Marie's Story

Hello, I'm Marie Calvecchio, and today it's my turn to tell my story.

What you should do now is stop reading this. Really, stop. You can come back to it later, but this is part of a larger narrative, and it would be best if you start at the beginning. First, read "An unlikely threesome", then to "Marie's further schooling" And then, the last part of our story, until today, was told by Olivia in "Olivia's Story."

So, still here? I understand. You're already here, why bother to type a few keystrokes and search for those earlier stories. Maybe go back to them later if this one seems interesting.

Still, it's better if you have some idea of what is going on here, so I'll give you a very brief synopsis.

I, Marie, was married to Bill Sullivan for two years or so. I am 5' 9" and weigh about 135. Long black hair that has never been cut hangs just above my ass. My measurements: 34D, 26, 36. I have that olive complexion that you often find in Mediterranean people. Men, and some women, find me attractive and I am sexually submissive. Bill and I split up because he caught me fucking a co-worker. Bill met Olivia, a bisexual blonde beauty. I was desperately trying to get back with Bill at that time. Olivia saw some pictures of me, apparently liked what she saw and suggested to Bill that they attempt to bring me into their relationship, sexual and otherwise. Bill was skeptical but agreed to have Olivia talk to me and try to achieve this outcome. She did, and it worked. We have been living together for some time; our group sex life is very active. We are all committed to making this unusual arrangement work. To that end we were trying to get to know each other much better early on and started a tradition that we call "story time". We tell stories about ourselves. Two rules: 1. The story has to be about us, the teller, and 2. It has to be true.

So, tonight, I was going to take my turn in telling a story. Our stories were often sexual in nature, though they didn't have to be. Olivia asked me yesterday whether the story I would be telling was sexual. I told her it was and she wanted to know enough about it so she could make any necessary arrangements for her and Bill to do some role playing while I was telling the story; kind of act out the narrative. So, she wanted to know what to wear and such. I shared a bit of information with Olivia without giving away enough to ruin story time.

This story would be based on my family history, stories I had heard about "The Italian Princesses" since I was a little girl. The stories grew more explicit as I got older until I finally realized that there was a lot of sex involved. I told Olivia that all she needed to know right now, for her purposes, was that this story would involve the London upper class, Lords and Ladies, during the early 1800s.

But before I get into that, I want to tell you a bit about Olivia.

The first thing you would notice about her was that she was a great beauty. Rather short at 5' 3", she had a fantastic figure, large breasts (36E she told me) and the classic hourglass shape, 36, 24, 36. She had short blonde hair and a kind of heart shaped face. A knockout.

But after you got to know her you realized that there was more to her than met the eye. Lively, is a good descriptor for Olivia. She loved life. I think she woke up every morning determined to wring every drop of joy/excitement/interest that she could out of every minute of that day.

She was extremely curious, things would occur to her that most people just didn't think about. "I wonder how this came to be, or, why is this thing the way it is?" Almost always she would look to her phone or computer to get answers to these questions. And, of course, with the internet and Google, it's a great time to be curious. "I wonder" was Olivia's favorite phrase.

I'll give you an example. The three of us liked a drink or two in the evening. We had started favoring wine, but lately we were drinking vodka. Bill really liked Belvedere and that's the only brand we had in the house.

One day, Olivia came home with 5 bottles of various brands of vodkas, and 18 shot glasses. She announced that we were going to have a blind vodka tasting that evening. Bill and I looked at each other and kind of shrugged; Olivia being Olivia again. But it sounded like fun.

So, somewhat later, Olivia arranged our tasting. She put small sticky papers on the bottoms of the shot glasses, numbered 1 through 6, and she made a key, showing which vodka corresponded to which number. Then she poured us each 6 shots: Belvedere, of course, Gray Goose, Chopin, Absolut, Ketel One, and Three Olives. She placed 6 shot glasses in front of each of us, and, after turning her back, asked us to rearrange the glasses in front of her. So, none of us had any idea what brand vodka was in which glass. We each took up a pen and pad of paper, for notes, as we started our tasting. It was kind of fun as the evening went on, take a sip of this one, comparing it to that one, and then another one. We were listening to music as this went on and Olivia started "wondering".

"I wonder where music comes from."

"Well, right now it's coming from the stereo." I said.

"No, I mean who invented it, how it's structured, why does our music sound different from Oriental music?."

Clearly, I thought, this is going to be Olivia's next research project. But she didn't let it distract her from our current tasting project.

When we finished our tasting we arranged the shot glasses in order, the one we liked best moving down to the one we liked least. We were more than a little drunk at this point, after each consuming 6 shots of vodka. But that didn't diminish the scientific accuracy of our experiment. And if you want to know the results, it was Chopin first, Absolut second and Three Olives last (don't waste your money on that shit).

At this point, Olivia excused herself and went to her room. We knew that she was beginning her deep dive into the music thing. Bill fucked me, an activity that would normally include Olivia, but we saw nothing of her the rest of that night. The next day she went out and returned with a guitar a few hours later. I guess to help her demonstrate to herself what she was learning. She never learned to play it worth a shit, but that wasn't her objective.

The next few days and weeks, she would always be talking about rhythm, harmony, melody, intervals, how scales are built, mixolydian mode, Pythagoras and such. "Did you know that there is a close relationship between music and math?" Well, no I didn't, Pythagoras I guess.

I loved it when Olivia got like this, all excited about learning new stuff. She was just a delight to be around.

Her curiosity extended into the sexual sphere. She was always looking for new ways to achieve sexual gratification. The three of us toured Italy a few months ago. We took a trip to Pompeii and saw a brothel that was revealed when the ancient city was excavated. Our tour guide explained that the people who worked there and the people who patronized it didn't always speak the same language. So, they developed a kind of sexual menu. There were paintings on the walls of various sexual acts and positions. In the event there was a language barrier, a client had only to point to a picture and the prostitute would know he wanted to fuck doggy style. Olivia was intrigued by this and took multiple pictures of these paintings. They were quite faded by time and it wasn't always very clear what was going on.

When we got home, Olivia was excited to download the pictures to her computer, enhance them, blow them up and generally see what she could learn from the ancients. She told us to prepare ourselves to fuck like the Romans that night. However, when she exited her room a few hours later she was looking a bit deflated: "they were only doing the same shit we do, nothing to learn there."

Well, of course, I thought. There are only so many ways you can rub this against that to create enough friction that orgasm would result. And all of that stuff had been discovered years ago. But I didn't say that to Olivia. I didn't want to discourage her.

And it turns out I was wrong, she did discover something new. Maybe somebody somewhere was doing this, but it was new to us.

That happened one morning when the three of us were eating breakfast at home. Olivia was drinking her coffee, when she looked up and said to Bill, "I just had an idea, I want you to put your cock in my mouth after I take a mouthful of this warm coffee. See how it is for you to fuck my face while I hold that warm coffee in my mouth."

Bill looked interested. Olivia took a big mouthful of coffee and got on her knees while Bill stood before her and pulled out his dick. He carefully inserted his meat between her lips. I could see that Olivia was keeping her lips tight around the cock to seal in the coffee. Bill started to slowly move in and out of her eager mouth. I could hear the coffee kind of swishing about in Olivia's mouth as Bill stirred it. He seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit, increasing his tempo as he took Olivia's head in his hands. After a minute or so of this, I could see that Bill was cumming. Olivia's cheeks kind of puffed out a bit more as she took Bill's load, which I am sure was as large as it normally was. He slowly withdrew his cock from Olivia's mouth, whereupon Olivia signaled me to come closer to her. I knew she had in mind sharing that coffee cum mixture with me, and I was glad she was in a generous mood. Taking a position in front of her, I lowered my head and opened my mouth wide. Olivia positioned herself above me and slowly released the coffee/cum mixture into my waiting mouth. It was delicious. Olivia used just a tiny bit of sugar in her otherwise black coffee, the cum added an intriguing element to the taste. I have tasted this many times since as this became one of our favorite ways to blow Bill.

A lot of mornings, Bill would jokingly ask one of us whether we wanted cream with that coffee. And sometimes we did.

A funny thing happened a few weeks after this. We were all out to breakfast, the waiter came by with a silver carafe of coffee and after pouring Olivia's he asked if she wanted cream with her coffee. I had to look away, and as it was I could barely contain myself. I heard Olivia struggling to keep her composure as she finally was able to choke out a few words to tell the waiter no, she would just take it black. After he left we laughed and laughed. That waiter must have thought he was dealing with a bunch of lunatics.

So, that is our Olivia. I love her, and if they ever start giving a Nobel Prize for sexual discoveries, I'm pretty sure Olivia would be a winner.

Now, back to story night. There we were in our living room. I was sitting in a chair, wearing only a bra and panties, thinking at some point I would want to get in on the action that was undoubtedly going to take place. Olivia had obtained some period outfits from a costume manager she knew, a person that managed the wardrobe for theatrical performances. She was wearing a high waisted, floor length, satin dress. It was light blue and left bare her shoulders and the top part of her breasts. She was wearing rather more makeup than usual, with her cheeks highlighted with pink blush. Satin slippers finished the outfit. She was stunning. Bill had on tight breeches that buttoned in the front. Also, a kind of knee length black jacket that was cut away in the front at waist height. Above that it had two rows of three buttons each. He looked dashing.

I was a little concerned that my story would not strictly meet our rules about being about myself and being true. I doubted they would really object after going to the trouble of outfitting themselves to play the main characters in the story. But still, I wanted to play fair.

"OK guys, I want to give you a little background before I get started so you can decide if you want me to proceed, considering our rules for story time."

"This story is about me only in the sense that it tells about several of my ancestors, and I am today what I am partly because of them and the DNA I have inherited. Also as to whether it is true or not, I am convinced that the gist of it is true, it conforms to my family history as handed down orally through several generations. I have heard these stories about "The Princesses" many, many times since I was a little girl. And I have been able to confirm certain elements through genealogy research I have done. I have seen records that prove the people I will tell about actually lived in the places and at the times as told of in our oral family history..

As I got older, the family elders telling these stories would become somewhat more explicit so that it was more clear what was going on, and a lot of that had to do with sex. Still, it's not like grandpa would say, "gather around children and I'll tell you about the first time your great, great, great grandmother got fucked in the ass. We are not an uncivilized family."

"But I have decided to take a bit of "poetic license" in describing the sex that I imagine went on. Nobody knows at this point exactly what happened in that sphere, but the way I am going to tell it is certainly within the realm of the possible."

"So, are you both ok with that?"

As I expected, they both nodded in the affirmative. At this point, I don't think they cared much about the rules.

Marie's Story

I have mentioned to you before that my mother's family came from England a couple of generations ago, when my great, great grandfather returned to the U.S. with an English war bride. But her family originated in Italy, and that is where our story begins.

In the late 1700s, Italy was composed of several kingdoms, one was the Kingdom of Naples, which covered all of Southern Italy and Sicily. At this time, Ferdinand IV was king and his wife was Maria Carolina. Maria took an English nobleman as a lover and they produced a child, Concetta. She was my great, great, etc. grandmother. The whole thing was hushed up and Ferdinand was remarkably tolerant of the affair, but as you might imagine, Concetta was not welcome at court. Her father, who was the Earl of Abingdon, saw to the care of the child and the years passed peacefully as Concetta grew into womanhood at her father's villa in the country outside of Naples. At some point, Concetta took an Italian lover and they conceived a child, Lucinda. The Earl took all this in stride and continued to provide for both Concetta and Lucinda.

The French revolution and Napoleon had a large influence on Europe at this time. It was a time of great unrest in many parts of the continent including Southern Italy where there was an actual civil war. The Earl of Abingdon was killed in an uprising. That uprising also led to Ferdinand and his court fleeing to Sicily. Concetta, now about 25 years old, inherited a London townhouse, and little else from the Earl. Amid all the upheaval, Concetta determined her best course would be to move to London and the house she now owned.

She sold some jewelry to pay for her and Lucinda's passage to London, and after packing a few trunks of clothes and sundries they set out for their new home. Arriving in London they were gratified to find that the house they had inherited was rather grand, and it came staffed with a full complement of servants. The Earl had been paying these people during all the years he had been absent. Now that he was dead, there was no means to pay the servants, or any other household bills. With no means of support, Concetta set out to economize. She let most of the servants go, keeping only a few. Over the next few months she found she had to sell her remaining jewelry to run the downsized household. And then she sold furniture, paintings and sculptures; anything to keep things going for a few more months. She released the remaining servants and struggled to pay for the bare necessities; food and coal to keep the winter cold at bay.

Soon after they arrived in London, Concetta met and was befriended by the woman who lived in the mansion across the street. Lady Elisabeth was the daughter of a Duke, and she herself had inherited a tidy sum when her father passed away. Lady Beth, as they called her, introduced Concetta to London Society where she became quite popular. Of course, Concetta had told Lady Beth her life story and Beth had taken to calling her "the Princess". Concetta insisted this wasn't true, she was the bastard daughter of a queen, but no princess. But that wouldn't do for Beth, to her Concetta was the "Italian Princess" and she wouldn't hear differently. And this is how she introduced Concetta to all her friends and acquaintances, which was everyone of note in London at that time. So it was that Concetta became "The Princess". Few knew Concetta's true story, to them she truly was a Princess.

During the winter of 1802 things were becoming increasingly desperate for Concetta and Lucinda. They had sold most of the valuable items in the house and were still able to afford food, though barely. However, it was becoming increasingly difficult to heat the mansion. They had closed down all rooms except one where they were living and were trying to maintain enough of a fire to ward off the bitterly cold winter. One morning a wagon load of coal appeared at their door. Concetta sent the coal monger away and immediately crossed the street to call on Lady Beth.

"I know you sent the coal, and I appreciate your kindness, but I will take charity from no one. You have already done too much for us, I am grateful for your friendship but I would rather be out on the street than live off the goodwill of others."

"Well, my dear," said Lady Beth, "what are your plans then, how will you and your daughter survive?"

"In truth, I don't know. We can sell the house and live off the proceeds for perhaps 5 years."

Lady Beth frowned, "and then you will find yourselves in the same straits when that money has run out."

Concetta could no longer keep up her brave front, she broke down in tears. "I don't know what will become of us, I have no skills to support myself much less Lucinda, and I cannot bear to have her suffer."

Lady Beth appeared very thoughtful, carefully considering what she was about to say. "I think you are mistaken if you think you have no skills to support yourself and your daughter. You are, perhaps, the most beautiful woman in London, and a Princess as well. Men would pay to keep you company. More than once, I have overheard men remark on your beauty and what they would pay for an evening in your bed. A direct quote I heard from Lord Pembroke recently, speaking to one of his friends as they watched you, 'can you imagine what it would be like to fuck a beautiful Princess, I would pay handsomely for that opportunity.'"

Concetta was shocked, but took a few minutes to consider before replying. She was not inexperienced sexually; the opposite actually. She had taken many lovers over the course of her short life, both in Italy and now in London. And she enjoyed sex, but she had never considered using it as a means of generating income. Still, the fact was that she was in a desperate situation. Even so she could immediately think of several problems were she to pursue this course.

"If I do this, how would I maintain my good reputation, and what if a man who pays for my body is truly loathsome; I don't think I could go through with it in that circumstance."

Lady Beth had obviously spent some time thinking this through. "I will help you in this if you decide to do it. I can screen the men, to better assure the more objectionable ones never make it to your bed. I will impress on them the importance of discretion, letting them know that if they were to do or say anything that could hurt your reputation that I will make sure their reputations will suffer equally. And I think you will be surprised at the price your services will bring. You would probably only have to do this two or three times a year to bring in enough income to meet all of your household expenses."