****** Switzerland by Skywalker ******
===============================================================================

Switzerland


To begin with, this is a true story told to the best of my recollection. If you
want to think it is a lie, ask yourself this what in the hell do I need to
prove to YOU, an absolute stranger? I'm leaving out a few facts for the
protecting of identities but here it goes.

OK, I was on my very first and only trip to Europe. I was 24, and had recently
been accepted to grad school for the upcoming fall. As a reward, my parents
offered to fly me over to stay with them during a business trip they were on.
Before I left home, my dad, who is neurotic and always thinks the WORST thing
will go wrong, told me to get to a travel store and get one of these "passport
holders" that look sort of like a miniature fanny pack, and fits underneath
your clothes. This was because, "people in other countries look for Americans
and steal their passports to come to this country you have to be careful." He's
always like that though I don't fault him. So anyway, I'm going to a foreign
land, and of course am thinking how cool it would be to score while there. This
would be cool because: 1. I would get it on in a foreign land, and 2. I'd
probably be scoring with a foreign girl, which I had never done either. I'm
always one to try new things. So in preparation, I put some condoms in the
pouch as well in case the opportunity presented itself.

Skipping the boring parts of the travel (since all you want to hear is the
juicy details anyway) I'll get to the last day of my trip. Lots of cool stuff
had happened so far, but no scoring. A lot of this due to the fact that I only
speak English, not to mention that it's hard to flirt with your parents around.
Switzerland has four national languages, for those of you that have never been,
and the particular region I was in speaks a form of German with a regional
dialect, but I couldn't haven't understood it either way. That afternoon, in a
beautiful mountain town in the middle of Switzerland, I decided to venture into
an adult establishment to see what kind of trouble I could get into. I was
figuring if nothing else, that I could get a raunchy lap dance.

Into the place I walked. It was around 4:00 p.m. so there wasn't a lot of
activity. I sat at the bar. To my right was a man and, what was obviously a
dancer due to her lack of clothing sitting beside him. They were sitting very
close, his hand on her leg, and they were speaking in German. I figured they
knew each other or that he was a regular, because in America (typically,
anyway), you can NEVER touch the girls without someone saying something to you.
I ordered a beer; the bartender knew enough English to understand what I
wanted. I got whatever was on draft because I had never seen most of the stuff
they had to offer me before, even though I have always considered myself pretty
knowledgeable about beers!

Sometime later, a girl came and sat next to me. She clearly worked at this
place, too, as her dress indicated. She was very cute; she had curly dark hair
that went a little past her shoulders, dark eyes, and a very tan complexion.
She stood about 5'3" and was obviously a little younger than I. I looked over
at her and she gave me a really pretty smile. Then she said something to me in
German. I smiled back, sort of stupidly and told her, "I only speak English."
She asked me if I was American, to which I said yes. The initial conversation
was rough as I know NOTHING of the German language, and her knowledge of
English was very meager. She put her hand to her chest and said, "Patrice." I
told her my name then. She pointed to herself again and said, "twenty-two," and
also added, "from Brazil." At this point, I pondered my very slight knowledge
of the world, and somehow recalled that the language of Brazil is Portuguese.
Further, I knew that Portuguese was at least somewhat similar to Spanish. So, I
pulled out the Spanish I remember from a few years before that had managed to
get me through "Intro. to Spanish I" with a C in undergrad, and tried to talk
to her that way. The conversation progressed slowly between a mix of broken
English and broken Spanish. She asked if I would buy her a drink, and indicated
that she wanted a glass of champagne. So, I got one for her. Soon, she was as
close to me as the couple I had seen when I first entered the bar. As we
talked, she had taken my arm and put it around her. She put her hand on my leg,
and even draped one of her legs over mine. Occasionally she took my hand and
rubbed it. The entire time, she kept looking at me and smiling at me; it was
one of those really pretty smiles that just makes you smile back no matter how
you feel. So what if this girl was a stripper, she was really cute.

Some time later, she was called up to the stage to do a dance. She told me to
wait there, and ran her hand along my back as she walked away. I moved to get a
better view of the show. Some music came on with lyrics I couldn't understand,
and she came out. Under the stage lights, she looked really good. She had an
amazing body without one ounce of fat. Her tits weren't that big, probably a
small B, but I haven't been into huge tits since I was a middle school kid.
These days I just think, "Big tits are fun, but when the girl hits her mid
forties or so, gravity will take over. Small tits will always keep their
place." The show was good, and she would watch me as she danced. By this time,
a few more patrons had arrived.

After she was done, she came back to where I was. That same smile appeared
across her face as she approached me. I told her she was pretty, and I actually
think she blushed. I still wasn't sure what to do at this bar. I hadn't seen
anyone tip the girls dancing on stage, and nothing that resembled a "table
dance" had taken place. Soon I found out how it worked, luckily. Patrice asked
me if I would like to go in "Private," as she pointed toward the back of the
bar. Now, here was a question I had never been asked before in a bar such as
this. Apprehensively, I asked, "How much is that?" She reached over and
produced from behind the bar what was called a "Lady's menu." Basically, this
was a list of drinks that were CLEARLY overpriced. I nervously looked at the
menu, not knowing what this all meant. She looked at me again, and added, "It's
good in private." I asked her what she wanted. She indicated a couple of
different bottles of champagne on the menu. So I picked one out, and she told
the bartender something in German. [After telling this story to a couple of my
friends, I am always asked at this point or shortly afterwards, how much this
champagne cost, especially in relation to other things on this "Lady's Menu."
The answer was 160 francs, which translates into around 120 American dollars.
In relation, this was in the lower third of the price range of the menu some of
the things on there were as high as 600 or 700 francs, but I wasn't ready to
spring for all that because I didn't even know what was about to happen. Some
might say that $120 was a lot to pay not knowing what was coming up, but I
gotta tell you the curiosity was killing me. I am an extremely adventurous
person, and there was no way I wasn't going to see where this was going to end
up].

So Patrice tells the bartender what we ordered in German, then she takes my
hand and leads me toward the back of the bar. It was VERY dark back there. She
led me to a circular wraparound type booth like those found in some
restaurants. Partitioned walls were built around the booth standing about 6 and
_ feet high. The opening to go into the booth was the width of a small doorway,
and a potted tree with a lot of foliage stood next to it. We went in and sat
down. She pulled me close to her and kept hold of my hand. Her smile was even
bigger than before, and she kept rubbing my hands in between hers. I think she
could tell I was excited, yet still nervous about this whole situation. The
bartender came back with the bottle of champagne, a bucket of ice, and two
glasses. He poured the champagne, and placed the rest of the bottle in the ice
on the table that was in the center of the wraparound booth. He then turned to
go, and I watched him. As he stepped out of the entryway to the booth, he
turned and took hold of the tree next to the door. He slid the plant in front
of the opening. The tree was very tall, and the amount of leaves blocked the
entire entrance to the booth essentially like closing us into our own small
area. My jaw dropped. I had no idea what was going on. I turned back to face
Patrice. As I turned to her, she reached up to my face, took off my glasses,
and placed them on the table. She then pulled the top of her dress down to
expose her breasts, then grabbed my face and pulled it down to hers. As she
began kissing me, I think my heart and breathing stopped for a moment. No
matter what I thought I was getting into, this was NOT what I had expected at
all. We kissed very deeply, and I soon made my way down and began kissing her
breasts. She moaned and kept her hands on the back of my head, rubbing my neck
and face. I alternated between kissing her breasts and her mouth. I slowly
started moving a hand down to her panties. I asked her, in Spanish, if this was
OK. She said, "Si Bien" (which means, yes good in case you didn't know). I
rubbed her through her panties some, and then grabbed the sides of them and
pulled them off. She responded by wrapping her legs around me and locking her
ankles behind my back. I kissed her more and began rubbing her clit and pussy
with my hand. She moaned into my mouth. She was very wet. Before long, I
brought her to orgasm with my hand. I had debated on eating her (which is one
of my favorite things to do, but figured under the circumstances, it might be
safer to skip that).

As she recovered, she sat back up straight. She reached over and started
fondling my cock through my jeans. Needless to say, I was quite aroused by the
whole scene. She rubbed me, and began trying to undo my pants. I had on button
fly jeans and she was having trouble, so I took my penis out for her. She
immediately grabbed it and started jerking me off. It was really exciting, but
I figured I would try for more. I stopped her for a second, and reached into
the passport pouch under my shirt. I pulled out a condom. It was one of the
gold coin ones, and she looked at me strangely when I held it up. I pulled it
open and showed her what it was. She said, "Oh," and the smile came back to her
face. She grabbed the condom out of the coin and quickly unrolled it over my
penis. She then threw her arms around me again and quickly pulled me down on
top of her. I pushed into her, and she was very wet and hot. We began kissing
again as I pushed in and out of her. In my head, I still couldn't believe any
of this was happening. It wasn't the oddest situation I have ever found myself
in, but it rated WAY up there.

The booth was sort of cramped and it was hard to fuck her the way we were
laying. I sat up; she thought I had come already and reached over to grab the
cloth that was wrapped around the champagne. "No, no," I told her. I put the
cloth back down and sat up straight in the booth. I then indicated that she
should stand up and turn around. When she did, I grabbed her by her hips and
pulled her down to me. She slid back onto my penis, facing away from me on my
lap. She began to ride me very hard, but deliberately. In this position, I was
able to play with her clit again as well as her breasts. I kissed her ear and
neck, and she put her head against my shoulder. After playing with her clit for
a while, she began moaning again. This time, with me not kissing her, I could
hear her very clearly. Her moans were incredible; very throaty and almost
primal. I can't say if it was because she wasn't from America, but I have never
heard a moan that sounded like that one before or since and I'm not saying that
I can score "at will," but I've done plenty. She sounded incredible. She kept
slamming her ass down onto my thighs, and her motions became more heated. I
could tell she was close to coming again. Her eyes were closed very tightly,
and her moans grew louder and more excited. All of the action pushed me over
the edge. I kept playing with her clit with my right hand, and with the left I
held her down on top of me as I filled the condom full of come. She moaned very
low and grinded her ass into my lap; I'm pretty sure she came again too as I
did.

After we finished, she rolled off and sat next to me. We cleaned ourselves of
with the cloth on the table. She was fanning her face with her hand, and she
said, "Hot." I looked at her and said, "Good." She laughed some and smiled at
me again. We got ourselves together, began finishing off the champagne, and
talked a little more. Here is where the more funny part of the story comes in.
I began to fear that what we had just done might cost more money than I had.
So, I though very hard about how to ask in Spanish, and finally came up with,
"So the drink I bought does that cover all this?" She said, "Yes," and
indicated that I should pay at the front as I left. That set me at ease, and we
talked a little longer. I had a camera in my coat, and asked if I could take a
picture of her. She said yes I figured if there was ever a Kodak moment, this
was one of them. I snapped her picture, and we talked a while longer. Then, I
got up and we made our way back to the front of the bar. I paid the bartender
with get this my VISA card. (It really is everywhere you want to be). As I
left, I looked back at her, and she smiled at me again and waived goodbye.

All the way back to the hotel, all I could think was, "I can't BELIEVE that
just happened!" It was so wild. Yeah sure, I technically paid for sex, but it
was worth the adventure of the whole thing anyway. I had no idea I was going to
get all that, but I had to see just WHERE it would go. So anyway, that's one of
my true stories. You can believe it or not like I said before, I have no reason
to impress you. And no, you can't see the picture. That's for me to remember,
and also to protect Patrice, wherever she is.


Questions or comments. Email: jeffreyskywalker@netscape.net

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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