Eurotrip Pt 01 1

This will end up, eventually, being a series of companion tales that provide backstory to some, if not most, of the videos in the series by Ddsims, an artist of sorts, who creates scenarios and puts them to action using template characters from the Sims game series. A simple search engine will yield results if you want to learn more about his fun videos. This particular video of his is about a couple that goes to Europe backpacking, but an act of wild infidelity threatens to break up this otherwise somewhat prosperous marriage. So here goes....

John and Becky walked through the Van Gogh Museum, the last stop before they called it a day during their stay in Amsterdam. They arrived a week prior in Prague, no hotel reservations, no idea how they would get around, a bold venture, indeed. The reason for such an intentional failure to plan was that they hosted a party with friends who did just what they were now attempting to do. They just hopped a plane and jumped the pond. Once they arrived in Rome, they drifted around until they got tired, found a hostel, which is not difficult to spot as you walk the streets most anywhere in Eastern Europe, checked in for the evening, and set out next day to continue their adventure. They said it was the best way to enjoy that part of Europe.

Upon hearing about this exceptionally rewarding trip, a trip that John and Becky's friends said was the most fun they ever had in their lives, the couple decided to follow suit. A few days later, they, too, booked a flight to Prague, a flight to a place that would end up changing their perspectives on Europe, and the mechanics of their relationship permanently.

Early on, John and Becky loved the unnecessary need to plan and create an itinerary for the trip. All they had to do was arrive at the airport 2 hours ahead of their flight with their passports in hand and the rest would fall into place.

John was searching the area surrounding Airporter Prague, their landing airport, to see if finding a roof to sleep beneath would be any sort of hassle. But when his search yielded the results, he was pleasantly surprised to find that, just around the airport within 5 miles, there were over 20 businesses providing a place to sleep for the night. "Baby, this spot by the airport looks like a nice enough hotel to bed for the eve....."

John was breaking a rule that both he and Becky promised to abide by, so Becky interrupted, "John, what did we decide about this trip. No peeking. Peeking is the same as planning," Becky said through a smile exposing her perfectly white teeth. She was a slim and yet resilient woman, very into swimming and volleyball, and built as such with toned arms and powerful muscles lining her legs. Her least favorite part of her body were her breasts, which John really liked. They were small, yet perky, so that when topless (and she was topless quite often), they looked like they were staring at him. Any time she even hinted at the idea of getting implants, John always said, "Baby, I'll leave you so fast, it will make the land speed record in Guiness.". But then he'd laugh as she smirked at him.

He knew he had a good thing with Becky, who was, by any normal standard of attraction, his better. He was decent looking, but standing next to her, he knew he was dating a woman way out of his league. While mid-coitus, he would make mention his penis size and joke as Becky would about her breasts, "Would you look at that pathetic excuse for a child's penis? You know, I have half a mind to go in tomorrow to see about getting it enlarged!" His tone was playful, yet as he spoke these words, his inner monologue was secretly hoping she would affirm his "sarcastic" request. But she just responded as he did about her tits. "Your size is fine, honey." But John knew when she was lighthearted and when she was pensive. Any comment ending with the word "honey", when it came from Becky, could be taken with a grain of salt.

No matter, though. As far as they were both concerned, one had love for the other and vice versa and that was just fine by them.

A few weeks later, they arrived at the airport to board for Prague. Becky, the more daring of the two, decided to ask John, very quietly, if he was a member of the 'mile-high club' yet. John shot a very indubitable look toward Becky, whose smile creaked onto her face slowly, like the Cheshire Cat, as he rose to follow her to the tiny bathroom in back of coach. Becky was certainly looking forward to this time away from the doldrums of life, how things can become so consistent. She hated consistent. This trip was definitely off the beaten path and she was going to take advantage.

Many hours and two card carrying members of the mile-high club later, Prague was able to be seen from their airplane window. It was more beautiful than they had expected. As they saw the surface of this foreign country, both had different mindsets about this trip. John, ever the safety cop, just wanted to see the major attractions. "You know, baby, like Clark from National Lampoons Vacation," he'd say as Becky would mouth the same words from another part of the house with a mocking edge to the mimic.

There was no way, in her mind, that she was going to spend this time away from home like she spends her time when she IS home. She was going to open up. New experiences abound and she was hell bent on embracing the cultures of this new and uncharted land, uncharted from her point-of-view, anyway. And as for John, well she expected that he would see her behaving in accordance with the patterns of Eastern Europe and come aboard for the ride. This was a joint venture, after all.

So, one day, a week after their successful Prague landing, they found themselves in Holland, more specifically in Amsterdam. While there, they smoked in a coffee shop, they shopped at some high end boutiques, they ate Stamppot Stamppot, a delicious comfort food made from potatoes and sausage balled up and breaded, they even partook in some psychedelics with a few folks from England, there on holiday, and these activities tickled John's fancy, while Becky slowly started to resent her husband for being a square, for being a Clark W. Griswold, though it must be said that she did actually enjoy the psychedelics part. Otherwise, she gave the standard smiles and hand holding that each half must do to maintain the whole, but the more she went along this trip, the less she wanted to be around her husband.

Then came a point where, through circumstances arising from the fact that the hot water heater had broken in their current living space, John and Becky had to vacate and find another spot, for which the owner of the hostel they stayed in was happy to provide recommendations. Only 6 blocks walk from where they were was another hostel, and one with vacancies, so John and Becky, who packed light, were off within the hour of hearing the news about the hot water heater.

When they arrived at this new location, they were greeted by Hans, the proprietor, who was kind and, for a change, easy to understand, with an undeniable command of the English language, but who also had a wandering eye. John couldn't help but notice that those wandering eyes were often stealing glances at Becky, who was wearing tight leggings and a low-cut, dark blue t-shirt minus a bra. It gave him a hard on as they walked through the halls of the hostel to their room, but that quickly faded when he saw Hans, who, John knew, wasn't imagining holding her hand or accompanying her to a lovely meal at Denny's.

Their room was, in a word, small. The bed was a full size, a jump down from their previous living quarters' king size amenities. The bathrooms were, of course, shared, but there were no locks on any of the doors and the showers were enclosed in a glass. Even the bedrooms were accessible by any who desired to enter. This made John extremely uneasy. Becky, however, was galvanized about the open contact between possible future friends. She was here to see Europe and to see it with open doors was the best way to experience it. She felt lead to speak sense to her husband to reassure him that if they remain open to the lifestyle that this encourages, both will have a spectacular time.

"John, it's been fun here and you seem to be enjoying yourself. Don't let something so trivial ruin this experience for you."

"But Becky, this place practically promotes sexual deviance. What if you are showering and get walked in on by someone? That would be horrible. Wouldn't it?" John was insecure in a place like this. He felt undeserving of his well-toned bride and knew, deep down, that she would jump at the chance to take some stranger's foreign cock up any one of her holes.

"........Yes. I can't imagine that my reaction would be an inviting one, but I think you're blowing this way out of proportion. The shower pressure here is strong stuff. You can hear it hitting the shower walls from outside the closed door of the bathroom. Who would walk into a bathroom, locked or otherwise, when they can hear that someone is obviously occupying it?"

This calmed John, more because he knew that if he carried on, it was liable to piss off Becky, but he still bore feelings of diffidence within that he decided he would suppress and just hope for the best.

In a hostel, it is a matter of keeping your eyes open if you want to know who else is sharing the living spaces. Lucky for them, John and Becky had their own bedroom, but still, they had to share the bathroom, kitchen, and entertainment area, which consisted of nothing more than a rickety ping pong table, a TV, and not a flat screen, but an ancient thing with one of those cathode ray tubes inside, so old that, considering it's age, it was probably worth more as an antique than it was when it was newly purchased. So movie watching was out of the question.

For Becky, though, that was just fine, as she swiftly grabbed a towel and bag filled with toiletries, let John know she would be back after the shower, and exited the bedroom. John was unnerved as he sat in a chair at a lit table in the room doing a crossword.

Becky, to be honest, was a bit shy. Just in case someone wasn't paying attention and barged in while she was showering, she decided to leave her panties on as she showered. This was a moment she had waited for, longed for, all day, but now, after all they had been through with the last place they had to vacate, she was going to make this shower count. When she stepped into the cubicle, about 7'x7' in size which made it quite roomy, she spent the first 5 minutes with her face directly in the path of the stream of the shower head allowing the water to cascade in waterfalls off her chin, her fingertips, and her spirited little titties.

After 5 minutes just being wet all over, her hands started traveling across and around her body until one of them stumbled, to her delight, upon her shaved pussy, her clit already beginning to react to her machinations. Her mind was also on a trip, as she stood dripping, letting the steamed water blast against her forehead. It opened up a fantasy about being accosted right there in the shower by someone who happened into the bathroom at the wrong time to find her fingering her dripping wet, smooth opening. Dizzying thoughts of others walking in to find her being taken by a brute, thinking they would rescue her, only to find that her would-be rescuers formed a line as they enter, waiting patiently for their turn inside her. She began a ravenous assault on her cunt, using the handle of a nearby back brush to penetrate her womanhood deep enough to elicit an impulsive squeal.

By now, she had shut her eyes to lock in all that precious imagery and lock out the rest of the the hostel's goings on. In doing so, though, she failed to see that two strange men, who looked to be around their late 20s, had been auditing her every move since the back brush made its contribution. Both had walked in together just to brush their teeth and go to bed, but ended up getting a front row seat to an attractive stranger playing with herself in the shower.

These two, who Becky would learn in short order were natives of Belgium, were bold. Europe was a bold place. Sex was more a sport than a conquest for these two travelers, unlike across the pond where sex tends to be something earned, like receiving a paycheck for a job well done. In Europe, there was a freedom that the Western Hemisphere had yet to experience. But Becky was about to experience it first hand.

As Becky stood daydreaming in the shower, the two friends, one dark skinned, but with facial features native to Northern Europe, one light skinned with dark features wherever skin wasn't at the forefront (eyes, hair, etc.), stripped down to nothing almost instantly. Both sported foreskin sheaths engulfing their cocks and wrapping tightly around their head and shaft so one could easily observe every bump and vein roiling beneath.

With Becky still unaware, the two men approached the steaming shower like a hunter would approach its target, so as to not frighten it. Once the door opened, Becky snapped out of her dream state to find these two fellow travelers ogling her body and stroking themselves. To save face, Becky attempted to act as though she was uninterested by angrily scolding the men and telling them to exit the bathroom. While these men did speak some English, the words used by Becky were foreign to them. But even if they understood, there was no way they weren't going to take her, regardless of her attempts to talk them out of it..

One of the men told her to get on her knees and followed that by placing a finger over his lips and giving the universal sign for quiet, "Sssshhhhhh." When she refused, the same man placed his hands above her head and pushed her down to her knees while the other pinched her nipples and spanked her. As he pushed her down, he couldn't help but notice how easily she gave in to the light pressure he applied to the top of Becky's head. With the water running down and layering her plump, yet firm, ass cheeks, the sound of the hand connecting with her tight ass flesh sounded more like a timpani. She finally relented and dropped to her knees, the water now pouring down on top of her head. Now, with both their cocks close enough that Becky could smell the last 24 hours of travel on their musty smelling balls, she knew what was next. And since she was just fantasizing about this very encounter, it seemed as if these guys arrived just in time. So without further pause, she geared up her hands and mouth for a pair of blow jobs.

She used her hands to pump both men for 30 seconds or so, then began voraciously attacking each cock with hands and/or mouth. She would even go as far as squeezing both men together and stuffing her face with both cocks at once.

In Dutch, the darker man commented to his friend, "Man, when we came in here and saw her, did you think the idea of just stepping into the shower would work?"

"Fuck no, guy! But I'm happy we took the chance!" Becky buried her face into the lighter guy's stomach, taking his cock far into her throat, which made his eyes roll back in his head while the word 'chance' came out of his mouth sounding like he just drank a fifth of Stoli.

His buddy just laughed hysterically. "Oh this is a good little cum slut. She likes the aggressive play!" Then in broken English, "Want hard bitch?!! I give you hard!!". The man with dark skin, while standing behind her, grabbed her head and aimed it upward making her arch backward so he could insert his cock into her mouth, giving him easier access to Becky's throat. As he defiled her, interrupting her breathing by holding his cock in her mouth, sometime for 30 or more second, his friend knelt down and began fingering her pussy and ass. Becky, not expecting the sudden breach of her practically unused rear entrance, didn't fight the assaulting fingers, but her body did visibly jolt when they entered her extremely tight anus. Two mind numbing orgasms later, both guys had Becky desperate to get a cock stuffed inside her. Which hole? From her point of view, as long as she was being used like a cheap whore to satisfy these men, they could just go ahead and push into her and let fate decide. All she knew was that her vacation had finally begun.

Becky stood, or more appropriately, was yanked to a standing position and pinned to the shower wall by both men, both of whom were easily 2 inches taller, 20-30 pounds heavier, and far more muscular. If she had any notion to try to loose herself from their controlling grasp, it soon became a memory once common sense took hold. Steam rose from the warm tiled floor as the scalding hot water sent plumes of light grey smoke ascending from beneath Becky's feet. The shower head was now aiming down the back of her head. From there, water funneled down the small of her back and between her rosy cheeks. The men were enjoying this view as it made her body seem slick with the flow of water creating a glass-like affect so the bathroom lights shown in bright rays of light off her back.

Several long moments passed spent just taking in the perfection of her body, then, in Dutch, "Goddamn, I wonder who she's here with? If she brought some girlfriends with her, we hit the jackpot, my friend," the dark man noted.

"Good point, but for right now, she clearly is into it and it would be rude not to indulge her.". The pair glanced in agreement at each other, smiled, and returned to their prize.

Becky, who didn't speak Dutch, was left, tits pressed against the slick green wall, and finally queried, "Hey, I still have plenty enough in me to handle your use of my holes and you've only used one of them! Finish what you started, mother fuckers!"

They had almost no idea what she was saying, but it didn't matter to them. On the other hand, Becky got so turned on when the men spoke in their native tongue. Just before the lighter skinned gent penetrated her dripping wet cunt, he grabbed her hair, pulled back so her ear was right next to his mouth, and degraded her with, "I'm fuck you, whore," and spit in her face.

The obvious misuse of 'I'm' in that statement needed to be addressed. It was turning Becky off every time she heard the the English language in incomplete utterances coming out of their mouths, So she, very slowly, attempted to make a request, which the two friends were polite enough to try to understand. They relinquished momentarily, giving her use of her arms, which would be necessary to convey the message. "You and you," she pointed, individually, at each of them as she said this, "No more English. Your language?"

Of course, the way this was spoken provided the clear indication of a question, so the dark man replied, "Deustche."

Becky looked down and saw how large they were, their foreskins still peeled back, tightly wound around their shafts. She took a deep, jagged, almost uncontrolled breath. She wanted to attack, but understood the importance of this exchange and continued, "Dirty talk......whore, slut, fuck toy is good.". 'Good' was accompanied by a thumbs up. "But no English. Do dirty talk in Dutch!" They got the message immediately.

The men didn't know if Becky was done with her request. For a long, tense moment in complete silence, the three stood there like some wild west three-way draw. Then, ever so gradually, a devious smile carved its way into her face, one so devilish, it seemed she wanted to taunt the men into performing all sorts of depravity upon her body. She went into a slight crouch. If they didn't take action, and soon, Becky made it so they would assume she would attack them. So they struck first and hard.

It was as if they could read each other's minds as the men both converged on Becky simultaneously, returning her to the wall from whence she began her plea. The dark man took her left arm in one hand and that same shoulder in the other and held it against the wall. The light man twisted her right arm behind her back, minding not to let his heightened emotional state cause him to injure her in any way, and held it there with his left arm while his right arm went down and started stroking his manhood. Whispering in her ear, he said in his native Dutch, "You are all the same, all whores for our enjoyment. I'm going to stick you so hard, you're never going to forget this night, bitch," punctuating that sentence by spitting at her.