I was living in what would soon be a paradise lost, but of course I didn’t realise this was paradise since it was the present moment, not yet adorned with the aura of past memories.
Today was my birthday. My father wasn’t there; my mother was even less there. My father worked at the Canadian embassy and was busy dating a glamorous opera singer I had yet to meet; my mother had died in a tragic accident two years before. We moved.
Rome was a bustling place; filled with children’s laughter and the shadows of a long-gone past. I didn’t like children and had no spirit for laughter; I preferred to read Latin epics in the shadowy apartment I had all to myself most of the time. Books were my most reliable friends. I was learning Italian, but I preferred Latin with its shadowy grammar and odd habits. I felt lonely at times, but I quickly learned to love the freedom that went along with it.
I was in the spring of my life, yet I was living with a foot in the graveyard. Whenever I read about some mysterious goddess, my mother was there, smiling under a veil, suddenly there, jumping at me in a sentence from behind the curtains of an antiquated expression that lay dead until I opened the book and the words were fresh and alive in my mind. She stood right there like a white lady with infinite love. I almost felt her hand on my shoulder. I cried at times.
My days and nights were crowded with weightless dreams and high adventure, alongside centuries of past readers. I had modern cheese sandwiches, laughter and yelling from the street down below, and footsteps down the hallway; footsteps leading to the opening and closing of a door, the front door of our new neighbour.
Her footsteps were light, so I assumed she was a she. Other than that, I didn’t know anything about her. Something in her fascinated me, be it the rhythm of her stride, the weightlessness of her steps or something else. I was a shy lad, but I had to see who she was.
She had moved in only a few days ago, and I never heard the heavier footsteps that would indicate a husband or lover. I quickly grew keen on listening to the opening of her door and the tune of her light footsteps. Loneliness stung me harder whenever I heard her. I wanted her in my life.
How was I going to meet her? I didn’t know her at all; no friend for making introductions.
My father wasn’t generous with his time in my company, but he did give me money to get by. I decided to pull out a recipe book and cook my own birthday cake. I was going to make myself a tiramisu cake, and while I was at it, I would prepare spaghetti with true Bolognese sauce, complete with chicken livers and white wine to jazz up the flavours.
Thus, I put on my shirt, strapped on my necktie, and there I went with my Yankee-looking sports jacket and a fedora hat. I was relying on that hat to purchase the pinot grigio I needed for my recipe. I was in for a new cultural shock.
When I nervously put forward the bottle before the store owner with the rim of my hat very low, hoping I would somehow pass for a grown-up, the man looked at me with a jovial face and laughed; then he spoke to his daughter in rapid Italian. The raven-haired girl laughed too, which vexed me a little as I found her pretty and she looked my age. Using very awkward English, she said, “Signore, no need nervous be; in Italia, age for drink, sixteen.”
There I went with my grocery bag filled with all my ingredients and this unimpeachable bottle of pinot grigio. Since I was a tall lad, they didn’t question whether I was sixteen or not; they would have been much surprised to know that I was still too young to drink in Italy when I got to bed the night before.
When I got back upstairs and put my key inside my front door, I looked at that mysterious number five. The curves in that industrially produced iron five were suddenly sexy to my eyes; perhaps a shower was running behind that closed door, and under that shower…
The closest I’ve been to seeing a woman naked was in museums. These white marble statues looked stiff and lifeless; I preferred reading about goddesses and nymphs in my ancient texts. When the Latin words gave a generic portrayal of a virgin goddess, I filled in the blanks and visualised the free movements of her breasts under her peplum; Pallas hid her all-female pair of mounds under her warlike armour. Visualizing what she looked like when she got out of her bronze cuirass and her linen peplum to take a bath got me as hard as the spear she carried.
What would it be like to see a woman? To touch her? To undress her? To kiss her? To make love with her? Such questions that meant nothing to me only a year before were now haunting my daydreams.
They ran through my mind as I cut the carrots and onions to prepare the battuto, the first stage in the Bologna sauce. I took my time and went step by step; after a half hour’s work, my sauce was simmering in the pot at a gentle heat, and the aromas were already filling the small apartment. Now was the time to start preparing the cake.
Sugar. The old sugar routine. It wasn’t original, but there was my chance to finally meet that mystery girl.
After putting my teal jacket back on, I fought my paralysing shyness and made the trip to that dreaded number five. I knocked gently.
“Chi è?” sang an angel’s voice in Italian, with a definite English accent.
“I’m the son of your neighbour at number seven. I… I need to… to borrow some sugar to cook my birthday cake.”
“Say again? Who’s this?”
Her English was flawless; it sounded British and cautious, meaning she was probably home alone. My heart was racing. Fighting the urge to run back to safety, I repeated my story. I was her neighbour’s son and I was out of sugar to cook my own birthday cake.
She opened the door ajar, leaving the chain on. Her face materialized in the narrow frame; she was an incredibly pretty brunette with her luminous skin even brighter against her dark lipstick and dark hair; her short hair looked almost boyish, but it was styled in a way that intensified her feminine allure, which she had in spades. Her face and mirthful eyes looked all the brighter against the door’s dark wooden frame. She looked youthful, perhaps nineteen, but something deep in her eyes told me she could be a bit older.
“Well, well, did you just lose your tongue, young man? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Oooh, but you sure look nice and cute! You said something about cooking your birthday cake. Aren’t your parents around?”
“My mom’s dead and my father’s almost never with me.”
“Sorry to hear this. My condolences for your mother; she must have been quite a gal to have such a handsome son. Well, aren’t you going to come inside?”
While she talked, she unhooked the chain and began to playfully smile at me. When I shyly walked inside, she stood in front of me and extended her hand to bid me welcome. She was tall, very slim and incredibly graceful to look at. If she wasn’t an actress, then she ought to audition and they’d give her the part. Yes, she was that wonderful a sight.
“I was having a quick platter of sandwiches,” she said as I shyly shook hands with her, getting electrified by the daintiness of her touch. “If you don’t mind, I’ll sit on my rug and keep eating while you tell me about you. You got me curious! Do you want a Seven-Up? And where are you from? Your English doesn’t sound American and certainly not British.”
I nodded and she gracefully walked down the passageway and into her kitchen to fetch me a soft drink. She was barefoot! The soft pitter-patter of her steps on the rug prompted an unimpeachable erection that grew an embarrassing bulge on my trousers. I put my hands together in front of my lap before she came back, smiling with a look of jocund amusement about her.
Once I thanked her and had a full, cold glass in my hand, she sat right down on the rug, beside her sandwich platter with a green-glass bottle of Seven-Up. She looked at me and resumed eating her half-consumed sandwich while another one was waiting for her.
“I’m trying to put on some weight, maybe two or three pounds, just enough to be more energetic. I grew up in Holland and let’s just say the war wasn’t very kind to me. What about you? Where did you grow up to be such a tall, good-looking lad?” she asked while gently sipping from her Seven-Up bottle through a straw.
“Well, Ma’am, I…”
“I’m Audrey by the way.”
“I’m Dean. I’m Canadian, from Montreal. Rose… Rosemère, to be more precise.”
“Rosemère? Where’s that?”
“It’s a very small town, lost in some woods, about twelve miles north from Montreal. But there’s a golf course; I used to work there, before my mother…”
“A golf course. Interesting. And did you play?”
“Yes. Monday mornings, when staff were allowed to play for free.”
“And what’s your favourite hole? Do you like curvy hills?”
As she spoke, I kept looking at her feet. They drove me crazy with lust. I felt like reaching down and touching those girly feet. She kept observing me. She was now sitting in a laid-back position with her legs out and half bent in front of her and supporting her weight on her arms behind her, with her chest out, as if making sure I noticed her boobs, which formed a pair of perky mounds under her striped turtleneck shirt; these thin white stripes followed and emphasised the shapes of her pushed-out breasts on that black shirt; they silently screamed, “Here we are! Don’t you want to touch us?”
I grew very curious to see them. In my daydreams, a wild animal rushed at her and ripped that turtleneck off her, and her bra too, and covered her suddenly naked boobs with flows of adoring kisses and infinite licking. Civilised me quietly drank his Seven-Up while enjoying each and every second of the encounter. She kept gently smiling at me. Something almost palpable was taking shape between us. I never felt such… such tension between me and another person. I loved it. I breathed deeply and let the present moment flood me with happiness. Being with her felt great. She had more to offer than a pair of boobs; an awful lot more.
“You seem to be a curious teenage boy. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Right now, I have some work to do. I’m playing a part and I must learn my lines and rehearse the scene, but in two hours, I’ll be as free as a bird. Here’s what we’ll do! I’ll give you the sugar you need, then I’ll knock on your door about, say, four o’clock, and we’ll bake that cake together. What do you say?”
I couldn’t say anything. The more she spoke, the more her voice enthralled me. Her figure was stirring new sensations inside me; seeing her sitting on that rug, while finishing her sandwich and sipping her Seven-Up gave me some waking dreams that were not entirely moral.
Audrey kept playfully smiling at me as she observed me; her eyes were a world of springtime mirth. I kept looking at the slender lines of her pants, making out the well-toned legs underneath the black fabric; her feet were an erotic hot spot that I just couldn’t take my eyes off. She followed my gaze and laughed, casting her head back and giving me the best pushed-out view on her breast shapes along with a show of feet as she moved and pointed them like a ballerina.
“Mighty pleased to meet you, Dean, and see you in a couple of hours! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” she giggled.
I shyly nodded and reluctantly took my leave. I felt all funny inside when I crossed the hallway, back into my world and wondering whether that girl was real or not.
Back in my living room, my eyes fell on the chessboard my father bought from a Turkish man in a bazaar; the black knight met me with the usual stern look on his moustached face. The Blacks were styled as Ottomans, with the pawns beardless and armed with long spears as Janissaries, and the black queen looked like the most fascinating Middle Eastern figure I had ever seen, standing at the left of her Muslim king. The Whites formed a Christian army with knights in full armour, pawns wearing chainmail and carrying swords or maces or axes, or a spear, and their queen as blonde and fair as the purest lass one could think of, next to her bearded king, who looked twice her age.
That set of chess was absolutely fascinating, with each piece individualized and having its own tale to tell. Each pawn or piece looked as if it was about to spring to life. This was art in good taste.
Unlike the rest of the apartment, the pieces were neatly aligned and ready for yet another war. The chessboard was collecting dust, like every single object in the living room where untidiness ruled unchallenged.
After stirring my simmering pot of Bolognese sauce, I got started on the cake and quickly put out the ingredients. I trusted my new acquaintance and left the flour and sugar in bowls, ready for us to make the tiramisu cake together.
I took off my shirt and tie and got busy with tidying up the living room and dusting the furniture. Once freshly dusted, the white bishops on the chessboard looked more like their purple-adorned selves, perhaps looking with some envy at the pair of Turkish viziers, who were allowed not only to marry, but also to have several wives in their harem.
Midway through my cleaning duties, the chessboard and the opposing queens became too much of a temptation; I began to play whites against myself. I was trying to distract myself out of my increasing nervousness. As I progressed through the openings, playing a Sicilian defence for the blacks against a classic Spanish game for the whites, I kept thinking of Audrey. I pictured a beautiful maid in each of the four towers, two pale-skinned Italians on the bright side and two olive-skinned, raven-haired beauties on the Turkish, shadowy side. Whoever took the rook could have the girl!
I put Audrey in the Queen-side rook. Three strokes later, I made a “mistake” and a black knight, the one with the large scimitar, took that rook. I got a sizeable erection under my trousers as I pictured that brown-faced warrior grabbing Audrey as his prize and telling her she had to surrender to the Ottoman might! She let him kiss her and begged him to rip off her striped turtleneck shirt. I imagined her just as she was in her apartment, wearing her pants, and presently moaning as the moustached knight tore the shirt off her bosom; she moaned louder as he made short work of her bra before promptly pulling the pants off her legs.
Moments later, he was on top of her, and she willingly received him between her long legs, crossing her ankles on top of him and giving me the show of her feet, with earth blackening her tender soles as she kept moaning on conquered soil while the grunting knight banged her with Turkish gusto at the foot of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, until he let out a thundering cry of victory as he filled her up. My imagination was running wild!
I had knelt down by the coffee table and I was gently caressing my erection as it gloriously stood out of my trousers, when the door resonated with a knock, then a couple of other knocks that sounded just loud enough to be heard. Audrey’s dainty hand was behind those knocks. Oh, God!
As the knocks were repeated, I hurriedly zipped my trousers again, putting my raging erection under arrest, and I stood up, waiting for that embarrassing bulge to subside a bit.
“Hello, Dean? It’s me, Audrey! I finished rehearsing early. Are you home?” she said as she repeated her gentle knocks.
Not answering would be rude. I grabbed my discarded shirt and held it against my lap as I answered the door. She must have seen the embarrassment on my face. She laughed as soon as she walked in.
“Hmm! You look awesome in that white tee shirt! Those arms do have some muscles!” she commented, casually feeling my upper arms.
I looked at her with my jaw dropped and pure astonishment. I was petrified. I never expected she’d do this! But I loved her touch. She wasn’t wearing gloves since we weren’t headed out, so the contact was skin-on-skin! I shivered from head to toe with a probable case of goosebumps.
She giggled, obviously noticing my embarrassment. She clearly liked this.
“P… Please, Ma’am… D… Do come in…”
“None of that Ma’am thing; call me Audrey!” she said as she walked in.
Oh, God! She was still barefoot!
“Looking down at my feet again, eh?” she added, casting me a playful, reassuring look that silently told me she actually enjoyed my gaze on her.
She stood in front of me in such a way as to offer me a three-quarter view on her bosom. Her small boobs looked full on her slim frame and they rode high on her chest, soberly covered by the same turtleneck shirt she was wearing earlier; white stripes on a black, double-hill field. She was the thinnest and tallest girl I had ever seen from so close; her juicy figure and the life in her eyes left me speechless. Her eyes looked brown at first sight, but from up close, they looked moss green in the room’s natural daylight.
She whirled like a ballerina as she stepped into the living room, smiling at me like an angel as she spun on her dainty feet. There was such intense life about her! She danced about, her arms moving into theatrical poses as she kept teasing my eyes with her pointed feet.
“So… Aren’t we going to make that cake? How many candles on that cake?”
“Sixteen.”
“That’s the age I was when the war ended. I turned sixteen on the fourth of May 1945, three days before the Germans surrendered.”
Audrey spoke with tragic notes in her voice. I listened respectfully as she spoke while fidgeting with a toy soldier she just picked up from a wooden shelf. She then put the dark-blue Prussian soldier down and produced two cigarettes out of her front-pant pockets.
She offered one and I took it, making it my first cigarette ever. She lighted it and I coughed shamefully as I took my first puff. Tears welled in my eyes.
“You must inhale it slowly and gently, just like you would kiss a girl. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ooh, you’re so cute with these tears in your eyes! They’re green, aren’t they? Green like a forest in Canada!” she said, standing near me, looking straight into my eyes, inches from me as she lighted her own cigarette.
She went on with her story; I kindly invited her to on the sofa and we sat together. She sat surprisingly close, her thigh nearly touching mine.
“Canadian soldiers liberated my town in April. They came with chocolate and cigarettes. (She exhaled some thin bluish smoke.) To me, these two things are the taste of liberty; cigarettes and chocolate! (She exhaled another puff.) I turned sixteen at that time, and I was so thin! No boy wanted to date me! I stood five feet seven and weighed only eighty-eight pounds! I was so thin that the wind could almost pick me up like a kite!”
“Well, that must have been a very sexy kite!” I replied without thinking. Her jaw dropped, her eyes rounded.
“Now, what do you know!” she said, exhaling another thin film of bluish smoke. “The shy boy is suddenly becoming a playboy! Oh, but I like it when you call me sexy! All right, let’s go to the kitchen! We have a cake to bake! Take my hand and follow me, young man! Stand up to attention! March forward! Ta-ra-ta-ta! Ta-ra-ta-ta! Ta-ra-ta-ta…”
She acted so funny! What a strange girl! Yet she was insanely sexy.
She led me like that to the kitchen, holding my hand like a big sister while humming some tune for military drums. Was she teasing me and reminding me that I was still the age of a drummer boy? I suddenly felt an urge, deep inside me; the urge for her! I felt like grabbing her and forcing a kiss on her. I just thought of it, and couldn’t find the boldness in me to actually do this.
Once in the sunlit kitchen, it didn’t take her long to become familiar with the premises and start cooking. She clearly had done this sort of cake before and she bossed me around, telling me to do this, to fetch this, to put that into the mixing bowl, etc.
While she cooked, I kept looking at her feet, at her boobs, at the rest of her figure. Through her pants, I could make out her slender hips and butt. Like her short hair, her buttocks looked boyish, but in some fascinating way, they ended up enhancing her feminine beauty instead of detracting from it.
I caught her looking at me once or twice; she noticed and giggled then, smoking another cigarette and playfully eying me as she kept on with her efficient kitchen duty. I already felt I was going to miss her when she’d be gone. She brought a much-needed feminine presence to my world.
At one point, she took a small spoon from the simmering sauce and congratulated me on my success. “This was the first scent I picked when I came. This is going to be a great feast for us! Are you happy to have a date on your birthday?”
“Yes, very much!”
“Oh, that much?”
“Well, yes. You’re… You’re actually the first girl I’m dating one-on-one. I had a couple of friends back in Canada, but it was all child’s play; going for a milkshake at the malt shop and that was about it. With you, it’s… It’s different.”
“Different in what? You got your girl curious, Dean!” she exclaimed with sudden excitement in her voice, exhaling yet another puff from her nearly consumed cigarette.
“It’s, I dunno… It’s sexier, much sexier!”
“Would you like to see the boobs of a girl?”
“Huh?!”
“Would you like to see a girl topless? Here in Italy, at least half the boys your age have seen the naked breasts of their girl! You keep looking at mine all the time. Curious, aren’t we?”
My jaw dropped as I realised what she was doing. After gracefully putting her cigarette butt in the ashtray, she took the hem of her turtleneck shirt and raised it all the way up! Her white bra suddenly materialised along with her slender, well-toned bust and her slim abdomen with a delicate slit for her navel, with hints of her widening hips where her black pants kept their sharply contrasting frontier.
“The lighting is perfect here!” she said, a bit nervously as her tucked-up shirt passed her head. The cups of her bra hypnotised my gaze as she discarded her shirt on the tiled floor. She was heavily breathing when her hands went behind her back and, like a dream come true, she dropped her bra and stood in front of me, offering me the soft paleness of her boobs under the room’s natural light.
“Well, what do you think?” she said in her playful tone, giggling, albeit more nervously now.
I stood speechless with a powerful erection pushing my pants. She was so beautiful! Gorgeous! I couldn’t believe my eyes! Seeing boobs in the flesh was incredibly more intense than seeing a topless girl in some black-and-white picture. Audrey’s nipples seemed to float amid small circles of rosy splendour on top of snow-white hills that looked slightly bottom-heavy and seemed to suck all the light in the room. They looked fascinatingly wide apart on either side of her pure cleavage, out to the sides of her torso and casting curvy shadows below their glorious paleness.
“Don’t be shy, Dean. I’m not going to bite you! Come closer and touch them. I’d like this very much! Come on! I’ll show you how to do it like a gentleman!”
The playfulness in her voice multiplied her erotic force. My legs were like lead, but I made my advance toward paradise. I loved the way she called me by my name, treating me like an equal, although she was clearly calling the shots.
The very moment my hand landed on her left breast would live in my mind forever. My erection was hard, then it got wicked hard, nearly painful as I felt her ungodly softness under my hesitating hand. Audrey’s boobs! Naked. Skin on skin.
“Go gently. Take your time, Dean. Yes, caress the side, very softly, like this; ooh, yes! Please, Dean, kiss my nipples. Gently! Gently… Oh yes! Just like this! Ooh, it’s so good! Yes, lick my nipple a bit; always go gently, but be relentless. Yess!” she purred.
Without realising it, I was on my knees and sucking her breasts, gently, like she asked. Her hands were caressing my crew-cut hair as the tip of my tongue learned the delicate texture of her girl-scented nipple. The tip of her left boob was now coated with my spit; her other one felt gently full in my left hand. Paradise!
“Ohh, yes! That’s my gentle boy!” she purred again as I kept getting lost in her delicate geography. I had no idea a girl could be so soft to the touch and her nipples would taste so good in my mouth. I loved leaning my face on her left breast, letting her softness caress me, feeling the loving imprint of her nipple on my cheek as I contemplated the full profile of her opposite boob from close enough to enjoy the tiny recess where its shadowy underside joined the flawless beauty of her torso. Her little nipple stood so beautifully at the free-moving edge of that profile!
“Do you want to know a girl’s secret? This is the first time I’m doing this with a teenage boy, and I’m loving this! Please, keep kissing them! They’ll feel lonely without you. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Yes! Yes, ooh, so gently! Ooh, you’re learning fast… Yes, this is my first time with a teenager. I dated a few men, but I’ve always wanted to… Ooh, yes! Always wanted to date a boy my age when I was a teenager myself.”
As I listened to her and kept playing with her toplessness, it dawned on me that she’d let me kiss her if I wanted. I had never kissed a girl for real. The notion of kissing an older girl filled me with wild anticipation.
I stood up as she spoke about the war; she was talking about a girl called Anne Frank, a Dutch girl like her; same age as her, but she died in a concentration camp. “Anne is the girl who didn’t make it. And I survived. Why?”
She started to cry, tears gently rolling down her loving eyes as she looked up to me, suddenly shorter and small in my arms. “Why me? Why me and not her?” she repeated amid sudden sobs. I had no idea what to tell her.
I kissed her and gently caressed her face, wiping the tears from her face. She kissed me back, her lips gently caressing mine, her fingers running delicate errands in my hair, her naked boobs gently pressed against my larger torso with my tee-shirt forming a thin curtain between us. Time stopped.
There was just silence, except for the gently simmering spaghetti sauce and voices from the bustling street down below. Italy at its finest, and the finest Dutch girl in my arms. Kissing her was out of this world; her lips were wet velvet and I loved the taste of her lipstick.
It didn’t matter that I was clumsy and came a bit too strong with my tongue between her lips; she gently opened her mouth and received me; the taste of her cigarette and the heat in her breath engulfed my world. She felt happy in my arms. She had never dated a teenager before, so I treated her like a girl of my own age. This was no doubt what she wanted. I softly caressed her cheek with genuine care in my fingertips; I did it while feeling she was the prettiest girl ever. I was hopelessly in love. Already!
As we remained lost in each other’s embrace with our lips and tongues sharing the quiet afternoon, I did the math; she turned sixteen in May, ’45, so she was turning twenty-four next month. Wow! She was old!
The realisation of our improbable age gap stirred a new erection down below. It quickly grew to a genuine baseball bat, pushing hard as if trying to get out of my trousers. Something touched me there. Her hand?!
“Oh, Dean! I think you need a relief down there! That’s all right. No need to be shy about it. I’m your girl now, and it’s time for me to smoke the cigar! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
On that, she lowered herself down on her knees and promptly unzipped my light-brown trousers as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She acted casually, yet there was genuine excitement in her eyes as she looked up at me and smiled with her air of playfulness. I understood what she was about to do, but I still had a hard time believing it was happening for real.
I suddenly felt shy when she opened the slit at the front of my boxers and my hard erection shamelessly stood out. I felt the air directly hitting my dick, and it was directly pointing at her! I felt the electricity of her gaze on my hard cock, and I thought she probably felt a bit like that when I first laid eyes on her naked bosom.
I was breathing hard, sweating and very nervous; her breathing was directly heating my cock as she presently kissed its uncut head! Oh, Good Lord! She took hold of it while her other hand rested on my upper thigh… And she… She took me inside her mouth!
“Ooh! Audrey! This is wonderful!” I exclaimed, unable to keep my joy encaged inside of me as she began to run her sealed mouth back and forth while making me feel the tip of her tongue from the base to the head of my shaft.
She kept looking up at me with bright eyes, smiling with my dick filling her mouth while she showed me what a girl could do to make her boyfriend happy with no risk for pregnancy. She bobbed away, back and forth along my length, quickly building a pressure that took me into uncharted waters of delight.
Her loving mouth and darting tongue gave me a thrill that was gentler and wetter than when I masturbated. It felt like being fully taken by a glove of warmth that kept sliding seamlessly on the girl’s spit.
The pressure from her was not much per se; it was gentle, but the sliding seal of her mouth kept insisting, along with her small hand holding me tenderly, applying delicate pressure as she kept looking up into my eyes… It all added up to something I had never experienced before.
My hand naturally rested on and caressed her dark hair as she kept working my full length like a queen of the staff. Her hair was boyish short, yet there was élan in her style. Her ears were fully visible and I found surprising delight in gently caressing them, feeling their daintiness under my fingertips as she bobbed on, her eyes never leaving mine. We were truly together and it felt absolutely delightful. I could tell she had done this before. She never lost any of her class as she pleasured me; she displayed the same joyful expression as she first greeted me with at her door.
The gentle pressure from her mouth relentlessly insisted; I was slowly but surely losing control with a whirlpool of sensations hijacking my senses… Her kneeling figure, topless and pale in her black pants, with her perky breasts offering me a plunging view each time her mouth was back at the tip of my cock; the heated silence, now engulfed by my own breathing; the softness of her hair under my caressing hands along with the relentless bobbing of her head; the loving care she put in her hand pressure and the playful lights in her eyes as she kept smiling against my full, throbbing shaft. Most of all, that powerful something in her that made her insanely sexy!
Her gentle, insisting pressure was gathering a perfect storm in my sensual stratosphere, and now it was ready to explode!
I nudged her bobbing head, silently asking her to go faster and she did pick up her pace as the storm became an unstoppable hurricane. My fingers stiffened on her hair as I realised I was passing the edge and I had only two seconds left to decide where I was going to…
I pulled out of her mouth, grabbed the base of my dick and frantically masturbated as I spewed out large bolts of semen that landed squarely on her boobs, covering her right nipple and that side of her cleavage with a glistening coat of hot vanilla. All distance was abolished between us; her turtleneck shirt was no longer there, and her boobs were in glorious display as she received my tribute on them, and gracefully so, without a shred of vulgarity.
“Aaahh! Audrey! Ooaahh… Oooh! This is so good!” I ejaculated as I shot one last bolt, which landed higher and graced her nose and her mouth with pearls of love. And she laughed!
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! You had a lot! An awful lot, Mister! Hmm… Your heat feels good on me. I’ll keep it on me for a little while. Love the taste too!” she said as she licked and swallowed the semen around her lips, modestly, just like a girl would do with a vanilla milkshake at the malt shop.
I let myself fall on my knees, next to her. I kissed her and did what I had been dying to do since the moment I first saw her. I took hold of one of her feet and started caressing the tenderness of her sole with a worshipping hand. I loved her smallness and softness, from her heel to the tip of her toes.
I felt the hem of her pants at her ankles while she ran her hands on my chest and kissed me with heated fervour. We then hugged each other and let ourselves be one in the quiet, Bolognese-scented kitchen. Being in her arms was happiness bordering on the spiritual.
“Lover, I think we ought to clean ourselves and dress up for dinner,” she said after the longest time, her voice enthralling me more than ever. “Yes, I want you to dress properly for dinner, so I can undo your necktie later! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” she giggled as she swiftly got up to her feet and picked up her turtleneck shirt along with her bra. She walked into the living room and to the bathroom, leaving me with the pitter-patter of her ballerina steps.
***
“Here! I went home to fetch a bottle of Tuscan Chianti; it will be perfect with our fresh pasta,” Audrey said as she put down the red wine on the coffee table, next to my chessboard, which she presently looked at as I walked in the living room with my bottle of pinot grigio, some of which had gone into the Bolognese sauce. Its aroma was maturing and permeated the April-warm apartment.
She was still wearing the same clothes; we agreed to remain dressed as we were, so I simply put my white shirt back on along with my necktie.
“Can you put on your sports jacket too? I want to see what fine gentleman I got myself!” she chimed in, looking intensely at my necktie.
In a hurry, I put on my teal jacket, an interesting fit with my Sienna-brown trousers and my matching necktie, which she presently caressed with her fingertips as she stood in front of me, her eyes level with my freshly shaved chin.
“You’re a tall lad!” she commented. “And big for your age. I had you in my mouth and let me tell you this, you have more size than most grown men, and more class too! You look so handsome! Teal always looks amazing with dark brown hair! And your eyes… So intense! And this youth in your face… Lover, you’re driving me crazy! Will you please pour us some pinot grigio?”
She giggled a little, then stood on her toes and kissed me. After a heated exchange of kisses, I went to the sideboard near the dining table and took two crystal glasses. Audrey deserved the best.
She smiled at me, radiating with happiness as I put the wine glasses next to the chessboard. We sat together on the leather sofa and she leant into me, intoxicating me with her perfume as I poured the golden wine.
“You’re filling up my glass! How sexy! I’m so happy you’re my first teenage lover! It’s not always easy to be an actress. I’m not really a star, but right now as I speak, there’s an obsessed journalist who’s looking for me all over town!”
“Good luck with that! Rome isn’t exactly small! There are seven hills, each one a big city in its own right. Cheers!”
We made a toast to our newfound intimacy and took a sip, looking into each other. The wine filled my mouth with centuries of Italian know-how. It was even better in Audrey’s company; everything felt much better with her.
“Audrey, you’re the first girl I ever had. I want you to know that I’m not the kind of guy who…”
“I know. You’re a gentleman. It’s all me! I refuse to let the present day go by. I don’t know what tomorrow may bring and I feel so good with you! I had longed so long for that kiss with a teenage boy! I did smoke the cigar for a Canadian soldier during the war; the fellow was perhaps nineteen, but it was different; he was wearing a uniform and felt like a grown-up man to me, while I was only sixteen.”
“You what for him? Smoked the…”
“I smoked the cigar,” she said as she took another sip of pinot grigio, her eyes flashing with lights of pleasure as she looked into me. “It was an expression during the war, meaning what I did for you in the kitchen.”
“You… pleasured him?”
She nodded. “It just happened that way. He looked handsome; I felt lonely and hungry; hungry for food and affection. He was just a kid longing for his own folks. We were alone together while my mother was sleeping upstairs. We kissed and he cupped my breasts. It felt wonderful! I knelt down for him and smoked his cigar. We couldn’t take the risk of undressing ourselves and we didn’t have much time anyway. After two or three minutes, I swallowed his cream and he left. I never saw him again.”
I remained silent, sipping wine and unsure of what to say next.
She went on with her story. “1944 was an incredibly hard year for all Dutch people, especially the winter into 1945. The Germans knew they were losing and grew meaner. Then, at last, the Canadian boys came with cigarettes, chocolate and much joy. I felt so inadequate and unattractive. I was all bones and skin! But all the girls had suffered from hunger like me; we were skeletons, all of us. No titties for them. Poor boys! But we were all hungry for affection, boys and girls. I lost my virginity to some older fellow. He was really nice. I was curious. I was sixteen, like you. You’re still a virgin, aren’t you? Would you like to have sex with me? I know I’m a bit old for you and…”
My lips got in the way of her words. I kissed her and tasted the wine from her lips. I loved how she spoke of war mixed with teenage curiosity about sex. Her plain offer petrified me, but I wasn’t going to let this opportunity go by.
She kissed me back, her hand caressing my thighs as she pressed herself into me and bent her legs under her as we started making out on the sofa.
My eager hand found the yielding softness of her boobs, their shapes imparting curves to these white stripes on her black turtleneck shirt. I loved how their smallness filled my hands as her scent filled my nostrils while I kept enjoying her wine-flavoured kisses, with our faces often pressed against each other. She had closed her eyes, so I closed mine and let our bodies silently talk to each other.
As we kissed, I felt an imperious urge growing inside me. I was going to have her right here, right in that living room! She asked for it and she was going to get it! My sudden boldness made me afraid of myself. Was this me?
“Don’t be shy, lover! Do as you please with me! I’ve brought a box of rubbers. Use them!”
This was my big moment. My hands moved by themselves. I took the hem of her shirt and lifted it up, urgently uncovering her bra as I pushed her back against the sofa.
“Oooh! You’re so bold and strong all of a sudden! Please, more!” she purred.
I grew wilder. I grabbed her bra and grunted like a baboon as I shoved it up and her boobs followed the upward movement before settling back down in their full glory, flooding me with their paleness and the powerful presence of her gentle nipples with fading areolas.
I avidly engulfed her left nipple while pressing the other boob under my hand. She moaned and frantically caressed my hair as I covered her breasts with kisses and took immense delight in licking her nipples and everything around them, doing exactly what I had savagely wanted to do from the moment we met.
“Ooh! Ooh, yes! Undress me! Undress me!” she purred. “I want to lie down naked while you’re still fully clothed! I want to feel completely dominated, like the day that Canadian soldier took my sixteen springs; he kept his uniform and stripped me completely naked, and… And I loved it!”
“Do you want me to give you commands?!”
“Yes! Yes! Strip me naked, then I’ll take your clothes off and we’ll do whatever you want! I’m dying to feel you inside me! I’ve been dreaming of a teenage boy for so long! Please take me, I beg you!”
I laid her down on the sofa, her boobs in glorious sight under the mixed blackness and whiteness of her tucked-up shirt and bra. I contemplated her flattened hills and the valley between them, and kissed her rosy nipples, hearing her purrs, before pulling her shirt all the way up past her pretty face and her short hair. My erection started to grow again as she lay under me, topless and barefoot once more. I had an idea.
I took my half-empty glass of pinot grigio and poured it on her boobs, then I put the glass down again on the coffee table and went down on her wet boobs as she lay down and caressed my hair while I found unfathomable joy in licking off all the wine off her. The wine took a special, girly taste, and I felt her joyful heartbeats as I tenderly kissed her cleavage, unable to fathom how adorable she truly was. What a girlfriend!
I grabbed the bottle and poured more wine, this time flooding her breasts under a cascade. She opened her mouth and I gave her some to drink to, before licking all that wine off the yielding mounds, taking the time to fully appreciate her nipples and the fading roundness of her areolas that seamlessly blended with her skin. My heated saliva slowly replaced the sunny wine.
As I finished licking her wine-soaked breasts, I visualised her being in the nude and kneeling on that sofa. I commanded her to get up on her knees, and as soon as I stood up to watch, she obediently got up and turned herself around, soon taking a position on all fours. She smiled at me, her eyes bursting with joy as she offered herself, with her breasts so youthful that they were hardly sagging even in that overhanging position.
She then gave me the magic of her long legs as she moved herself up into a kneeling position, delightfully barefoot in her pants as she looked at me and smiled. Her eyes were silently asking, “What next?”
I knelt behind her on the sofa, where I cupped her breasts from behind and felt their perky fullness along with the quiet imprint of her nipples as she leant her face into mine and kissed me while she pressed her hands on mine while I fondled her breasts.
I followed the pure lines of her white backside while my hands moved down on her belt, where I fumbled as it proved a bit challenging. She laughed and quickly undid her belt; her small hands then rested on her hips as she turned her head and looked at me, smiling with quiet lights of joy in her eyes.
She moved in a way that helped me lower her pants. I saw the small roundness of her slender buttocks, hidden under white panties as the black mass of her pants slid down her slender legs.
Audrey presently took her panties and lowered them, turning my world upside down as she hit me with the sudden sight of her naked butt! It was slender, yet intensely feminine thanks to the softness in its contours, and the crack of shadow down south silently yelled that she was indeed naked.
“Audrey! You’re… gorgeous!” I blurted out.
I couldn’t resist. I stooped down and began kissing her white buttocks as she returned to her all-fours position. I nearly died out of sheer joy as I became intimate with the softness of her bottom skin, polished incredibly silky and bright by the constant brush from her clothes during her day-to-day walking and moving about.
What struck me most delightfully was the sense of doing away with all social rules and customs. We were doing what only married people were entitled to, yet it was common knowledge in Rome that priests and bishops often did it with nuns and whoever else was available.
“Do you like my butt! Isn’t it a bit too small for your tastes, Sir?” she playfully asked. “A movie producer said I had no tits, no butt and no curves, and that I was going to be a sensation thanks to that! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
She gracefully stepped out of her pants while remaining on the sofa. I took the sight fully in as I contemplated a woman in the nude for the very first time.
Audrey presently faced me, kneeling once again as I caught sight of the small triangle of black hair she had down between her slender thighs. She looked noble and powerfully erotic with her long legs and dainty feet. Her tall figure was made up of refined lines and gentle curves, all of it so aristocratically pale! I frankly didn’t understand those men who wanted all women to be blonde, curvy and busty.
“Let me undo your necktie and take all your clothes off, Sir. I’ve been dying to do this!” she said, both gently and with a tone that would not be denied, her eyes intensely undressing me anyway. I had no idea a girl could be so eager to see a boy in the nude. I stood on my knees, my weight into the sofa, and gladly let her hands on me.
Her agile fingers effortlessly undid my half-Windsor knot as I started to think of that chessboard where the white rook was still lying down next to the dominating figure of that knight, all black in his Turkish attire.
Under Audrey’s eager hands, my necktie fell down onto the armrest as she attacked my shirt, unbuttoning it as fast as I could tell it. Her eyes became avid and hungry as she helped me out of my shirt before grabbing the hem of my tee-shirt and violently pushing it up, tying me up in a confused mass of white fabric as I somehow slid up the shirt and the tee-shirt over my face and felt her burning lips kiss my chest.
While I finally got rid of these clothes, she worshipped my chest, her hands flat on my muscles as she explored the lines and leanness of my blossoming torso. Only then, it occurred to me that a girl could want to see the torso of a man just as bad as a man would want to uncover a girl’s boobs. I felt it was a very important moment for her, and it was pure joy to let the heat of her kisses make wet trails on my chest as her pressing hands wandered south along my sides.
Audrey presently undid my belt. Her experienced hands made short work of it. She was now eagerly lowering my pants and uncovering my light-teal boxers.
“How would you like to have me?” she asked as her hands caressed my raging erection, which formed a surging tent at the front of my boxers, then presently punched its way out into plain sight, a glorious flagpole that she immediately took hold of.
“Wh… What do you mean?”
“In what position do you want to have sex? Me under you? Me on top? From behind? Something else? Take your pick! This is your first time! I want to make sure it will be the way you like best. I’m a good girl!”
I paused and thought it over, giving her the leisure to lower my boxers and move down on my raging erection. She engulfed it in her mouth and coated it with her spit while caressing it with a delicate twisting motion from her little hand. It was amazing! Truly amazing. She was a good girl indeed.
I thought of the black knight and that maid from the captured rook. How did he take her? I pictured them on a sofa, inside the taken tower. She was conquered to the point of willingly giving herself to him and to show this, she did it on top of him, but turning away from him, albeit not entirely, something like a three-quarter rearview, offering him the fullness of her butt while also giving him a side view on her nearer breast.
I described the position and the play. Audrey laughed as she looked down on the chessboard.
“You have a lot of creative energy!” she commented. “Take off the rest of your clothes and lay down on that sofa. I’ll see what I can do!”
I loved the commanding tone she took with me, as opposed to how submissive she was when I was licking the wine off her breasts. It made me want to dominate her and reverse our roles again, but first things first, I took off my shoes, my socks and disentangled myself from my half-removed trousers and boxers. I became paralysed with shyness as I realised I was Adam-naked in front of her.
“Remove your watch too! I want to be nude-on-nude with you! I’m a good girl!”
Her gentle voice was a spell that pushed me into obedience, with hidden lust for submitting her.
With my watch lying down next to my empty wine glass, I lay down on the sofa and watched Audrey’s luminous nakedness as she moved down on me, holding the condom she just produced out of the tin box. My erection grew into a full flagpole as she kissed my uncut cock and started to roll out the rubber, soon covering my teenage mast. It was perhaps the most erotic thing a girl did to me.
She then turned away from me and positioned her legs on either side of me, one foot on the floor and the other one on the sofa; she took the position I had described, roleplaying that maid in the captured tower and squatted down as she offered me a perfect three-quarter view on the slender curves of her buttocks.
She found that position impractical and moved about again, telling me it would be best if she simply sat down on me with her legs together. It would be a much more natural position, and more comfortable too.
Audrey thus sat down and lowered herself onto my straight dick and presently took gentle hold of it. She guided me inside her and my jaw dropped in amazement as I seamlessly penetrated her, watching the luminous curves of her butt obscuring the space where my rubber-wrapped erection stood. It suddenly felt like a wet glove of heat was suddenly pressing my entire dick. I was inside Audrey!
I felt her hand on my hip where she took support as she began to move herself up and down, smiling at me from where she sat, her eyes filled with delight as she kept up the bobbing motion, taking me inside her in this amazing position where I had a profile view on her nearest boob along with the graceful beauty of her hips and buttocks.
She used the ballerina strength of her legs to bounce herself up and down, filling me with wonder at the sight of her figure as her bottom repeatedly collided with me. I couldn’t get enough of her and still wondered whether this was real.
It suddenly dawned on me that I could use my hands and touch her! It also dawned on me that I wasn’t going to last very long, as her gripping pressure increased fast. It was a far cry from the caressing heat of her mouth; this time, I was getting a most vigorous massage, all my fibres at once, as she kept bouncing herself on my lap, with the constant up-and-down movements of her fascinating buttocks, so boyish-slender that it actually intensified their feminine allure thanks to their soft curves. This and the gripping force of her vagina.
I would never forget the profile view on her face as she opened her mouth amid her moaning and closed her eyes as she cast her torso back, pushing out the modest size of her breasts. Her face bounced up and down while she kept repeating, “I’m a good girl! I’m a good, good girl!”
I held her slim waist and added to the bouncing impetus, contemplating her long legs and her jiggling boobs, presently touching them! Her moans were answering to my touch and my grunting as we filled the living room with our primal sounds. I desperately tried to hold the massive surge within me, wanting the pleasure to last a bit more.
Time stopped as I frantically drove her up and down, imprinting my hand into the suppleness of her waist. Her face kept bobbing up and down, looking up toward the ceiling with her eyes closed as she moaned louder and louder.
The pressure became unbearable. All holds broke and the surging tide became a furious rush. I exploded inside Audrey and screamed, “Aaahr! Nnhh!!!”
I powerfully ejaculated, letting the blissful heat run its due course as I shot all my seed. I had no idea this would feel so good! Now I understood why that Turkish knight would put his life on the line just to enjoy that willing girl. Each game of chess was filled with unspoken adventures.
I remained inside Audrey. I wondered what she was doing and became aware that she was pressing her hand on her own sex; she kept bouncing on my lap as she moaned the loudest I had ever heard her.
“Aah! Aaa… aahaa… I’m a good girl! Aaa, aaa, aaa, ooh my God! Oh my God! It’s so good to be a good, good girl! The officer brought some of his men. They all take me! And I love… this! I’m a good… good girl! Aahh! Aaooh!”
She then emitted a long, high-pitched series of whimpers and she shivered all over; it felt like every single part of her body was exploding with joy. It was a long burst of pleasure! Just as I thought it was subsiding, she bolted and detonated with a loud and plaintive-sounding series of moans.
She finally let herself fall down on me, sweating all over and panting. She smelled lovely, so intensely pungent! We kissed. I finally plopped out of her and remembered I was wearing a rubber, which presently slipped out of my deflated dick along with a generous cascade of young sperm. It was so wonderful to make love with Audrey!
“Oh, Dean! It was so amazing! Aren’t you hungry? I’m starving and I need to smoke a good one.”
She got up, more beautiful than ever and poured herself a half glass of pinot grigio, finishing the bottle. I watched her get dressed again. She brought a wonderful feminine presence to my world.
“Now that we know each other, we can have that date. Let me do the cooking, darling. I like my pasta al-dente and I’m the woman of the house now! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Thus began the one spring and summer we shared. I soon learned she was a much bigger star than I thought. She was starring in her first lead role in a movie called Roman Holiday. Just like her character in that movie escaped her high-profile life for a day of unbridled life, she escaped from fame to find intimacy in my arms, for one summer. Only one. But it was our summer.
