Of all the restaurants in all of Boston, the man of my fantasies is in the same restaurant that my coworker has brought me to on the night when Carlo has a 'longstanding commitment' that kept him from accepting my dinner invitation. He's currently under the table and licking the pussy of a cougar in a booth just across the room from me. I wonder if he knows that the puma that almost killed him is also called a cougar. Surely he must have heard it called that before he moved to Italy. Odd things pop into my mind at times when I don't know what to think.
My mother, not my step-mother, but my real mother always warned me to watch out for the man who is too good to be true. I'm beginning to grasp how good that really is. But it isn't as if I thought I was the only woman in Carlo's life. That alone would be too good to be true. It's just that I didn't think his other woman, or probably other women, would include anyone so... interesting. That's not the word I want. I just don't feel sophisticated enough to know whether there is a word for what I mean. I just know that this woman exudes so much something that I could imagine myself under the table licking her pussy, and licking pussy is something I have never done. I've mentioned having sex with women before, but I'm not a lesbian. It's more of a status thing. This happens more often than you would think among the hardcore clubbers. At least it does in Chicagoland.
We go out looking for excitement. We dress to kill and we want to dance and we compete for the hottest guys who are doing the same. If I'm on the scene, I can always come out on top, but sometimes the scene disappoints. The guys are either not up to my dancing standards, or I've already fucked the best and a return engagement just doesn't seem appealing, usually because they're mediocre in the sack.
The girl-girl nights always start the same. I decide the guys aren't getting into my snatch, but I've got all this pent up energy, so I dance with them anyway. I'm showing the other cunts my stuff. Eventually I need to take a break someplace quiet. It can be hard to find a place at some raves, but the stationary clubs always have a hallway or a quieter lounge where I can catch my breath and rest my ear bones. That's when they show up. They catch my eye and smile and mention how lame the guys are and I smile and agree. Then I wait.
We might keep exchanging small talk, but when they get tired of waiting for me to make a move they either leave or ask if they can buy me a drink. From there, we both know how the night will go. They will lick my pussy until I come and then I will masturbate them until they come. It's a way for them to pay their respects to their betters. It's a way for me to reign supreme. It's not really lesbian sex so much as recognition of who's on top. Definitely an alpha-beta thing. I never do it with lesbians. They're easy to spot because they only dance with women or obviously gay men. Sex with them would be... not humiliating enough I guess.
Tonight, for the first time in my adult life, I know that I'm not on top. As I'm sitting in the swanky restaurant eating coq au vin with my coworker, I'm watching Carlo crawl up from under the table to sit beside the woman who is on top. She looks to be about 35-40. She's very elegantly dressed. She makes my feeble attempt at dressing elegantly look incredibly pathetic. She's also beautiful. Don't get me wrong, she's not nearly as beautiful as me, and that's not even adjusting for age, but as I said, she's got that je ne sais quoi
that puts me in my place as surely as Carlo did at the wedding. What surprises me is the attraction I feel to being beneath her.
I won't name the restaurant -- I owe that to both of them -- but it's one of the finer French places in town. The lighting is very low and I'm sure he can't see me, because our table candle is much dimmer than theirs and I can keep my head in the shadows. The tablecloth on their table is long, dropping almost all the way to the floor. The woman noticed me stealing glances and winked at me after her first orgasm. She continued eating her dessert the entire time, pausing only to set her spoon down and grip the edge of the table each time she came. Three times the spoon sat in her crème brûlée as she paused with her mouth slightly open, moaning silently as Carlo rocked her world with his tongue. When Carlo returns to his seat, he wipes the corner of his mouth with his napkin and they share a passionate kiss.
The woman has finished her dessert and Carlo speaks briefly to the waiter who clears the bowl and spoon from the table. The waiter returns a couple of minutes later with a cup of coffee for Carlo. He begins drinking and the woman eases her way down under the table. Now it's equally clear that the woman is returning the favor. Carlo nonchalantly sips his coffee and sets the cup back down repeatedly until, about 10 minutes after her disappearance, his hand shakes a little as he sets the cup down. His shoulders tense and his head barely perceptibly rolls back. His mouth also opens slightly and I see her shoes shift around under the table as she presumably swallows his offering.
As my coworker drones on about the exciting new shrinkwrap machine they demonstrated at the conference, oblivious to my inattention because I am so good at pretending to look interested, Carlo looks around briefly and then she crawls back up from under the table. They kiss again, even more passionately. The woman looks over at me and winks again. Thankfully, Carlo doesn't see me. I'm sure there's a wet spot on the back of my skirt, an artifact from the scene I've just witnessed.
It wasn't the way that I had hoped to see Carlo's O-face, but holy fuck that was hot. I've seen more than a few porn vids, but none of them approached the raw steaminess of this silent movie. I'm certain that I will busy myself with my toys when I get back to my room. I briefly consider jumping my coworker's bones. He's handsome enough, around 40 years old, a married man, but I'm certain that's no obstacle. I never would have considered an older man until I witnessed the effects that Carlo had on this cougar.
I decide against boinking the coworker. I've got enough complications in my life and I don't have any way of knowing whether I would still see the laughing Carlos when I try to come with a real cock in my cunt. Now that I know that that part of my dysfunction was a misunderstanding on my part, I guess I'll just have to wait and see what the next guy who gets a chance can do for me. I'm not sure I like the idea that Carlo just didn't even notice me when it appeared he was looking right at me, but I guess that's just another of the ways that he puts me in my place with all the pretty people whose emotional maturity is delayed.
My session with Little Carlo and his buzzing buddy that night is supremely satisfying. I see the cougar clutching the table cloth and Carlo's O-face over and over as I come.
Now it's Wednesday and I beg off some afternoon sessions of the conference. Fortunately, my coworker agrees that they aren't really suited to my job or my company's future requirements for me. This gives me a chance to shop for some new clothes in hopes that I'll find an upgrade in taste over what I was planning to wear for Carlo's visit. Of course I succeed. I find a black dress that I fall in love with, so I plunk down the plastic. It's my first $1200+ dress that's entirely unsuitable for clubbing, but unlike my party dresses, it should fit me well and look great until I'm at least that cougar's age. It has that look they call timeless.
As I arrive in the lobby fifteen minutes late, Carlo looks up and gets that stunned look that I so love. I don't get the 'I wanna fuck you' look that I hope for afterwards, but I realize that, just as Carlo had to proceed from boy to man by jumping onto a more difficult path, I have to get off the cunt on the hunt trail and pay the price to become worthy of his full attention.
"Sei così bella, Cindy. So very beautiful."
"Do you like it? Could I wear it to a sister's wedding?"
"Oh, sure, it would be quite appropriate, but it would look even more beautiful with this." He hands me a small jewelry box and I rush to open it. Now I'm the one who is stunned. Inside is a gold pendant necklace with diamonds set into the rose pendant. It's as timeless as my dress.
"It's beautiful, Carlo! Can you help me put it on?" I hold my hair out of the way as he removes my much cheaper necklace and fastens his gift around my neck. A shiver passes through me as his fingers brush the back of my neck at my hairline. He slips my old necklace into the box and returns it to me.
"Shall we go to the same place, Cindy?"
We manage to get the same table and the waitress remembers us and asks, "Two vodka collins?"
"Yes," says Carlo at the same time that I say, "Sì."
We both laugh as she leaves and Carlo says, "Now don't get carried away with the Italian, Cindy. I am trying not to speak it in open conversation. It is for lovers and family."
"Okay, Carlo, mio amico, but speaking of lovers, who was that woman I saw you with last night?" I had been waiting to waylay him with that all day, partly because I was feeling a bit snarky, but also because I was just so damn curious about what she was to him. I suppose I should have been a little less direct. He suddenly gets a very guarded look and it becomes clear that if I don't say the next words, they may not be words that I want to hear.
"I'm sorry, Carlo. I didn't mean to pry. It's really none of my business, but I plan to talk about some intimate issues tonight and I thought I might want to know a little more about you first. I saw you with a woman at a French restaurant. My coworker took me there."
He looks slightly embarrassed, but he smiles. "Ah, and what did you see?"
"She really enjoyed her crème brûlée and you had quite a nice cup of coffee. Oh, and I had a wet seat."
"Ah, Cindy. You have innocently discovered my secret. That was Ms. Tuesday. In good conscience, that is all I can tell about her identity. She is in an open marriage, but that is a well-kept secret."
"Yes, and better behaved than another beautiful woman that I know."
"Oh dear, what have I done now, mio professore? Is it because I arrived late?"
"Late? No, Cindy, even women not so beautiful as you are easily forgiven for that. But, mio amica, how many times have I complimented your beauty?"
The question catches me off guard. People call me beautiful all the time. I had to think back and I know that some of the compliments that he paid me we're quite pleasing and others probably just flew right on by. I can think of three that pleased me. "At least three."
"At least. And do you feel entitled to such compliments?"
"No, Carlo. Sometimes they embarrass me. What are you getting at?"
"The person who gives the compliment is not responsible for how you feel about it. What is the polite thing to do when you receive a compliment?"
"That is all, Cindy. A simple 'thanks' will make you so much more likeable. This is a lesson many women, even those who are not so beautiful, do not learn soon enough. If you seem more humble and less entitled to compliments, you will attract nicer people into your life. Ms. Tuesday has learned this and has many friends in both high and low places. The Mayor with take her phone calls and the valet who parks her car will not abuse it in any way and there is a certain crime boss who will personally deal with anyone who harms her. She is polite and friendly and riguardoso to everyone. That is how she gets me to do such outrageous things to spice up her life."
"Thank you, Carlo. And grazie, grazie, grazie, grazie, grazie, grazie to make up for the times I was a bad girl." I think then about my response to his gift. I said it was beautiful, but I never thanked him. I had unconsciously played with the pendant since the moment we sat down. I realized he was calmly waiting for what I would say next. "Carlo, mio professore, mio amico, thank you from the bottom of my heart for this very thoughtful and beautiful gift."
He smiles a bright beautiful smile that wraps around my heart and thrills me. "You are welcome, mio allievo preferito. You have done very well."
His favorite student and praise on top. It is good to hear even if I am only his student because I was worse than a bitch when he met me.
"Tell me more about her, though. She looks wealthy."
"She lives in a modest house and her and her husband are schoolteachers."
"She didn't buy a dress like that on a schoolteacher's salary."
"It was a gift from an admirer, or so she told me. Please, ask me no more about her. I do not like to talk about another woman while I am with one so beautiful."
"Aw, thank you, Carlo."
When our drinks arrive, he raises his glass. "To progress!"
"Now mia amica, are we ready to discuss your lousy sex life and why I am the cause of it?"
I smile. I can't imagine anyone else asking me that and making me feeling happy about it. "Carlo, my friend, despite what you may think of me, this is very embarrassing for me to talk about. I will try to be honest, but you may have to draw me out. I have always had a strong sex drive and really enjoy it, but sex for me is very visual. If I'm not looking at something very sexy, then I must picture something very sexy in my mind. For example, what I saw last night was very sexy, and I will probably see that again and again. But after the wedding, whenever I have sex with a man, I picture something very distressing and it keeps me from..." I suddenly feel myself blushing. I almost never blush. I can describe my sexcapades to both of my mothers without blushing. It's Carlo who does this to me, and he seems surprised at my reaction.
"Keeps you from... coming?""
"You got it in one, Carlo."
"And this distressing thing you see, it is me?"
"Yes, it is you laughing at me."
"Ah, le mie scuse. You know I did not intend to do that. Perhaps the problem will be gone now."
"I wish I could think that, Carlo, but I don't think it will be that easy. I still know that I deserved to be laughed at. I acted so childish."
"But you are better now, Cindy. I am amazed at how much you have matured in one year."
"Thank you, Carlo. I think. I feel like I have only come a short distance and still have very far to go."
"What do you think will help?"
I'm a little upset that he didn't tell me that I don't have so far to go, but I do appreciate his candor. "I just don't have a clue, Carlo. I don't know what is wrong with me, but you seem to have a gift for putting me in my place, so maybe you can tell me."
"This problem, it doesn't happen when you... masturbate?"
I know I'm blushing again, but I shake my head. "No, I can do that. It's practically all I can do."
"And when you are with a woman?"
"Carlo! How did you know?"
"I can see that you are leaving things unspoken, Cindy. You told me that I might need to draw them out."
"You won't think I'm a lesbian?"
"Maybe you are, but so what?"
"Well, all my fantasies are about men. What about you, Carlo? Have you ever been with a man?"
"Yes, several times, but now it is all women. Men hold no attraction for me."
I am stunned that he would admit that so casually, but I suddenly imagine him sucking another man's cock and it excites me. "Well, with other women, I can come, but I'm not really attracted to them. I fantasize about men while they..." I can't bring myself to say,'lick my pussy', so I stick my tongue out and lick side-to-side across my lips.
"I understand. And when you do the same for them?"
"I don't do the same for them. I'll use my hand on them but..."
"And do you ever suck a man's cazzo?"
The boldness of his question startles me. "I have, briefly, but with a body like mine,,,"
He waits and when I don't elaborate, he continues. "I think I understand your problem now. Are you sure you want my help with this?"
"Yes, Carlo, I want things to get back to normal."
"I am sorry, Cindy, but I am pretty sure this is one of those things where you can never go back. You can not undo enlightenment. You may not understand this, but you do not really want to. You want things to become better than normal. Trust me on that. Maybe I can suggest a way. I must warn you that it may hurt to hear what I have to say."
I try my best to steel myself. "You have my full attention, mio professore."
"I think you probably already know what the problem is, but hearing it is a way to force yourself to confront it. You have beauty in abundance, but it is all outer beauty. At least, that was the case one year ago. You have acquired some inner beauty since then, but it is far below what qualifies someone to be a good person. This is the curse of physical beauty. People have let you get away with behavior that a less beautiful person would have paid a price for. You have had fewer humbling experiences than most people and none of them have been very life-changing. When you met me and I felt the need to protect my family from you, I was very... pointed in my remarks. It was probably an overreaction on my part because your sisters and parents have accepted you for who you are and have learned to tolerate your lack of concern for their feelings. I told you that Candace has never said anything bad about you, but I have heard what remained unspoken. You have hurt her many times and..."
Suddenly I can't hold them back. Tears flow freely and, with a painful lump in my throat, I gasp, "Stop! Please, Carlo, stop." Huge racking sobs steal my breath and Carlo quickly gives me a handkerchief and moves closer to me, placing his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. I cry until I run out of tears and then I blow my nose, aware of how dreadful I must look. I am so grateful that we are in such a dark private place. When I can finally speak, I say, "Carlo, you hurt me so badly and make me feel so good."
"Ah, bella Cynthia. I am so sorry to be the person who has done this to you." I can hear the sincerity in his voice and something else. I look into his eyes and see real pain.
"No, Carlo, don't be. I needed to hear this and nobody else could have made me understand. Thank you. Grazie. You are a true friend. I see now that you have given me a conscience. Now I must know what to do with it. Please, don't hurt me with what I have done. Tell me how to be better."
"You must stop hurting people by failing to consider what you do to them. There is a way to do this, but it requires strength. It starts out very difficult, but it becomes easier and more natural with experience."
"What must I do?"
"Acts of humility and acts of recompense."
"This sounds like religion, Carlo. Washing the feet of strangers and giving all I have to the poor."
"I do not think a religion would require you to do the acts I think you must do. You must change the way you see humanity."
"What do you mean?"
"Your problems are centered around gender and sex, Cindy. You must change the way you see yourself as a woman and you must change the way you see men. Even if they still see you as a goddess, you must see yourself as a recovering spoiled child."
"It is not humiliation if somebody else does not do it to you. It is self-abasement to cure a scarsità of inner beauty. You must acquire the ability to recognize and admit when you are wrong and emerge stronger because of that. It begins when you do it once and learn that it is not so bad and that you feel better successivamente. That gives you the strength to do it as many times as is necessary."
"Okay, what specifically are you talking about."
"You treat other women as if they are beneath you. They have to lick your fica and you do not have to lick theirs. So, I think you should start with a very beautiful woman, more beautiful than you if you can find her, or at least one that you envy. Make love to her as if she is the old you and you are saying goodbye to the person you loved most. Find out what it is like to be the woman who looks up from down there. Then I think you should do it again with a woman who is not so beautiful as you, someone you thought was beneath you. It would be even better if you owe her something, a debt of riconoscenza . Discover what it is like to give someone your best service. Use your tongue to make her feel like the most important person in the world. And then you should do that with a man. You treat men like their bodies are for your pleasure. Give them better than they have given you."
"Hmmm. That's not a very high standard. Nobody, guy or girl, has ever given me anything like what you and Ms. Tuesday did."
"That is because probably all of your lovers were as young and frivolo as you were."
"Probably, but that's a problem now, Carlo. I don't know how. I thought the best I've ever had was pretty good until I saw that spoon sit in that bowl three times."
"Ah, I see. Well, since you call me your teacher, I will teach you by example."
He's smiling a very devious smile as the meaning of his words hits me like a runaway bus. My heart suddenly speeds up. Ever since I had seen him do to Ms. Tuesday what he was offering to me, I have thought of how wonderful it would be to feel like she must have felt. "You would do that for me, Carlo? A girl you detest so much? Why?"
"You wound me, Cindy. I do not detest the woman you are becoming. Only the spoiled child who I met a year ago. You are no longer her. I do have one condition."
"Name it, amico."
"I admired the way you moved on the dance floor. You have had some training. Have you ever seen The Mask of Zorro with Antonio Banderas and Catherine Zeta-Jones?"
"Oh, yes! That dance, the Paso Doble. They didn't do it very well, but that was hot."
"I think we can do much better. Can you learn it before the next Lane wedding?"
"You got it, mio amore. I've got a fabulously flamboyant gay dance instructor who loves a challenge." What? Did I just call Carlo 'my love'?
"After the happy couple leaves, we will ask to do that dance. Maybe someone will make a video for them."
He either didn't notice my L-word slip or it didn't bother him. Maybe it's not reserved for lovers. "Okay, when do I get my lesson?"
"Tonight. Now. Why wait?"
"Now? With me looking like this?"
"Cindy, the point is to stop thinking that your looks are so important. I will not be looking at your puffy red eyes very much. And when I do, since I made them that way, it will be okay."
"Um...I'll pay the bar tab."
I've walked the pre-sex walk many times, but this time is more exciting than any I can remember. As I leave the bar, my anticipation makes my knees weak. Something a little strange happens, though. As we wait for the elevator, I notice a man sitting in a chair on the other side of the lobby. He's looking at me and smiling and I realize that I have seen him before. He entered the lobby on Monday night and he was also in the parking lot of the restaurant talking with the valets when my coworker and I went in for dinner. The elevator arrives just then and we step in.
"That's strange. Carlo, I've just seen the same man for the third evening in a row."
"Maybe he works, here?"
"No, he was also at the restaurant yesterday."
"It's probably just a coincidence."
"I don't think so. He looked at me like he knew me."
"Hmm. Can you describe him."
"A beefy guy, gray slacks, blue blazer and a crew cut."
"Please, Cindy. Don't concern yourself with him. He is... a friend."
"And he goes where you go?"
"Cindy, please. Maybe you will meet him some day. Until then, please respect my privacy and trust me."
I look in his eyes and see no reason to dig, although my curiosity is driving me crazy. Since I saw Carlo with Ms. Tuesday, I've wondered more and more about his personal life. I've realized that I know almost nothing about him. I entertain thoughts that he is a gigolo, or maybe a mafioso, or even a jet-setter. The pendant certainly looks expensive.
"Of course, mio amico. I will forget that I saw him and that he smiled at me." I give him a peck on the lips as the elevator door opens. I want to keep kissing him, but I want him to know that he can trust me not to pry.
I let us into my hotel room and turn on the glaring wall sconce that lights the entire room. I begin to pick up the outfits I left laid out on the bed, kicking myself mentally for my poor planning.
Carlo says, "Do not bother," and turns on the small dim desk lamp before switching off the brighter light. It is the dimmest lighting the room offers. I generally like plenty of light when I'm having sex, not only to show off my body, but to show me my lover's. Carlo grabs pillows from both beds and places them on the room's one armchair, beside the table with the small lamp.
"A queen deserves a throne. You may quote me on that. You probably should quote me on that. Small details help to make the experience you wish to give so much better. You should pay close attention to everything I say and do." As a finishing touch, he folds a bath towel and sets it on the seat in front of the pillows. He removes his jacket and tosses it on the bed as I stand and watch. It is the first time that I have seen him without a suit jacket and his shoulders are broader than I expected.
He turns to me now and asks, "May I kiss you?"
He really doesn't need to ask. I want him to kiss me whenever he wants to, but by asking, he makes it clear that I have a choice and that I am cooperating in my seduction. That wouldn't be required between a man and a woman. A man can take a woman. But between two women, because we compete directly with each other, aggression from the subservient person is not the right signal. He is teaching me how to show proper respect.
I try to pretend that I am an actual queen by avoiding speech to a lesser being. It's not easy, because, in his presence, I feel it's right to be submissive. It's something I have never felt before and it surprises me that it feels so right.
I nod and Carlo kisses me. It is respectful. He offers no aggression and I offer no tongue, but it touches me deeply.
"May I undress you?"
Again I nod. He reaches around me and unzips my dress. He stares directly into my eyes as he pulls the shoulder straps forward and down my arms, releasing the dress to the custody of the carpet. I grab his shoulders then and kiss him deeply, my tongue finding his and then dancing with it and then withdrawing, letting him know that I take what I want.
He steps back, but he maintains eye contact as he says, "May I look upon this tantalizing body that I have been so curious about?"
I step out of my dress and do a slow spin for him, feeling his eyes roam all over me. I'm wearing matching black lace bra and thong panties, black thigh hugging stockings, black shoes, and a beautiful gold and diamond rose pendant necklace.
"May I continue?"
Another nod. Of course I want him to continue. I desperately want to get to the good stuff. But I grasp what he is doing. Pacing the reveal is building my anticipation. Each touch as he removes my bra and panties and shoes elevates me closer to being an object of worship. I feel the allure of it, but I pride myself on also being aware of the entrapment it creates.
His stare returns to my eyes and he rejoins me. "Your body is exquisite. May I touch?"
"Not yet." I pull him to me and hug him passionately. I want to show him that even though I am naked and he is clothed, I am not feeling vulnerable. I feel his cock harden against my belly and I am satisfied.
"Now you may touch me, with hands and mouth, until I am satisfied." He smiles. Message received.
I feel his hands on my hips first. They roam around my body. My ass, my belly, my breasts, and my back all feel his gentle caresses. I take the opportunity to allow my hands to roam all over his arms, shoulders, chest and waist. I like what I feel. I somehow understand that it would not be right to undress him or to require him to undress himself. For a man, remaining dressed in this context is showing respect.
His hands return to my hips and with gentle pressure, he guides me to my throne. I sit straight-backed on the towel as he places two more pillows on the floor at my feet and then kneels on them. He grips the tops of my thighs then and caresses my legs. His eyes come back to mine. I am looking down on him and feeling very much in control and wondering why a man would let himself seem so subservient. Then I remember that he is teaching me what I must do as a woman to become a better person.
"My queen." Those two words give me a sense of elation. He places his hands on my knees and says. "May it be my honor?" With only the lightest pressure from his hands, I part my knees for him and realize that I have surrendered control, as every royal must in order to receive the royal treatment. I recognize the dependency that I will liberate myself from if I am able to become humble.
His thighs move forward against the chair and his mouth comes to my right nipple. It hardens and I feel warmth radiate out from my pussy. I place my hands on each side of his face and hold it there. I touch his scars and mangled ear without concern, almost without notice. He licks and sucks and gently pinches my nipple between his lips. I feel him tug toward my left nipple and my hands allow him to worship there equally.
His hands slide up under my arms and ease me back, lowering me to the pillows.
"Are you comfortable, bella Cynthia?"
He kisses, starting at my navel and trailing down my belly until I feel his tongue gently lick the middle of my smooth mound. I feel a finger then at the bottom of my pussy. It slides slowly up my slit, opening me. I feel my nectar run out and down my ass. His finger traces around my clit in a wide circle. His tongue takes the same path as his finger travels back down and into my pussy. I am very wet. He slips another finger in and his tongue takes a swipe across my clit. He's using his right hand inside my cunt and I feel the advantage of his missing fingers. He gets excellent penetration and his hand begins to thrust in and out.
His tongue gets more aggressive with my clit and I gasp with pleasure. He starts to suck it, flicking his tongue over it again and again as his lips pull it in. I lose control of my legs as they drift up over his back. My hips start bucking uncontrollably and I grip the arms of the chair and curl my toes. He sucks harder and I come, arching my back and thrusting my head against the pillows as strong hard spasms of orgasmic bliss pummel me. I can feel my cunt clamping on Carlo's fingers as moans of pleasure flow from me. His hand feels better than any cock, his tongue better than any vibrator and they jointly reduce me to a very grateful pet.
Carlo slows his hand and his tongue as I slowly begin to breathe normally and then he speeds up the pace again, I've never had a second orgasm so soon, but I come again with shudders that radiate out from my superheated core. I push against his head as the shudders slow and weaken.
"Per favore, non più. Grazie, mio amore."
He chuckles and pulls his fingers from me. My juices glisten on his face and hand.
"Two whole sentences in Italiano. Lesson complete, mio allievo."
"Lesson learned, mio professore. If I'd ever gotten that much pleasure from a woman, I think I would have returned it."
"Well, now you can."
"You know, Carlo, I would gladly try right now to do the same for you."
He pulls back and says, "No!"
I realize immediately that I should not have offered, but his response hurts. I crash from my highest high as he puts me back in my place. I quickly say, "I'm sorry. Please don't be mad."
"I am also sorry, mia amica. I am not angry, but there can be no shortcuts. You must learn to crawl before you can walk."
"Then it isn't because you don't want me?"
"Silly girl." I would be offended at being called that, but I hear the playful laughter in his voice and it restores some of my good mood.
"Tell me, Carlo, will your hand be busy between your legs when you get home tonight."
He grins and says, "Probabilmente, bella Cynthia. I am not entirely immune to your beauty."
When I sleep, I have a beautiful dream. Carlo and I dance the Paso Doble and I come and come and come.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/novels/immune-to-my-beauty-chapter-3.aspx">Immune To My Beauty -- Chapter 3</a>