Just writing this down is a problem. I never thought that choosing the right pronoun would lead me to endless inner debate. And I’m a college teacher! I should know these things. And I should have known better than to go down the path of temptation.

It was summer, two years ago. I was leading a six-week program for American college students in Italy. My wife was going to come over for two weeks after the classes ended. With her visit in mind, I got a really nice furnished flat. Classes started, and I enjoyed teaching in the morning and having my afternoons to do errands and to practice my Italian. Despite Skype, though, it was lonely, especially in the evenings and on weekends.

One Saturday night, after coming out of the cinema (it was a Scola retrospective), I felt the need to be around people—not to meet anyone, you understand, but simply to have people nearby. So I went into a bar in the center of town. There was a lively crowd of people, most of them much younger than I. But that didn’t matter, I thought, since I was only going to have a glass of wine and enjoy the scene. To my surprise, after a couple of minutes a very pretty young brunette came up to me and asked me if I would buy her a drink. It’s true that I had been admiring her from a distance as she danced with a young man, but I had had no intention of getting her attention. She was in her early twenties, almost two decades younger than I. But it seemed rude to say no, and her perfume was so subtly sweet, and it was a chance to talk in Italian.

She got a vermouth, and leaned up against me as she drank. We were about the same height. Franca was wearing a black cotton party dress that was very high in front but showed off her back, where I could see the top of a line of Chinese characters that followed her spine downward into her dress. She had beautiful bare legs and very high heels, and her medium-sized breasts jiggled against the fabric, with the nipples clearly discernible. She asked me what I was doing in Italy. We talked. She had been a student but now worked in an office. She touched my arm often as we talked. Franca asked if I would dance with her, but I declined, saying I really was not good at that.

“Take me home, then,” she said.

I didn’t know if she meant to her place or mine, but I was suddenly petrified. This would be real trouble. I’ve always been monogamous. Even when I’ve been tempted and attracted to someone, I know that I’m such a bad liar that I couldn’t keep it secret from Kate, my wife. So I’ve never given in. Or I hadn’t until that summer.

“I know you’re married, and that’s OK with me,” she said. “I like married men. They’re the best.”

Franca took my arm, and magically, as if hypnotized, I walked out of the bar with her. The silence of the street added to the dream-like feeling as we went toward my place. I pulled her towards me and kissed her. It was only when her tongue was in my mouth that I realized it was pierced. I had never kissed anyone with a pierced tongue before. We stood in a dark spot kissing for a long time, even though some people walked by. My hands were on the front of her dress, caressing her soft breasts and her stiff nipples.

I was very aroused and was certainly not behaving like myself. What if some of my students saw me? They knew that my wife was back in the States!

Fortunately, my flat was not far away. Once we were there, I offered her a drink, even though that wasn’t what I really wanted. But she accepted my offer, and we sat on the sofa and each had a glass of white wine. Sitting there, I could admire her more.

She had beautiful brown eyes, shiny hair falling over her shoulder, and a dimpled chin. Her voice was incredibly sensual.

She asked if I would like to see the tattoo on her chest, and when I eagerly assented, she opened the button at the back of her neck and let the top of her dress fall forward, down off her breasts. Across her chest was a very delicately drawn flowering tree branch, and at the tip of the branch, above her left breast, was a humming bird. She let me kiss my way across the tattoo and then down to her left nipple, which I sucked into my mouth. I began to push my right hand up between her legs, but she pushed it away.

“Slowly, slowly. Make it last.”

I couldn’t believe that I was doing this. Franca was the age of some of my students.

After licking and sucking on her large, stiff nipples, I licked my way up her neck towards her mouth. She moaned and then we started kissing again. I couldn’t get enough of the feeling of her pierced tongue on mine. She tasted of sweet white wine.

As we kissed, she reached down and started to massage my erect cock through the fabric of my pants. I was sweating and thought that if I couldn’t undress I would faint. She helped me get my shirt off and then started licking my nipples while her hand unzipped my fly. Soon all that was between her fingers and my penis was the thin, damp cotton of my briefs.

“Undress,” she ordered me. And I obeyed.

Now I was completely naked in front of a woman I had just met an hour or so before. Her black dress was around her waist, and now she was kneeling in front of me, flicking her tongue against the tip of my cock. Then she stood up, still grasping my cock, and kissed me, letting me taste my own pre-cum while her sweaty breasts rubbed against my chest.

I could feel my cock throbbing. I was completely out of control, or rather, I was completely in Franca’s control.

She said, “Your cum tastes so good. Now I want you to taste me.”

In an instant, I was at her knees, tugging down her dress.

But then, I had the shock of my life. I grew faint and I thought I was going to have a heart attack. My heart was pounding louder than ever before, and I had no resistance left in me, as she gently touched the back of my head, pushing my face against her panties.

Through the black nylon I could see her engorged cock, and a nano-second later my open mouth was pressed against the panties, feeling the shape of the first cock-shaft that had ever touched my lips. I started licking and sucking the damp fabric as I grasped her thighs for support. I was very dizzy.

Franca tugged down the elastic of her thong, so that my lips and then my tongue were in direct contact with her penis.

“Suck,” she said, but she didn’t have to. I was already doing that, and more. Soon I was licking her balls, then tonguing my way up the shaft. I circled the glans with my tongue, before sucking the purple head into my mouth.

Her cum tasted sweeter than mine. Soon I felt her throb and then my mouth was full.

“Don’t swallow yet. Let’s share.”

Franca pulled me up against her. I was so weak that I would have fallen over if she hadn’t held me. As we kissed, my iron-stiff rod rubbed against her softening one. How long did our wet kiss last? I don’t know. Time was meaningless.

Later, in bed, she went down on me, and my orgasm was a convulsion, after which I passed out.

When I woke, the sun was out. Franca’s head was on my shoulder, and I smelled the flowery scent of her hair.

The summer was just beginning.