Eurotrip

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.

With no reprieve or mitigation, his cock both breached and fully entered Becky's sex almost at the same time. His first thrust was so powerful, Becky's pussy just gave way to him, entirely. She almost screamed, but, like the men regarding her safety, she also had to remember that she couldn't allow her heightened emotional state to raise the alarm for John to enter and ruin everything. She had actually wondered, in that moment, why John hadn't yet come in to check on her since she had been in the bathroom for, what seemed like, an hour. In reality, it was only 30 minutes, but this reminded her that there were time constraints and she would need to return to John soon to avoid suspicion.

But her mind was quickly returned to the wild acts she was the centerpiece of when her assailant, while fucking her pussy, leaned back and, with half his cock still inside her, stuck two fingers up her ass and hooked her ass open, stretching her in preparation for what was next.

Becky let out a loud wail as his fingers were joined by two more fingers, contributed by the dark one, who allowed her shoulder some wiggle room so he could help his pal give Becky a proper stretching. Since this was her first real experience with anal sex, she was fascinated by how it felt painful, yet oddly arousing, all at once. She wanted more from the two men, so she gave them the go ahead by sticking her ass way out, inviting them to feast, cram, pound, spit, and even try to fist her untested pucker. They went with cramming as the two switched places but continued to pull Becky's ass apart.

With fingers still probing and pulling, the dark skinned man shoved his cock deep inside Becky. For her first anal experience, she was definitely handling it well, though it hurt quite a lot as it was clear, there aren't many first anal experiences that are performed this unrestrained.

As he fucked her, his cock would drag shower water into her ass and then cork it inside. After 5-6 straight minutes with his cock compacting fluids inside her and, at the same time, sealing her hole tight, he bred her, leaving ropes and ropes of foreign cum in her back door. But when he removed his swollen member from her ass, she shot clear water out of her used hole along with the visible remnants of the dark-skinned man's conquest. Becky fell to her knees in exhaustion, breathing heavily and leaking from both holes.

"Damn, that's one filthy bitch," the white guy gasped. Since it was his turn and he saw that Becky was spent, he decided to accept a handjob from her instead, a merciful action, she thought. For him to be so cognizant of her physical state is rare in these types of situations. She assumed they would want something later, and as he shot his load right in her face, she was excited for the next meeting between her and these two brutes.

Shortly after he finished on her face, the three cleaned up and finally got each other's names. The lighter of the two was named Bailey. The darker, Craig. She introduced herself and they agreed to meet again at some point before they checked out.

After they exited, Becky had a moment to consider what she had done. The mirror offered her an honest look in return, so she began uttering certain phrases used to label what she was.

She chanted, "I love cock. I'm bad. I love being used like a cheap slut because that's what I am. I'm a cum guzzling cock whore. I can't get enough." She just stared, no towel, nothing to cover her. She almost wished another guy would enter. But she did have to return to John at some point. John, who was more than likely sitting in the same place doing the same thing he was when she left for the shower.

When she returned to the bedroom, John was sitting in a chair at a lit table in the room doing a crossword. Becky entered with a snarky remark "Aahhh, just where I left you."

"Well I didn't want to run off with all the women who made passes at me as they walked by the door." He smiled trying to keep the tiger from breaking out of the cage. When Becky takes a sarcastic tone, it usually means an argument was not far off, and John was not the type.

Becky made a decision, at this point, to tell John what she was doing in the bathroom all this time. "John, I have to tell you something." She revved up for what was sure to be a glorious altercation right there in the hostel bedroom. "While in the bathroom, I..."

John interrupted, "....You were cheating on me with two guys who are staying at this hostel, I know. Truth be told, I looked in on you after you had been gone a while and found them both treating you like a farm animal."

Becky was stunned and speechless. Her mouth was agape as she just stared at him, unable to figure out what her next play was. She thought she was going to admit what she had done and offer to split once back in the states, but now, she had to give John the next words. There was a long pause as John studied his betrothed. Then he broke the very uncomfortable silence.

"After I closed the bathroom door, I returned to this room and jacked it into a fist filled with your used panties"

She was disgusted. "You PIG! You are sick! I come on this trip with....."

"Shut up, you wide gaping cunt bag!". Again, John interrupted in a most calming voice and practically monotone, as if the acts she performed hadn't bothered him one bit. "Okay now here's the deal. I'm going to enjoy the remainder of this vacation by finding you cock. You are my wife. I must make you happy, right?" He didn't wait for affirmation. "So tonight, we both take the bed and now that I know your true self, if I decide to fuck you, which probably won't happen for fear that you caught some social disease from the buttfuck twins, I'm going to fuck you like the slut you are. I'm going to bust anywhere on or in you I want. You might orgasm, you might not. Who cares? Fuck you. Now get some clothes on, my whore bride, and meet me in the fucking lobby. 10 minutes, bitch. Don't keep me waiting or I'll tear up your return ticket and you can stay here and get fucked like a pig for the rest of your life. We have some scouting to do."

And that was it. He exited the room. Becky didn't tear up, She was shocked, excited, fearful, but mostly, she was turned on!!! John never behaved this way before, not toward or in front of her. His directness mixed with his absolute control over a situation with such dire possibilities and overwhelmingly likely to end in a split, his ability to look the end of their relationship in the face and still rise above the normal consequence for infidelity and find that silver lining, that was what glued Becky to John, even though in his mind, as soon as they landed on US soil, they were done.

Becky quickly got dressed in a skimpy, little outfit consisting of a halter top and tight, cotton shorts, with the words "shorts" being an understatement. More like tight cotton dental floss. She didn't leave much to the imagination is the point here.

She ran downstairs and met up with John, who was turned away from the hotel, scoping the whole area for opportunities, of which there were many, many to choose from. His aim was a group of guys here on vacation, no girls in the group, just guys, and the group he preferred would consist of 3 or more. But he would certainly go higher after what he witnessed in the bathroom shower area of the hostel.

Becky asked, "Are you ready?"

"Fuck you, whore."

"Hey! Ya know, the guys fucking me can call me that, but you're my husband."

John was collected and the words he spoke flowed like he was reading them from a script. "Your husband who you just got done cheating on with two guys, and in a most filthy fashion. You should be ashamed of yourself. But, I'm not ashamed of you. You were wonderful and tonight, you are going to put on a similar performance, but this time, you little fuck doll, your workload just got lifted to 3 or more cocks you will have to milk using your sloppy holes. This is what you want, right?"

"Did it seem that way?"

"You're fucking right it seemed that way!" His voice began to attract other surrounding pedestrians and bike riders. "Seemed? No it was that way! Not only did you accept 2 strangers cocks inside your filthy cunt, you did so while married to me and I had to see this."

"Yeah, but baby, you got off, so what's the issue." She tried to approach and place her hand on his chest.

He would not have it, but instead, offered, "I tell you what. You suck my cock. Right here. Right in front of every perverted mind walking by. If you prefer, we could put out a hat for collections if your blow job skills warrant it, though from experience, you still got work to do in that department. But you blow me right here AND swallow my cum, then we can go inside. Otherwise, I'm going to watch a bunch of unshowered and ungroomed cocks gag and stab your ass and pussy until you are filled with so much Dutch semen, those birth control pills will be rendered useless."

"I'm not going to do that out here, John." She was using her condescending tone.

John hated when she used that tone. "Ok, slut. Let's go, now!" When the word 'now' left his lips, it was given a staccato-like accent that caused a startled reaction from Becky. She gasped and almost jumped back in defense thinking John was actually going to attack her. But, he grabbed her by the neck, practically dragging her down the street momentarily.

She was starting to understand that John was not playing a prank. His resolve was iron clad. "Ok, ok, ok......wait wait wait...." Becky wriggled away from his grasp on her neck.

"Ugh, what now. You're stalling!"

"I'll do it. I'll suck your cock! Just please, stop behaving this way because it's a little bit starting to frighten me."

"Good to see you still can be humiliated, you fucking bitch!!" With that caustic exchange, John made for the hostel to sleep like a baby.

Becky called after him. "Well wait! Don't you want me to blow you in front of all these people. That would be so much fun!"

John just glared at her. "Na, whatever you have now, I don't want it. But hey, feel free to go out tonight and rustle up some STDs. I'm sure they will feel right at home between your legs."

Becky was livid. The tables, somehow, flipped to John's favor and she had no idea what she did or how she lost it, nor did she have a game plan on how to get it back, but she did enjoy, only recently, donning the control while John played the cuckold, and she wanted that feeling back. It was a drug to her. She enjoyed more being married to the ineffectual John. This assertive John just wouldn't do.

So, she made a decision there in the streets of Amsterdam, only blocks from the world famous Red Light District. She would take her husband's advice and find 3 or more strangers willing to participate in the ravaging of her holes. It was a risk, she knew, but she also knew that John never acted the way he did several moments ago in the entire time they've been together. He could have been putting on an act that would psych her into thinking that, not only does he not care what she does with other men, but that he would even go lower by pimping her out to strangers, which, Becky concluded, was the reason he abruptly went inside instead of carrying out either of his two threats. So, Becky, already dressed to send the obvious message, set out to locate places filled with men of a certain mindset. She started west toward the Red Light District.

Meanwhile, John, proud of his controlled response to Becky's infidelity, walked up the steps to his room, believing that his ruse would cause Becky to fall to her knees and beg him to stay with her once they returned stateside. He couldn't have been less correct in his presumption, but he reveled in his victory, all the same, not aware that she would double down on her slutty behaviors through any means available to her. He began to worry when, after he had been in his room for an hour with no Becky in sight, he realized that he left his wife with a choice and she chose. So he began to worry like he did while spying on her in the bathroom.

She returned, during the black of night when the streets were practically empty, a tattered mess. Her skimpy outfit barely able to provide cover for her breasts and ass any more, her hair matted down and hardened as if she used a whole bottle of hair spray to hold it in place. The most telling sign of her latest infidelity, though, were her legs, both of which possessed their own trail of some thick fluid that ran from her crotch down to her ankles. She was not at all phased by her appearance to John, though. When she walked into the hostel bedroom, she simply said, "Hi, honey," gathered some items for the shower and left the room. With what John saw, he was easily able to conclude that she had just been sexually active, and with several partners judging by the streams of semen cascading down both legs.

He was so disgusted with her, he didn't even care who met her in the bathroom anymore. He was able to push his return flight up from 7 days out to the next day while she showered. He was done with Europe and with his betrothed.

An hour later, she returned as fresh as a bouquet of lilies, her favorite flower. She wore a fluffy, terrycloth, white robe, her hair wet, but recently messed when she dried it with a towel, and hanging just below her shoulders. John saw her and remembered the times when he would bring home an unannounced bunch of lilies for her to bury her nose in. She beamed when he did that. The last time he can recall performing this gesture was well over 2 years ago. The magic was all but dead. He understood that this fact was partially his fault.

"I called the airline and moved the date of my departure. I'm leaving for home tomorrow."

"You can't!!" Becky exclaimed, then recoiled slightly. She didn't want to sound desperate, but she needed him to remain close. His presence among the other men she had every intention of fucking would tame their behaviors so things didn't get out of hand, but she knew how to keep him within arms length as she began to remove her robe, exposing her shoulders with the light from above bouncing off, leaving her skin with a gleamed outline of perfection. The robe lowered even more, giving her breasts a taste of the light, also taking on the same silhouetted light affect as her shoulders, all this while walking slowly toward John, watching him become aroused as he rubbed his crotch through his jeans slowly, his face remained unmoved and without emotion.

"Becky, even without you having just gone out to do whatever the hell it was you did, you have gone waaaaay over the line, beyond infidelity, to absolute and irreversible cock whore!! What do I owe you that I should stay?!"

"First off, I wouldn't use the label "cock whore". Whores are usually with way more guys than I've been with. Just now, for example, it was just me and a few guys. Whores are usually fucked by like 100 guys."

"Yeah, but if you were with 3 guys just now and you add the 2 you fucked in the shower, that's 5 in one night.....wait. Exactly what did you just do while you were out? How many guys bred you? You were leaking like a sieve when you returned. It must have been more than 3." John didn't want the answer to that question. At the same time, he did want the answer.

There was a pause before Becky gave her reply to this question. "......9."

"9?!!! What the fuck??!" John affected a sarcastic tone when he added, " And where did you manage to find these upstanding European gentlemen?"

"I didn't. As I walked by a house along the District Row, a woman appeared. She saw the way I was dressed and asked me if I wanted to turn some tricks into extra money. Next thing I knew, I was in a window dancing for passers by. It took about 30 minutes, but the first to show interest was a crowd of men in Holland on business, Americans, some married, actually most married, all of whom paid very well for a room and for me to be presented to them for their enjoyment. All of their enjoyment. That leak was what they left behind, requested by me." Becky finished explaining her situation and was suddenly at John's feet, breasts fully exposed with her robe still retreating further down her body, ever so slowly, as he continued to knead his shaft through his pants.

She kneeled down before him and placed her hands on his thighs, staring hungrily into his eyes, like some animal frothing at the mouth in search of fresh, blood-gorged meat to sink its teeth into. Her eyes still locked on his, her hands began creating a path to her husband's member. Truth be told, she was as submissive as one could behave, and his behavior out in front of the hostel, inexcusable as it was, turned her on a great deal. Also, she understood that her behavior was absolutely inexcusable and deserved to be punished. That was what she was offering her husband now, the opportunity for retribution in exchange for his presence for the remained of their time in Europe.

John was diamond solid as his cock popped from its lair, fully swollen with blood and pulsing from being rubbed for so long. Becky grabbed it and squeezed, "If you stay, I'll be a good girl." She jerked him off and continued in a soft, feathery, begging tone, "I'll obey you in everything, just please, let me have this vacation to let myself go. Things back home are so bland and this was going to be my chance to add color to the black and white of our lives. If I can't be this other person for just this trip, I can't go back home as your wife." She began plunging her face onto his cock, gagging and cursing. Her mouth worked his shaft while one of her hands twisted the base and pumped him fast.

For several minutes, John seemed less turned on and more contemplative, staring in impractical wonder at the woman who, once upon a time, wore a white dress and promised never to leave his side. And up to now, technically, she has kept that promise. He was about to convince himself that what she was doing was justified, that he should, without judgement, allow her to complete this quest she was on.

But then, flashes of light beamed in his eyes. More accurately, clips from what he witnessed her doing in the shower with the two men flashed before his eyes; the depravity and her willingness as a participant was too much for him to bear. He placed his hands on the back of her head and pushed her mouth down onto his cock until he was fully enveloped by her warm mouth. This was his retribution. Holding himself inside her, he felt the sensation build as her tongue ran circles around his shaft. The feeling was just too velvety soft and his constitution was unable to withstand her beckoning throat. "Look me in the eyes, bitch!" Her eyes, tears flooding from their ducts, rolled upward until she was locked onto him. He shot streams of his man juice into her mouth and didn't remove himself until he felt her mouth suck out and swallow every drop of cum he could produce. Once satisfied, he grabbed her hair, yanked her face from his manhood and threw her back until she landed on the floor, using her hands to mitigate her landing.

"Now get the fuck away from me, slut!" Becky stared at John blankly, from her spot on the floor where John left her, as he picked up the iPad and reconnected his ticket, syncing with hers. He would stay, even with the understanding that he might well regret it.

Becky lay there, nonplussed, half playing with her soft and recently battered pussy, half guarding it from her husband, who was clearly way out of sorts. But still, her body became so hot after the level of disrespect her husband showed her, she found herself fawning after him as they both did for so long after they first met. This new and improved husband was a brute she could certainly learn to enjoy.

On her hands and knees she crawled toward him like a gazelle begging the lion's pardon. But John, seeing his bride assuming that he would forgive, stood and said, "Fuck off, my love!! We have nothing to say to each other. Not until tomorrow when you and I head out so I can offer you around like the whore you are! Now, there's a crossword in the lobby that needs doing." With that, he exited the room, causing a stripe of fear to paint itself cold down Becky's back. She was terrified of the idea of John leaving her and realized, as she continued to remain propped up on her hands and knees, that she was failing as his wife. He may have been physically harsh and emotionally indifferent toward her, but he didn't cheat on her, either. That gave him the leverage he needed to be in the right.

Becky, on the other hand, knew that her actions in the shared bathroom at the hostel were nothing short of infidelity. She wept for several minutes until she heard footfalls approaching her door and stood to greet John with a kiss and a deeply remorseful apology. Quickly, her hands acted as windshield wipers beneath her eyes to wipe away the tears she produced only moments before. She forced a smile and went to answer the door.

As she swung it open, there stood Hans, the proprietor with the wandering eye, who greeted John and Becky when they arrived hours earlier. With him we're two backpackers from Brazil named Janice and Camilla, both attractive with dark hair and highly defined facial features, as if they left a modeling agency just prior to arriving at the hostel. Becky saw that they were beautiful, and then, all at once, noticed that her very short shorts were unzipped, her left breast was exposed, and she was sweating profusely, causing her body to reflect the light off the beads that had developed along the lay of her soft skin. Even in this disheveled manner, Becky still managed to look really attractive, but the fact that something just blew up in their room couldn't be ignored.

Hans stared for a moment and kindly offered, "You know, we have vacancies in other rooms and this might not be the best time to...."

Camilla placed a hand on Hans' shoulder and Hans stopped talking immediately. "We would be fine to stay here," she said in her deepest of Mid-South American dialects. There was an anxiousness in her voice, an urgency. Janice nodded toward Hans, in agreement with Camilla, and he just smiled dubiously, took one more glance at Becky, turned on his heels, departed.

Becky stepped aside as she attempted to fix her appearance and the girls, in their mid-thirties from the looks of them, entered with a glance from one end of the small room to the other. Any plans John had to sleep on the extra bed away from Becky vanished and she was fine with that. Becky knew that this would change the dynamic of their communications, at least while they were in the same room with two foreign beauties. Becky sighed relief when Camilla opened up in conversation with her in English.

"Hello. My name es Camilla....," she stated in broken English terms, "....and this es mi amiga, Janice."

"Oh hi. Sorry for the appearance. I'm Becky. My husband, John, is elsewhere, but he'll return shortly." As she said this, she finally tucked her breast back into her tight lace bra and replaced her spaghetti strap on her shoulder. After a deep breath, she continued, "So, what are you two doing here in Amsterdam?"

"Same as you. No rushing to any well known sites, more winging it than actually planning and scheduling. We found that more relaxing. I'm sure you would agree."

"Yeah, but how did you know that...."

Camilla interrupted, "Anyone who stays at a hostel doesn't usually plan hotel stays or manage time effectively. Know what I mean. Hostel dwellers tend to be more the.....uuhhhh.....what es that word where you do things that are surprise? Like sudden it pops in the head and you do?"

"Oh," Becky quickly realized. "You mean spontaneous!"

"Si, si, si. Spon--ta--ne--ous." The three laughed for a moment and Camilla continued, "Gracias, my English only a little good."

Becky joked, "Oh, un pocito English." Again, laughter, this time much more contented and free. Becky, Camilla, and Janice were getting along quite well, having only just met, not to mention that the first impression Becky left was not one that would inspire likability. "I have to admit that your English is far more understandable than my Spanish, so you have me at an advantage there."

"Ad--vaaaah......" another word Camilla and Janice weren't familiar with.

"Advantage. Like if you play soc.....fútbol with an extra player on the field. Then you have an advantage."

"Ooohhhhh, so like I know two languages and you know one, so I have the advantage?"

"Pretty much! Do you girls want a drink?"

"A drink? If es cold, then two of whatever it is!"

"It's a drink drink. Like alcohol. Vodka. Yes?"

"Si, si! We like alcohol! If you want, I can make a drink for the three of us I think u like."

"Sounds like a plan. Camilla, you have the bar." Camilla looked over at her friend and nodded her head in the direction of the bar. Janice made her way to the bar to see to the drinks in a way that looked like she would have dropped the Hope Diamond to follow Camilla's instruction to a tee. Becky noticed this and found it odd, but not off putting in any way.

As the two sat down, Becky leaned in and asked, "So are you her owner or something. The way you told her to get the drinks and her quick reaction. Are you two partners?"

"You could call us partners, yes. We are in a relationship where I'm the dominant and she is the......uuuhhhh.....submittive?"

"Submissive. Yes, go on." Becky was glued to Camilla's explanation.

"Well, you see, she enjoys being bossed around and I do the bossing....Hehehehe."

"And does this also mean in bed, like during sex?"

"Oh sí. Especially in bed. We wear certain style clothing to show our roles as we make love."

Becky was getting very hot listening to this. Just then, Janice returned with the drinks. As Becky took her first sip and loved the flavor, a plan to get back in her husband's good graces began to form.

As if she read Becky's mind, Camilla asked, "I couldn't help pero notice the mood you were in when the door opened. You had been crying and your clothes were messed up. What are you sad for?"

For some reason, Becky decided to trust this woman and her partner. There was something about Camilla that gave her a trusting vibe and Becky picked up on it. So she gave, "When we arrived at this hostel, I immediately got in the shower. The bathrooms at most, if not all, hostels are community bathrooms, like anyone can use it. As I was showering, these two hot guys come in and strip. I only see them as they enter the shower. I haven't mentioned this yet, I don't think, but I'm here with my husband. Oh wait, I did bring that up when we met. Well...." she paused to let the story unfold in her two new acquaintances minds.

Camilla spoke up, "You cheated on your husband with them?"

Becky came out with the rest, "......and he saw it happen." She began to tear up. Through shaky vocals and a heightened emotional state, she cried, "The worst thing is that something in him snapped. For the last hour, he has been treating me like a toy for him to call on whenever he needs to release. And that's hot to me. So why couldn't he see the signs earlier? Why couldn't I?"

"Honey, men don't have the skills or the ability to read women as well as women can read men. You know this. You are a beautiful girl. He'll forgive you. Come...." Camilla extended her arms and pressed her body against Becky, fully embracing her. Becky closed her eyes and the tears that had collected at her lids came pouring down her cheeks as she rested her head on Camilla's shoulder. Under Camilla's loose fitting jogging pants and light, baggy windbreaker, Becky felt, what she surmised, an exquisite, tight, and ample body with breasts soft to the touch, not mushy, a flat stomach, and legs like tree trunks, strong and muscular. So, knowing that she was spoken for, Becky decided to warm up to Janice.

Camilla unwrapped her arms from Becky's body. Their faces were close, eye to eye. Then, Becky turned her gaze toward Janice, who was sitting in a rocking chair and had already finished her drink. Could she.....?" Becky allowed Camilla to assume the end of that query, but Janice didn't need to be instructed. She stood, approached the two entangled women, and joined them. Camilla kissed Janice. Becky watched, a hand traveling south was halted by Camilla, whose hand made its way to the same place Becky's hand was heading. Once the hand arrived, it unbuttoned Becky's tight shorts and slinked between the cloth of the shorts and Becky's tummy just below the belly button until her hand was in contact with the small patch of brown hair just above her love button.

While Camilla began making concentric circles amongst and around Becky's clit, Janice dropped to her knees and began removing articles of clothing from both participants. Once she got Becky's shorts off, Camilla placed the fingers used on Becky clit in front of Janice's mouth. Janice devoured the digits, tasting Becky's sex from Camilla's machinations.

"Well?" Camilla asked Janice, curious about how Becky tasted.

"Algodón de azúcar, mi amore," she replied in her thick dialect. Becky didn't understand, but knew the word 'sugar' was in there, so she rested on the theory that the words used were good ones, taking notice of her affect and nearly quaking beneath her own skin at its' singularity. Janice was hot. These were her first words since the two arrived and her voice was this raspy, dry, rocker-type voice, completely unexpected. Something about it made the sound of her voice amplify the sexual anticipation and Becky would shudder just from hearing it.

"You know," Camilla said as she pushed Becky onto an ottoman sitting in the middle of the room, "if your esposo walked in right now and saw what was going on, we could bring him in. How do you think he would feel about that?" Camilla split Becky's legs open and attacked her asshole and cunt, both, greedily lapping up all the delicious nectar. Camilla's hand reached up for Janice and brought her down to join in the feast.

Becky was flummoxed. "Oh....oh I don't knowwwwwWOW!!! He might well enj.....oh my God, I'm gonna cum so hard.....enjoy the scene. And the attent......OH GOD!" Becky's entire body locked and tightened. Definition of muscles all over were suddenly highlighted. Camilla fingered her ass as Becky squirted into Janice's mouth. She rubbed her fingers along the swath of hair above Becky's pussy, inducing euphoric dizziness in Becky's head. Becky was spinning. She immediately realized that she hadn't produced an orgasm like that since her honeymoon with John, who she was actually missing.

Camilla broke the silence, "Becky, you are so hot! En fuego! Yes, my love?"

"Si, su esposo estaría loco si no tratara de resolver las cosas."

"She says your husband would be a fool to not try to forgive you. Now, let's see what happens when he return. What's his name again?"

"John."

"Juan, got it."

"Close enough," Becky said, happy to endure this difficult circumstance with a diplomat as acting medium.

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It was 11pm when John returned, stoned out of his mind on some really kine bud. He said he was at a coffee shop "blazing away" were his words. Judging by the network of connected, red veins coating the surface of his eyes, he was absolutely consumed by the affects of whatever he inhaled. But he was also more docile than the last time she saw him, and with the company they were now keeping, John's behavior shifted wildly. Becky couldn't help but notice his introverted side making an appearance, which was never good, especially when he was about to be asked to be the centerpiece in a reverse gangbang.

Becky made the proper introductions, "Baby, these are our new roommates. They arrived shortly after you went out. Meet Camilla and Janice."

Lazily, John extended a hand and lit up at the sight of these two tanned, South American women. Using a matter-of-fact tone, John stated, "Hello, m'ladies. Names John and I am very high on some weed!" He then turned to his wife and whispered, but loud enough for the room to hear, "Hey...ummm...I sorta spent a decent amount on this shit. WOW! Was it ever worth it."

"Doesn't matter, honey. Doesn't even matter. Let's just sit and meet our new friends. Yes?" Becky looked over to the couple and the three of them chuckled as they all cut a path toward the circle of sofas in the room. They all sat short distances from each other, but on the same sectional as their partners and the discussion that would lead, ultimately, to the decision that would redefine John and Becky's marriage forever began.

Camilla, ever the icebreaker, began immediately asking questions to guide John's responses to the topic she wanted to really discuss. And that topic was how John would feel about engaging in a 4-way with his wife and the couple. "So, Juan, you are from America, yes? What part?"

"Well, Camilla, right now, we are living in Nevada, but work takes me all over the world. Becky and I have been together 10 years, married for half that, and we've moved 4 times since that first day. But for right now, Nevada." When he said Nevada, his hands both pantomimed something like playing a piano, when he was actually trying to use them to symbolize rooting in a certain area, a sturdy ground, and not moving, which was his and Becky's desire.

"Nevada? Isn't that where Las Vegas is?"

"Sure is,". John replied. "Lost a few bucks there once or twice."

"Bucks? You mean like deer?" At this line, Becky and John both began laughing hard.

Becky corrected the misunderstanding. "Bucks, in America, also means money or dollars.....dinero."

"Ooohhhhh. Ok. Well, Juan, money comes and it goes. I say anything that comes and goes isn't really that importanté. Becky es a sweetheart, not someone who comes y goes. You are lucky."

He placed a hand on Becky's leg. "Yeah.....I know." He was beginning to sober up.

After that, each took a quick pause to appreciate their current position; two positive relationships, both in Amsterdam, not a worry in the world, and if there was, it was located on the Western Hemisphere, half a world away.

"So you two are Brazilian?" John suddenly inquired, which took the two aback as nothing had been mentioned about their country of origin.

"Si, but how did you know?"

"Oh, I don't know if Becky mentioned but I'm a tour manager for a major recording artist which takes me globe trotting regularly. So your healthy looking skin coupled with your dialect gave it away. You are both quite easy on the eyes," then checking with Becky, "if you don't mind my saying."

"No, not at all." Becky said, enthusiastically. Her plan was, so far, going very well. She had a strong feeling that whatever John allowed himself to smoke before returning to the hostel placed him in the proper mood. He was slack at the shoulders and very unwound.

"Who is the artist?" Camilla asked.

"The artist?" He became confused. "Honey, the artist? Like Van Gogh? I am so high right now." John began to laugh at himself.

"No, not Van Gogh." Becky joined in his laughing fit.

They both continued their uproarious laughter until they noticed Camilla not in on the joke, but still awaiting a response and both, at once, regained composure. "Ummm, no sweetie. You mentioned the artist that you are tour manager for?"

"Ooohhhhh, yeah. Sorry 'bout that. It's a group named The Easies. I basically wait until they call me with a decision to start touring and I begin booking them gigs either nationally or internationally. I'm contracted with several other acts, but The Easies are....easily my most profitable."

"The Easies. I heard of this music. La radio play it back home sometimes. That sounds like a fun job. Does it take you away from home?"

"Sometimes yes. But most times....," he held Becky's hand, ".....I bring home with me." Suddenly, John realized that Camilla was doing all the talking and that Janice was sitting by her side in absolute silence, practically non-reactive.

"Oh. Well you sound happy with her. Yes?"

"It's a roller coaster, not gonna sugar coat it. But ups, downs, we get through it and we find moments of reprieve."

Camilla didn't understand that last line, but saw, by John's body language, that the comment was a positive one, so she nodded. A short silence.

John decided to ask, "So Camilla, you and Janice are......?

"We are partners in an open relationship."

"Oh. I couldn't help but notice that you have been the one asking questions while Janice quietly listens. Is that deliberate....Do you mean to do that?"

"Our relationship has very defined roles. She's more the quiet type, anyway."

"If I ask her a question, will she defer to you or can she respond?"

"Well she's not a mute, Juan!" Janice laughed at Camilla's quick wit.

"Yes," Janice offered, "Yo respondo. Camilla simplemente está hablando por los dos. Yo soy....bueno Camilla puede decirlo, tú."

Camilla gave Janice some leeway to continue her description, also offering her translation services since her partner wasn't as versed in English and she was, explaining that what Janice said was that she does respond, but prefers to let Camilla do the talking. Janice relinquished and excused herself to get a drink. "She's very serious about the role she plays. Hehe."

"Well shed some light on it for me." John was intrigued. Becky loved John's line of questioning as it was inching them all closer to what she wanted more than anything tonight.

"You know what the dom/sub relationship is, yes?"

"Sure do."

"Janice's natural impulse is that of a submissive person. Mine is more dominant. We don't just practice this in the bedroom. Instead, we expand that relationship into everyday lives."

"Wow! I've heard of these types of relationships, but it's so educational to see it play out right in front of you. Is educational even the right word? It's....." He shrugged once he couldn't find the word to act as replacement.

Then Camilla said something that Becky was not expecting, something that she thought John would detest and reject outright, but if he didn't, it was also something that would send her plan into high gear. Camilla leaned forward, turned her head so her eyes met Becky's, took a long, protracted sip from her delicious Brazilian cocktail still fixed on Becky's cat-shaped eyes, then swiveled her intimidating glare toward John and asked, "Juan, do you enjoy having sex with Becky?"

"Wow! That one came out of left field!! Ummmmmm.....I mean, yeah. Look at her. Still to this day, one of the most beautiful women, I believe, that I'll ever see."

Janice quietly asked for a translation of what John had just said. Once Camilla repeated in Spanish, Janice gave a heartfelt look in John's direction and said, "Oh, eso es tan dulce," and placed a hand over her heart, gently patting her chest to indicate a heartbeat.

"What'd she say?"

"She think you are a sweet marido and was turned on by how much love you give your wife."

"Turned on? You mean she finds that sort of thing.......desirable?" John was almost there. He was all but flirting with these two who seemed to be intentionally placed in the path of this trip just to save John and Becky's marriage, which only a few hours prior, was devastatingly close to its last gasp.

"Oh si. In my country, familia es so important. The thing that always keeps a marriage fresh and new is desire. Desire always brings it back to the first day you saw each other." She stared at John, laser-focused upon him, allowing him the next move in this game she started.

Then John, who was already loaded with surprises up to this point, came out with a "left fielder" of his own. Seeing how Camilla was staring as if she was conversing, in silence, with the inside of John's subconscious, and since he was lacking in judgement from several drinks he polished off, which Janice made sure to replenish even before John would ask for it, he felt led to get right to the point, the point he had a feeling that Camilla was eventually going to lead him to. "Are we all about to have sex? Am I feeling something that isn't there or is there a tension in this room that can only be addressed through more extreme measures?"

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This is a great time to offer some insights into John's childhood, In his youth, John was a recluse. John had a low self-esteem. Due to these factors, he spent the majority of his time in his studies, working toward his goal of becoming a doctor. He wanted to be a heart surgeon. When he wasn't doing homework or spending time with his mother and father, he would study books with drawings of the body and how each part eventually needed the heart to provide the pressure to keep the blood flowing, providing nutrients and platelets vital to the body's growth, healing, and overall development.

Then, in an unlikely turn of events, when he turned 17, his father, who backed his son's future plans to become a life-saving doctor, arranged a viewing, at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, of a triple bypass--open heart surgery. Up to that point, John was singularly focused on this career path, so he was excited for this event. He and his father sat in the elevated viewing seats reserved, normally, for students at local colleges to observe all sorts of surgical procedures.

When the stage was set, the doctor responsible for performing the bypass introduced the team of anesthesiologists, nurses, and other necessary staff, gave the viewers, John among them, a brief overview of the procedure, and turned to begin his first incision. The scalpel came down slowly. John was absolutely transfixed upon the exact location the doctor placed the tip of the bright metal blade, his eyes wide and glassed over as he leaned forward in wonder. Then, as his attentions were given to the breach of the skin and the slow and calculated movement of the doctor's hand, they deflected suddenly back to the location where the incision first began, where a small bead of blood emanated from sallow flesh of the patient. John, having received most, if not all, his education on heart surgery from books and weekly TV shows set in hospitals, finally got to see what his future was going to be if he continued on this path. What he didn't know was a small detail about himself that would have been very helpful early on when he decided on surgery as a life calling. He hated the sight of blood.

Moments after the doctor calmly made his approaching incision, John vomited right there in the viewing booth. Students, faculty, other physicians, anyone in ears length of the sounds of retching and heaving that came from the aspiring heart surgeon came flocking to help, but his father simply waved them off. "It's fine," he smiled. "He's just planning on heart surgery as a career. The excitement got to him. He can't wait to tear into his first patient." John's father was a good man. Bad with words. These words caused more violent heaves from the 17 year old. After a brief moment on the floor of the viewing room, John asked his father to take him out of the room.

After all the work, the ignoring of girls in school, the complete lack of a social life in return for a blissful career in his desired field, at the age of 17, right before his senior year, John had to start back at ground zero, and for weeks after that, he was inconsolable.

It wasn't until he was already in college, studying Liberal Arts, with no aim in sight, that a dorm pal he met turned him on to a career in management explaining that he was very close with a band that needed one and he would be a perfect fit. John figured, "Why not?" Fast forward a few years and he had built a reputation as a shrewd man, a manager that can handle practically any size band in any size venue. A multitasker. He was built for this. His once strong desire to become a heart surgeon was all but a memory.

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The problem with this scenario was that throughout almost his entire childhood, John was a shut in, and it was during this time that one develops their ability to communicate. He knew a lot about one thing, heart surgery, and even that he only knew enough to hold a discussion with another his age. It was an imperfect knowledge. He spent no time as a child being a child. He was socially awkward and this moment was not one he was going to come out of looking like a porn star. He was going to make an ass of himself or worse.

So now, John, who married Becky, a woman he met backstage at a Bathed Sewage concert, was sitting before three women, all beautiful, one of them his wife, losing confidence and started to understand that this whole situation could snowball into an unstoppable force that will eventually end with the signing of divorce papers if he doesn't come clean right now. In his head, he was dizzy from the idea that in moments, he would admit to Becky that, while on the road for the last eighteen months, he let himself go and cheated on her with over a dozen women.

"Wait a second! Woah! This cannot happen!" He was cautiously aware that these three wanted to do something with him that most men would have jumped into with both testicles, but he couldn't do it and keep a clear conscience. So he turned to his wife and, right in front of both Camilla and Janice, admitted to his infidelity. "Becky, I need to tell you something that you aren't going to like hearing."

"I'm intrigued." Becky's stare translated to the affect that she was completely unaware of what he was about to say. She was in for a shock.

"Being on the road.....Doing what I do for a living......Ya know, lots of different arenas and with my position.....Always with the band and people are crowding us......" He could hear how stupid he sounded beating around the bush, how emasculating he came off to these women. Hadn't he been emasculated enough? "I've cheated on you......a lot."

There was a pause. For all but Becky, it might as well have lasted a lifetime.

Becky' sails lost wind immediately and that feeling she had that she was about to win back the love of her life changed in an instant to so many things, none of them resembling a return to a normal husband/wife relationship.

"Can you tell me details? What do you mean 'a lot'?" Her tone wasn't completely angry, but it was certainly not playful. She sounded almost like she was running numbers in her head and was asking these questions while trying to remember the figures.

"Well.......I mean.......over 10......"

"Really......"

Silence. Complete silence for over a minute. Deafening silence. Aside from Camilla providing Janice with play-by-play commentary in Spanish, they sat in a jaw-dropped trance almost unable to register that they were in this room at this time as this was being aired out right in front of them. Finally, Camilla broke the silence. "You know, we should find another room. You two need time to fig....."

"No!" Becky's immediate delivery made Janice drop her drink. "No, you stay right here with us." Tears formed, turning her eyes into wells of sorrow. She seemed victimized. Less retributive, more despondent, hopeless.

But as she continued in this state of part denial/part disbelief, something else began to glow in her eyes. All three could tell that Becky was not pleased with this development, but that she also had this determination. They knew she was about to drop a bomb on this already defunct gathering.

She blinked and the wells overflowed and ran down her cheeks. Using her hands, she quickly wiped them away as if to hide the idea that she would ever cry over such trivial nonsense. But she knew this was not trivial. This was colossal. It was marriage ending. But it was also an grand opportunity. And no one saw it but Becky.

Becky rose from her place on the couch and walked in front of a man she only thought she knew, but now, knew him as unpredictable, his new trait. This new label was now going to be the label he would wear for the foreseeable future. She needed this to be the case as she beckoned John to rise and face her. He did as asked, a slave to his own infidelity.

She leaned forward and with her full and pouting lips whispered in the slightest of audible tones, a tone only he could hear, "We are going out tomorrow night. You and I are going to find a place for me. You will watch me as I find a way to attract any man who makes eyes for me. You will watch them all fuck me in any and all ways they wish to have me. Then, and only then, are you forgiven. I told you I need this. You gave me the way. Thank you, honey." With that, she wrapped her demure arms around the back of his neck and embraced him.

John was dumbstruck, but reciprocated in the most indifferent of ways, his thoughts wrapped around what he had just done. How badly did he just slip up? He all but said no to Becky's need to let loose in Eastern Europe, then, as if wanting to sabotage his own refusal, provided a path right to where she wanted to go, and now, all he can do is live with it.....and get extremely fucked up. He was in Amsterdam, after all.

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The next morning, Becky woke with a spring in her step. Camilla and Janice had taken to the bathroom to prepare. Once dressed and polished to look the pristine Jezebel, Becky went on her own to the communal kitchen for some delicious Stamppot Stamppot, but not too much, of course. Becky was no fool. For the task at hand, she knew all of her holes would be open to penetration. So she was measured as to what she allowed herself to ingest.

As she ate, John was right where she left him; laying in bed with head, shoulders and arms sticking out of the comforter on one end, feet, ankles, and half his calves sticking out on the other, staring upward at the methodically creaking fan that revolved so slowly, it seemed its' only real purpose was to make sure no one beneath it slept. His pupils focused on one of the blades as it turned, dark circles of worry formed and defined below his eyes. He was trying and failing to emotionally detach himself from this future agonizing event. But he knew his options and he'd be damned if he ever divorced his wife. It just wasn't his style and his threats prior were just his attempts at posturing. Moreover, while watching his most beloved wife as she is ransacked by countless Europeans isn't his, or anyone else's, style, he'd rather endure one evening of debauchery than 10+ years in court appearances. He heard from so many already about the legal system's views on divorced couples and while he loved his wife, his true motivation was to not get taken to the cleaners by someone who claimed to love him. It would be so much more to bare than this one night. That was his logic and he felt it was sound.

Back down in the kitchen, Camilla and Janice joined Becky and the three were amidst the other denizens, mostly males, with all eyes glued to these three women who were like a mirage in a desert. As Becky pecked slowly at her sausage and breading, from behind her were two familiar voices. She turned to find Craig and Bailey from yesterday's bathroom romp. Instantly, Becky's panties began absorbing her flowing pussy juices. She wanted to ask them to rejoin her in the bathroom since today, anything goes, but she found temperance. The build up is part of the fun.

"Ohhh, Becky! You have fun in Holland?" Bailey's voice had an affect to it so that anyone who heard him say this would certainly conclude that he had sex with her.

"You know I have, you beasts!" She patted the table space across from her as a sign for the pair to join her and her friends. "Listen," she leaned in. "I'm looking to go out tonight and sorta go all out. Do you know what I mean?" She waited for the two to confirm.

"Go all out? You mean some sex?"

"Yes, yes, sex. And you know how much fun I can be, am I right?"

"Oh yes," then, glancing over to Camilla and Janice, "she much much fun with the sex. We did it......."

Becky was starting to really not like the English language and interrupted, "YES! Yes yes. We did do it. Moving on. I was wondering if you two could be my tour guide thru this town. I'm looking to find a place packed with people. A place where people go for drinks and to find someone to have sex with. You have more time here than me. Could you show me around?"

Without hesitation, Bailey and Craig bellowed out an in sync, "YES!!" Becky thought to herself that now, at least 2 guys would definitely be part of the festivities tonight.

She could feel her smooth slit leaking as her imagination planted wild images in her head of a dichotomy of sexual situations that she was at the center of. The anticipation was palpable. "What about you?" She turned her attention to Camilla, who was requesting water from the waiter.

She turned and exclaimed, "If you think, for un second, that I'm missing this, you gone loco. Janice and I will be there."

After the short meal, and the confirmed plans with Camilla, Janice, Bailey, and Craig, Becky returned to the room to get her husband. Upon entering, he was exactly where he was when she left; laying in bed with head, shoulders and arms sticking out of the comforter on one end, feet, ankles, and half his calves sticking out on the other, staring upward at the methodically creaking fan. He was tortured, a man with every reason to feel angry, but with no way to express it without running right into his own infidelity. He loved his wife and his wife really did love him back, but this act she planned on partaking in was an act that, on his end, could be the beginning of the end.

"So you still plan on going through with your wild European vacation plan?"

Becky decided to mess with his head, "Actually not exactly." John got very excited and sat up in the bed transforming a bit from forlorn to mildly curious, but on the inside, he was elated. Becky continued, "No, the plans have definitely changed because Camilla and Janice are tagging along and remember those two guys who pretty much hate fucked me in the showers?"

"Yeah...."

"Well we all 5 had breakfast together and the plan now is for the two guys to show the three girls, and you if you want to join, which I hope you do, around the city! It'll be a blast! You should come." She laughed in spite of herself. She knew she was being mean. She understood that her attitude wasn't making things better for her loving husband, but 10 women behind her back? She had to seize the opportunity. After Europe, she would be 100% the good wife she was prior to this trip, but his admission only served to bolster Becky's resolve to have the vacation she wanted to have with no reservations.

"I'll join you in a bit. I just need to get ready. I understand my position in all this is to now just watch and receive the retribution I deserve, but I need you to promise me something."

Becky walked to John and placed her hands into his. In truth, his pain wasn't making this easier for her, so she would grant him practically anything that didn't interfere with this trip to alleviate the guilt she was feeling. "What is it, my love?"

"When we return home, be mine again. I'll be yours. We will both put our transgressions behind us and move forward. The past will be the past. Just memories. I'll be the husband you deserve and you be the wife I need." He teared up a bit, but held it together as he listened to Becky's response.

"Ok. And I know this isn't going to be easy for you. You can walk out of the room, wherever this happens, anytime you can't handle the scene and I'll understand." She drew closer to his face until he could feel her breath on his neck. "When we return home, I'm yours again. You're mine. Just memories. I do love you. And if you love me, understanding that this is something I need very badly will prove that." She held him. He felt comforted by her words and turned to prepare for the day to come. "I'm heading out, sweetie. Contact me when your ready and I'll send our location."

"Okay honey." The door closed behind her. John wept as he considered how the next 24 hours would play out. He wasn't sure what would happen, but he was certain that it would be the most difficult day of his life.

Becky was with the crew when she received a text from John 90 minutes after she departed from the hostel bedroom. She shared her location and sent a gps tracker so John could catch up.

"Craig posted up next to Becky, "Was it your husband?"

"Sigh.....yeah. He's depressed, but you play, you pay, right?"

Craig seemed unaffected by her quip and, instead, bounced back a command, appropriate since they were in a clothing store, "Get in room, now slut!" He gestured for her to enter one of the dressing room stalls and hailed Bailey, waving him over to join in.

Becky was so excited waiting for the two to enter and take her any way they wanted, she was undressed even before they pulled the curtain open, stared at her nakedness in bug-eyed admiration, and swiftly presented their cocks, pushing them both into her face. She took hold of them and took turns guiding each of them into her mouth. At times, either of the two would become overzealous and push his cock in with the other so Becky's jaw would practically unhinge to make room for them.

They didn't want to cum on her since there was so much day left and the guys felt it would be way over the top if they glazed her face only to have John see it. So Becky made the suggestion for them to fuck their loads up her ass while she is on all fours so the loads travel up further into her body. She brought them both to the point of orgasm, then bent over face down, ass up and used her hands to spread herself apart so her taut, pink pucker was easily available. One after the other, Craig and Bailey both crammed their cocks up her ass and pushed themselves as deep as they could, releasing ropes of hot cum into her colon. Becky remained in that position for a moment to let the white baby juice settle inside her as her two friends left the stall, then she slowly stood up and dressed. Before she left, though, she had an idea. She wanted the feeling of having her asshole penetrated all day and the best way to simulate this while walking was to buy a butt plug. So once she left the stall, she requested to stop at the nearest sex shop with the best selection of anal toys and unsurprisingly, both Craig and Bailey simultaneously headed in the same direction. The girls followed as Becky informed them, in whispers, what had transpired in the fitting rooms.

They were joined by John, who approached with his hands in his pockets and his head hung low. It was a beautiful day, but his hunched frame and raised shoulders gave him the guise of someone walking through a snowstorm.

"Hey baby," Becky ran to John, kissed him gently on the cheek and asked if he found the group easily enough. He just nodded almost indeterminately. She took his hand and walked with him explaining what she had just done. John just looked indifferently at his wife and confirmed that he heard what she was saying. His reaction to everything was to just observe and remain open. No judgements came from him. He was even willing to make conversation with the two foreign men whose baby batter was currently floating around somewhere up his wife's ass.

Within about 10 minutes from John connecting with the crew, they arrived at the sex shop, but this wasn't just any old sex shop like the ones back in the states. Becky, Camilla, and even Janice skipped through the largest selection of porn and toys that any of them had ever seen. They were like kids in a candy shop. Feeling consistencies, smacking each other with dildos, picking up whips and spanking a nearby mannequin wearing a skimpy ballerina outfit. They seemed to be having a great time, but Becky never took her focus off the task, which was to locate that butt plug so she could enjoy the feeling of being stuffed all day, when she wasn't already being stuffed by Craig and Bailey, that is.

Becky decided that her husband could definitely assist her in this endeavor, so she separated from the group and joined up with him, arm-in-arm. She knew that Camilla and Janice would probably have some insights, as well, but even though they knew the buttons to push to make Becky squirt like a geyser, John, despite his indiscretions, was a skilled lover and caused her to have such intense orgasms, her thighs would quake. So he would do. Besides, she wanted him to try to enjoy what he could enjoy. This should be one of those fun moments within an otherwise abysmal day for John.

John's hands were perpetually in his pockets. His body language was tight, tense, making every effort to not put eyes on his wife for fear that he would see something that would turn the world red. At times, he felt like he could actually kill. He kept this inner monologue to himself.

"Hey baby," John called out to Becky before she made it to him.

"What's up?"

"Look." He pointed at something with the name "The Artillery Shell". It was a butt plug, yellow, clear. The initial impression made on Becky was its thickness. At it's thickest point, it was as round as a baseball bat, before tapering off and locking itself in whatever hole it entered. Inside, a solid piece of metal containing a very powerful motor that gave life to a vibrating core. The outer body was covered in these small protrusions or bumps that looked inviting. When Becky turned on the item to feel the strength of the vibration, both she and John, who both had a hand on it, became startled and dropped it.

"FOUND IT!" she yelled to the others. "Well, no more reason to shop." She smiled and gleefully kissed her husband on the cheek. He leaned into the kiss and smiled, bashfully, proud of his ability to immediately spot the one toy, in a store inundated with options, that Becky would enjoy most. He thought to himself, "They may have her tonight, but those fuckers don't know her heart like me". For the first time, he began to hold his chin a bit higher.

After the purchase was made, she asked if there was a "fitting room". The proprietor chuckled when Craig translated into his native Dutch, and he pointed toward a curtain. Craig and Bailey knew better than to just assume, but when Becky said, "C'mere. I may need help," in her most sinister tone, the two gave a look toward John, who gestured as if to say, "Well you best follow her!" And so they did, almost tripping over each other on the way.

What the three saw when they closed the curtain and allowed their eyes to adjust to the darkness was a bevy of activity. Both men and women all in different sorts of combinations performing a litany of mild to wild sexual acts upon each other with no walls to act as barriers. An exhibitionist's/voyeur's wet dream!!!!

There was a plexiglass partition with space for the three to check out the features of Becky's new toy. That's where she headed and they followed. On the other side of this partition was a woman being fucked by a man wearing a mask. The mask was of a dog. The man's cock was enormous and it got Becky jealous enough to cause some drama. So her escorts would understand her instruction, she spoke and gestured very slowly.

"Okay, do you see them?" Her head moved slightly to indicate the couple on the other side of the partition. Both confirmed. "I don't want to stop them. But I do want to invite whoever that guy in the dog mask is to wherever we go tonight. Do you have an idea where we'll go tonight?" She glanced back. Now she was sitting on some sort of bench with her back against the wall and her head against the partition. Becky was in clear view of the guy skull fucking the woman, who was wide open and willing. He must have been over 10 inches, uncut, so thick that he must need to sew sandwich bags together to make condoms, and once he buried himself to the hilt, the head of his cock was probably somewhere near the upper part of her sternum, but she took it. She didn't even gag. Becky was rightly impressed. She continued explaining her plan to the guys.

"Now, I'm going to lean against this glass. Unwrap the dildo." They did as asked. "Now do whatever you want as long as when you're done, that big fat toy is locked inside my ass. Okay?" They understood and Becky leaned facing the glass with her ass, as yet, unexposed, facing outward, awaiting Craig and Bailey's next move. Becky just stared at the masked stranger as he stared back at her, completely wrapped in each other, but each engaged in their own separate sexual depravity. Even the masked man's partner attempted to see what was going on in her peripherals. Cock in mouth, her eyes would, from time to time, drift upward to try to make out what her partner was focusing in on, but his ravenous assault on her mouth gave her entirely too much distraction.

As she continued to spy through the glass, occasionally looking downward to glimpse the man's cock, Becky also began to feel the tip of her new inanimate companion starting to pry her ass open, but without lube, the process was going to take a very long time. Bailey came up with the perfect remedy. Craig removed the toy and Bailey buried his face between Becky's pillowy cheeks, using his tongue both in and around her tight rear entry. Becky moaned among the chorus of bellows, moans, screams, and slapping sounds that arrived, in stereo, from all around the back of this modern day Sodom and Gomorrah, comforted by the fact that just prior to their departure from the hostel, she spent time in the bathroom freshening up to avoid any nonnative scents invading her evening. She quickly scanned the room, observing men with women, men with other men with women, women with other women with men, and both women and men playing solo. With all this going on around her, along with Bailey's tongue and fingers working her ass into a wide gaping tunnel, she almost passed out from the unfamiliarity of it all. Suddenly, she missed John, but no way was she going to leave before she accomplished her mission and alternate mission.

First, she placed one hand on each cheek and opened to reveal a figure-hugging, pink, and clenched anus, never letting her gaze falter from the two on the other side of the partition, who were now engaging in a rough session of anal sex. As his cock entered his partner's ass, it seemed he was squeezing himself through the opening of a soda bottle as his foreskin would wrinkle from being forced inside a space far too small for such a large package. To Becky, the masked man was intoxicatingly huge. It was her added quest to get his attention to invite him to whatever the guys had in store for her. Soon, Craig had a hold of the toy and was really weighing it down further inside Becky, stretching her so wide, the pain made her squirt. Her juices shot out and splashed off a chair beneath her. Both men soaked their hands and began massaging the fluid back into her crotch. "So dirty," she thought, as fingers rubbed and manipulated her nether region. Her legs shook, knees buckled, but she remained on her feet and almost threw in the towel from the pain, but then heard Bailey say, "Close, baby. Very close!"

Another minute passed and she felt her battered o-ring accept and close in around the plug's widest point. A sigh of relief audibly and simultaneously resounded from all three of them. Becky turned so both her new acquaintances could observe. "Hey, guys. What are we doing tonight? I like the idea of a club. You?"

"Club is good. We do club. You did hear of place call The Light? Very big crowd. Many men. Girls, too. Young. Old. Keep you busy as long as you want."

"Okay, sounds promising." She walked around the partition to speak to the masked man and gave him her number and her plans to go to this new frontier. Then, she returned. If all works out in her favor, Becky will have, at least, 3 invitees at tonight's club gathering, but she suspected that this number would grow exponentially once a crowd saw the open invite.

They opened the black curtain to reveal the open space of the novelty shop. The lights shown brighter than when they passed through the curtain earlier so they needed time to adjust. Once they did, Camilla and Janice appeared, both looking at lingerie and groping each other as they enjoyed the features of a pair of red-laced leggings that Camilla was considering for her subservient querida.

Becky tapped both on the shoulders and they turned. She couldn't wait to show off her high pain threshold, so as soon as her new Brazilian friends turned, she turned, as well, and lifted her skirt to reveal her ass to them. They were both very turned on by the sight of Becky's heart-shaped ass being pried apart by this monster butt plug. Both fell upon her, touching skin wherever it was exposed and tapping and pulling on the base of the plug so the vibrations would be felt deep inside Becky's third input. Becky hadn't seen an atmosphere like this in any of the sex shops in the states. The three girls touching each other seemed to go unnoticed by other patrons, like it was an everyday thing.

"Where's John," she queried?

"He went to el báno. He has been in there for long time," she added. All present knew the delicate situation they were in. John was unpredictable, a possible ticking time bomb. He was the only unknown factor, the one who could truly ruin this night.

A short time passed before John appeared from the bathroom. Becky walked gingerly to her betrothed and put her arms around his waist, whispering, "Put your hands on my ass.....Feel."

John slowly allowed his hands to traverse past her waist and down to her little bottom where he was immediately able to feel the size of the plug and how it stretched her. But he knew what he was going to feel already since he saw it as it was being forced inside her.

When Becky, Craig, and Bailey had been behind the curtain for about 5 minutes, John excused himself to the bathroom. Only he hadn't gone to the bathroom immediately. He peaked behind the curtain. He couldn't bare the idea of Becky being hurt with him not there as her protector, so he went to be sure she was okay. What happened next, not even he expected. As he pulled back the black curtain and stepped beyond, much was happening that didn't interest John, in the least, until he saw Becky staring into the eyes of the masked man while the plug was forcibly persuading her anus to give it access. John, suddenly and without warning, couldn't stop himself from jerking off. After his pants were off, he pumped his cock three times to elicit a few well travelled ropes of his cock juice that landed in long strands before him on the wood-slated floor. Seeing his wife in this prone and helpless position, to his shock, turned him on!! As soon as he drained his balls of semen, he rushed through the curtain, asked where he could relieve himself, and followed the clerks finger that pointed to the location of the nearest bathroom.

For a long time, he just stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, even as other men passed him either on their way in or on their way out. How would it play out if he admitted this to Becky? Would she seek retribution in some other way, in a way more apropos of John's distastes. No! He would not let this be seen by her or any of her temporary companions. This is the challenge as far as John saw it. If he watches, how long can he endure the pressure of enjoying the view while not gratifying himself? How can he act unenthusiastic as his mind bends sideways from watching Becky's perky tits jump around her chest while she's attacked from all sides? He wasn't confident about either of these hurdles.

His gaze broke. He washed his hands, splashed water on his face, and prepared it so he would look dejected to the rest of the bunch. After all, he was being punished....

John pierced the threshold of the bathroom, hands in pockets. Becky didn't like seeing him like this, but when else would this opportunity present itself in this way ever again.

She went to him, turned, lifted her skirt, and gave her man an eyeful of dildo in ass. To John's credit, he managed to retain his look of utter sorrow as his insides roiled and danced around with the excitement he would feel witnessing as her entire body would be broken, plugged airtight, and left to lay in a puddle of cum that she, herself, wanted to be the centerpiece of. His cock jumped in his pants, but his poker face was what all who watched were given.

Now, the sun had gone down. It was dusk. Dusk in Amsterdam was beautiful. It was when streetlights came on. Some smaller villages actually had streetlights that were lit by people with long sticks and a fire at the end. These streetlights were actually candles shroud in opaque glass, like lanterns sitting atop long black poles providing an interesting twist of shadows that shook with every small gust of wind changing the fire's direction. As the evening grew darker, coffee shops contributed their interior lights to help shine the cobblestone streets. Even John couldn't help his gaze out at all his surroundings, which cast a look of contentment on the only forlorn face in the crowd.

Becky just got more and more excited at the myriad of possibilities that lie ahead. Her face was flush red with blood filling her cheeks and forehead. This was how she looked when she really wanted something. She walked, arm-in-arm, with Craig on her one side, Bailey on the other. This was the one thing that actually did bother John. The three of them together were so beautiful to look at, he couldn't have walked into a designer clothing store and seen a more photogenic trio on an ad poster. Even Camilla and Janice, who walked in close proximity, stopping independently to window shop now and again, had a glow to them. From time to time, he grew jealous, until he remembered the end game. Then his jealousy would be transformed into a watered down bitterness.

For the five of them, this whole day was nothing but build up. As a wise man once said, "....the deep breath before the plunge." The plunge seemed such a perfect word to describe Becky's slow descent into depravity. She wanted, but never acted on, this since as long as she could recall masturbating, even before John, but the plunge is found in the fact that she never acted upon her urges. Now, quite suddenly, all those urges of hers would be served up in one glorious act, and wherever her friends were taking her, that would be her stage. John couldn't have been more stoked for this to happen. The only one more enraptured was his wife.

John observed as both Craig and Bailey suddenly pointed and changed directions with Becky, heading down the same path as their fingers indicated. They approached to the sound of deep, deep techno. It was a clean baseline, along with a constant and tonal hum. The sound, along with the context of their visit to this earthbound Valhalla, seemed to change the gravity of the situation, because, all at once, Becky, Craig, Bailey, Camilla, and Janice fell into a complete silence. John was in the rear, just watching.

They entered the club with no one watching the entrance or carding anyone. Becky mentioned how freeing it felt not to be policed like they are back home. "Right honey?" Becky used this point to bring John into the group discussion.

John actually expounded, "Yeah. I hate to say it, but having been all over the world, it's clear that Americans are the most policed citizens of any country that I've been to, at least. You can burn tires in protest in Pakistan, drink when you're 13 years old in France, and fuck your neighbor outside in your front yard in São Paulo. You know that, señoritas."

Camilla and Janice looked on with interest. Camilla asked, "Even in Brazil?"

John had to laugh, "Are you serious? The difference is night and day!" Inside, John was starting to become impatient with this, otherwise interesting, conversation. This wasn't the time. With the attention on him, he urged the group forward just by raising his eyebrows and flicking his eyes down the long corridor, adorn with streams of blue-green lights, images of people dancing, and strobes every 5 feet.

They had been there over an hour, sometimes dancing, always drinking, and the girls flirting with every guy they saw, even Camilla, who, until this moment, never divulged that she was bisexual. Everyone was high on anticipation when Becky attempted to yell over the music, saying, "I have to use the little girl's room!!"

"Que?!!"

"El baño!!"

"Want company," Camilla offered.

"Absolutely!" Becky had a feeling Camilla would be quite useful with this new found knowledge about her sexual proclivities.

They broke from the group. It was around 11pm.

As they walked toward the bathrooms, the two of them cut off the path they were making toward the women's bathroom and diverged, bravely, if not intentionally, to the men's bathroom. The rest of the group, who knew what was going on and how this was going to turn out, saw the two change directions and their silhouetted bodies disappear through the wrong door. Craig and Bailey, as if they were just told that the meaning of life could be found behind a tile on the wall in the men's bathroom, we're the next to break from the group and race to the men's room. Janice and John, having nothing in common and not really having said a word to each other, awkwardly, both stared at the door that 4 of their companions had just gone through until John, like a gentleman, bought Janice a stiff drink, excused himself, and slowly drew open the same door his wife passed through seconds ago.

Upon entering, he couldn't initially see where any of the familiar faces were, aside from two sets of shoes, unfamiliar to him, in two different stalls. There was a smell of unwashed urinals and the urinal cakes at the bottom of each of these troughs didn't help mask the smell, but intensified it. A checkered white and orange tile pattern along the wall gave off an illusion that the walls were moving or somehow wiggling. He could see how a drunk could walk into this bathroom in search of a toilet to puke in and not make it before hurling up every drop of Sambuca he just finished after glancing for 3 seconds at this twisted wall of tiles.

After about 30 seconds, he heard a faint and high-pitch sigh. It was a satisfied sound coming from one of the two stalls containing a person, more than likely, masturbating. John began to worry after several moments of not being able to put eyes on his wife when he finally received confirmation of her whereabouts. One of the stalls that contained only one pair of shoes now contained two and the other pair was Becky, who must have been standing on the toilet for someone reason. The other pair of feet, as demure as Becky's, could only have been Camilla's.

John was bemused. What was Becky doing in a bathroom stall with Camilla? He went in for clarity, approaching with delicate footfalls. A crack where the door meets the frame revealed both girls were without tops, rubbing their chests together, kissing each other, and aggressively rubbing, petting, or just straight out grabbing at the other's body. John nearly shot in his pants right there at the stall door.

Without warning, the door to the stall opened to reveal the two of them, a splendid view from John's perspective. In Camilla's hand, held up like a trophy fish, was the wide set anal plug recently pulled from his wife's asshole. Becky was just staring at him, her left arm twisted behind her back as the fingers of her left hand felt the tunnel left behind from having a large item lodged firmly inside her ass for well over two hours as she walked. They were glistening with the beginnings of a mist of sweat that would soon soak them if they continued. To John's surprise, they did continue. It was all John could do to keep himself from yanking his cock from his pants zipper and jerking off right there. Camilla was so hot, and seeing these two, one of them his wife, almost literally, attacking each other was enough to make John avert his eyes before he exploded.

As soon as his eyes refocused, once they were torn away from the best view he had seen all day, aside from Becky getting plunged by the monster plug at the sex toy shop now in the hands of Camilla, Craig and Bailey emerged from the other stall, both of whom went from a controlled and settled pair to two unhinged wild men with just one visit to a bathroom stall. John wasn't sure what happened that only one of their pairs of feet were visible from under the door. He didn't really want to know. What he did know, from his occupation, was what drug addicts looked like once they had a fix. He didn't know if they shot it, snorted it, ate it, or smoked it, but Becky's escorts were very, very high on some type of stimulant, and John's radar went up instantly. Any funny business from these two would elicit a sudden rage that would end with both these drug-addled foreigners having their heads drowned in shallow toilet water. John wasn't about to spoil Becky's 'retribution', though. Besides, when a person does any barbiturate for the purposes of heightening their sexual prowess, John was aware that they weren't out to hurt anyone and he understood that these two clowns were only acting as pawns in Becky's chess game. Two of many that would cross the barrier from dance club to sex club upon entering the restroom.

At once, the four exited their respective stalls, Becky falling to her knees, being flanked by her two fuck buddies, pants at ankles, with Camilla burying her face in Becky's relieved ass, eating her out like it was a fondue set. John remained stoic, hands in pockets, positioned behind his wife since he was really enjoying Camilla's ability to push buttons on Becky that he was still searching for. He was taking notes.

Soon after this, the first club goer entered the restroom and witnessed an eyeful of sexual lechery, immediately turning and walking out of the room. Becky and the rest were undeterred. Within seconds, the same guy re-entered and behind him were four other males, all around their mid-20s. "You see," said the patron, "I fucking told you so!!" There was a dialect to his voice, but he and the other 4 had a very good grasp of the English language.

The group of 5 wondered how to take all this. We're they to stand and watch, get involved, hold Becky's hair so she didn't get anything on it? Then, of all the participants involved, the one to speak up was John.

"Hey, this here, the one with the two cocks in her mouth and a chick eating her ass out, that's my wife. She's a sweet piece of ass." By their body language, it was clear that they agreed. John couldn't wait to say the next line. "Are going to stand there all fucking night?!! Pull out your cocks and fuck her brains out!! Geez!"

They didn't need to be told twice, though John was a bit shocked they even need to be told once. After the scene degenerated into his wife being used like a dishrag by the first 5 guys who entered, John never had to offer his wife again as the participants came chained to each other's entrance into the bathroom, knowing, as soon as Becky came into view, that she was free to any who could find an opening.

The next man who walked in looked with his friend at his side and said, in English, "What a fucking whore?" Then glancing toward his friend, he added, "So, you wanna get this bitch? I'm getting some, regardless, I'm just asking."

His friend slowly turned to him and, making sure each word was separate and clear, said, "Fuck......yes.....guy! When in Rome, right?" Seven became nine and John could see that things were becoming overwhelming for Becky.

At this point, her hands were occupied with cock, as was her mouth, switch hitting between two cocks, neither of which understood the gag reflex and its complexities, causing Becky to wretch often which would immediately raise complaints by the guy in her ass who had to predict Becky's gag reflex so that when she wretched, he knew to stuff his cock as far inside her ass as he could so her tightening muscles wouldn't push out his uncut and wide power tool. Every time she wretched, he admonished by making his hand into a flat paddle and coming down hard on her soft pink flesh. In German, "Du hast mich fast ausgespuckt, du Schlampe." From his exploits, John could make out the words "bitch" and "spit", but was unsure of the rest.

The whole scene was very foreign to both John and Becky because languages from all walks of Eastern Europe entered and demeaned her slutty disposition as they abused her in so many ways, but when they spoke, anyone from Eastern Europe understood, generally, what was being said and even engaged each other in discussion over how unexpectedly awesome this whole thing was. John and Becky were really the only ones who were in the dark, but Becky was the only one making any sacrifices.

John did his level best to remain forlorn, but soon, he was overcome with desire. Watching Becky being repeatedly bred, seeing her ass and cunt, filthy and seeping a consistent drainage of cum and piss, her mouth cycling a barrage of cocks until all she could do was leave her mouth agape since closing it just meant reopening it seconds later, he couldn't hide anymore as his cock pressed, painfully hard, against the inside of the zipper of his pants, having already popped out of his boxers.

He unzipped and just as he had, Becky turned. He thought how busy she was to have the time, so suddenly, to turn and see him in the throes of pleasure watching her being accosted, and this as soon as his cock shot erect through his pants zipper.

This was her retribution, or so it was supposed to be, she thought. If I'm not getting revenge, then all I'm doing now is for nothing. No fucking way! She stood as cocks from all holes left her body, soggy and unsatisfied. She went to yell at her masturbating husband, when, from behind her, some unnamed man grabbed a handful of her hair, yanked her head backward, and said, "We aren't done, slut....you're still walking!" A synced reaction of relief came across every male face involved since, without her participation, it was just a bunch of dudes naked in a men's bathroom, an awkward reality that was only near avoided.

He dragged her to one of the urinals and buried her face down where the cake was located, the round item placed to make the urinal smell more tolerable, but worked only to mix with the smell of urine. Then, he made an offer of his own. In brusk German, "Okay Leute, das Fest ist immer noch im Gange! Zwei Jungs, einer auf jedem Arm!!l". John had no idea what the man had just said, but enjoyed watching Becky being dragged around a bathroom by her hair. He was able to guess what he had said from the actions taken by other men. From the crowd of about 15 men, two moved to the front. Walking on either side of Becky's bent over waist, dappled with white gobs of undetermined semen, the two grabbed an arm each and pinned them against the side of the cold porcelain of the urinal. The aggressive German with all the ideas walloped Becky's ass with a firm hand making her body tense. The smack was loud. But the handprint he left was way louder. Moments after he removed his hand from her ass, a deep red mark formed that would remain there for days after the incident ended, tattooing her as a mark to reminisce to.

He grabbed his cock at the base, hardening his fat, German cock helmet, and pressed against Becky, whose ass gave way in an instant, a toll-free bridge. No payment for access. Becky was completely a prisoner to whomever desired a receptacle to empty into and that's what everyone did to her. One at a time, John keeping count, they all walked up to Becky with her head remaining in the urinal, and pumped their cocks into whatever hole they felt like, and in moments, each shot their loads into her body. Several of the men reached forward and flushed the urinal sending a spasm of laughter through the dimly lit bathroom. The onslaught went on until Becky finally broke down and asked to be released because the position she was in, accommodating though it was to the male constituents, was actually starting to really hurt her back. John's final count, at least for this part of her retribution, was 19 loads, but in fairness, 2 or 3 guys went twice. From the time she was pinned to the urinal to her request to be released, about 70 minutes lapsed. When she pushed, a stream of off white, viscous fluid arced from her asshole and splashed beneath her.

Becky was filled with enough cum to cause her tummy to slosh around with the slightest movement of her body. She collapsed between two urinals and sat, dead eyed, awaiting whatever she would be made to endure next.

Then, a man walked in that Craig and Bailey recognized. He wore a dog mask and had a woman at his side. Becky slowly looked upward with tired eyes, but upon seeing him, those eyes widened and she shifted her weight, landing on her knees, recalling how large his uncut cock was and how the foreskin hung off the tip of his shaft when it wrapped around his head. She was practically panting like a dog when the woman he was with knelt down and unzipped his pants, pulled them down, and lifted his cock from its place down the man's left pant leg. She pried it out and released it, but Becky, ever the servant, didn't let it drop. She grabbed it with both hands, which wasn't enough to really handle him due to now wide it was. Wider than the plug in her ass earlier, wider than Craig and Bailey put together. She was so glad she invited this guy.

He never spoke a word. He never spoke at the sex toy shop, either. His companion did all his talking. "Language?"

"English," said Becky.

"He desires you to use your mouth."

Becky smiled and opened her mouth as wide as she could. He didn't move, but waited for her to go to the cock. She moved forward. The tip disappeared, but the rest was something of a challenge. His companion grabbed the base of his cock with one hand and the back of Becky's head with the other, "Your WHOLE mouth," she pushed his cock and her head together with force as he entered her mouth even further. John actually turned away. He had stopped jerking off, but was so hot for this scene that he could feel himself starting to close in on an orgasm just by watching. Becky was breathing through her nose as the tip of the man's cock corked her throat shut. The woman continued to push from both ends. Looking at Craig, she commanded, "Play with my pussy, now!" Craig complied and the woman moaned as she continued to pleasure her man with Becky's face. Becky opened her throat as wide as possible at which point the woman"s forceable entry began to make ground. Slowly, the man's hard cock pushed in past the half way point and continued. Once in as far as he could go, the woman released his cock and Becky's head. The man grabbed Becky and began short pumps in and out of her throat. A bulge took shape and could be seen traveling up and down Becky's neck. He was very far inside her body and extremely hard.

He wanted to feel her cunt wrap tightly around his fat cock, so after several minutes watching Becky struggle to regulate her breathing, turning red, sometimes blue, then back to normal only to be denied her ability to breathe again, repeating the same patterns of facial color, he exited her throat, ending her torturous breath deprivation.

From a bag that the masked man's partner was carrying, she removed a decent sized strap-on and proceeded to secure it tightly to her waist. Once allowed to hang freely, it dangled heavily toward the ground and seemed an unforgiving thing. Connected at the base was a tube of which Becky couldn't make the function. The masked man lay on his back on a floor with unknown amounts of indiscernible fluid and didn't seem to mind at all.

His partner commanded, "He wants you to sit on his cock." It was standing high above his mid section. It might as well have been the Washington Monument as it set itself erect, rising forever in relation to his body.

Becky thought, "I have to sit on that thing?" But she dare not voice this out loud. A glimpse at her loving husband and she knew, there was no help coming her way, and she wasn't about to throw in the towel. She positioned herself standing above with her feet on either side of his torso facing his upper body and began to lower her aching snatch down onto his powerful cock.

Her lips touched it and began to quiver, being as used as they were, hanging down either side of his cock as if to swallow it. His partner placed a hand on Becky's left shoulder and said all she needed to by pushing her down, quickly impaling her onto his enormous cock, crowbarring her pussy apart, stretching her beyond anything she has ever felt before. It was a blessing for him to arrive so late in the festivities since Becky had accepted so many men, she was able to also take the masked man down to his huge hanging balls, yet not without a great deal of acceptable pain. But his partner was not as easy to accept inside her ass. Yes, she had been fucked there repeatedly and was quite broken in, but the tube connected to the strap on was a duct allowing air to expand the dildo while it was deep inside Becky's ass.

As Becky straddled the masked man, the woman stabbed into her asshole with no mitigation and let it sit momentarily. Becky, then, could hear what sounded like a sleeve used for checking blood pressure. The woman was using a small, soft grip containing air to pump into the dildo. It was slow to expand, at first, but in a short time, Becky was almost in tears as her anus was opened to the size of a small grapefruit in diameter. The woman, instead of deflating this device, began removing it so slowly, Becky screamed, then came hard until the fat and bulbous sphere exited with a pop. Then, as if on cue, the masked man grabbed Becky around her back, connecting his hands behind her, and began fucking her so deep, she lost control again and squirted her sex all over the floor behind her, while also pushing him out of her pussy. His cock sprang out with such force, it bent about midway down the shaft before exiting and shooting right back up into its kickstand-like stiffness. It seemed to anger him, though his face wasn't visible, because he began breathing heavily. High-pitched sounds, eerie sounds, emitted from his mask. His hips began rising and falling making it seem like he was looking for a hole, any hole of Becky's, to ram himself into, to punish her for allowing his cock to be pushed out of her.

His partner, once again, entered the picture. She grabbed him and pushed the tip of his cock against Becky's gaping anus, then materialized a bottle of lube which she squirted amply against her asshole and the head of his cock. With as much force as his hips could muster, the masked man wrapped his arms around behind Becky's, grabbed onto her shoulders, and pulled her downward toward his cock while simultaneously using his hips to swiftly jackhammer her asshole so quickly, heat from the friction began to burn Becky's hole up, but he continued for far more time than she lasted. A point came where, as he continued ramming his entire length into her mistreated back door, her body was so limp, it just flopped around in the direction of his rough thrusts. When he finally allowed his hips to stop their aggressive anal pounding, Becky was passed out. The masked man slithered out from under her. When his cock exited, it was followed by so much cum that it spread quickly across the bathroom floor, some feet stepped back so the nasty concoction didn't touch their footwear. The masked man stood as she flopped down to the floor and lay there unresponsive.

John, unmoved and gritting his teeth in some perverse fury, was intensely fucking his fist and wanted badly to cum, but also didn't want to until the very end, so he allowed the pressure to build inside him. What he witnessed next was, by far, the filthiest thing he'd ever seen any woman do in person. This being his wife, and seeing what he had witnessed her involved in, still, he had no intention of running to her aide. He was relatively certain she would wave him off, anyway......if she were actually conscious.

For a few minutes, she just sat there as the men all watched drops of cum snail down her torso and land on the cold tiled floor. After not too long, a timid looking man, small in stature, naked, stepped forward. All were curious about what he could have up his sleeve until he did it. A long clear stream of fluid began splashing against Becky's anus as she lay there in a daze, helpless to stop any of the men from following the example they all enjoyed the view of. This time, it wasn't one by one, either. Any man who had an urge to urinate just stepped up and aimed at Becky. Three, sometimes 4 or even 5, streams of foul smelling piss met random parts of her body and splashed off. This was exactly the sort of treatment she was hoping to endure. So disrespectful and feculent, but her body had been treated like this for hours, so the smell for her was not apparent. However, it was to her crew, all of whom were still present, even Craig and Bailey.

She came around when one of the streams began splashing against her face. She started playing with her pussy. The men were all aghast. None more than her husband, though. Covered in cum, piss, spit and with more being shot at her, she was turned on to the point that she had to play with herself. The most surprising thing about this is that she came almost immediately. The men thought they were done, only to find out that there was till life left in this bitch.

So each of them, with others entering the bathroom to attend to Becky, as well, went to her and began face fucking her, extending her arms above her head and holding them against the wall with her head pressed against the wall behind her as they thrashed her throat, leaving behind yet another load, shot all over her face, bukakke style! She was coated, unrecognizably coated, making it seem as if the flesh were melting off her skull.

None of the crew knew it, but the time was now 4am.

It seemed that the men in the club all had their fill of Becky, using her, exploiting her, and moving on. As John stood, close to shooting his wad, from behind him came Camilla, who had actually left to be with Janice, but returned to see if her new friend was okay. Camilla was initially concerned for Becky and seeing that John was indifferent to her condition, continuing to jack off with his wife looking as she did, she looked to Becky for a sign.

Becky, while still and utterly covered over with a mound of filth, hoisted an arm toward Camilla and slowly raised a thumb, with an accompanying, but ever so slight, smile. Camilla let out a sigh of relief, but knew she would need a firehose to extinguish the layer of sleaze that stuck to Becky's body. And though Becky was in the state she was in, her head still fantasized. She was down, but not out. Unfortunately, the club ran out of guys and, for now, she would have to accept this as her retribution.

Camilla, always the helper, called in Janice and instructed her quietly. Janice undressed to complete nakedness, walked to Becky, got on her hands and knees, and began licking Becky's body clean. Suddenly, the bathroom echoed as John screamed, "OH MY GOD!" With his pants at his ankles and with as much grace as a flamingo drunk on bourbon, he did the penguin walk to his wife's body and finally shot the load he had been edging for 4 hours all over the two entangled and shiny bodies sliding up and down on each other. Neither was affected by this as Janice's tongue pressed against Becky's tender, slippery flesh and cut a path through all the messy fluids left behind by all those strange men. When her mouth finally filled with remnants of the mess coating Becky's body, she looked at her lover, who was nearby, closed her mouth, swallowed the contents, and opened to show Camilla, who nodded and sometimes said, "Bien," through moans as she, too, was getting off watching the two play around, though Janice was able to display far more vigor toward Becky than Becky could possibly have returned in her condition.

Becky got what she wanted. As she got her clothes on, which Camilla wisely collected as they were shed from Becky's body at the start of this gangbang some 5 hours prior, she asked if the Artillery Shell was still around. Camilla had licked it clean hours ago and kept it close, so she materialized it and handed it to her sore and broken friend. Becky insatiably suctioned the toy to the countertop after washing her hands, jumped up, and came down, ass first, onto the fat, gelatinous anal stretcher. Her back arched and she yelled, "Oh FUCK," but it stayed in as Craig and Bailey came to her side and each took an arm to gently and respectfully escort her out of The Light.

Becky needed frequent stops to sit and gather herself. She leaked constantly. Where ever she sat, she left two round, side-by-side wet spots in her wake. The feeling that she could lose control of her faculties and pee right on the street was her constant worry until they returned to the hostel where she cleared a path to the communal bathroom, popped out the Artillery Shell, and sat, for what seemed like hours, on the toilet, allowing gravity to do its job and pull all the foreign filth from both her holes. This feeling excited her as she sat. So much came out that she started playing with it as it exited, then realized that this had to end and her head had to return to the world, at least for now. Men and women came and went, but Becky was not worried about being propositioned looking as she did. She had the memory and, as far as she knew, she still had John.

After her long bout with the toilet, she showered and began feeling like maybe, sometime soon, her holes would return to their beautiful and unfettered state. Thinking about that made her sad. Their unfettered state. She would return with her husband to America and, with that, return to normal, bland, and patterned while he got to travel the world and, most likely, cheat on her again, or at least that was what was in her head.

As she lay next to her husband feeling complete and empty all at once, that creaking fan overhead as her thoughts circulated in her head just as each fan blade above her head orbited again and again, her mind wandered back to the bathroom scene at The Light, her body jerking backwards as the abusive German man grabbed a handful of her hair and shoved her face into a piss covered urinal allowing the entire bathroom access to any part of her they wanted, she took note of her husband, tickled by the view of his wife being made a wet sleeve for any man who wished access. Though she did have fun, the fact that he enjoyed the treatment needled her to no end. She would find a way to exact real retribution for his misgivings. With only 4 days remaining on their backpacking trip across Eastern Europe, and only two of them to spend in Amsterdam, the clock was ticking and her time was short. If she would take John to task, it must take place here, in Amsterdam!