An Erotic Semester in Italy

It was summer in the early 1990s, and I was spending the semester studying in Rome. I had saved three years of summer and part-time job wages so I could pay my own way into this program. I was doing well in the classes. I loved the weather and the food in Italy. And I had a group of great friends.

My closest friend was Kit, and we did everything together. We went on weekend excursions to other parts of Italy, we took long walks around Rome and went dancing. I was coming off a break-up with my first serious boyfriend. I didn't want the guilt and burden of a long-distance relationship, and this was before you could videochat across the globe. I didn't even have an email account.

Everything was fine, but I started to feel lonely after Kit hit it off with Davis, a guy in our program.

Kit was hoping I would show some interest in Will, Davis' best friend. My initial take was that he was too shy. He was tall and thin, with sweet brown eyes and a messy mop of hair that he told me was his attempt to look like Eddie Vedder. I could tell he liked me, but he never made a move, and I wasn't sure I wanted him to.

As Kit and Davis made out on a train ride home from a trip to Florence, I sat with Will. I was tired, and it felt good to put my head on his shoulder. I eventually fell asleep and woke up nuzzled comfortably against his chest. He was growing on me.

We started to hang out more. His Italian was pretty good, and I would rely on him to order at restaurants and ask for directions. And, we were two of the only students in the program who spent much time studying. Sometimes we would sit on a bench not far from the pensione reading our assigned texts. I would take off my sandals and put my feet up on his lap. I liked the way he absent-mindedly rubbed my calves and ran his hands over my shins and feet. At night, he would help me pronounce Italian words. But he just couldn't make the move to kiss me.

People assumed we were a couple. Even Enzo, the pensione cook. One night, I was working on my Italian with Will in the kitchen as I helped Enzo prepped food for the next day. I loved to cook and sometimes he let me cut vegetables or make sauces. When Will went upstairs, Enzo said. "You shouldn't tease that boy, Lily."

"What do you mean? Maybe it's him leading me on," I replied.

Enzo said something I couldn't understand in Italian. Then in English, "You would be too much to handle for him."

I blushed and finished up whatever I was chopping.

All the straight girls had made jokes about Enzo when we first arrived. He was stereotypically Roman. With dark curls, a constant 5 o'clock shadow and a classic Italian nose. He moved with slow confidence. I couldn't tell if he was 25 or 35. He said little about himself. For the most part, he ignored every young woman in the house. He put up with me a little because I liked to help cook. I tossed in bed for a while trying to figure out why he thought I would be "too much" for Will. I wasn't experienced or confident. I had been a virgin six months earlier, and only had vanilla sex with my ex-boyfriend. I have never considered myself too much for any guy to handle.

I had promised to check in with my ex a couple times by phone that summer, so I called him one night from the phone in the hall of the pensione. I told him about my classes and some of our trips. He told me about his internship. We didn't have much else to talk about. I almost told him about Will, but what would I say? I was flirting with a shy guy who couldn't make a move? We hung up awkwardly.

I started crying after the call, and as I walked through the kitchen, I literally bumped into Enzo. His hands held my shoulders to keep me from losing my balance, and I looked down to hide my tears. He moved his hand to my chin and gently pushed it up, so I was looking into his dark eyes.

"Lily, why do American girls cry after they speak to their boyfriends at home?" he said.

"He's not my boyfriend anymore. But, I guess I'm crying because I miss him."

He shook his head. "I don't think so. I think you cry because you realize those boys don't miss you as much as you wish they did."

That stung like a cold ice pick into my heart. I blushed and ran to my room.

That weekend, our other roommates were on a weekend trip so Kit and I had the girls room to ourselves. Two of the three professors were also out of town, so everyone was ignoring the rules. Especially since Professor Pelli was the only adult in the place, and he usually drank two bottles of wine before 9 p.m. on weekends. Kit, Davis, Will and I had a great night walking around Rome. Will bought me gelato and held my hand. I told Davis that he could have the room with Kit that night. I showered, put on my best pair of panties and a long T-shirt, and padded up to Will's room.

"Will, wake up," I said. "Davis is in my room with Kit. Can I stay here?"

"Of course Lily," he said, his hair even messier than usual. I stood looking down at him, hoping he'd say something a little more enthusiastic. I was raised to not be too pushy, but I had not had an orgasm in weeks and I wanted to throw myself at him.

"It's colder up here," I said, even though it was 80 degrees outside and we had no air conditioning. Finally, he got a clue. "You can climb in with me."

I paused again and feigned reluctance, while trying to look cute. "Ok, but no funny business," I said.

I turned my back to him, and he spooned his long body around mine. He rubbed my shoulders and arms with his hand, and I encouraged him. "Mmmm. That feels nice."

He was thin and angular, unlike most of the stocky guys I had dated. I liked that he could envelop me with his long limbs, and that his hand could easily tickle me all the way from my neck to my leg. His hand brushed my outer thigh tentatively, and I pushed back into him to encourage more. I could feel his hardness against my ass and back, and he pulled back a little as if embarrassed. I kept scooting into him.

His hand began to linger from just above my knee and up to the bottom of my panties. Then he got the courage to tease the front of my leg, and his long fingers finally caressed my inner thigh. My body reacted hungrily. My nipples hardened against my shirt, and I clenched my legs together as I felt my lips open and dampen.

I arched my back against him, and he wrapped his right hand underneath my body and cupped my breast through the shirt. "Oooh," I said, pressing against his palm. I put both my hands in the air like a kid who needs help getting a shirt off, and he picked up on the obvious clue, pulling my shirt over my head. Men had been staring at my tits all over Italy for weeks, and I had a feeling Will would like what he saw. I sat up in the bed and turned to face him, my perfectly round, just turned-20-year-old perky tits pointed at him. My small, pink nipples erect and aching to be touched. He sat up and stared for a second. Finally, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. It was not delicate or skillful, but I liked that I could feel his desire through his lips and probing tongue. It felt good to be wanted that bad. I was proud that I had finally pushed this shy boy to take action.

While he kissed me, his hands explored my torso, starting at the top of my breast, his fingers briefly teasing my nipples, then running his palms over my flat stomach and around my ribs. The tops of his fingers paused as he felt the the spot where my panties met my hip bone, and the anticipation made me gasp. I was still sitting up and I needed to put my hands behind me to hold myself up while he kissed my face and neck and rubbed me slowly from my waist to shoulders.

Finally, his lips made their way down my shoulders, kissing my clavicle and then the top of my breasts. I could feel his breath on my nipples. He gave a nervous kiss to one nipple, followed by a long lick. I moaned loudly to let him know he was on the right track. Suddenly, Will found some confidence. He nibbled, licked and sucked each nipple, sending waves of pleasure down my spine. I could feel my folds opening and my clit swelling. I pressed my crotch against the mattress, desperate for friction. I put the back of my head down on the pillow and pulled him on top of me. His lips never lost connection to my nipples. I pulled his shirt up over his head so I could feel his bare chest against mine. For minutes, his mouth alternated from my breasts to my lips. I squeezed my thighs together around his leg, rubbing hard up against him and feeling his erection hitting just above my hips. I hoped he could feel my ardor and guess what to do.

My clit was throbbing, and I was desperate for him to pull my panties aside and touch me. If he simply slid that tongue down my body to my labia, to my clit, I would explode in seconds. I had guessed that Will was a virgin. But was it possible that he finished two years of college without ever giving a woman head?

His fingers slowly tickled my hip bone, playing around with the waistband of my panties. I reached down and cupped his balls through his boxers, then pressed my palm hard against his shaft, moving up and down against the sensitive underside of his penis. I spread my legs kissed his forehead, his temple, anything I could reach. I whispered. "Please."

His hand moved to my crotch, and he rubbed the growing wet spot on my panties with his index finger. My whole body opened up in relief and joy. I moaned loudly, and pressed my hand harder against his erection. He placed his finger underneath the fabric and explored my labia like it was a new territory. He ran his index finger from the bottom all the way around, reveling in my dampness. Then, his finger was inside me, pushing upward deftly. Every time he hit a new pleasurable spot, I moved my hand up and down the length of his cock, eliciting enough pleasure that he had to let go of my nipple for a second to gasp.

With his index finger pressing inside of me, his thumb rubbed my engorged clit. Gently at first. I responded by taking my hand away from his penis for a second, leading to a disappointed whimper. I moved my hand under the waistband of his boxers, and my fingers and thumb encircled the head of his cock. I teased the top, rubbing his precum around the tip and over the entire head. His head went straight back. "My God, Lily. Oh my God."

I grabbed the shaft and stroked downward until my fingers hit his scrotum, and then came back to the top. The pressure of his fingers got faster and more intense. We were in rhythm, and I whispered to him. "Will, you're making me feel so good."

I played with the tip some more, and then took three long hard strokes. His body loosened, and then tightened. "Oh God. Lily!"

The first burst was strong, and I felt warm liquid on my wrist, the inside of my elbow and on my ribs. After that he was like a firehose with a broken on-off switch. Cum hit my stomach, my tits and covered my hand. His finger movements stopped and he put all his weight on me. The last few spurts landed on my tummy and pooled in my navel. I tried to kiss him and held him tight as his muscles contracted. He rolled to his side and was breathing hard as if he had sprinted a mile. I kissed his chest and his neck.

He finally kissed me back, mumbling "thank yous" and "that felt so good." He got up and returned with a warm, wet towel, trying to find all the spots where he had left his mark on me. He was as gentle and kind. I went to the bathroom cleaned off a bit more. When I climbed back into bed, he snuggled against me, his now-flaccid cock still sticky against my hip. Any potential orgasm of mine would have to wait for his recovery. As he slept, that large frame that had been so alluring an hour ago, now seemed inconvenient in the twin bed. And I was thirsty and warm.

I slipped out of his arms, found my shirt and headed to the kitchen. It was 1 a.m., and the house was mostly emptied out, so I didn't worry about coming downstairs in just a T-shirt and underwear. I got an ice tray out of the freezer, broke out some cubes, rubbing one over my neck putting the rest in a glass. I filled it with water, gulping it quickly to quench my thirst and cool down.

"Perché hai così sete?" said Enzo, sitting in the dark in a tiny room adjacent to the kitchen.

I jumped with fright, but then tried to play cool. I think he asked something about "thirsty."

"It's hot," I said. "Perché are you lurking around the pensione?"

"I'm sitting still. You are lurking. Sometimes if I work late on the weekends, I spend the night on a cot back here. It's easier than relying on late buses to take me all the way across town, only to come back to make you breakfast a few hours later."

"Well, that's creepy," I said.

"I'm not sure what 'creepy' means, but I didn't mean to scare you. I should be the scared one. I've never heard anyone drink water so loudly. Who are you angry at? The boy at home, the boy upstairs, or maybe yourself for making bad choices?"

"Why should I take relationship advice from you?," I said, too angrily, unleashing some pent-up frustration on the cook who had been kind to me. "Have you ever been married? Do you have a real girlfriend?"

"No wife. No serious girlfriend. But I spend time with many women - some for a short time, some for a long time. They are all unhappy with something if they come to me. Or maybe they are just thirsty," he said staring into my eyes and daring me to look away. I met his gaze, and he eventually broke eye contact by leering up and down my body.

I slammed off the light. "Go sleep on your kitchen cot and leave me alone."

He stood up so quickly, I barely sensed it. In the dark, I was disoriented. I felt a hand on my shoulder and the scruff of his chin rubbing against my forehead. He was even taller than Will, and much more imposing. I backed against the wall and he followed.

"Piccola ragazza," he said, not angry or threatening, but intense. "I sleep where I want, with whom I want. And none of them ever left dissatisfied."

I was frozen with a mix of fear and wonder at what he would do next. I felt his hands on my hip, then on my upper thigh, then a finger on the still damp spot on my underwear. He put pressure on it for just a few glorious seconds. I wanted him to finish the job Will didn't. I was scared, but my body could not help but crave more of his touch. Then he pulled away and backed up.

"Sound travels easily in this house ragazza. Be careful, or everyone will know your secrets. Especially with a boy who yells your name that loudly."

He was now back in his seat. Then he added, coldly: "Funny, I didn't hear anyone yell his name."

I spun away and walked back upstairs in a fog of frustration, anger and desire. I couldn't bring myself to go back to Will's room, so I climbed into the bunk above Kit and Davis, who were sound asleep. I fingered myself quietly and gently, trying to envision Will, or my ex or any guy other than Enzo. It didn't work.

I didn't spend as much time in the kitchen with Enzo after that. Will and I were hanging out, but we didn't have many opportunities to be alone. On the Fourth of July, the U.S. Embassy had a barbecue on the grounds and our whole program was invited. My girls and I flirted with the Marines who worked security at the embassy. Will was playing basketball with some guys. The beer was flowing, and one of the Marines grabbed my ass roughly. When I glared at him, he said, "What would you expect, wearing a short skirt like that?"

That pissed me off. The walk home was mostly crowded, well-lit streets, so I left alone. I heard the fireworks exploding behind me as I walked home.

I unlocked the door and it seemed like I was the only one not at the embassy. Before heading to bed, I checked the kitchen looking for any sexy, brooding Italian men who could give me an orgasm. It was empty. As I walked to the stairs, I noticed there was a light on in the reading room. Sometimes Will and I read in there, and I wondered if he had somehow beaten me back.

I pushed the door about a third of the way open and quickly saw it was not Will. It was Enzo with his back to me. He was shirtless, and I noticed for the first time how muscular he was. Not like a weightlifter, but like a mountain climber. His arms and shoulders were veiny and defined. His back was rippled. His forearms and chest were covered in dark hair. He had not noticed me. He dropped to his knees, and a woman's legs wrapped around his shoulders. From my angle, her face was invisible, and I was invisible to her. I could smell her sex. I could hear the lapping sounds of Enzo licking her wet pussy. I could see that he was fingering her intensely. She was moaning quietly.

I was aroused, stunned and eager to see more, but frightened. After a few seconds I made up my mind to go upstairs, and that's when Enzo stood and turned halfway toward me. He looked surprised, but unfazed. His fingers were still in the woman, and he kept pressing in and out of her and rubbing her clit while he leered at me. I stared back and decided I wouldn't flee. He could slam the door on me, or tell me to leave, but he didn't.

He watched me while fingering the faceless woman, who was lying on my favorite reading table. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom wrapper, unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants and stepped out of them. His briefs barely contained him. The outline of his penis ran from his crotch to the top of his underwear, and I could see the head of his cock above the waistband. With one hand, he pulled down his underwear, staring at my face. I couldn't help but drift my eyes to his crotch. My mouth opened with desire, awe and a little bit of fear. He was darker and longer than the handful other cocks I had seen in real life. Probably a little thicker, too. I could see the veins in the foreskin. Almost fully erect, the thick head was already exposed. He stroked himself while I watched. Then he tore the wrapper open and pulled the condom over his cock. He broke his stare and turned toward her. I exhaled.

He spun her legs around about 30 degrees and shifted his body. She was still hidden from me, but instead of his back, I was looking at his shoulder. And he could look at me over his shoulder. I wanted so much to be close enough to see him enter her, but he was in the way. Still, it was easy to tell when he plunged into her. I watched as his strong glutes tightened and thrusted, and her legs moved higher to accept him. She was speaking to him in Italian. While I was staring at their bodies. Enzo was looking at me. Daring me to keep watching. Challenging me to leave.

My nipples were hard, and every instinct was pushing me to play with my tits or touch myself. But I wasn't going to give him that much satisfaction. He had already turned me into a voyeur. He was pushing faster now, and her moans were rhythmic and rising. He lifted her legs higher and kept pushing. My heart was beating to the sound of her quick breathing, and I wanted to feel as full as she felt. Then the guttural moans stopped, she pointed her toes and every muscle in her lower body seemed to flex and then start shaking. She spoke in Italian, but "Enzo" was the only word I understood.

As she came down from her orgasm, he flipped her over onto her stomach. He moved behind her and pushed even harder. Her heavy breathing returned. Enzo pushed faster. He was no longer looking at me. I took the opportunity to press my hand against my panties. I watched as his back and ass muscles all contracted and released. He grunted and pressed himself even deeper into her as she moaned loudly again.

I took a few steps backwards and then spun toward the stairs. I locked the bathroom door, even though I don't know what or whom I was afraid of.

I turned on the shower and got undressed. I was flushed, with red splotches on my pale skin. I was sweating. I sat under the cool water until my breathing and heart rate settled. I touched myself and ran my soapy fingers over my nipples. I couldn't even fantasize enough to masturbate to the scene, because I wasn't sure what it would feel like to be taken like that, roughly and urgently. My ex was my first, and he was always careful and deliberate. Almost predictable. Will was even more tentative. Enzo fucked with a fervor that was almost frightening. I wanted someone to desire me so badly that they couldn't resist ravaging me.