Souvenir of Budapest

Many thanks to HMAuthor for first editing and improving this story and to BeautifulStorm, Edixxx and Shygirlwhore for additional invaluable help.

Magda never kept it a secret that she went through a wild phase while she was a student in Budapest.

She dropped hints a few times that she was ready to tell me stories about the old days that would astonish me. The implication was that her escapades would be a turn-on for both of us, and then we'd have hot sex.

But even though that was long before she met me, I didn't enjoy thinking about her being with anyone else, so I never responded to her suggestions. I could tell she was disappointed, but she respected my wishes.

By the time I got to know her, she was an American citizen and more mainstream, but far from tame. She was known as the hottest residential real estate agent in town in both senses. I don't know whether it was her brains, beautiful face, curves, good nature, sense of humor or sexy Hungarian accent that made her hugely successful -- probably some of each.

I fell hard, and for some reason, she chose me, although other guys she was dating were better looking and had more money. Our marriage was a good one, with two beautiful children and a wife who seemed to grow sexier, not older.

Our love life had lots of variety -- at least I thought so. We enjoyed surprising each other, and usually we both liked the surprises. I was less daring and never tried anything that I thought might make her uncomfortable. She didn't limit herself. Occasionally, I declined some of her more unusual ideas.

One of them was sticking her fingers in my ass. One finger was all right and even felt good when she moved it around as we made love, but sometimes she stuck a second finger in. That bothered me, and I stopped her. One time, before I could do that, she put a third finger in. I moved away and dislodged them and then jumped up.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"You know! I don't like that!"

"You are so unadventurous," she said. "You never want to try anything new."

"That's not true. I just don't like how that feels, and you want to take it even further, don't you?"

"I promise you I would be careful. I'm certain you could take all my fingers and even my whole hand in there. It just takes practice. The human body is very adaptable. You might even enjoy it. Unless you let me try, how will you ever know for sure?"

"I hate the idea, and I don't need to know for sure."

She looked irritated.

"Every time you want to try something new, I go along. Usually, I really like it, sometimes it does nothing for me and sometimes I can't stand it. I always tell you later -- when we're done, when I know for sure. If I didn't do that, we wouldn't be doing many of things that get you really excited.

"But whenever I suggest something unusual, you fight me. I could name a dozen things that you resisted at first, and now you love them. Aren't you glad you gave in?"

She was right, but I couldn't admit it, because she'd use that as ammunition in this argument. So I ignored her question.

"You know that if you say you don't want to do something, I never pressure you to do it," I said. "Why won't you do the same for me?"

"We're not talking about the children or where we eat," she said. "Don't change the subject. This is about sex. When have I ever not gone along with anything you wanted to try in bed?"

The argument didn't go on much longer, but long enough to break the mood. I turned on my night light and went back to the book I was reading before we began getting amorous. She went back to emails on her iPad. After an hour, I turned off my light and went to sleep. She was still working on her emails.

About a week later, she told me she wanted to take a vacation without the kids this year, because she wanted to show me around Budapest, and the toddlers were too young for the trip. A few months later, we left the kids with my parents and flew off.

She didn't have any family left in Hungary, because they had all moved to the States, but her college girlfriend, Juliska, still lived there and greeted us at the airport. She was even more voluptuous than Magda and showed it off in some skimpy, slutty outfits as the three of us explored the city for four days.

I soon found out that in Budapest, Juliska's clothing wasn't out of the ordinary. A lot of other beauties crossed our path as we wandered the streets, and most of them were dressed more like Juliska than Magda. Magda's outfits were considered risque at home but they looked tame in Budapest.

Juliska was a little out there, and conversations with her and Magda were a lot of fun, including lots of dirty jokes. Sometimes they were in Hungarian, and Magda translated.

Magda told me Juliska was in the Hungarian film industry and used to be an actress. Now she was mostly involved in production. Several times I caught Juliska looking at me intently, but when I noticed, she turned away. The looks were more like curious looks. She definitely never flirted with me the few times we were alone.

On the morning of our fifth day, the last day before we flew home, Magda announced that she and Juliska had arranged a memorable evening for that night.

"It will be a real souvenir of Budapest," Magda said at breakfast. "Juli won't be with us today, because she's working on it."

I figured it would be similar to our dinner with gypsy music a couple of nights before and didn't think about it again as we spent the day strolling through the city, watching the many outdoor performers and shopping for gifts to take home.

We brought everything back to the hotel room, and I asked Magda if we should change for dinner, but she said no. A few minutes later, Juliska arrived, and we walked a few blocks to a nondescript office building. Juliska ushered us inside and led us past a receptionist and down a hallway. We ended up in front of a couple of small dressing rooms, like the kind you find backstage in a theater.

There we were introduced to Ilona, who looked like she bought her clothes the same place Juliska did.

"You are both going to be in costume for this," said Juliska, pushing me into one room with Ilona while she took Magda's hand and led her into the other room. The door shut, and Ilona started undressing me.

"Wait a second," I said, pushing her hands away. "What's going on?"

Her accent was a lot thicker than Juliska's and her English a lot worse. She pointed to a colorful outfit hanging from a pipe rod and seemed to be saying this was some kind of imperial costume that I was to wear. I decided to go along, but I told her I'd undress myself.

Even though she was adamant about me taking off my boxers, I kept them on while she put the elaborate costume over my head. I didn't know what it was, but it seemed like a long tunic made from some kind of heavy material that was white, with lots of colorful flowery and frilly things sewn on to it.

Once I had it on, she sat me down in the dressing chair and began to work on my face. I started to object, but in her halting English, she explained that makeup was part of the costume.

It was strange, because there was no mirror. I saw dirt marks on the bare wall indicating that there had been one there recently, I closed my eyes and let her rub and dab away at me. The weirdest thing was when she stuck several cloth disks to the hair on top of my head with some kind of sticky putty. Finally, she scrutinized me and nodded in satisfaction.

She spoke to me slowly now, giving me instructions, but her English was so bad that I didn't understand anything except for one thing that she went over several times and even made me practice. I was not to say "Magda." Each time I wanted to say it, I had to say "my wife" instead. After I had repeated, "My wife, NO Magda" several times, she seemed satisfied.

She led me down the hall to a large room with an oversized couch on it. Sitting on the couch was a woman dressed like a man, but not just any man. She looked like a medieval prince and had a fake mustache and beard on.

Her costume was strips of colorful cloth. Some were attached to a loose cloth collar and hung down past her waist. Around her middle was a girdle with dozens more of the strips in rainbow colors that were so long they went down to her ankles.

As she moved, the strips moved, too, and I saw that she had nothing on under the costume. I caught a glimpse of some great breasts and a gorgeous ass, so it was definitely a woman, despite the costume facial hair.

When she patted the place next to her and said, "Sit down," I realized it was Magda. I thought it might be ventriloquism, until I pulled aside some strips and saw that special mark in the hidden place that Magda always told me was for my eyes only. Otherwise, I wouldn't have believed it was her. The makeup job was that good. I wondered what Ilona's makeup had made me look like.

When I sat down, some bright stand lights were turned on across the room and on either side of us, all aimed straight at us. I saw a few video cameras on stands, also aimed at us, and a woman with a camera who was moving around, stopping long enough to film a while from various angles.

I couldn't see who was standing behind the lights and cameras, but I heard the pleasant voice of a woman who had a Hungarian accent.

She spoke English well and started asking questions, first in Hungarian to Magda and then in English to me. I didn't find out until later that the questions to Magda in Hungarian were different from the questions to me:

Woman: You both look great! What do you think?

Me: I didn't even recognize Ma—uh, my wife.

Woman: I thought that was the idea.

Me: What do you mean?

Woman: How do you feel about doing this movie with your wife?

Me: I'm just going along.

Woman: Aren't you a little bit afraid?

Me: I haven't thought about that. Should I be afraid?

Woman: Most men wouldn't be willing to do this.

Me: I know what you mean. I feel pretty silly sitting here in this costume.

Woman: Your wife wrote the story. Did you have any idea she was capable of such a thing?

Me: No. I never knew she could write.

Woman: Are you sure you want to go through with this?

Me: No. But I'm here now, so I guess, uh, my wife's not going to let me get away with leaving before we shoot this silly video.

That was the end of the conversation with me. She asked Magda a few more questions in Hungarian, and I wished again that I had learned some of the language before we came. I had no idea what they were saying.

Then Magda got up and assumed her character, I guess, because she stood up straight and marched in a military stride out of the lighted area into the dark, where I could not see her.

Before she did, she turned and gave me one of her characteristic mischievous looks. At least I think so, because she looked so different that I wasn't sure.

A second after she left, Ilona and a large woman came to the couch. The woman was about a foot taller than me and very muscular. She had a mean expression on her face.

Just as I was thinking this was the first ugly Hungarian woman I'd seen on this trip, she squatted down in front of me, grabbed my feet and in one quick motion pulled them high in the air. My costume fell over my face, and I couldn't see anything.

While I was being held upside down by her, two hands grabbed my boxers and pulled them straight up. The woman released one foot at a time -- she was really strong -- and the boxers were pulled off. I started to shout, but then two fingers stuck something rubbery into my mouth. It was the end of a balloon. I could feel the rubber taste in my mouth.

As soon as the end was in my mouth, the fingers pinching it pulled away, and I felt all the air of the balloon escape into my mouth. I was still at the start of my yell, but the yell turned into a squeal that sounded funny.

This made me even angrier. The helium from the balloon had changed my voice, and the more I yelled, the more ridiculous it sounded. After that, I was fed more balloon air every time my voice started getting back to normal.

Meanwhile, I felt a finger pushing something greasy into my ass. That was followed by a long tube that was pushed deep inside me. Then I felt warm liquid flowing into me.

I struggled, but the big woman was still holding my feet in the air, and the liquid kept coming. Finally it stopped, and after holding me up a few more minutes, the woman slowly lowered my feet back to the floor, and I could see again.

She grabbed me around the waist and held me tight. I moved my hands and feet frantically trying to escape, but the giant woman was too strong for me.

When my twists began turning into squirms, she released me and took my hand. I stood up and tried to break free, but she held my hand tightly and pointed toward a doorway in the corner of the dark room that was lit and slowly started walking in that direction, dragging me with her.

I was now really squirming and had given up trying to escape in favor of trying to hold the liquid in. When I saw that we were heading toward a bathroom, I moved ahead quickly. She kept pace with me while still holding my hand tightly.

Even when I got to the toilet, she didn't let go. Afterward, she took a soapy sponge and cleaned me, rinsed me, dried me and then dragged me back to the couch. I felt humiliated.

She held me while someone came up behind me and pushed something on top of my head, making it stick to me. I realized those pieces of cloth stuck to my head were Velcro.

I tried to resist, but the chemicals in the enema had been powerful, and by the time everything inside me had come out, I was exhausted and weak.

I heard some loud martial music coming from speakers somewhere in the room. After a few seconds, the music gradually faded, and I heard a man speaking in English with a Hungarian accent. It was like a formal announcement:

"The princess's wedding night, Part One. The slave of the prince prepares the bride."

As these words were spoken, a short, muscular man, whose body shone with oil walked up to the couch. He looked like a fire hydrant, squat and square with not an inch of fat. He wore the same kind of girdle Magda had on, with colorful cloth strips that came down to just nearly his ankles.

He pushed me onto the couch, and just like the heavy woman had done, he lifted me up into the air by my feet until my shoulders were on the couch and my legs stretched above them. I twisted and struggled, but to no avail.

The short man had no trouble handling me. Then another tube was inserted deep into me. Oh no, I thought, here we go again. Sure enough, I started filling up. This time it was thick, greasy fluid.

When the tube was removed, he didn't lead me to the bathroom. Instead he pulled my legs apart and stepped between them.

That's when I saw something under his cloth strips that reminded me of a big snake. It was rising and pushing out of the costume.

He dropped one of my legs but kept holding the other one high. His other hand took his snake, placed it between my butt cheeks and pushed. As he did, there was a squishy sound and some of the greasy stuff inside me squirted out.

He pulled back a moment and then rubbed his pole in the grease and up and down my crack. I tensed my anal muscles as he pushed again, and this time nothing came out, but he didn't let up on the pressure.

Nothing happened for a minute, and then I screamed as I felt him begin to slide into me. Because of a dose of helium a few minutes before, I sounded like Donald Duck frightened by an ant.

He kept pushing, and I felt a strange kind of discomfort. There was hardly any friction because of the grease, but the huge snake was stretching my insides. I was panting from trying to cope with the horrible feeling, and as he pushed the last few inches in, I almost fainted. He stopped while I panted faster and faster, trying to deal with the huge mass inside my body.

Then he began pulling out a little and pushing back in. I screamed again, and Donald sounded a little darker until another balloon was emptied into my mouth and the high duck voice returned. I stopped making any sound except sobs and grunts as he slowly moved in and out of me, each time pulling further out before pushing all the way in.

As I turned my head from side to side, I saw a monitor playing a porn film of a short man screwing the ass of a beautiful woman. It was the same man who was attacking me. Even the rhythm was the same. As I moved my arm, the woman's arm moved the same way. That's when I screamed the loudest.

The woman in the monitor was me, but she didn't look anything like me. What I thought was a white tunic bunched at my waist and was actually a beautiful wedding dress. The hair was a blond wig stuck to my head. Ilona's makeup and the dress that hid my body made me look like an alluring woman, except when my cock showed occasionally.

The squat man was now pulling all the way out and pushing all the way in. The view on the monitor changed to a close-up camera, and I quickly looked away, but not before I saw something so frightening and disgusting that I wanted to throw up.

As the man pulled out of me, he was opening a huge hole that tried to close when he withdrew. But the hole had been opened so wide that it could only shut half way before the snake entered again. I couldn't believe that huge opening was mine. I felt utterly degraded. The feeling was almost worse than the agony every time he pulled out.

The man took one of my ankles in each hand and pulled my legs over his shoulders. Then he pushed forward, lifting my rear off the couch as he continued to push in and out and pick up his pace.

He began bumping my ass with his thighs every time he pushed in. The bumps got faster and harder, and the springs in the couch responded by bumping me back up. Between the bumps from the man and the couch, I was like a bouncing ball. Every time I slammed up into the man, I couldn't help shrieking in my funny voice, and then I shrieked again a second later as we flew apart and he ripped out of me.

Finally he slowed down and then pulled out. He lifted me up, turned me over and lifted me up so that I was on all fours, I was sweating and had no energy left in me. I felt like a wet mop. He got behind me, and this time he quickly touched bottom, and once again I had to endure his awful thrusts.

He pulled out and turned me around on the huge couch, as big as a small bed, and stood over me. I looked up at the monitor for a moment and saw him squatting over my ass and pushing his cock back into me.

He began squatting up and down. As he gradually increased his speed, the bumping began again. I was still on my hands and knees, so my entire body was bouncing up and down as if I were on a trampoline.

He stopped and grabbed me around the waist, fell back and pulled me on top of him so I was impaled and facing away from him. Then he swung himself around so that he was sitting on the couch facing the lights.

He tried for a moment to bounce on the couch to continue pushing in and out, but my dead weight on top of him kept him from moving much. Then he grabbed me behind the knees and lifted me and rolled me back so that my feet were on his thighs.

After they were planted there, he used his hands to lift my rear up until I was slightly suspended in the air above him, with some of his cock outside me. He began to thrust from below and soon he was going in and out lightning fast.

I was out of control and couldn't stop screaming. He stopped for another balloon to be fed to me and then resumed and said his first words to me, softly in a thick Hungarian accent: "Pull your cheeks apart."