A Shemale Vacation Part 3

At the French border, it was discovered that we had no passports. We were taken from the train and into a room for questioning. All four of us, Josh, Olly, Harry and myself, were terrified. Sure, we'd been in a sticky situation before on this trip, sticky particularly for me rather than the others, when we'd found we had no money in the Amsterdam brothel, but this was worse. This time we were in trouble with the authorities. I thought that we wouldn't be able to cheat or bribe or persuade our way out this time.

The room we were in was bare except for a table and chairs, there were no windows and the door was locked. We were trapped in here with no escape. Sitting across the table from us were three French border control officials with angry, frowning faces. They were big, tough guys and none of them looked like they were about to be sympathetic to our story.

"So, you try to sneak into our country," said the man in the middle, the biggest, most broad shouldered of the three and, presumably, the man in charge.

"No, no, we just lost our passports," Josh said, "We were robbed. They took all our money, cards, passports. Everything."

"So, then, how did you pay to get here if all your money was taken?" said the man on the left, a guy with a heavy frown and thick dark hair, eyebrows and a beard.

This was exactly the question I didn't want asked. I didn't want to admit what I had had to do to get the money for the rest of our trip. That pile of banknotes in Josh's bag was a permanent reminder that I had prostituted my body, dressed as a slut and got fucked time and again to get us on our way. Sure, I had loved the feel of dressing as a sexy woman and feeling that hard manhood thrusting inside me, but I was embarrassed as well. I didn't want the world to know, especially not these hard, serious guards.

"We were able to borrow some money," I said, quickly, not giving the others a chance to answer.

We sat in that room answering questions for about an hour, getting no nearer to any conclusion. Finally, they decided to search us, going through our bags, seeing if we had anything to smuggle into the country. They found nothing until they got to Josh's extra bag. The one that he had brought from Amsterdam, from the brothel, the one filled with all the money I had made as a whore.