It’s a year ago, now; 13 months, actually. Your taste is still deep in my mouth, the firm pressure of Your gentle lips is still felt by mine. The scent of Your male strength, of sweetly fulfilled lust is still in my nose.
I arrived at Leonardo da Vinci (the main airport of Rome) to spend Christmas and New Years eve with my friend Gabriella and her husband Franco.
Knowing that they were not able to pick me up themselves, I looked around at the crowd and found a sign with my name printed on it.
Stepping forward towards the sign I beheld You holding it.
Emeraldgreen eyes, dark softlycurled hair, olive skin, and the white cocksure smile igniting my fire, starting low, rising high, ending up in me blushing – and that had not happened for years!
Naturally I recognised the sensation for what it was (it had after all happened before, but I had not expected it to happen ever again); a primitive shockwave of basic lust, so strong that I almost had an orgasm then and there.
I closed my eyes and took a very deep breath.
‘Good afternoon,’ I croaked. ‘I’m Snová, guest of the Bertinotti family’.
‘Si, contessa,’ You answered with a nod. ‘I was sent to care of you.’
When You took my suitcase out of my hand, our fingers touched for a few agelong, burning seconds while Your glance delved into mine, dancing with daring challenge and promise. And a promising arrogance unexpected in a limo driver.
Giddy, I felt, as You politely but assertively escorted me to the big, midnightblue Lancia. It was parked right outside the terminal, guarded by a carabiniero, who saluted me and held the door for me; however much I appreciated his respect it did not surprise me much, that he took the opportunity to smack my behind, as I bent down to enter the car.
‘Belissima!’ he said, and I smiled to him. Had this been my own country, I’d have punched him, police or not – but in Rome, it’s a compliment, and when in Rome…
I relaxed in the firmly flexible leather seat, as the powerful car gently leaped into the traffic. With a feeling of a surprise I did not understand I mentally prepared for a long, tiresome drive - Gabi and Franco live in Trastevere, old part of town; quite a long drive from the airport.
For a while there was only the very gentle sound of all the horsepower; Your head was but a black profile against the lights of the traffic going in the opposite direction.
After a while You had to wait at a red traffic light.
You turned around and looked at me. Did not have to say anything. I also said nothing.
We knew.
The light shifted to green, and You gently shot the strong Lancia forwards.
Gradually we arrived in the old town, and as You turned right, left, left, right, and so on, I lost orientation.
Then You stopped the car and its engine; on darkwet asphalt, in a small square, underneath a tiny fontana.
You stood out, and formally went around the back of the Lancia (as a good driver must) to open my door and hand me out.
It was like a dream when You took my arm and gently escorted me into the albergo; the dream went on, when the receptionist looked at us sharply for a second, then looked away and put a key on the counter.
Less than a minute later, You escorted me politely upstairs, downcorridor. Into a room with a view to the fontana; You locked the door and did not draw the curtains.
Then, before I could do or say anything – I was standing with my back to the hard brick wall with Your strong arms fencing me in. You pressed Your lower body against mine and the sensation of Your firm hugeness made me dizzy, painfully wet, and eagerly weak.
Your greenlazereyes penetrated my glance and soul while You gently undressed me; kissing my swollen lips, tickling my neck with dances of Your tonguetip, nipping and sucking my earlobe. Gasps and moans escaped me, as Your firm, gentle lips glided down over me to my erected nipples, licking and gently biting them.
Your fingers, Your long, lithe fingers - growing from Your slim, strong, whipcord flexible pianist hands - these fingers went exploring into my wet cavity, and I screamed with lustjoy.
Eagerly, my fingers wanted to unzip Your trousers – to set free the Adoration. But, no!
‘Not yet,’ You calmly said, and set me free.
Then You sat down on a low stool with no handrests, and smiled to me with those white vampireteeth, and the gletchergreen eyes.
‘Here, now!’ You said that gently, but firmly.
Naked, I put myself over Your knees.
And You spanked me.
Without a word.
Hard.
Long.
Burning.
I groaned and mourned, whimpered, sniffed, and sobbed.
And You just went on.
And on.
At last I screamed, I did not want to but could not help it.
Immediately the spanking stopped.
The after-spanking feeling was great – but You did not allow relaxation; instead You dived down into my volcano, nipping and licking me into further frenzy, until…
Just before, in the very last second before, You jumped up and in, deep in, hard in, and again – You were so huge and hard, I so wet and warm.
Explosions, flashes, screams – then putting my head on Your sweaty shoulder.
Cuddling somewhat while dozing a little.
After a while, without saying a word – we got up, dressed, left the albergo.
Diligently You took the strong Lancia into Trastevere.
Carefully You escorted me to the door of Palazzo Bertinotti and handed my luggage to the valet.
‘Arrivederci, contessa,’ You said with a gentle smile.
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