Many thanks to
HMAuthor
for first editing and improving this story and to BeautifulStorm, Edixxx and
Shygirlwhore
for additional invaluable help.
Magda never kept it a secret that she went through a wild phase while she was a student in Budapest.
She dropped hints a few times that she was ready to tell me stories about the old days that would astonish me. The implication was that her escapades would be a turn-on for both of us, and then we'd have hot sex.
But even though that was long before she met me, I didn't enjoy thinking about her being with anyone else, so I never responded to her suggestions. I could tell she was disappointed, but she respected my wishes.
By the time I got to know her, she was an American citizen and more mainstream, but far from tame. She was known as the hottest residential real estate agent in town in both senses. I don't know whether it was her brains, beautiful face, curves, good nature, sense of humor or sexy Hungarian accent that made her hugely successful -- probably some of each.
I fell hard, and for some reason, she chose me, although other guys she was dating were better looking and had more money. Our marriage was a good one, with two beautiful children and a wife who seemed to grow sexier, not older.
Our love life had lots of variety -- at least I thought so. We enjoyed surprising each other, and usually we both liked the surprises. I was less daring and never tried anything that I thought might make her uncomfortable. She didn't limit herself. Occasionally, I declined some of her more unusual ideas.
One of them was sticking her fingers in my ass. One finger was all right and even felt good when she moved it around as we made love, but sometimes she stuck a second finger in. That bothered me, and I stopped her. One time, before I could do that, she put a third finger in. I moved away and dislodged them and then jumped up.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"You know! I don't like that!"
"You are so unadventurous," she said. "You never want to try anything new."
"That's not true. I just don't like how that feels, and you want to take it even further, don't you?"
"I promise you I would be careful. I'm certain you could take all my fingers and even my whole hand in there. It just takes practice. The human body is very adaptable. You might even enjoy it. Unless you let me try, how will you ever know for sure?"
"I hate the idea, and I don't need to know for sure."
She looked irritated.
"Every time you want to try something new, I go along. Usually, I really like it, sometimes it does nothing for me and sometimes I can't stand it. I always tell you later -- when we're done, when I know for sure. If I didn't do that, we wouldn't be doing many of things that get you really excited.
"But whenever I suggest something unusual, you fight me. I could name a dozen things that you resisted at first, and now you love them. Aren't you glad you gave in?"
She was right, but I couldn't admit it, because she'd use that as ammunition in this argument. So I ignored her question.
"You know that if you say you don't want to do something, I never pressure you to do it," I said. "Why won't you do the same for me?"
"We're not talking about the children or where we eat," she said. "Don't change the subject. This is about sex. When have I ever not gone along with anything you wanted to try in bed?"
The argument didn't go on much longer, but long enough to break the mood. I turned on my night light and went back to the book I was reading before we began getting amorous. She went back to emails on her iPad. After an hour, I turned off my light and went to sleep. She was still working on her emails.
About a week later, she told me she wanted to take a vacation without the kids this year, because she wanted to show me around Budapest, and the toddlers were too young for the trip. A few months later, we left the kids with my parents and flew off.
She didn't have any family left in Hungary, because they had all moved to the States, but her college girlfriend, Juliska, still lived there and greeted us at the airport. She was even more voluptuous than Magda and showed it off in some skimpy, slutty outfits as the three of us explored the city for four days.
I soon found out that in Budapest, Juliska's clothing wasn't out of the ordinary. A lot of other beauties crossed our path as we wandered the streets, and most of them were dressed more like Juliska than Magda. Magda's outfits were considered risque at home but they looked tame in Budapest.
Juliska was a little out there, and conversations with her and Magda were a lot of fun, including lots of dirty jokes. Sometimes they were in Hungarian, and Magda translated.
Magda told me Juliska was in the Hungarian film industry and used to be an actress. Now she was mostly involved in production. Several times I caught Juliska looking at me intently, but when I noticed, she turned away. The looks were more like curious looks. She definitely never flirted with me the few times we were alone.
On the morning of our fifth day, the last day before we flew home, Magda announced that she and Juliska had arranged a memorable evening for that night.
"It will be a real souvenir of Budapest," Magda said at breakfast. "Juli won't be with us today, because she's working on it."
I figured it would be similar to our dinner with gypsy music a couple of nights before and didn't think about it again as we spent the day strolling through the city, watching the many outdoor performers and shopping for gifts to take home.
We brought everything back to the hotel room, and I asked Magda if we should change for dinner, but she said no. A few minutes later, Juliska arrived, and we walked a few blocks to a nondescript office building. Juliska ushered us inside and led us past a receptionist and down a hallway. We ended up in front of a couple of small dressing rooms, like the kind you find backstage in a theater.
There we were introduced to Ilona, who looked like she bought her clothes the same place Juliska did.
"You are both going to be in costume for this," said Juliska, pushing me into one room with Ilona while she took Magda's hand and led her into the other room. The door shut, and Ilona started undressing me.
"Wait a second," I said, pushing her hands away. "What's going on?"
Her accent was a lot thicker than Juliska's and her English a lot worse. She pointed to a colorful outfit hanging from a pipe rod and seemed to be saying this was some kind of imperial costume that I was to wear. I decided to go along, but I told her I'd undress myself.
Even though she was adamant about me taking off my boxers, I kept them on while she put the elaborate costume over my head. I didn't know what it was, but it seemed like a long tunic made from some kind of heavy material that was white, with lots of colorful flowery and frilly things sewn on to it.
Once I had it on, she sat me down in the dressing chair and began to work on my face. I started to object, but in her halting English, she explained that makeup was part of the costume.
It was strange, because there was no mirror. I saw dirt marks on the bare wall indicating that there had been one there recently, I closed my eyes and let her rub and dab away at me. The weirdest thing was when she stuck several cloth disks to the hair on top of my head with some kind of sticky putty. Finally, she scrutinized me and nodded in satisfaction.
She spoke to me slowly now, giving me instructions, but her English was so bad that I didn't understand anything except for one thing that she went over several times and even made me practice. I was not to say "Magda." Each time I wanted to say it, I had to say "my wife" instead. After I had repeated, "My wife, NO Magda" several times, she seemed satisfied.
She led me down the hall to a large room with an oversized couch on it. Sitting on the couch was a woman dressed like a man, but not just any man. She looked like a medieval prince and had a fake mustache and beard on.
Her costume was strips of colorful cloth. Some were attached to a loose cloth collar and hung down past her waist. Around her middle was a girdle with dozens more of the strips in rainbow colors that were so long they went down to her ankles.
As she moved, the strips moved, too, and I saw that she had nothing on under the costume. I caught a glimpse of some great breasts and a gorgeous ass, so it was definitely a woman, despite the costume facial hair.
When she patted the place next to her and said, "Sit down," I realized it was Magda. I thought it might be ventriloquism, until I pulled aside some strips and saw that special mark in the hidden place that Magda always told me was for my eyes only. Otherwise, I wouldn't have believed it was her. The makeup job was that good. I wondered what Ilona's makeup had made me look like.
When I sat down, some bright stand lights were turned on across the room and on either side of us, all aimed straight at us. I saw a few video cameras on stands, also aimed at us, and a woman with a camera who was moving around, stopping long enough to film a while from various angles.
I couldn't see who was standing behind the lights and cameras, but I heard the pleasant voice of a woman who had a Hungarian accent.
She spoke English well and started asking questions, first in Hungarian to Magda and then in English to me. I didn't find out until later that the questions to Magda in Hungarian were different from the questions to me:
Woman: You both look great! What do you think?
Me: I didn't even recognize Ma—uh, my wife.
Woman: I thought that was the idea.
