Emily's trip home went by with little incident at first. She enjoyed sitting in the bar, reminiscing about her experiences of the past two days.
A lot had changed. Before her trip, only two men had been privileged enough to know the feeling of sliding his cock into her lovely, slippery little pussy.
Now, on the journey back, that number had increased to eleven. Emily tried to picture the different men. She found that she could recall their cocks much easier than their faces. Joe, Rowan, Jason... that German guy, what was his name?
With a delicious shiver of realisation, Emily acknowledged that she knew the names of only three of the nine men who had fucked her yesterday. The majority she'd had sex with she had absolutely no idea what they were called. Many she didn't even know their nationality. That was an extraordinary feeling.
Emily was interested to see that a few tables down from where she sipped her cocktail sat the second guy who'd fucked her earlier today. He was probably a little older than Stephen, her son, and was with his girlfriend or wife. She wondered what his excuse had been when he'd slipped away to fuck a whore that afternoon.
Emily liked this situation. It was similar to the wedding when the guy's partners were with them. It meant Emily could tease and flirt as she saw fit, and the poor men were powerless to even acknowledge they knew her. She found this really hot.
Wickedly, she even struck up a conversation with his girlfriend, exchanging pleasantries about the sights of Amsterdam and the weather. The guy looked like he was about to faint in fear, his cock having been inside Emily only hours earlier that same day.
The next morning, she was packed and ready to disembark by nine. One thing she hadn't considered until now was the fact that her little flight bag, which she wheeled behind her like a dog on a leash, was crammed full of pornography. Hardcore porn like this was, in 1994, illegal in the U.K.
This gave her a sudden fear of discovery. Unknown to her, Emily was already on the radar of the customs people even on her trip out. A woman travelling alone to Amsterdam was always of some interest, but not usually for the reasons Emily had made the journey. As well as the capital of sex, Amsterdam was also a capital of drugs.
The customs guy was watching out for her. Emily's startled and scared reaction as he'd pulled her to one side indicated they had been right to single her out. But as she opened her case at his request, the contraband inside wasn't quite what he was expecting.
"Oh!" was all he could say. Lacy underwear and a pile of porno magazines were topped off by a large, realistic cock. Emily's lipstick was still visible halfway down the shaft from where she was fantasising about sucking a real one, just last night.
Emily was blushing red. But she wasn't embarrassed, she was terrified -- she had no idea what the consequences for smuggling hardcore pornography into the country were.
"I... I'm sorry," was all she could say at first. Colin, the customs guy, was still registering what was happening.
"Listen, I know this looks bad. I'm not a criminal, really, I'm not. What will happen to me?"
Colin had noticed how stunning Emily was when he'd been tasked with apprehending her. Looking at her pleading face now, she was even better looking than he'd remembered. And she was completely at his mercy.
"You'll need to wait, come with me." He held her arm firmly and led her to a door, along a corridor and into a small room which they used for strip searches.
"Wait here," he said sharply, locking the door. This was against protocol. Generally, they'd turn a blind eye to porn, unless it was coming in containers for mass sale. But the sexy girl he'd just locked up didn't know this.
Emily sat in the little room, just a chair and table for company. There wasn't even a window.
"Shit Emily! Shit!" she scolded herself. She was so desperate to bring home all her magazines she'd not even considered something like this could happen. The twenty minutes she sat and stewed felt like hours. Eventually Colin returned, carrying Emily's case solemnly.
Colin was examining Emily's cargo. When he caught sight of that amazing picture of Emily and two cocks on the front of 'Fuck!' magazine, his heart began pumping as fast as Emily's. Once he'd examined the other magazines and realised he had a genuine porn star locked in the interview room he firstly wondered if this was a setup.
He could just imagine Dave or one of the team doing something like this. If the subject matter wasn't so adult, he could have seen it as an episode of 'Candid Camera' or something.
But even if it was a setup, he wasn't going to miss this opportunity. He didn't consider himself to be a bad man, but he knew he was going to take advantage of his position. He felt like he had no choice. A chance like this would never happen again.
Emily stood, face a picture of contrition. Colin had formulated a plan, but there was no need -- Emily did everything for him.
"Oh, thank god, I was beginning to think I was stuck here forever!" she gasped. "Listen, can we please just forget this ever happened? I never thought for a moment -- I mean, that's just it, I didn't think. I'll never do anything like this again! Please, is there anything I can do?"
At these last words, Colin raised his eyebrow. That was all Emily needed. Suddenly she was on familiar territory. Her heart didn't stop pumping, but she recognised there was a way out here, and she found herself standing close enough to Colin that her breasts slightly brushed against the black jacket of his customs uniform.
"Did you look?" she asked quietly. "At the magazines?"
Colin nodded.
"Right. So, you know?"
He didn't react, just stared at her. To make sure he got a full appreciation of what was in front of him, Emily stood.
She had one route out of this. She bunched her hair up in one hand and turned. Colin's heart missed a beat. Emily was holding her hair up, seemingly inviting him to unzip her dress. And as his hands fumbled with the zip, he saw the word 'Whore' emblazoned across the base of her slim, long neck.
"Whore," he repeated, quietly.
"Yes," Emily confirmed. She turned her head around to meet Colin's eyes, She had him. "I'm yours. You can do anything you want with me -- on the understanding that I walk away with my bag and my stuff. Is that OK?"
Unsurprisingly it was. Colin was a married man, but his marriage hadn't featured much sex for quite a while now. His shift had actually finished now and there wasn't another boat for hours. They wouldn't be disturbed.
"Here's the deal," he said. "Two hours, you don't get to say 'no' to anything."
"Sounds like fun!"
Colin soon realised that Emily didn't have 'no' in her vocabulary. The way she eagerly opened her throat to allow him to fuck her face roughly. The way she sucked her own juice from his fingers. The way she pushed back as his finger and then his thumb pushed up inside her anus -- she was enjoying this as much as he was.
At that glance from Colin the fear had left Emily, and the thrill had come rushing back. This situation was suddenly unbelievably hot. Being locked up and taken advantage of like this -- what girl wouldn't get wet at the thought?
Colin came inside Emily after only five minutes. His cock was immediately presented to her mouth and she licked and sucked him clean as he watched his sperm slide out of her cunt. He handed her the dildo from her case and took out a copy of 'Cum Queens'.
"Fucking hell, look at you. What a fucking slut!" he said, the slight note of distain in his voice really hitting the spot for Emily. "Read it!"
He tossed the magazine over to her. Emily worked the dildo inside herself. It met little resistance and soon it was pumping in and out firmly.
"Emily Stainthorpe is addicted..." She began. The climax came from nowhere. She could see herself in the full-length mirror, spread open, cum trickling out of her pussy. Colin was pulling his cock which was rapidly approaching another full erection, and his eyes were glued to her cunt. She almost blacked out with pleasure, losing all power of speech.
Colin waited patiently, wanking slowly at the sight of this utter whore aroused almost to the point of unconsciousness, his sperm smeared across her thighs and one hand kneading a full, firm breast urgently. Eventually Emily was able to continue.
"Emily Stainthorpe is addicted to cum."
Colin reached out and picked up her passport from her bag. 'Emily Stainthorpe', it said clearly beneath the unsmiling picture. What kind of slut was this? She didn't even use a pseudonym.
"Is that true?" Emily nodded. One hand masturbating with increasing urgency, Colin loaded his fingers with the sperm which had pooled on the hard plastic chair Emily sat on and fed it to her. She smiled wickedly, accepting the disgusting mess into her mouth with delight.
"Emily is one of those girls who can never get enough," she continued, sperm tricking from the corner of her mouth. "Once one cock has served its purpose, she's immediately looking for the next."
Colin stood her up and spun the chair around, pushing her roughly forward so she could brace herself against the back.
"Oh, fuck that's hot!" she said involuntarily as Colin's tongue found its way to her anus. He spent a little time there and Emily loved the feeling of the tip of his tongue working deep into her ass, being replaced by a finger and then his thumb again, before he stood and began nudging the tip of his cock in there.
This was perfect, Emily thought. Only yesterday she'd made a mental note that she needed to get her asshole fucked soon, and she couldn't have picked a better situation.
Colin had the head inside quite easily, and from there it was a case of slowly working in and out, allowing Emily to stretch to accommodate him. Soon he was in a rhythm. He handed Emily the magazine so she could continue reading to him.
