Summer in Tuscany Ch. 04

The sun had fully set, but the lights from the villa and the candles on the table still emitted a soft glow and lit up Rachel's face. "Rachel, I'd like to kiss you," he said, smiling. "Would that be ok?"

She hadn't expected that. "Kiss me?" she repeated, as if she was sure she had misheard somehow. Despite the romantic wining and dining, it somehow didn't seem like the natural request. In fact, it felt almost strange, to let him touch her in such a conventionally intimate way. Perhaps he truly was simply trying to woo her?

"I suppose it's not the most shocking thing I have let you do," she replied in that same flirty tone. She found herself staring at him, his face, wondering what it could possibly be like to kiss a man like this. It was so intimate. "It would be okay," she agreed, thinking it would be too foolish of her to say no to this and yes to all the rest.

She was right, of course. It was almost absurd that he hadn't kissed her given that he'd laced her breasts with his jism earlier in the day, or that he'd barely touched her since she'd arrived. "No, it's not the most shocking thing, nor will it be the most shocking thing... by far."

There was no simple way to make this transition, and they were too far away from each other to kiss while sitting, so he stood, wondering if she'd notice his already semi-erect cock in his linen pants. From this vantage point he had could more easily admire her cleavage. He offered her his hand, his palm open and up, for her to stand, and when she did he could finally smell her skin and he inhaled looking in her eyes.

To avoid whatever awkward small talk would come next, as if he were a middle schooler asking the prettiest girl in the school to dance, he put his hands on her hips, and looked once in her eyes and leaned in to kiss softly on the lips, and held it there, gauging her reaction.

Rachel was very aware of Jack's arousal as he stood, the size and sight of his cock well established in her mind and now outlined in soft easy linen. She wondered for a moment if this was the answer to her confusion--he had not meant she would kiss him on the lips. But as she stared forward at his crotch, and Jack looked down into her cleavage, she eventually noticed his hand held forth and allowed the older man to pull her to her feet.

Rachel had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, feeling his hands finally on her hips, as soft and hesitant as a tentative dance partner. Looking up, she saw him lean down to meet her, no more words, and she closed her eyes. She felt but did not see his face come close to hers, their lips brushing and then crushing together. The taste of him was the prosecco they had just drank, but his own taste as well, hers of dinner but also fresh strawberries.

She let her hands hang, let him guide her with his hands, and let him kiss her, her own lips parting and experiencing what it was like to do this with her father's friend on the veranda in Tuscany in the dark.

He'd lost track of how many women in his life he'd kissed, but why, with this particular young woman, did it feel like one of the first times? He'd been uncertain of how she'd react, and was aware of this new intimacy between them, and as he kissed her, feeling her lips parting and their tongues touching, he wondered if this meant they would now kiss each other good morning, or perhaps good night, or as a greeting.

His tongue teased hers, and she did the same, and the sensations, and his hands on her hips, brought him to a full erection. He gave her hips a little squeeze and took a half step closer, bumping his hard cock against her flat belly. "You taste delicious," he said, pausing, before meeting her lips again. Had she felt his erection? How could she not? Under his hands he could the sweet arc of her hips, thought how it would feel with his hands there as he plunged into her from behind.

The kiss was surprisingly light and romantic, considering the thoughts and feelings that were going through the both of them. Rachel could feel Jack's erection as he stepped close. And she knew what a sexual man he was. She knew the anticipation that she was feeling at his proximity, his touch, her mind racing to imagine what exactly he had in mind. It all was steeped in a torrid eroticism that seemed at odds with the gentle kiss happening between them. Though this was all different right now, this had been a sort of theme of her time with Jack--a seeming casualness to him and their encounters that stood at odds with the intense, almost insane behavior that had gone on.

It occurred to Rachel that she could lead him on, guide him, roll herself against his hardness, and yet it occurred to her at the same moment that this did not seem right. She was here with him to be guided, Rachel realized, not to goad. She supposed she had teased and encouraged, decided yes or no, but never decided what. And that was the dimension of this relationship which she found intoxicating.

Jack, however, had no plans to plunge into her. Not tonight. At this point he knew Rachel wouldn't know what to expect for the rest of the evening, and he wondered if she thought their kissing indicated that he would make love to her tonight, softly and tenderly. That wouldn't happen either, though he knew it probably wasn't too many days away. Tonight's activities were simpler, but just as important, and without penetration.

He pushed his erection against her more firmly, enjoying the pressure, and reached his right hand around to the small of her back for leverage. "Tonight I'd like to teach you the importance of touch," he said, still holding her but pulling his head back just enough to look down in her eyes.

"Sometimes we're all so focused on fucking that we underestimate the other wonderful elements of sex. Yes, like watching, too. Tonight I'd like for you to use your hands on me, Rachel. A hand job. And after, in return, I'll touch you with my hands, in a way that I think you'll really enjoy." He knew he could have asked her politely, but he felt her willingness to be told these things.

Rachel looked up at Jack, distracted by the sensation of his cock pressing through his clothes against her. But that was just what he was talking about, wasn't it? The importance of touch. She wasn't sure she needed to be taught the meaning of it, but somehow words that would have seemed offensive and annoying coming from a boy back home felt natural from Jack's lips. He had the gravitas, and the track record, to back them up.

"I see," she replied, letting her soft body yield into a perfect fit against him. She imagined finally touching the cock she had watched several times but never known. She felt a familiar stir in her belly. "That sounds fine."

"Good," he said, and without any additional fanfare, said, "Unzip my pants Rachel, and then slide them off. We'll stay out here near the pool. It's such a beautiful night, isn't it? Beautiful night with a beautiful young woman."

Jack kissed her again, more passionately this time, her agreement to the hand job stirring up a new level of lust that he tried to signal through their kissing. He pushed against her stomach with his cock once more, and then pulled his hips back and released their kiss so her hands could have access to his zipper. "You have gorgeous breasts," he said, and slid his hand up her ribcage to feel their heft in his hand. "I'd love to show you it feels to have your nipples properly sucked."

Each sentence from Jack thrilled Rachel more with the beautiful depravity of the moment. It was coming now, the time when they would touch each other. An electric current started in her as he slid his hands up towards her sensitive breasts, full and firm. And when he spoke about sucking on her nipples the electricity moved through her as if she could actually feel him doing so. A gasp escaped Rachel's lips, though all he had done was lift her breasts slightly with his strong hands.

Rachel's slender hands slid between their bodies and found the button of his pants, easily working it, and his zipper. It took only a tug on his waist band to drop them to the patio floor.

Rachel had obviously seen his cock before, watched him ejaculate, felt him cum on her chest, but for Jack, this already felt so different, and the anticipation of her small hands on his cock made it twitch and throb now that it was now going to be the sole focus of her attention. He watched her eyes as his pants dropped to the floor to gauge her reaction.

He heard the gasp when he grabbed her breasts, and wondered if he could make her cum by sucking her nipples. He guessed at her age no one had spent sufficient time with them to determine if she could or not. But first things first. "Touch it Rachel. Go on. Hold it in your hand. Feel its heft."

At his words, Rachel tore her attention away from her own body, his hands on her breasts, and focused instead on Jack. She looked not at his mouth or face, but down to where he wanted her attention. She saw his cock, already hard, twitching in eagerness as it bobbed free. She'd seen it quite a bit, but it was a new thing to imagine touching it. As if she'd only been watching a movie before and now here things were in three dimensions and five senses.

As Rachel wrapped her slender fingers around it she knew not only how it looked, but the hardness of it, the smoothness of the dry skin as she slid her fingers down its length, yes, the heft of it as she lifted it and stroked up and down. She felt it throbbing, growing even harder in reaction to her touch. Without thought or planning or any true expertise to go on, Rachel formed her fingers in a circle, just tight enough to apply friction, just loose enough to allow her to easily slide her skin back and forth against his. Only when she began to move in a regular rhythm--halfway down his shaft, back to the head, gripping it in her palm before sliding her fingers halfway down again--did she look up and meet Jack's eyes.

When their eyes met, Jack felt his cock jerk in a visceral response. That look was nearly as intimate as the touch of her lips. He saw the curiosity in her eyes, perhaps seeking approval from him. If his cock's response wasn't enough, he gave a quiet groan, and felt his eyes tug at their corners in a hint of a smile.

"There are two basic types of hand jobs, Rachel," he said, hoping he didn't sound too pedantic. "Wet, which is why you see me with lotion or oil almost always within my reach, and dry. A wet hand job is trying to simulate a pussy, or a mouth on the cock. A dry hand job is a different stroke."

He pushed his hips forward, still looking in her eyes. "We'll get to the wet part in a minute. For a dry hand job, it's about a firm grip on the shaft. Take your thumb, your index finger and your middle and hold the skin at the base of my shaft. That's it, just like that. You can grip it a little tighter. Now just slowly slide it up and down like that. Mmm, that feels good Rachel. Good girl."

It was, in fact, a bit pedantic. The corners of Rachel's mouth twitched into a slight grin as she listened to Jack, listening, yes, but also reacting to the scene she found herself in. Standing on the older man's balcony, his cock in her hand, as he instructed her in a rather dry tone on the methods of a dry handjob. She supposed in other circumstances she might have been embarrassed by his need to tell her what to do--though she knew through and through she was not a girl with a lot of experience, in this milieu with this man she had felt a need to seem more worldly than she was. But in fact, she didn't feel any. He did not seem to judge her at all, and in fact quite seemed to enjoy the role he was playing, and probably preferred her not knowing exactly what she was doing.

But he wouldn't be able to enjoy that for long if he continued to tutor her, for naive as she might be, she was a quick learner. Rachel watched his face and tuned the speed of her hand to the reactions which flashed across it. "Like this, Jack?" she asked coyly, giving him a squeeze.

"Yes," he answered, "mmm, just like that Rachel. That's it. Keep a nice steady rhythm like that until I tell you to stop." He was enjoying her expression, amused and excited, and felt a connection to her that kept growing deeper, intimate. He pushed against her hand, a little lift in his hips, while glancing down at her tits, her cleavage, and thought again about finally taking them into his mouth and suckling on a nipple until it was bright and thick and extended.

Jack closed his eyes for a minute, heard the buzz of the cicadas, the sound of a car climbing a hill in the distance. "Now stop," he said. "Let go for ten seconds, tease it, let it show you he it wants more," he said, and when her small hand pulled away, he made his cock dance and twitch with excitement. "See? It wants more. It wants you, Rachel. I want you Rachel."

Keep a nice steady rhythm like that until I tell you to stop, Jack told her and Rachel felt a lurid thrill at the way he directed her. In her regular life, Rachel was not a woman who was told what to do by others. She would not have predicted it was something that she would put up with, certainly from an old man. Yet here she was not only permitting it, but growing excited from it.

She felt his eyes on her as she worked his cock, and it thrilled her that though she knew he was fantasizing something she couldn't know what it was. Because he didn't say but also because his desires were so foreign and surprising to her. Though many men had commented on her breasts since she had developed, she had no idea that one might have an interest in treating her nipples the way Jack was imagining, no idea indeed that they might be such an erogenous zone for her. But she felt his eyes on her and knew that she excited him, not just with her hand but with her self.

As he ordered her to stop, Rachel pulled her slender hand away and watched with interest as his cock seemed to tremble with need. Jack's face, the rest of his body was cool, impassive, as it always seemed to be. Yet here finally she could see the crack in his armor and the pulsing desire that he was feeling underneath. After all they had shared, Rachel felt suddenly that this was the closest, the most intimate they had yet been. His words only cemented that. "Then take me, Jack," she told him, pulling her eyes from his shaft and looking into his. "Have me."

Jack was not used to melting. Looks like Rachel was giving him were familiar to him, the look of hunger that preceded intercourse, or more. He would take that look and turn it into his own power, sometimes using it tease further, to make the woman whimper and beg, and he reveled in having the upper hand, a testimony to his own self-discipline that he gave in only when he wanted to give in. Something about Rachel, from the day she walked in the door, had gotten under his skin, and he couldn't, not that he was the most introspective man in the world, identify why exactly.

Was it his age? Had a softness creeped into his psyche? Was it her age? Did he have an odd, slight paternal affection toward her at the same time he was constantly thinking about her orgasms and openly and surreptitiously ogling her? Maybe I shouldn't have kissed her, he thought. Maybe that was a mistake. There was passion in it, yes, but Jesus, now he was going too far, was there a tenderness in it?

He'd laid out his plan for the night. No intercourse, not yet. Handjobs and orgasms, yes, but his cock was not meant to be inside her pussy. Why, then, did he feel himself changing his mind? That look in her eyes. Should he fuck her? Was he being flexible? Just adapting his plans on the fly, or was he being weak. She surprised him, he could admit, with her words, the audacity of them. He couldn't ask her questions. That would truly show his hand. He decided to stall. Just for a minute.

"Take off your dress for me."

Rachel watched Jack's face with eagerness, ready for his reaction. The moment had come which she had, strangely enough, been waiting for. Now that it was here, she felt little of the confusion that had battled with her passion all these days. She simply knew, even if it made no sense, that she wanted this strange older man to take her. Needed him to. He did not answer her at first, simply staring in a way which she could not interpret. And then he gave her another command. One she was oh so willing to follow.

Not moving her eyes away from his, she put her hands to her hips and began to gather the dress in a bunch. She could feel it slowly rise up her legs, exposing her thighs, further, further, until she had it all in her hands. Jack could see the wisp of her thin ivory panties covering her mound as she lifted the dress beyond her hips. Despite her time here in the Tuscan sun, her skin remained pale and creamy.

Looking at Jack until she could no longer, obscured by the dress, Rachel lifted it up and over her head. Her breasts were bare beneath it, hanging pendulously from her slender frame. With arms rising up above her, the dress came off over her mane of auburn hair and was tossed aside. Rachel stood there in nearly all her natural glory.

He'd obviously seen her naked before. Watched her masturbate. Watched her have sex on camera and mere inches away from him. This, though, was different, this undressing in front of him, for him, without anyone else in sight. He began the night, her entire stay at his villa, as the seducer and in this simple motion of undressing, her unveiling of her perfect body with her eyes locked on his, he became the seduced. It was a shift he wondered if she recognized, if it was purposeful.

Her breasts wider than her narrow frame, nipples erect. Magnificent. "You are an incredibly beautiful young woman, Rachel," he said, as if it were the first time he'd complimented a woman. He thought if he kissed her right then all of his self discipline would wither. He took a step toward, returning her gaze, reached for a breast with his right hand, lifted it slightly and bent down and kissed the nipple.

Rachel trembled, first from Jack's approach, his stare, his proximity. And then from the touch of his mouth on her sensitive nipple. She'd been self-conscious of her breasts ever since they had developed so quickly, feeling like they were alien, not quite a part of her. Yet Jack treated them as if they were divine artifacts, and she could feel her own internal sense of self shifting. His touch made her realize how sensitive they were, what a sexual part of her they were, how intoxicating they were to him. While with her previous boyfriends they had once been simply a stop she had to put up with, on the way to sex, she saw her breasts could be more than that. Hands at her sides, eyes half-closed, she watched Jack, trembling slightly as she stood near-naked before him.

Jack tilted his head so he could hold one of her tits in his hand and the other in his mouth. With the nipple in his mouth he began a slow, rhythmic suckling, and with the other he held almost to the point of pinching. Each of them with the firmness of youth, as if this were the first time they'd ever reached this level of swelling, as if it were all for him, their premier.

He'd kissed and suckled so many breasts, but savored the uniqueness of each one. He liked the way the size of Rachel's breasts pillowed against the side of his cheek, hint of salt and sun and perfume, or soap. He loved everything about her tits, thought of how one day he'd slide his big cock between them. But now he was more than content showing his affection for them through his hand and fingers, and wanted her to feel how special they were to him, and how the pleasure they brought him should be returned through his tongue, teeth, lips and fingers.

Somehow Jack knew, through years of experimentation he had learned, Rachel figured, just the right ways to stimulate a female body. What might have been silly and uninspiring in another man--the suckling of her nipple--was made somehow thrilling by the particular way he applied the suction to her flesh. And yet Rachel thought it was the combination of the two, the wet suction on one breast, and the sharp pressure on the other, which produced a sensation in her body unlike any other. Rachel had never really tasted that salty sweet combination of pain and pleasure of which this was only a hint, yet her body clearly reacted strongly, her hands moving to his shoulders and clenching there as her back arched.