My sex-shy best friend[24F] told me [25M] to get handsy with her. Part 2

As I post this, I'm on a train headed towards Borup, Denmark, a cute little town that's like, I dunno, an hour train ride from Copenhagen? The Airbnb was super cheap. It's basically our last stop, where we'll hunker down for a few days, since we have a lot we want to do (and some people to visit) in the area. Emma and I look forward to getting there; bouncing around Western Europe is a huge privilege to be sure, but we're pretty damn tired of spending so much of our day hopping from a bus to a train to another bus, etc. As soon as we boarded from Hamburg Central Station (which is an incredibly beautiful building btw, probably was my favorite part of our short time in the town), Emma rested her bag on the seat next to her and curled up for a nap. I took the opportunity to tell y'all what's going on, especially since this shits going in the spank-bank for life and I'm trying to remember as much as possible lol.

Anyways.

"I don't mind after my underwear's on."

I'd been facing the corner of the room when Emma said that. We'd spent the morning in silence, for the most part, which actually isn't unusual for us. Neither of us are morning people. We had to get up at the crack of fuckin' dawn, actually a good few hours before I made my last post, so that we could grab the right combination of trains and busses and get to Hamburg.

"...Cool, uh, okay, just let me know," I replied casually. Don't make it weird, I remembered.

"Alright, you're good."

I turned around and bricked up pretty damn quick. It was a good thing I'd already changed into my jeans. She wore a pretty standard pair of black underwear, as cool as it would have been to tell you she had lingerie on or some shit. A bra that might as well have been a revealing vest held her H cups--yes, reader, that's what she told me that once. H cups.-- as she took her Lexapro and applied her half-dozen varieties of face lotions. Or serums. Or whatever the hell that stuff is.

She didn't seem to be in a hurry to get dressed.

I followed her waist down to take a gander at her thighs, wondering if her panties were cut in a way that I could see much of anything. The answer was no, unfortunately, but I'm like 65% sure I saw a razor bump on her inner thigh. ....Does that mean that Emma shaves her pussy? I wondered. As I soaked in her beauty, I kept expecting her to make some kind of snarky comment about my ogling, but she never did. For a glorious tennish-minutes-or-so, she simply went about her business half-nude, paying me little mind. Suffice to say that I had trouble focusing on the things I needed to do so we could check out of the hostel.

We wouldn't be getting into Hamburg until most museums and galleries were closed, but we found out that Hamburg actually has a pretty robust night life scene, apparently. Emma's a sucker for live music and I'm a sucker for drinks, so we decided that we'd check into our hostel, kill some time, and then head on over to the 'Reeperbahn'.

I wasn't surprised that there were others in our hostel, since that's usually what you sign up for when you book one, but I was nonetheless disappointed to meet the three French students we'd be sharing quarters with. We dropped our bags off in a hurry, and then it was back outside to find some food and sights for seeing. We expected to eventually end up at the aforementioned party district, so we wore our going-out 'fits.

For me, a bright purple vaporwave Hawaiian over a t-shirt splayed with surreal pop-art, black skinny jeans, and I even put my nice septum ring in. I get roasted for dressing like this all the time, but what can I say? I like to give someone a reason to keep lookin'. Besides, my handsome mug can pull off anything, I swear (let me have this, reader).

"You look like a color-blind alien trying to blend in with humans," Emma said when I met her in the hallway. She wore something quite revealing (by her standards, at least). Her top was like a black veil, a see-through piece of fabric that provides you a view of the tank-top underneath. Below that, fishnets climbed down her legs, cutting through a pair of black jean-shorts and crawling all the way down to a pair of Demonias. To top it off, a couple of plain silver chains hung around her neck, drawing your eye to the great chasms of her cleavage.

I raised an eyebrow and shot back, "You look like you're trying to piss off your preacher. You sure you're cool with showing ankles like you're some kind of whore?" She busted out laughing, but still made me pay for it with a jab to my ribs. With that, we gallivanted off to try some German food.

Night came, and with it, a street full of dazzling lights. We arrived at Reeperbahn just after the sun had set. I was blown away, personally. I know you're not here to read a tourist's blog, so I won't bore you, but man. The colors! The lights! It was like Bourbon Street had a baby with Vegas. "Man, isn't this something?" I said as we looked for signs of a bar with live music.

"Yeah, it uh. Sure is." Emma did not sound nearly as excited as me, and I realized why as my eyes set on another neon sign that glowed orange-and-blue with the word "DOLLHOUSE". Some of the windows on either side of us featured scantily-clad women waiting for or talking with prospective johns. Ah, I see what the issue is. I scoffed.

"It's Europe, man. Lighten up. Also, I skipped Amsterdam's red-light district for you, so will you quit clutchin' those pearls of yours and chill?"

"Look I didn't say shit about it, Zach, all I did was agree, so obviously I'm chill. Sorry if my tone of voice didn't suit your fuckin' standards. Get off my ass." She shot me daggers, and I held my hands up in a 'Don't Shoot' gesture, barely suppressing a grin. Her lips pursed and her eyes rolled, her version of letting me off with a warning, and we eventually found our way to a nightclub called Baalsaal.

We started to approach the bouncer juuust as a group of men had, coming from the other direction, and so we stopped to let them ahead, but they were polite enough to wave us on. Uh, scratch that. Judging by the way their eyes meandered downwards when they looked at Emma, they waved her on, and I was just along for the ride. Whatever works, I guess.

House music bumped over the hefty shoulder of the place's bouncer. I handed the blue-eyed hulk my passport, and Emma hers. "Ah. American?" He asked in a thick accent, beaming wide. "I have family in America!" He struck up a conversation with me, and I'm never one to shy away from a good chit-chat with a stranger. But just a minute or two had passed when I glanced over at Emma and saw her hugging her arms to her chest with a look I'd never seen on her before. I tactfully exited the conversation, and in we went.

We went straight to the bar, and I ordered some shots to get the ball rolling. We clinked our classes together, threw them back, and then I just had to ask, "Hey!" I half-shouted so that she could hear me over the music and the increasing volume of guests that started to flood in. "You okay? You looked really uncomfortable earlier."

She groaned and put her hand in her hair. "Man. It's just... hey, uh, bartender! Zwei kurze, bitte." Two shots, please. Emma turned back to me, "The guys behind us were making bets in German about who'd get me to suck his dick first." She shivered. "The things they called me." Oh, nice, there was the second round of shots.

I didn't really know what to say, honestly. Emma told me long ago to never try and do the 'macho' thing for her if a guy got weird in public. She could handle herself, she insisted, and I was sure she was right. So I just shared the second round with her and, as we waited again for 'Zwei kurze', I asked if she wanted to go somewhere else. We hadn't seen the guys come in yet, but they had to be around here somewhere. A third round was poured.

"Fuck no." She pounded her third empty shotglass into the bar. "Zwei kurze, bitte!" she repeated, and I couldn't help but cringe. I'd drank with her enough to know that drinking past the third meant she was playing with fire. "No, fuck that, fuck no. We are in Germany for one night and then possibly never again for as long as we live," Emma said, and I couldn't help but smile. "A few horny dickbags aren't gonna ruin that for us."

"That's the spirit!" The third round came and went, and her eyes lingered towards the dance floor. "I'll stick close to you, too, just in case-"

She snorted into her empty glass, "What, in case I need a golden retriever to play fetch with those guys?"

"Oh, come on, m-"

Emma hopped off the bar-stool and held her hand up, cutting me off. "Shut up. Yes, stay close, please." She grabbed my hand. "Let's go dance."

Violet and red lights strobed over a throng of thirty-something patrons. We found a spot close to the DJ, a spunky blonde woman that flew between soundboards and laptops. Soon enough, we were bouncing along to every clap and snare, keeping our typical platonic amount of distance. Time blended together, giving way to the music, and what I remember most vividly about this moment is looking over to see Emma beaming. I smiled back, happy to see her happy.

At some point, she leaned in towards me, and I spent a herculean amount of effort trying not to watch the sweat drip down towards her tits."Imsgonadgthomdrinks!"

"...WHAT?"

She held up a thumb and tilted it to her mouth. Oh. Drinks. I nodded, "Okay!"

It must not have even been a full minute before a panicked hand grabbed mine. I yanked it away instinctually, spinning to see what stranger had just randomly touched me - but it was Emma. She didn't have any drinks with her. I didn't need to wonder why, because I spotted one of the guys from before cutting his way through the crowd towards us. I didn't get a chance to ask what she wanted to do before she put my hand on her waist.

"Dance with me, please. Maybe they'll buzz off."

"Uh - okay, yeah."

I pulled her closer, although I wasn't sure how close was okay, and she answered that question for me pretty quick. While the DJ was working on a transition from Avicii to 'Heads Will Roll', Emma pushed her ass against me and started to grind.

Holy shit. I didn't even know she knew how to dance like this.

I went with it, moving with her hips, her hips to the music. I put every fiber of my being into staying soft, but that didn't work out too well. By the time 'Heads Will Roll' was over, I was hard as a rock.

Maybe she won't notice.

Wishful thinking. Emma pushed back against me when the beat dropped, and my bulge pushed right into the seat of her shorts, and she froze for a moment before whirling around. Her mouth was agape, her eyes trailing down to the tent I'd pitched, and I gave her the best guilty face I could muster. I don't know what would have happened if she hadn't looked past me and seen him.

I looked over my shoulder, and just two or three people away lingered the Deutschbag that had been cutting through the crowd. Looked like our dancing hadn't discouraged him like she hoped. Emma looked between him and myself, bit her lip in thought, and then let out a frustrated "UUUUGH" as she started to dance again, facing me now.

"Do you want to lea-"

"Get handsy." Emma pressed herself against me and started to move again.

"...WHAT?"

"Oh, for the love of -" She grabbed my hands and put them on her ass.

I see. Maybe he'd pick up on the hint now. I thanked God in the back of my head and then started to squeeze her, pulling her close, pressing myself against her. She let out a little 'eep!' when my fingers gripped the fabric of her shorts, but she kept dancing without missing a beat. I caught a glimpse of her scarlet-red face before she turned back around to throw her ass back again.

I looked over my shoulder to see the Deutschbag leaving in defeat. I should probably tell her, I thought, but, reader, I am weak. I didn't stop her from grinding against my hard cock, and she didn't stop me from wrapping my arms around her to squeeze her tits. I pulled her against me, and she buried the back of her head into my neck as my hands glided over her tanktop.

We left very little room for Jesus that night.

On the way back to the hostel, I started with "Soooo about tha-"

"Shut up," she spat, but I swear I caught her suppress a grin.

We went straight to bed after getting to our room. Well, she did. I replied to some comments on Reddit and wrote some of this stuff down. I'm not sure when I finally drifted off.

"Mmm."

I woke up the next morning to the sound of a familiar buzzzzzzzzzz.

Sunlight streamed through the main windows to show that our room was empty. Our cohabitants must have left earlier, I figured. On the bunk across from me, Emma's back was against the wall, her eyes closed, her legs spread, and a pink bullet vibrator gliding over her damp panties.

"Mmm - oh!" She clutched one of her breasts over her bra as her legs began to quiver and her toes began to curl. I watched her, wide-eyed, as each wave of pleasure coursed through her body. After she returned to Earth, Emma's eyelids slowly fluttered open while she giggled, just like last time, and we made eye contact. She smirked, daintily folding one leg over the other, and broke the silence by asking me,

"Hey, have you seen my toothbrush anywhere?"

oh shit she just woke up, I'm gonna bounce