The European hike

Sweety gets in trouble again over in Italy...

Sweety pushed open the heavy wooden door of the mountain hostel, the heat of the Italian summer clinging to her like a second skin. Her breath hitched as the scent of sweat and sex hit her nose—thick, musky, undeniable. She wasn’t surprised; this was the third hostel she’d stayed in, and the trail ahead was notorious for travelers looking for more than just a hike. But tonight, she just wanted a bed and maybe a cold beer.

Then she saw them.

A sea of 20-25 naked men sprawled across makeshift beds, their chests heaving, their bodies glistening under the dim glow of flickering bulbs. Soccer players, she realized—European athletes warming up for the season, their muscles carved from weeks of rigorous training. And they were all staring at her.

Sweety’s fingers twitched toward the hem of her plaid shirt, but before she could even think about turning back, a massive hand clamped around her wrist. She barely had time to gasp before she was hoisted into the air like a ragdoll. Her legs kicked uselessly as she was held up off her feet. They kicked helplessly. So cute! Then she was tossed onto a nearby bed, the springs groaning under her weight.

“Fuck, she’s tight,” a voice growled above her. Sweety twisted her head, eyes wide, as a towering man—easily six-foot-five—loomed over her. His cock, already half-hard, jutted proudly from his hips. “Look at those tits,” he muttered, his fingers already tugging at the buttons of her shirt.

Sweety thrashed, her lean body writhing against the mattress, but it was useless. Before she could protest, rough hands like vice grips seized her wrists and ankles, yanking them apart until she was splayed out like a feast. Her breath came in sharp, needy gasps as her shirt was slowly stretched and torn open, the buttons scattering like confetti. Her tits spilled free, her nipples already hard from the heat—and something else.

“Fuck me,” another player groaned, his fingers pinching her rosy peaks. Sweety cried out as he rolled her nipples between his calloused fingers, twisting just enough to make her arch off the bed. A third man dropped to his knees, his mouth closing over one taut bud while his hand slid beneath the waistband of her denim shorts. Her panties already wet.

“You like that, baby?” he murmured against her skin, his breath hot. His fingers teased the edge of her pussy, already slick with arousal. Sweety’s hips jerked, her body betraying her before she could even try to fight back.

“Fuck,” she hissed, her voice ragged. “fuck me to exhaustion and video it for my boyfriend pleaseeeee", she asked begging with her puppy dog brown eyes.

“Oh, we can,” the first man said, his voice a dark promise. His cock was fully hard now, thick and veined, as he fisted it lazily. “And we will.” she was to be tamed for the next 12 hours relentlessly. Their little cum dumpster slut.

For good measure the men called another team of 25 men to come have a turn also.

Sweety’s shorts were next. They were old, faded, short and tight on her rocket little body. The hugged her firm round runners ass tightly but had space below her ass cheeks for exploring fingers or hands. The fabric was old and light blue faded from years of wearing. The seems along the sides torn about an inch up. They were so worn they could have been torn apart with little force. These slutty shorts were noticed and got attention. They were slowly yanked down her legs. The denim pooled around her ankles, leaving her bare, her pussy glistening under the low light. A chorus of groans filled the room as the men took in her tight body—her toned legs, her flat stomach, the way her tits rose and fell with every frantic breath.

Then the cameras came out.

One of the players—tall, with dark stubble and a smirk that promised trouble—set up a tripod, adjusting the lens until it pointed directly at Sweety’s spread legs. “Should be fun for your boyfriend to watch later,” he said with a chuckle.

Sweety knew her boyfriend would definately love watching her get into trouble on her adventure. It would be some good jerking off material.

Sweety’s stomach twisted, but the heat pooling between her thighs didn’t lie. She was going to get fucked. Hard.

Before she could process that thought, a new voice cut through the haze of lust.

“hey what's going on?.”

Sweety’s head snapped toward the door, where another woman stood—tall, with wild auburn hair and a body that looked like it belonged on a magazine cover. Hazel. Another hiker, just like her. But unlike Sweety, Hazel wasn’t fighting. She was watching, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the men stripped her bare with slow, deliberate hands.

Sweety’s pulse spiked as Hazel was pushed onto the bed beside her, her tiny denim shorts peeled off with agonizing slowness kissing each inch of exposed skin as they came off . The men took their time with her, their mouths and hands exploring every inch of her skin as they stripped her down. Hazel moaned, her back arching as a player’s fingers slid between her thighs, testing how wet she was. Hazel was felt up to orgasm. She was loud and squirmy as they ate and played with her. Hazel's eyes locked onto a man with a 12" cock jerking his dripping cock on her little denim shorts standing right beside her. His massive ejaculation soaked her shorts putting Hazel completely over the edge.

“Oh god,” Hazel whimpered, her eyes locked on Sweety as a thick cock pressed against her entrance. Hazel was wet and ready.

Sweety’s pussy clenched too, her own body aching as the men finally turned their full attention back to her. One man dropped between her legs, his tongue dragging through her folds with slow, torturous precision. Sweety’s back bowed off the bed, a broken cry tearing from her throat as pleasure coiled tight in her core.

“Fuck, she’s dripping,” the man growled against her thigh before diving back in, his tongue flicking her clit with relentless precision. Sweety’s hips bucked, her body already on the edge, but the men weren’t done with her yet.

Another cock pressed against her lips, and she opened without hesitation, her tongue swirling around the tip before taking him deep. She gagged around his girth, her throat working as he fucked her mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts.

Hazel was moaning beside her, her own orgasm building as the men took turns with her—fingers, mouths, cocks filling her in every way imaginable. Sweety could feel Hazel’s gaze on her, could see the way her body trembled as pleasure crashed over her.

Then the first man was inside her, his cock stretching her as he drove into her with a groan. Sweety screamed around the cock in her mouth, her nails digging into the mattress as he fucked her with long, punishing strokes.

“You like that, baby?” he asked, his hips slapping against hers. “You like being our little cum dumpster? "Yes masters", Sweety replied.

They were much more gentle on Hazel through the night for some reason. Sweety definately had teased them more and bore the brunt if 50 or so cum filled fit soccer men.

If you walked by the hostel outside you would hear the ladies moaning and beds creaking as they were fucked silly.

By morning the men had cleared out. Both ladies a little shaky in their legs with trembling thighs stood and dressed. They put on cute little outfits to continue their hikes.

They each bagged their little cum soaked jean shorts and kept them as a reminder of the trip. They would both later on wear them at home laying on the couch or on the bed and masturbate vigorously thinking back to this adventure.

Sweety showed her boyfriend once home what had happened to her yet again. She stroked him off repeatedly as she described the video. Sweety was pregnant from this ordeal.

Please read her previous run ordeal with the Marines and comment if she learned.