Lindsay in Europe

When I finished high school, I got a scholarship to go to University of Virginia. That summer, I worked a little, but I decided to celebrate my success by taking a month off to go to Europe. Not that I could afford the Grand Tour to Paris, Rome, Amsterdam, and all that. Not back then, anyways. What my budget allowed was a month tooling around East Europe-- smaller palaces, yeah, but lower prices. More bang for the buck.

I have a distant cousin who lives in Munich, named Anja. Anja actually grew up in East Germany, so she knew all the hotspots in the Warsaw Pact. Even though I hadn't seen her since I was eight and she was eleven, she made up an itinerary for me over email.

At the end of July Anja greeted me as I arrived, bleary-eyed, at the Munich airport. She'd certainly changed in the ten years since I last saw her. She was tall and thin and statuesque, with long brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders and big brown puppy-dog eyes.

Now I'm quite the looker myself: blonde, with a button nose, legs that make men drool, and sort of medium-sized breasts--nothing huge, but super-perky and with little pink nipples like candy. Back in those days, though, I didn't have a lot of self-esteem. I was very shy, and along with it I dressed very conservatively. My backpack for my trip contained baggy shorts and t-shirts, and two of the least revealing bikinis you can find in stores. A nun would be happy wearing the clothes I wore in those days.

Anyways, when I saw Anja in the airport, I thought she was so dramatically beautiful that I just sort of slouched down and prepared to be the wallflower while she talked to all the guys. Anja was way too much of a sweetie to let me do that, though. She showed me off to all her friends as her exotic American cousin. For the first time in my life, I had guys fawning over me.

So about thirty-six hours after arriving in Munich I was having a magnificent one-night stand with Anja's muscular and extremely blond--I mean like practically albino--friend Ulrich.

I crashed on Anja's couch for three days--except for the one-night stand, when she kindly took the couch and let me get my brains fucked out in her bedroom.

Anja and her roommate didn't give a damn about being naked in front of me, which amazed me--none of my friends back home in Virginia would do that. They had practically no tanlines. Anja was one shade all over, except that her shaven pussy was a little lighter. While she always tanned topless, she couldn't always go totally nude. It shocked me because, you see, I'm not even from one of the comparatively sophisticated parts of Virginia. Ever heard of "Peterborough"? I didn't think so.

The two German girls had a good laugh at how I changed my clothes in the bathroom with the door locked. They shamed me into changing in the living room, where they giggled at my pubic hair--or rather, the fact that I didn't shave it.

Finally, they laughed at my bathing suits. "Your bottoms have more fabric than my grandfather's bathing shorts!" was how Anja put it.

After three days Anja had to get back to work, so I set out on my own. I went to Vienna, Prague, Budapest, all that. I mostly just did tourist stuff--palaces, art galleries, yeah. I hung out with whoever I happened to meet up with.

I had another one-night stand in Salzburg with a Mozart fanatic whose name might have been Markus, though maybe not. I can't quite remember. I was starting to realize that I was cute, though. I went around everywhere dressed in baggy t-shirts and shorts, and still hot guys were flirting with me! It was heaven.

In Budapest, a bunch of us tourists all staying in the same hostel went to a park and sunbathed. We girls talked about taking our tops off, but never did. We were with these three American boys, and they were a little too excited at the prospect of seeing our boobies. It kind of freaked us out.

I think back on that now and laugh how shy I was then. Not anymore. You see, the trouble with being from a place like Peterborough, Virginia, is that when the wind blows, you don't just bend with it. You fight and fight and fight and then you break in two.

That's approximately why a little over two weeks later Anja and I were high-tailing it out of Istria. We were sitting in the back of the bus discussing whether I should dye my hair so people wouldn't recognize me. And I couldn't believe how sore my pussy was.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

****

In Prague, I checked in to my hostel on a steaming hot summer afternoon. I was just exhausted from having been on the road all day, and sticky from the heat, and so the first thing I did was strip down and head to the shower. The place was deserted, so I felt no urge to hurry.

I let the cool water run over me until I felt refreshed. Then I got it steaming hot. I just stood there letting it pour over me for like ten minutes before I even started washing and shaving. Ever since I'd stayed with Anja, I'd been shaving my pussy completely. So I basically took off all my hair below the neck.

When I was done I rubbed my hands over myself. The baby-bum smoothness of my groin felt nice on my fingers, and my fingers felt great on my pussy. So pretty soon I had one hand rubbing my clit and the other tweaking my nipples. I choked off my moans as I came--at that point in my life I was always careful not to make a sound during sex.

I finished washing up after that and cut off the water. Still flushed from the heat and the orgasm, I thrust open the curtain and saw that not four feet away a guy about my age was standing at the sink shaving.

Oh, shit, I thought. This dorm is unisex.

I yelped, and he turned and raised his eyebrows. I quickly wrapped the towel around me.

He gave me an appreciative look, then said "Guten tag" casually.

I didn't answer--I turned beet-red all over and my legs felt like jelly. He misunderstood that for not understanding him, and tried "Hello" this time.

I ran. I bolted into the main room and over to my bunk, clutching my towel. There were other people in the dorm now--a girl and two or three boys. I got to my bed, and then I froze. The only place I could get dressed in private was back in the shower room, but I couldn't go back near that guy again. Not after I'd just gotten off in the shower with him standing a yard away. And then flashed him.

I couldn't look at the other boys in the room. I tried to imagine they weren't looking at me. I kept my back to them so I wouldn't catch a glimpse of them out of the corner of my eye. As my heart raced, I thought: calm down. You're being a hick. Why, these sophisticated European guys won't even notice you're naked.

But then, somebody coughed, and I practically jumped right out of my towel. I grabbed my shirt off the bed, but it was soaked with sweat. Disgusting; I couldn't wear that. I had to get in my backpack for underwear. I bent over and started rummaging through it.

As I did, I became acutely conscious of three things, pretty much simultaneously. First, I had shoved all my underwear into the deepest recesses of my pack. I had been thinking that if somebody searched my luggage at the border, I didn't want them poking through my unmentionables. So I'd hidden them. Which was not so clever after all.

Second, when I stood up straight in this towel it was barely long enough to reach the bottom of my ass. When I was bending over--as I was right then--my pussy had to be completely exposed.

Third, I had been so desperate to avoid looking at the boys in the room that I was facing directly away from them. Which meant my bare vagina was facing straight towards them.

That just about made me faint. I straightened up and tried to tug the towel back down over my ass, but all that accomplished was pulling it off. I caught it before it fell altogether. My pussy was covered now, but my breasts were completely bare. And now I saw that at the bunk beside mine, a boy and a girl were unpacking their things. The girl was ignoring me and glaring at the boy, who was doing a really lousy job of pretending not to stare at my naked body.

I tried to cover my breasts and nearly lost my towel. I grabbed the first item of clothing in my backpack, which happened to be a shirt. But that took both hands to put on--and when, totally desperate to cover up, I shoved it over my head as fast as I could, my towel dropped right off. I was standing there now completely bottomless.

I bent over again and grabbed--fuck, another shirt. My ass was right there for everyone to see. I was so red by then, all over, I must have looked like a lobster. Or like I'd been paddled.

I caught a glimpse of black fabric in my bag, and thought it must be my black shorts. So I yanked them out--but it wasn't them. It was the miniskirt I'd bought in Munich, when Anja was teasing me about not having brought any sexy clothes. It was shorter than anything I'd ever owned, and I hadn't dared to wear it yet. I didn't have much choice now, though. I slipped it on and zipped it up.

I was now wearing a t-shirt and a skirt you might call mid-thigh-length if you were a compulsive liar and talking to your grandma. And not a stitch underneath. My nipples were hard for some reason, and I had about two inches of fabric between my bare pussy lips and the outside world. But I was so mortified I just couldn't stand to be in that room anymore. I shoved my clothes back in my backpack, grabbed my money belt, and got out.

I went past the three guys and the girl, who were all trying to act casual. Right by the doorway, standing there enjoying the show, was none other than Shaving Guy himself. I pushed past him, caught a whiff of his aftershave, and noticed that he was actually seriously cute.

Then I was out in the empty hall, and the door swung shut behind me. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, and I realized for the first time that I was soaking wet. I had to work hard not to finger myself all the way right there.

I heard the three boys talking amongst themselves now that they thought I was gone. They weren't Europeans who were cool with nudity and all that. They were Americans too.

"Holy flying fuck!" one said. "These European chicks are unbelievable!"

****

Now I bet you're expecting to hear about my day wandering around Prague with no underwear, exposing myself to the world. Sorry. Chickened out. I went to a caf‚ and had a glass of wine and felt very risque, knowing that the slightest wrong move and I could flash everyone. But good old Southern Protestant guilt got me in the end. I went back up to the dorm, a little calmer now, and self-controlled enough to dress properly without exposing anything.

And meet Shaving Guy properly. His name was Franz. I put underwear on before we went out together that night, but I was still raging hot inside. We stumbled back into the dorm around four am, drunk. Everyone was sleeping, and so I pulled Franz into the bathroom. He kissed me, and I didn't think twice about what I wanted to do. I got my bra off while he pushed his tongue into my mouth, and then my panties, which must have ended up on the floor. I never saw them again.

I pulled away from him then, and with a wicked smile led him into that same shower stall. I turned away from him, facing the spout. I took one of his burly hands and put it under my shirt on my breasts. I brought the other down between my legs, where I was already warm and dripping.

"This was what I was doing while you were shaving," I whispered.

"Mm," said Franz. I'm sorry to say he had not turned out to be much of a conversationalist.

He was good with his hands, though. His thumb was inside me while he massaged my clit with his fingers, and he nuzzled my neck with his tongue. In no time at all, my knees were quaking from my orgasm. Twice in one day! Back then that was a once-in-a-blue-moon sort of thing.

But there was more coming. Franz had opened up his pants, and out sprung one of the most monstrous penises I had ever seen. I kind of wish I'd been able to stand hanging around with him for a little longer. I'd like to have gotten my hands on a ruler and found out just how big it was. Ten inches, maybe? And thick like a summer sausage.

He pushed it in gently at first, and I couldn't believe how I was being stretched. I'm from small-town Virginia, remember. I'm tight. Real fucken tight, as we say. Once he was all the way in he started thrusting harder and harder until he was pounding me. I was filled to the brim and with every thrust getting ready to explode again.

"Sweet Jesus," I moaned. "Harder." He obliged, and I could feel myself shaking as my third orgasm rose up. When it finally hit me, I wanted to scream, but I instinctively bit down on my lip--didn't want to wake anyone--and gasped instead.

He came at the same time, and moaned something I couldn't understand. Then he slowly eased his massive prick out of me. I had a sudden vision that when we opened the shower curtain, there would be another guy standing there shaving. He would say, "Guten tag!" and I would say, "Oh my! I'm so embarrassed!" and then he would whip it out and fuck me too.

There wasn't anyone there, though. Probably for the best. I don't think I could have taken any more after Franz's massive cock. Our hostel bunks were far too narrow for two to sleep in, so I kissed Franz goodnight, limped back to my bed, and was out like a light.