Authors: Jessa Hawke
3
Lunch the next day is unbelievable, sat in the sun drinking cocktails. I tell you, this guy is perfect and despite knowing very little about him, I’m falling for him big time.
We see each other every day for the rest of the week. He’s obviously a private person because any attempt to question him usually results in a change of subject. Still, when he offers to cook an authentic Sicilian dish at my place, this weekend, I cannot refuse. How can a girl resist?
While his dish is cooking, we put on some music and smooch. I can feel the heat of his body as he presses close to me. We have kissed, but not gone any further. I suspect tonight I’ll invite him to stay.
His meatballs are to die for, wow, his Sicilian mama gave him an amazing recipe, but he refuses to share it with me, how selfish is that? He also makes an Italian trifle that nearly blew my head off he’d put so much alcohol in it. We ate good food, drank delicious Italian wines and finished with Italian liqueurs. After dinner, we smooch again to slow music. Our closeness is having an effect on me, my skin tingles whenever it touches his, and I can feel a heat in my panties that can’t be ignored. As we dance, our groins press together and I can feel the unmistakable hardness that tells me he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
Finally, we collapse on my huge couch, and I throw my legs over his lap. He takes one of my feet and firmly massages it. Now that feels good as little shocks of pleasure run through my body like an electric current
“You like the massage?” he asks. “I am a good masseur. You have oils, yes?”
“I’m a therapist, of course I have oils,” I reply in exasperation. “It’s usually me doing the massaging so it makes a nice change to be on the receiving end. If you’re really good, I’ll return the favor,” I laugh, running out of the room, barefoot.
I head to my bedroom and open up a drawer full of body oils.
“Which flavor would you like?” I ask, teasingly.
He spends a moment savoring the aromas of a variety of oils, before deciding on one that we both like. It’s one of my favorites, a lovely smell of lavender and camomile.
He stands and looks at me, an unmistakable glint in his eye.
“This is no good,” he says gesturing towards me with his arms “ how can I massage while you wear those clothes?”
I try and act coy, but deep inside I can’t wait to strip off. I slowly unfasten my jeans and let them slip to the floor before stepping out of them, and quickly I lift my t-shirt over my head. Now I’m stood before him in only my bra and panties. I’m a fit woman, my body is firm and well toned, my stomach flat and breasts small, but well formed. I’m proud of how I look and I can see from the way he looks at me, that he likes what he see’s.
“Sei una bella donna,” he whispers, under his breath. I’ve no idea what he said, but it sounds sexy.
Laying on my stomach on the bed, he begins his ministrations. A pool of cool oil is poured on to my back, then he spreads it out with his strong fingers. Pushing them up my shoulders and kneading those knotty muscles. His firm fingers press into the muscles, releasing all my tension.
“Oh, you are good Mister Sicilian man. I’m going to hire you to be my personal masseur.”
“Time for the other side,” he bends down to whisper in my ear.
I turn myself around, shutting my eyes. I feel so chilled and relaxed I could fall asleep, if it wasn’t for the incessant burning between my legs. Already I’m aroused and he hasn’t really started yet. That’s when I feel his soft lips press onto mine and his oily hands knead at my breasts, slipping them out of the bra cups, slipping easily over the tender skin of my breasts. His fingers brush my nipples, causing me to gasp out in pleasure. I arch my back, pushing my breasts up higher and encouraging him to pay my nipples more attention. He ignores my efforts, instead cups my breasts, which easily fit in his large hands as he squeezes and massages them. The sensation is wonderful and I murmur my encouragement.
Eventually he does as I yearn and his fingers simultaneously stimulate my nipples, already rock hard and super sensitive. I almost climax, just at his touch. I open my mouth and moan lightly. He presses his lips firmly to mine, his tongue exploring my warm cavity, searching out mine. The feeling of his wet tongue flicking against mine, opens the floodgates. Any uncertainties I had, are quickly dispelled. My inhibitions are already loosened by the alcohol. Before I know it, I have my lips wrapped around Renato’s tongue and I suck it deeper into my mouth.
He leans forward until he’s laying right above me, his weight pressing me, pushing me into the bed. I have a momentary concern about the oils, on his clothes, but that is soon dispelled as his leg slips between mine, and his knee presses on my mons. With one hand he firmly holds my arms above my head as he kisses me passionately. I kiss him back with abandonment, our tongues dancing with each other, our saliva mingling, the taste of him is intoxicating and I can’t get enough.
He breaks our embrace, and bends his head to engulf one of my nipples into his mouth
“Ohhh,” I moan as his tongue flicks across my sensitive bud, his sucking mouth coaxing it erect.
I love my nipples to be played with, the rougher the better. They are so sensitive, but can take some playful abuse. His hand reaches over to the other nipple, which was feeling left out. Strong fingers pluck at the nipple, while a wet mouth sucks at the other. He’s no longer holding my arms, but I keep them above my head anyway, as though it were some unspoken command from him. I like the vulnerable feeling I get when stretched out this way.
Suddenly he is gone from my breasts and my nipples ache from the loss of his loving mouth and fingers. He climbs off me and stands at the side of the bed. It’s only then I remember once again that he is still fully clothed. I’ve been so caught up in my own sensations that I’d given him little thought. He quickly and efficiently strips off, first his shoes and socks are discarded. Then his t-shirt unceremoniously pulled over his head, revealing a tanned and muscular chest, tight curly hair on his chest and a flat washboard stomach. Next his hands go to the belt on his jeans as he unfastens the heavy brass buckle, completely removing it from his waist, before leaning forward and, using the leather belt, fastens one of my arms to the metal bed post. He quickly finds something else to fasten my other arm aswell. The feeling of vulnerability in this position raises my arousal levels to new heights. Before continuing to unclothe, he tweaks at both of my nipples, pulling on the extended buds quite hard and stretching them, lifting the mounds of my breasts to a peak.
“Is that good, my sweet?” he asks, in a heavy husky voice.
“Hmmm,” is all I can manage in response, but in my head I’m crying out that I love it.
He pulls back, releasing my stiff buds and making the soft flesh of my breasts, ripple, as they fall back into shape. The pain on the end of my breasts is exquisite, even more so with my hands tied above my head.
He continues to strip, quickly unfastening his denims, and hooking his thumb in the waist of his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down together, before stepping out of them. As he stands back up I see his erection for the first time, it is huge and stiff, and throbs as it bounces up and down in front of me. I feel a little trepidation at the thought of fitting it inside of me, it looks too big, not necessarily long, but really thick.
Renato quickly climbs back on the bed laying on top of me. He pushes my legs open with his knee and slips between them. I can feel his cock nuzzling at the folds of my labia. He seems to hold it there for an eternity, teasing me, each time I push forward, he pulls back a little, just out of reach.
“Bastard,” I cry out. “Just fuck me, please. Fuck me.”
I know it makes me sound like an easy lay, but I don’t care, I really need this man inside of me.
Renato does not respond to my obscene pleas, but he does move a little forward until just the tip is inside of me, again, holding it there. I desperately want to push up, but I know if I do he’ll simply withdraw, and that’s the last thing I want to happen. I stare up into his face and it is impassive. He is in complete control of his emotions, just as he is in compete control of me.
Finally, he slowly pushes all the way into me, until our pelvic bones are pressing together with the end of his cock pressing deep inside of me. Despite the girth of his member, I’m so wet that it slips inside easily. He makes no attempt to move, instead he dips his head, biting and licking at my breasts and nipples again, leaving little red marks in my flesh. His stiffness is still embedded deep inside of me, teasingly. Without warning he suddenly withdraws, leaving my pussy feeling bereft of his thickness, I moan lightly in disappointment and beg him once again to fuck me. And, he does. Oh, how he does. He starts to fuck me, slowly at first, burying his cock deep inside of me, before almost completely withdrawing until just the tip is left inside. Then he thrusts it back in again. Faster and faster he fucks me, my body is pressed deeper and deeper into the bed.
His fucking becomes more urgent, and I sense that he must be close to his climax. With each deep thrust he pushes me closer to my own orgasm. Suddenly, he presses his cock deep into me, and he cries out, a deep guttural groan, as he ejaculates into me. His cock even thicker, almost feeling like he might split me in two. I desperately want the release that I crave. I want us to cum in perfect unison, grinding and pumping together with my clit rubbing against his course pubic hairs.
“Go la mia bellezza, ride it, let it come,” he whispers into my ear.
Aroused even further by his words, I press down deeper. Grasping one of my nipples between his finger and thumb, he pulls it so hard that I feel it could separate from my breast. The pain, while extreme, only serves to push me over the edge. My whole body is wracked with spasms as I cum so strongly that I scream out my pleasure, not caring who hears.
4
I’ve been with Renato for a whole month, and our time together has been wonderful. He is the perfect lover and partner, treating me with the utmost of respect and returning my love in abundance. Everything is so very perfect, until I start to feel unwell.
“Have you had enough of my meatballs already?” he asks, one evening, when it’s his turn to cook.
“I love your cooking, it’s just the smell of garlic is making me feel a bit queasy. I must have eaten something bad and its upset my stomach.”
“For a moment there, I thought you’d gone off my cooking,” he laughs. “I tell you what, I make something a little lighter, does that sound better?”
“You are far too good to me, Renato, but yes, I think I can manage something fairly dry. By the way, I meant to ask you, I thought I saw you at the bank today, with a few guys?” I mention, suddenly remembering the incident. “You’re colleagues all looked really stern, so I didn’t come over to say hello, I gathered it was some big business deal in your property job.”
“Yes, we were there on business,” he said, a little abruptly as if that was the end of the conversation.
“It’s just I’d heard on the news that there’s been a shooting in that bank. I hope you weren’t still there when it happened?”
“No,” he almost shouted, making me jump a little.
“Okay,” I say, a little shakily, “no need to shout at me, I’m only here, not across the street.”
He came out of the kitchen and sat beside me.
“Sorry, it’s just been a difficult day, and you know how I hate to talk about work in my down time. Okay?”
I simply nod my acquiescence, he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. He never wants to talk about his work. He’s very guarded when I try and bring the subject up, secretive even. Maybe he’s a spy or something secretive.
We eat in silence, he seems to have a lot on his mind. In the end I was relieved when he said he wouldn’t be staying the night.
* * *
Renato did not ring me the next day. In fact, it was three days before I heard from him again, and when I picked up my cell to reply to his call, it seemed we both had something urgent to tell each other. Neither of us wanted to give our information over the phone, so we agreed to meet that very evening. He said he would come to my apartment, which was fine, I didn’t feel like socializing anyway. He had his own key, so when I heard it rattling in the lock, I turned off the TV program I’d been watching. I have to admit, I feel excited at my news and hope he will be too. I jump up to cuddle him as he comes into the living area where I’m sat, feeling so pleased to see him. His smile seems a little forced, and he doesn’t appear that pleased to see me.
That was until he picked me up and swung me around. It made me feel so good that he was glad to see me after all.
“I have missed you,” he said, in his delectable Sicilian accent. “You light up my life like nothing else can do.”
I squeal with delight at his greeting.
We collapse in a heap of love on the sofa, staring into each other’s eyes.
“I have missed you too,” I pout. “Where have you been? Why haven’t you contacted me? I thought you’d gone off me.”
“So many questions,” he says, stroking my lips with his beautiful fingers. “Come, let me taste those soft lips,” he demands, pulling my chin up to his and planting his delicious mouth onto mine.
After our long and passionate embrace, we finally pull away from each other.
“Okay, who’s news is going first?” I dare to ask, hoping I could be first because I’m about to show this man just how much I really do love him.