sherman suggested that they hang out the next morning, he couldn’t see a reason not to. Fuck, he actually wanted to.
The museum was a fun little choice, and provided plenty of content for Bradley too. The first half of the morning was spent exclusively trying to get new photos to upload. Jackson had seen his story from the night before and this had given Bradley a new lease on life. He literally buzzed with energy and excitement at the idea of Jackson seeing him in a museum with some other guy. He would be so envious!
So, he got about taking photo after photo after photo. He took them, he edited them, he uploaded them and then... well, then he became bored. But not with the museum, with the process. What was the point on all of this if Jackson wasn’t going to engage with him and respond to the photos? Did he even care? It was a confronting thought and when it came to Bradley, he started to realize how silly he was being. As such, and seeing as he was in the museum, he may as well pay a little attention.
It was around this point that he started to have a good time. And that was on account of both the museum, and Sherman.
“You know, they have a comp going for today,” Sherman had started after an hour straight of Bradley trying to get as many selfies as he could. “The first person to take a picture with every piece in here gets a prize.”
“Really?” Bradley had fallen for the trap. “What’s the prize?”
In response, Sherman looked down his nose and raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘Really?’
“Right...” Bradley had then conceded, feeling himself go a little red. “That was... that was dumb.”
“Only a little,” Sherman had agreed. “But hey, maybe if you do take a picture with every piece in here, they’ll give you a prize anyway. That kind of dedication deserves it!”
Sherman wasn’t anything like the kind of guys that Bradley usually hung out with. And not just the ones he was sleeping with, or trying to sleep with either. But all men, regardless of Bradley’s intent. For obvious reasons, the men who entered and usually stayed in his life were usually... well, better looking. And a lot better looking at that.
Truly though, Bradley had never really thought about it before. He was handsome, so he had just always assumed that the people in his life should be the same too. It was never purposeful, but it always ended up that way. What he was starting to realize now with Sherman was that there was a definite upside to hanging out with someone that wasn’t so obsessed with looks.
Sherman was funny. Sherman was witty. Sherman was clever. Sherman was kind. Really, Sherman was just a good time to be around. The morning at the museum was an eye-opener for Bradley and when it ended, he was surprised to find out that he wanted more. Unfortunately, both men were busy that afternoon and night... well, Sherman was, and Bradley had planned on spending it in his room, preparing his next set of Instagram posts anyway. So, they made plans for the next day.
“I... do you have any condoms?” Bradley suddenly blurted. Back in the room with Sherman still slobbering up and down Bradley’s member, Bradley suddenly decided a simple blowjob wasn’t going to be enough.
“Really?” Sherman blinked his surprise, but failed to hide his eagerness too. “I thought this was just going to be...?”
“Fuck it,” Bradley exhaled. Sherman still had his very hard cock gripped between his right hand; soaking wet, as hard as a plank of wood, and throbbing uncontrollably. There was no way this was stopping at a blowjob.
“Fuck it,” Sherman agreed with a satisfied smirk. “Here, let me —” He was quick to let go of Bradley’s cock, hop to his feet and rummage through his wallet. A second later and he had a fresh condom in his hand.
“That was quick.”
“I prefer the word efficient.”
A moment’s pause. “Well?” Bradley growled.
Sherman smiled to himself as his free hand went to his belt. A little fiddling and his pants were on the floor, followed by his jocks. After that it was his shirt, another bit of fiddling with the condom and Sherman was back on his knees, rolling it over Bradley’s aching erection.
“God, you are hard,” Sherman praised.
“Surprised?”
“Pleased, more like it. Very pleased.”
With the condom on, Sherman got to his feet and then straddled Bradley. When Bradley had woken this morning, all he’d planned with Sherman was a nice breakfast as a means to say goodbye and thanks for the fun. This had certainly not been on the menu...
The day after the Van Gogh Museum was even more enjoyable than the museum had been. The two men rented bicycles and spent the entire day riding through the main streets of Amsterdam, following the canals and traversing the gorgeous parks that made up large swarths of the city. When they were done with that, they moved out of the city and Sherman took Bradley on the path he had travelled the previous day with his tour group.
“How was that?” Bradley had asked when Sherman had brought it up.
To this, Sherman rolled his eyes. �
��Boring,” he sighed. “Oh, so very boring.”
“Oh yeah, why’s that?” Bradley smirked. “Because I’m not on it, right?”
“Obviously,” Sherman had agreed as if he meant it. He then blew dismissively through his lips. “Just the people on it. All middle-aged men and women, all as boring as the heel of a shoe.”
“The heel of a shoe?” Bradley frowned in confusion. He had no idea what that meant. This happened a fair bit with Sherman, who was a little smarter than Bradley.
“Boring, dull, uninteresting,” Sherman laughed. “Unless you find shoe heels interesting.”
“Not lately,” Bradley laughed. “I’m more of a sneaker’s guy anyway.”
That night, they went to dinner. It wasn’t anywhere fancy, just a café on one of the canals. They had a few drinks, ate enough to feed five people and really just enjoyed one another’s company.
When dinner was over with, they both decided it was time to do what everyone did in Amsterdam, and that was get high. There were literally hundreds of venues to buy weed in the city and it was a crime that they hadn’t done so yet. As such, they went into the first place they found, bought a joint, walked together to a nearby park and lit up like it was legal... because it was.
“Have you ever done this before?” Bradley asked cautiously as Sherman lit the joint between his lips.
It was still reasonably early in the evening, but the sun had well and truly set by now, throwing the night sky into the complete darkness. But where the city was lit up nice and bright, Bradley and Sherman had tucked themselves away in the corner of the park, hidden by the darkness.
The view however was transcendent. Not only could they see actual stars in the sky, as well as what had to be a full moon, but the lights coming from the city were a mirage of yellows and oranges and even reds. Dull music played out from the interior and laughter and cheering could be heard in the distance. It was as good a spot to get high as existed.
“Yeah,” Sherman chuckled. “Of course.” He sucked in lightly and then blew out a small cloud of smoke. As he did, Bradley could see Sherman’s body relax. “I’m not that boring.”
