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for their open sex trade.

After recovering from jet lag, I wandered about the city. I'd created a flyer extolling my skill in making small cocks bigger. Not the specifics, just enough to create interest. I was looking for a print shop that would make copies that I could post around the city.

I found Niels De Groot's shop. Thankfully, he spoke English; it seemed everyone in Amsterdam spoke English. I'd planned on having the flyers printed in English, French, German and Spanish. The ads proclaimed a miracle cure for men who were afflicted with a small penis.

Niels was amenable to creating the flyer, but "what is this miracle cure?"

He was a man in his forties, almost as old as my father, but not as old as Professor Germano. I was embarrassed to tell him.

He could see my face turn red. "Miss, you are new to Amsterdam, perhaps, I should show you around. I will be your guide."

Niels did show me much of Amsterdam; it was when we got to the red-light district, the old Sailors' Walk, that he said, "I think this is where you want to find space for what did you call it, your clinic? The authorities won't bother you here, but you do have to register with them."

I was in awe. I knew the sex trade was legal here, but so open. Yes, this is where I should be located. "Now that you've seen Amsterdam, Dory, how about dinner? We have some lovely restaurants overlooking the canals.'

Like with Professor Germano, one thing led to another and it wasn't just dinner.

It didn't take long for me to discover that Niels De Groot was not going to be in need of my services. What I'm trying to say is that when I got in his pants, I was holding the biggest, fattest cock I'd ever encountered. If you've been following along, you know I'd encountered a lot of cocks.

Thankfully in my bag I had a tube of lube. It had become normal for me to always have some handy. You never know when good fortunate will strike. Like now: good fortune struck. It was the weekend and the print shop was closed. It was the weekend and Niels and I barely got out of bed.

I became familiar with every crack and every brush stroke in the ceiling of my hotel room. My knees became familiar with the softness of the carpet in my hotel room. Niels' knees became familiar with the softness of the carpet in my hotel room; to say nothing of the taste of my pussy. "Dory, I don't think the women of Amsterdam, even the whores, bare their pussies. It's not just tasty, it's beautiful."

"Niels, I think you should taste it again, just to make sure your tongue isn't deceiving you," I giggled as I pushed his head back down. He was a very talented pussy eater, and a great fuck. That big cock made me swoon.

We did find time to go shopping for space in the red-light district and I needed to find a shop or pharmacy which sold lube. I'd run out soon. What a marvelous city Amsterdam was. I still had the remnants of jet lag and I was already running out of lube.

While in bed Sunday morning, "Dory, I get the sense that even though you're beautiful and fantastic in bed, you're not a prostitute. What is it you do?"

Even now, lying in bed naked with a man who I'd fucked and blown; a man whose tongue was familiar with my pussy, I blushed. I was embarrassed to say. I took a deep breath. "Niels, I have a magic pussy."

"I know that. Delicious, beautiful and my cock's never been so hard as when I'm fucking it."

I laughed, "except when I'm sucking it." "Yes, there is that, but . . ."

I told Niels about those small cock guys.

"You're kidding. You mean . . ."

"Yep. It takes about three months, two or three times a week, and presto, my pussy works its magic. Now, Niels. Don't get any ideas. You're welcome to my pussy anytime, but I can't imagine making this masterpiece any bigger." I went down on him.

When I filled out the paperwork with the health authorities, Niels was there to help with the translation and any misunderstandings. The Health Department inspector was skeptical. Niels translated, "he said that we do not tolerate any what you Americans might call a snake oil salesman working the legitimate trade in the district, but he'll let you open your business."

I called my shop, IT'S LIKE MAGIC. Niels helped me find an ideal spot in the district. I wasn't sitting in the window showing off those 36Ds or my pussy, but the flyers, and some advertising in some not so underground papers seemed to attract customers.

When I explained in person how it worked. Men were ecstatic. Niels gave me a rough idea how much I should charge in Euros, American dollars, etc.

The bad news was that very few tourists were here for three months, which I thought was the minimum it should take for my magic to work. To my surprise, some male tourists didn't care. They just wanted to eat pussy. Young, bare pussy. Mine was available for a price.

They came for one, one hour session. Some were very talented; others not so much. In a sense, I didn't care. I was getting my pussy licked and getting paid for it.

The regulars who paid for a three-month session were different. I insisted that they needed to do my pussy two or three times a week for an hour session. They insisted I teach them to become a good pussy eater. By the time some of them came for their fifth or sixth session I was having orgasms. It was marvelous.

The first session with a client was part professional services and part ‘getting to know you.' I'd help him get hard, and when he was fully erect, I'd take a few pictures, which I kept in a digital file. Three months later, I'd take more pictures and we'd compare the results. I had an almost 100% success rate. There was no question, DORY HANRAHAN HAD A MAGIC PUSSY.

You probably want to know what happened with Niels. Even though he was over twenty years older than me, we became sort of a couple.

I limited myself to three one-hour sessions per day with clients, and within a few months, I was usually booked four days a week. That's all I worked.

I'd come home and most evenings Niels was waiting. I definitely didn't need my pussy eaten, but as you can imagine, it could use a good fucking. And I was usually in the mood to suck his cock. Niels, with a smile on his face, was more than willing to make his long, fat, hard cock available. What a guy.

When I say, I didn't need my pussy eaten, you have no idea how hard that was for me to say. I'd come back to my apartment, take a shower and Niels would be waiting in bed. "Dory, I've been looking forward to your pussy all day." He'd start to go down on me.

"Please, no Niels." A blowjob compensated for my lack of interest in getting eaten. Most of the time he understood.

The word spread among men interested in what It's Like Magic had to offer. I had a website, and to my surprise in Amsterdam there was a site like YELP. I was getting good reviews, not just in the city, but in the country and throughout Europe.

Perhaps you'll be shocked to hear that women inquired about my services. One woman, Anna, was typical. She sat in my office and cried and cried. She showed me pictures of her husband. Showed me pictures of his small worm-like erect cock. "Madam, you're ad indicated that you could help my husband; I can't stand it anymore. We've been married for ten years and this is what I get."

I tried not to laugh. When I explained how it all worked. Her eyes got big. "You mean . . ."

I nodded, and called Niels. His print shop was a short walk away. I needed him to translate for Anna, who I wasn't sure understood. After he clarified everything with her, she made an appointment for her husband, and paid me a significant amount upfront.

Other women were stunned and angry when I explained what their husbands would do to me. They ran out screaming at me in Dutch. I didn't need a translation.

There were other women who came. "Ummmm, I read on line that you have a magic pussy. I'm straight but I'd love to try a woman. This seems like the kind of place I could do that without any emotional attachment. You are discreet? I'd be so embarrassed."

Yes, I was discreet, but no, I didn't do women. I mean, AND I didn't let women do me.

Like the other girls who worked in the red-light district, I was required to be tested every month. The nurse took my blood, I gave her a urine sample and she took a swab from my mouth. These were done under the watch of a member of a health department administrator.

Then a doctor, a female doctor, physically examined my vagina and took a swab there, too. The very next day, I received the results.

To my surprise, a male from the health department came into my shop. I thought, perhaps, he was making sure my shop did what I was registered to do and had the requisite cleanliness. "No, ma'am, I'm a bit embarrassed to say that I'm here as a potential client." His name was Roon Van Der Hauten.

I treated him like any other client: professionally and three months later, we achieved success. Even I was impressed with the before and after pictures.

It was only then that Roon admitted, "Miss Dory, I have to confess I was assigned here as a spy. The Health Administration wanted to know if your business is what you claim it to be. We can't have the Dutch people and our tourists scammed." I can report without question that you are highly skilled and professional."

Then he said, only half aloud, "it is indeed like magic. My wife will be so pleased."

That's another thing, I strongly suggested that my clients stay away from their wives or lovers while they're in therapy. Therapy, that's what I called it.

Perhaps, I should have made it clear, in those therapy sessions those men ate my pussy; my magic pussy. There was no fucking and no blowjobs.

"Roon," I laughed, "are there members of the Health Department who are charged with spying on the other girls in the district? Nice work, if you can get it."

"Oh yes, we have a small department that's all they do. It's their job. They are by all accounts professional. I doubt my wife will let me apply."

"Roon, may I suggest that you take the rest of the day off, and take care of your wife. Don't forget your tongue work. You've become very talented."

I sent him on his way. I was certain that in a few days, there would be a glowing report in my Health Department file, along with my monthly clean bill of health.

One day Roon came into the shop with a woman. "Miss Dory this is my wife, Alissa. She'd like a word with you."

I was concerned that she'd be angry.

Just the opposite. She had stars in her eyes, and the biggest smile. "Madam, I can't thank you enough. Roon is like a new man. We've been married twelve years, and it's like our honeymoon all over again." She leaned close to me, and whispered. "It's so much bigger now, and the things his tongue does to me." She nodded to me, and her smile got even bigger.

For ten years, I worked in my Amsterdam shop. I can't tell you the number of clients I successfully worked with. In all those years, there were only four or five that I failed with. I gave them their money back. It was only right.

Those tourists who came for just one session; who just came to eat my magic pussy I charged more. A lot more. They didn't seem to care, and they came from everywhere. Cruise ships from all over the world stopped in Amsterdam. In addition, Amsterdam was a major airline hub. More than one tourist told me, "Dory, my travel agent told me I could save some money flying through London or Frankfurt, but when I checked on line, you had an opening this afternoon. I didn't hesitate to book a reservation. Your pussy is definitely worth the money." He put his face back in my bush.

Some of those men weren't very good, but others were the most amazing pussy eaters, Unless I had another client scheduled after them, one hour often stretched to two. No extra charge.

I can't tell you which culture, race, ethnicity were the best pussy eaters, but I will suggest this strongly to the ladies, especially older women. Get a wax. Young men loved my pussy, but men in their fifties and sixties went wild when I spread my legs for them. Spread my legs and showed them my bare, fat pussy lips. More than one old guy paid for a double session; I thought he might have a heart attack.

Through all those years, Niels and I continued our relationship. Once I closed the shop for good, he was so grateful, he could spend more time eating me and I came to appreciate his excellent oral skills.

Professional sex was okay, but taking the emotion out of it, which happened 99% of the time, was not the same as loving sex. Technically, Niels wasn't any better a pussy eater than some of those tourist guys, but I knew Niels loved my pussy.

Oh, and for all the eating he did, his long, fat cock did not get any longer or fatter. He didn't see the magic.

THE END

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