About That Trip

(More Adventures of Scott and Vanessa from "About That Night")

All my life I had dreamed of going to Italy. Well, anywhere, really; I had a professional-grade case of travel fever. But I had it particularly badly for Italy. So now that I was here, in Tuscany, with you -- the man who made me hotter than any man had ever made me before in my life -- I had pretty much been on a slow but sizzling burn for days.

We had been traveling together for nearly two weeks. This was the longest time we'd spent in each other's company, but it hadn't been difficult at all; we fit. We seemed to fit together so easily. We didn't always like the same things, but it never seemed to matter; we seemed to have no problem respecting each other's differences. And in one particular area, we were completely compatible -- sex.

I smiled to myself, turning my face toward the late afternoon sun oozing its way between the ancient architecture laid out before me. I smiled, remembering with intense pleasure how you had introduced me to the wanton, abandoned side of my previously rather reserved self (the "hot slutty side" of my personality, as you liked to call it) just a few short weeks ago. I had known when I met you that you were far more experienced than I. What I hadn't known was the deep, erotic satisfaction you would take in introducing me to the passion I'd been a stranger to all my life.

I hadn't known then that when you touched me, my muscles would respond, rippling under your fingers, and that when it happened, your breath would catch and you would instantly get hard. I hadn't known that when we were out in public, standing in a line somewhere, you would suddenly pull me back against you, arms around my waist, and whisper tenderly in my ear how hard you were going to fuck me as soon as you got me home. I hadn't known how wet that would make my pussy. I hadn't known how every nerve and every cell in my body would suddenly leap, shrieking, to attention. And I had definitely never known that so many images could surge full-blown into my head: erotic, disturbing, intense images, things I wanted to do, to taste, to try. Here, in Italy, I seemed to want them all. At once. Now.

I stood leaning against the frame of an open, floor-to-ceiling window of the quaint old hotel where we were staying, looking down onto a sidewalk café just across a narrow lane from our hotel. I had thrust one sandaled foot between the narrow, widely-spaced bars below the rail, musing about what a different person I had become, now that you were part of my life. I liked her, this new person.

This was a quiet neighborhood, away from high-traffic tourist areas, and our room was near the back of the hotel, some distance from the main street. The late afternoon sun burnished the scene with gold, shadows just beginning to gather in the angles of the elegant old buildings and cobbled street below. The shower had just stopped running; I knew you would join me soon.

The three men at the table below were basking in the afternoon breeze, sipping espressos, smiling and waving at me. "Ciao, bella," I had heard almost immediately after they sat down, followed by something that included the Italian phrase for "a drink," which I had learned only a few days ago. I had smiled back, secretly hugging myself with delight at the charming attention, but shook my head, declining the invitations. Amid what sounded like good-natured regret and attempts to persuade me to change my mind, I leaned forward, bracing my palms on the wrought iron railing just about hip-high.

Their narrowed smiles and the octave their voices dropped made it appear that the gentlemen below enjoyed the view even better from this angle. I was only one floor up, so they could see fairly well, and I knew that my silk blouse, partially unbuttoned as it was, showed a lot more cleavage from this position. They couldn't see everything, but apparently, what they could see was more than enough.

A small shiver of pure feminine pleasure rushed through me. I didn't really know what they were saying. It might have been insulting and sleazy, but that was not the way their voices sounded, and that was not the feeling I was getting. I looked from one to the other of them, watching one man sliding the palm of his hand slowly down his thigh and then back up. The other two were still sipping their drinks, but one had leaned back in his chair, and the other had his chin propped on his hand, staring intently up at me, smiling.

The smile did it. I felt a fluttering rush of nervous energy faintly tinged with fear, and without stopping to analyze the impulse, I wanted to play. I raised one hand and idly trailed my fingertips from my chin down my neck to where the silk was pulled tight across my breasts, and casually undid another button. Obedient to the laws of physics, it popped open another inch or so, and a good portion of my ivory lace bra was exposed to their avid gaze.

I heard a long, low whistle from the sidewalk below, and what sounded like an admiring laugh. I wasn't sure what to do next. I wasn't sure how far I could go, much less how far I wanted to go. I was torn between my madly fluttering heart and my hesitant, somewhat conventional mind. My fingers slowly, languidly moved up and down, between my breasts, and over the creamy mounds of exposed breasts while I hesitated. And then suddenly, I heard you behind me.

"Open it, Vanessa. Open it the rest of the way."

Your voice had that same deep note of arousal I was responding to in the voices below. I froze in place, embarrassed at being caught, uncertain what to do next. Then you spoke again.

"Come on baby, do it. Unbutton those buttons and show them. I know that's what you want to do, so let them see."

You spoke softly, but with utter assurance, and there was no way I could resist. Besides, there was no one in sight except these men. And I was dying to show off for them; I was aching to feel their eyes on me. I stood, slowly, and pulled the the blouse out of my full skirt, and then, my eyes glued on the table below, I reached up and pushed each button through its hole. My hands dropped to my sides, waiting. They were all leaning forward. You stepped closer, standing directly behind me, but I knew they couldn't see you in the shadows. All they could see was me.

"Pull it open, honey," you whispered. "Let them see that pretty bra. You look gorgeous like this, half dressed in that light, with the sun glinting off that beautiful skin. Let them see more of you."

I was almost hypnotized by the calm, cool authority in your tone. You knew what you wanted, always, and your voice made that abundantly clear. What I didn't understand was why I had not the slightest wish to refuse. I wanted to do more. I loved knowing they were watching me.

But now was definitely not the time for self-examination. My fingers trembled, but of course, the men below didn't know that. All they knew was that a woman with thick auburn hair was showing them more than they had expected to see. And all I knew was that I wanted to continue. Swiftly, I grabbed the tails of the blouse and pulled them behind me. My ivory lace demi-bra was now fully exposed, as was the creamy smooth skin above and below it. And I was so turned on I could barely stand still. You heard my little whimpering moan as the breeze hit my skin, and you gave a low laugh at my ear.

"You know you look delicious like that," your velvet voice purred behind me. "And you can tell they think so too. But I'll bet they'd love to see even more of that luscious body ... and I know you'd love to show them more, wouldn't you baby."

I stood up slowly, shivering again in the gleaming sun, but I couldn't turn away. Even with you behind me, standing there ready to make hot passionate love to me, I couldn't turn away from that window. I couldn't turn away from the hot, almost magnetic force their gazes exerted on me. I couldn't turn away from their eyes.

I heard the faint smile in your voice.

"Then show them more, darling. Show them everything you want them to see."

Mentally, I saw myself unhooking my bra and pulling it open, exposing my full breasts to their avid gazes. The desire on their faces had me breathing lightly, rapidly, my nipples stiff and tingling. But I couldn't move. My fingers remained behind me, gripping the tails of my blouse so tightly my hands ached. I didn't know why I couldn't move. But then you stepped forward, sliding your arms under mine to reach the front hook, and quickly unfastened it, pulling it slowly, smoothly open before letting the edges drop to my sides.

They couldn't see you, but they saw your hands. I gasped, but the reaction from the table was instinctive and very positive. The men's muffled exclamations merged with movements of their hands as they adjusted themselves furtively under the table. One of them slowly rubbed one palm over his face in what seemed to be amazed disbelief. But they all seemed to like it.

I stood there, my naked torso bathed in gleaming light, and my full, soft breasts seemed to become even fuller, thrusting themselves forward as if eager to be kissed by the sun. They seemed to rise to meet it, the pinkish-brown nipples engorged as if in response to a lover's eager lips and tongue. I lifted my chin and closed my eyes for a moment, bathed in warmth and light.

"Do you want me to touch you there, Vanessa?" and your voice sounded like honey in my ear. "Do you want me to help you show them how hot you are? Tell me baby. Tell me what you want."

I leaned back against you, enough to feel the deep, slow thudding of your heart, and I could feel the hot liquid seeping out between my pussy lips, soaking my panties.

"I want your hands on me, Scott," I breathed, "and I want them to see it. I want them to see how my body responds to you. Let them see it."

You murmured your approval in my ear, a deep near-growl of pure masculine pleasure as your hands cupped my breasts and lightly squeezed them. I reached up with one hand and pulled your head down to me, your hair slightly damp and smelling faintly of lime, fresh from the shower. You responded by stroking the tip of your tongue from just below my ear lobe down my neck, stopping to nibble at that sensitive spot where my shoulder joined my neck, and then licking me, all the way down to the tip of my shoulder. There, you bit. Not all that gently. And I gasped in pleasure as every nerve ending in my body exploded.

You gave that low, sexy, devil's growl and slid your lips back up to my ear, your hands now gripping my breasts, pinching my nipples between your fingers and rolling them. Your fingers twisted around the delicate areolas, pulling, tugging as the nipples projected outward, and I moaned as I pressed the globes of my ass cheeks against you. You growled in my ear again, thrusting with your hips to press the hard ridge of your cock against my backside through the soft cotton towel wrapped around you.

"Be careful, Vanessa," you told me firmly, but I felt your smile as you twirled my nipples between your forefingers and thumbs. "All that wiggling is just going to get you fucked. Do you want that baby? Do you want them to see me fuck you right here in this window?"

There was almost no need for you to ask, and you knew it. Before the last sounds dissipated onto the breeze, you were pulling my skirt up in back, with one hand, pulling the full silk folds urgently up, unable to wait long enough to unbutton it and let it fall down to my feet. Your other hand still pinched and squeezed my nipples, back and forth, one after the other, and I covered it with my own, feeling you teasing them into hard, tight little peaks.

"I want it Scott," I pleaded, my own voice ragged and almost unrecognizable to me in its urgency. "I want it, I want your cock now, give it to me now. Let them watch while you fuck me."

Your breathless laugh told me you were well ahead of me, and your hand dragging the back of my skirt up to my waist and swiftly pulling down my lacy panties told me you didn't really need my direction. I responded as if mesmerized, arching my back and wiggling as if reaching for you as the panties slid to the floor. I could see the men below, now openly stroking their cocks through their pants. One guy was unzipping his pants and I stared, fascinated, wondering how much he'd expose here in this public place. But there was no one else near, and he didn't disappoint me; he pulled it right out and held it in his hand, and it looked big and thick and delicious.

"Oh," I gasped, my gaze intent, and that gasp came out as this little wailing, moaning sound, and I heard that deep, throaty laugh again just behind me.

"Mmmmmmm, you like what you see, sweetheart?" I couldn't speak, but as your towel hit the floor you pushed your thick, hard cock between my thighs and pushed forward, not inside, the shaft slipping up between my outer lips, oiling itself on the slick fluid dripping out. You were murmuring little pet names in Italian till I shivered in pleasure against you. "Oh, you love that, don't you, my sweet girl, my treasure. You love feeling my big hard cock massaging against those sweet little cunt lips. I know you do. I can feel it every time your hot little cunt drips slick juices onto me."

Your fingers had returned to my breasts, and you were squeezing them, your palms cupping them as you pumped your cock slowly, back and forth, against the slippery wet folds of my slit.

"I love these, baby, I love feeling them so ripe and full in my hands. I know those guys want to suck them. They want to be up here with us, with their hot hungry mouths fastened onto these sweet red nipples so they can lick them and suck them and feel you shiver in response. You're so hot, baby, and you know they can see it," you murmured, your voice low and intense in my ear.

I squirmed at that, my thighs squeezing over your thick shaft between my legs, and had the intense satisfaction of hearing you groan at the increase in pressure. For the moment, though, your pleasure was the last thing on my mind. Your cock was sliding between my thighs, smoothly, in and out, and I could feel it brushing my clit even more directly now that I was pushing my rounded ass cheeks back against you. You squeezed my breasts, twirling my nipples, and then you thrust your cock forward again, determined. My clit gave a hard, spasmodic throb against your thrusting prick, and I felt that gigantic tidal wave start somewhere deep inside. You held me, with your cock pressing against my clit, and my stiff little nipples burning and aching under your demanding fingers, I came hard, cum soaking your cock. And with every spasm, my eyes returned to the men below, basking in their gazes.

"That's it baby, show them how fucking hot you are, let them see you cum when I do you," and every word brought another twinge, another twist, another spasm inside me. I let them see it all right, offering a visual very few men could have refused, and these men certainly couldn't. Their excitement, their avid pleasure in watching us, gave me a rush like nothing I'd ever experienced before, and I hadn't had nearly enough yet. Fortunately, neither had you.

"More," you demanded, your voice rough. "I want more, Vanessa. Bend forward for me, and hold onto the railing. Ah yes," and you pressed just the head of your cock between those slippery wet folds between my thighs. "God I can't wait to fuck you. I can't wait to get it inside you. Hold on baby, hold on tight now," your voice went hoarse as you pushed the head up inside.

I wriggled against you, spreading my feet apart to give you better access, and was rewarded with a deep groan as you pushed even deeper, inch by incremental inch in rhythmic thrusts that were, deliciously, nearly as much pain as they were pleasure.

I could feel your hands gripping my hips, holding me firmly against you as I gripped that railing. My head was halfway out the window and my lips were parted in an ecstatic "oh -- oh -- oh -- ohhhhhh fuck yes," as each thrust brought that big hard cock closer to home. I was barely aware of the men below, but dimly I could hear them, their moans and grunts mingling with the ones coming from our window.

And then it was in me; your cock was deep, buried deep in my pussy, with your balls pressing against my labia as you pushed harder into me. My soaking wet pussy gripped you. Those muscles were clenched so tight it felt like they were in spasm, and every few seconds I could feel them flutter against you. I would never have believed the thick steel rod you had shoved up inside me could even detect that tiny little ripple of pleasure, but it must have, because with every miniature wave from my muscles, your cock pulsed in response.

"So tight," you ground out, your teeth clenched hard. "So fucking tight this juicy little cunt feels. You like my cock in there baby? Show me. Show me how good it feels."

I almost didn't know what you were saying, much less what you wanted me to do, but apparently it wasn't really a request. Even so, my pussy ached and throbbed and I had to touch it. I desperately wanted to feel your thick wet dick as it thrust so far up inside me, and I wanted to feel how wet it was, with my fingers. I reached down and frantically began pulling up the folds of my silk skirt, already up to my waist in the back, but maddeningly still covering me in front, concealing me from the eyes below.

By now I didn't care what they saw; they no longer mattered to me. Only you mattered, you and that hot hard cock pounding me, and my urgent need to feel it with my hands as well as with my pussy. I was aware of those men watching, I saw and heard them stroking, but the sensations hardly registered as the hem of my skirt reached my hand. What registered was being filled with your huge, pulsing, throbbing cock driven urgently, almost ruthlessly into me. What registered was the sweet scented air from the window kissing, whispering along my bare thighs and my now-exposed mound.

And your voice. What registered, always, was your voice.

"Oh yes baby," you urged me, your hand now gripping my hair to pull me back, toward you, pulling me into a standing position in front of you and pressing me right up against the iron railing. I had a fleeting mental image of what I must look like with my breasts fully exposed, bouncing with each thrust as you filled me with cock, and my skirt held up so their hungry, lust-filled eyes could see the soft little wisps of auburn pubic hair lightly coating the mound just above where your cock was pumping in and out of me. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but this.

I held my skirt with my left hand and reached down with my right, eagerly, so the tips of my fingers barely reached your cock. I felt it. I felt it sinking in. I felt it hot and thick and stiff, veins standing out, slippery wet from the hot juice I kept flooding onto it. It felt so hot to my hand; so much hotter than the rest of your body, pressing and rubbing so eagerly behind me. And then I felt my fingers turn slick and wet and warm, and my head dropped back onto your shoulder as I moaned.

"Feed it to me," you ordered me. "Feed me that juice baby, I need to taste you now."

The liquid gushed out again, even more freely, as I raised my hand to your lips, turning my head to watch your mouth engulf my fingers like this was your first meal in days. You devoured them, sucking them hard at first, and then your tongue began slithering all over them, taking every last drop of cream. I felt your cock leap inside me, one hard pulse, and I thought you were going to cum right then, but you held on, breathing hard into my hair.

But I couldn't wait. I didn't even want to wait. I raised both arms to reach behind me, pulling your head to me, and remembering our audience below, I raised my left knee up onto the cold iron railing, propping it there, with my skirt pulled up, flowing down either side of my hips. With my knee propped up like that, there was nothing they couldn't see, and I was gripped, buffeted by wave after sizzling hot wave of unbelievable pleasure. I knew they saw your cock fucking me. They saw it going in. They saw it sliding out, thick and gleaming wet and purple in the late afternoon sun. They were watching. They were moaning. They were stroking. One had already spilled his load onto his hand and was still stroking. And the others had groaned aloud as I exposed more for them.