An Erotic Semester in Italy

I smiled up at him, and ran my hand over his partially flaccid and sticky penis. He stood up and scooped me up in one motion, carrying me to a queen size bed and putting a pillow behind head.

He suckled my nipples for a little while, and then trailed kisses down my ribs, stomach and hips. He moved his face between my thighs and nuzzled my warm cunt. He licked my soaked pussy lips from the bottom to the top and back again. He moved around quickly, flicking his tongue against my engorged clit, then pushing his tongue into my folds, then reaching a finger inside me again while sucking on my clit. The blowjob had turned me on, and now he was pressing every pleasurable button. I ran my fingers through his hair, pushing him down against me as he pulled the next orgasm from my depths. The contractions started with his tongue inside me. I thrust both my shaking legs in the air and then clamped them around his neck in some sort of cunninglingus wrestling move, forcing his face harder against me with every spasm.

This time, he didn't hold me gently while I recovered. He broke from my hold and stood up. He reached into a bedside drawer, pulling out a condom and a bottle of lube. He twisted me so I was lying across the bed sideways, and he stood between my legs. My pussy was still throbbing and I was staring as his once-again erect cock prepared to stretch the walls of my young cunt beyond their limits. I was dizzy and scared, yet craving to be filled.

He slathered lube on his bare cock, then slipped the condom over it and covered the outside with more lube. I was wetter than I had ever been, but I was grateful for anything that would help slide that gorgeous penis into me with less resistance. He put a glob of the clear liquid on his finger, and inserted it inside me, lathering up the opening and the inner walls. He stared into my eyes and said, "This is what you want, right beautiful?"

"Please," is all I could say.

He put one more glob of lube on the head of the condom and I reached between my legs to grasp him and help guide him to the opening, which he needed no aid to find. I held my breath as I felt the pressure of his cock fill my opening, then pleasure as the ridge of his head popped through and pushed upward. Only about a fifth of his cock was in me, but I felt almost full. I touched my palm to his hip to slow him down. I needed my vagina to adjust to these new limits before his girth pushed it wider. He paused his plunge into me and played with my clit. I almost felt like I could come again.

I relaxed and he pushed deeper. Now the middle of his shaft was inside of me, foreskin still sheathing the bottom and adding to his width. I exhaled, and he plowed deeper still, I looked down and he was at least three quarters in. I felt stretched on each wall of my vagina, and I couldn't imagine more. Then he pulled almost all the way out and I felt empty. Suddenly I needed that stretched and full feeling again.

He gave me more. With one hard thrust he pierced through every barrier. He was deeper than any cock had ever been in me, and the sensations were too much. Tears ran down my face, as I was torn between pleasure, emotion and some pain. He began to pull in and out, sending waves of discomfort and ecstasy through my body. As he went faster, my body adjusted, and the pain of being stretched subsided. When he went deep, it sent an electric twinge through my body. The pleasure overwhelmed any pain when he started to massage my clit in rhythm with each thrust. I had not had an orgasm from penetration before, but I was getting close. Just as it was welling up, Enzo slowed his thrusts and then pulled out. I whimpered as the full feeling left me and the pressure abated.

He propped me up on my hands and knees and kneeled behind me on the bed. I didn't like that I couldn't see him anymore. The act felt less personal. I felt the pressure again as he pushed through my entrance from behind, now with much less resistance from my wider pussy walls. The pressure and fullness were back, but with some new sensations. He was able to reach different spots inside of me from this angle, and each push ended with his scrotum pressing hard against my sensitive clit. He slowed down and put more lube on his fingers and slathered it on his shaft. He increased speed and his balls were slapping my clit every second. Then I felt more pressure, as a lubed finger pressed at the entrance of my ass. I stopped breathing, and cried out. Enzo muttered something reassuring in Italian and his finger popped into me, just as his cock pushed deep into my pussy.

I couldn't believe I was somehow more full. With each thrust, every muscle in my lower body clamped down hard on cock and finger. No air escaped. I grunted with each pounding. My head was swimming, and I thought I might pass out. My arms were shaking and I dropped down so my face was on the bed. Enzo was fucking me with abandon. Each plunge was harder than the last. After I lowered my head, the next shove hit new angles within me, pushing me closer to release. I was silent, unable to use any energy for anything other than the earthquake building inside of me. Enzo grunted each time he hit my inner wall, and then he pulled most of the way out and pushed through me again.

For years after, I would try to recreate the sensations of that encounter. As I stroked a new lover's cock, I would wonder if it could hit those spots, Enzo's spots. I hoped he could last as long as Enzo, and push hard even after hours of lovemaking. I would caress a new man's balls, hoping they would drop at the right angle to press against my clit when he took me from behind. I would beg men to "fuck me doggystyle," "harder," "faster," "now stick your finger in my ass."

Some called me a slut or a whore as they fucked me, thinking a woman who asked for such things was cheap or easy. I hated that, and I had kicked men out of bed for shaming me. Other men followed instructions carefully, but they were rarely more than stand-ins for Enzo. I never found the exact feeling again, of course. You can only have one "first" anything. Enzo wasn't my first lover, first orgasm or first fuck. But he showed me pleasure I didn't know existed.

I don't know how long he pushed in that position. It might have been 40 seconds or 10 minutes. It was as if all the blood in my body was rushing to my crotch, and the rest of me was shutting down. I knew a new standard of orgasm was coming and I wasn't sure I could handle it. One more deep thrust pushed me over the edge. By the time he had pulled back to prepare for his next plunge, my pussy was contracting, clamping down on the part of his cock still inside of me and my other muscles tensed around his finger. I hoped the feeling of all my muscles tightening around him would persuade Enzo to stop thrusting or at least hold still as I exploded, but he followed through with another deep push. The feeling of his girth pressing against every wall in my cunt just as all my muscles spasmed inward several times per second is something that I will never forget.

When his balls hit my clit, my body bucked against him. I thrust my hand against my clit and screamed. A gush of liquid fired from my core, over my thighs and onto Enzo. I had never seen anyone squirt, even on video, so I wasn't sure what was happening. The explosion was just the beginning, as rapid-fire spasms rippled through me, starting with every nerve ending in my pussy and ass, then spreading over my entire body. As I was convulsing, Enzo's violent thrusts ended. He was deep inside me, sloshing through my fluids, his hairy balls still pressed against my clit. He groaned as his cum filled the condom's reservoir. He flipped me over without pulling out completely and pushed one more time, his whole body weight on top of me as he crumpled. He tried to kiss me, but every sensation was too much. I pulled him down and rolled us over so I was on top of him and he was in the puddle that I created on the bed.. Tiny contractions continued, and I kept his softening cock inside me for at least 10 minutes. I got the energy to kiss him, but I couldn't talk. He smartly kept silent, allowing me to process and rest in the afterglow.

I am not sure how long I slept on his chest. Eventually he pulled out of me with a pop and a splash as more fluid leaked onto the bed. He left to go to the bathroom. I did the same a few minutes later. When I returned, I climbed on top of him again and rested. When I awoke again, the sun was going down outside. I was shocked to feel him hard against me. I didn't say anything, I simply reached down and stroked him slow and hard. When he moaned, I went faster until he tensed up and a few tiny globs of cum dribbled off his cock onto his stomach. I ran my fingers through his cum, spreading it around. He rose to clean up, and he came back completely dressed. "Andiamo," he said.

I showered and got dressed. we held hands for a few blocks. As we got closer to the pensione, he dropped my hand. A quarter mile away, he looked around carefully, then quickly kissed my lips.

"You are a treasure," he said. Then stood watch as I walked home under Rome's late summer sunset.

I didn't say anything, even to Kit.

It would be a better ending to say we never had sex again. But I had two more weeks in Italy and he had awakened a sexual beast. One night, I went downstairs and blew him quickly on his cot. Someone came downstairs just as I finished, and I had to hide around corners and sneak upstairs.

"What happened to your T-shirt," Kit asked as we brushed our teeth the next morning. I must have dribbled some of his cum onto the shirt during my escape. "Toothpaste, I guess," I said unconvincingly.

Another night, I lured him into the reading room and begged him to fuck me. We were both distracted, worried about getting caught. I came as he fucked me from behind, covering my moans with my hand. He didn't have a condom, so he pulled out and came on my ass and back.

Neither experience came close to our passionate afternoon.

I rejected Will a few times and finally told him we should just be friends. It actually worked, and we remain close today.

And just like that, it was time to go home. I cried myself to sleep the last few nights thinking of leaving Enzo. I was sure I didn't love him. Still, I knew he would always be one of my great romances.

On my last Sunday in Rome, I walked around the church knowing I would see him. We said hello outside and walked his mother home together. He bought me a drink. We didn't talk much, mostly about his cafe and my hopes to move to New York. He casually mentioned that his friend had returned from the beach, so I knew the apartment was unavailable for one last romp.

We sat in a park, and he handed me a small parcel. It had a card, all in Italian. He laughed as I struggled with the words. "Now you will have to practice your Italian to translate my letter," he said.

I opened the package, and it was a framed 5-by-7 photo. The black-and-white image showed the late afternoon light coming through a window of a beautiful Roman bedroom. Our bedroom. I sobbed quietly and put my head to his chest. He wiped my tears and kissed me. That morning, he wasn't at breakfast. As we loaded onto the bus, I looked for him, but he had said goodbye the way he wanted, and it was perfect. Our moment was important and life-changing, but just a moment.