(More Adventures of Scott and Vanessa from "About That Night")
All my life I had dreamed of going to Italy. Well, anywhere, really; I had a professional-grade case of travel fever. But I had it particularly badly for Italy. So now that I was here, in Tuscany, with you — the man who made me hotter than any man had ever made me before in my life — I had pretty much been on a slow but sizzling burn for days.
We had been traveling together for nearly two weeks. This was the longest time we'd spent in each other's company, but it hadn't been difficult at all; we fit. We seemed to fit together so easily. We didn't always like the same things, but it never seemed to matter; we seemed to have no problem respecting each other's differences. And in one particular area, we were completely compatible — sex.
I smiled to myself, turning my face toward the late afternoon sun oozing its way between the ancient architecture laid out before me. I smiled, remembering with intense pleasure how you had introduced me to the wanton, abandoned side of my previously rather reserved self (the "hot slutty side" of my personality, as you liked to call it) just a few short weeks ago. I had known when I met you that you were far more experienced than I. What I hadn't known was the deep, erotic satisfaction you would take in introducing me to the passion I'd been a stranger to all my life.
I hadn't known then that when you touched me, my muscles would respond, rippling under your fingers, and that when it happened, your breath would catch and you would instantly get hard. I hadn't known that when we were out in public, standing in a line somewhere, you would suddenly pull me back against you, arms around my waist, and whisper tenderly in my ear how hard you were going to fuck me as soon as you got me home. I hadn't known how wet that would make my pussy. I hadn't known how every nerve and every cell in my body would suddenly leap, shrieking, to attention. And I had definitely never known that so many images could surge full-blown into my head: erotic, disturbing, intense images, things I wanted to do, to taste, to try. Here, in Italy, I seemed to want them all. At once. Now.
I stood leaning against the frame of an open, floor-to-ceiling window of the quaint old hotel where we were staying, looking down onto a sidewalk café just across a narrow lane from our hotel. I had thrust one sandaled foot between the narrow, widely-spaced bars below the rail, musing about what a different person I had become, now that you were part of my life. I liked her, this new person.
This was a quiet neighborhood, away from high-traffic tourist areas, and our room was near the back of the hotel, some distance from the main street. The late afternoon sun burnished the scene with gold, shadows just beginning to gather in the angles of the elegant old buildings and cobbled street below. The shower had just stopped running; I knew you would join me soon.
The three men at the table below were basking in the afternoon breeze, sipping espressos, smiling and waving at me. "Ciao, bella," I had heard almost immediately after they sat down, followed by something that included the Italian phrase for "a drink," which I had learned only a few days ago. I had smiled back, secretly hugging myself with delight at the charming attention, but shook my head, declining the invitations. Amid what sounded like good-natured regret and attempts to persuade me to change my mind, I leaned forward, bracing my palms on the wrought iron railing just about hip-high.
Their narrowed smiles and the octave their voices dropped made it appear that the gentlemen below enjoyed the view even better from this angle. I was only one floor up, so they could see fairly well, and I knew that my silk blouse, partially unbuttoned as it was, showed a lot more cleavage from this position. They couldn't see everything, but apparently, what they could see was more than enough.
A small shiver of pure feminine pleasure rushed through me. I didn't really know what they were saying. It might have been insulting and sleazy, but that was not the way their voices sounded, and that was not the feeling I was getting. I looked from one to the other of them, watching one man sliding the palm of his hand slowly down his thigh and then back up. The other two were still sipping their drinks, but one had leaned back in his chair, and the other had his chin propped on his hand, staring intently up at me, smiling.
The smile did it. I felt a fluttering rush of nervous energy faintly tinged with fear, and without stopping to analyze the impulse, I wanted to play. I raised one hand and idly trailed my fingertips from my chin down my neck to where the silk was pulled tight across my breasts, and casually undid another button. Obedient to the laws of physics, it popped open another inch or so, and a good portion of my ivory lace bra was exposed to their avid gaze.
I heard a long, low whistle from the sidewalk below, and what sounded like an admiring laugh. I wasn't sure what to do next. I wasn't sure how far I could go, much less how far I wanted to go. I was torn between my madly fluttering heart and my hesitant, somewhat conventional mind. My fingers slowly, languidly moved up and down, between my breasts, and over the creamy mounds of exposed breasts while I hesitated. And then suddenly, I heard you behind me.
"Open it, Vanessa. Open it the rest of the way."
Your voice had that same deep note of arousal I was responding to in the voices below. I froze in place, embarrassed at being caught, uncertain what to do next. Then you spoke again.
"Come on baby, do it. Unbutton those buttons and show them. I know that's what you want to do, so let them see."
You spoke softly, but with utter assurance, and there was no way I could resist. Besides, there was no one in sight except these men. And I was dying to show off for them; I was aching to feel their eyes on me. I stood, slowly, and pulled the the blouse out of my full skirt, and then, my eyes glued on the table below, I reached up and pushed each button through its hole. My hands dropped to my sides, waiting. They were all leaning forward. You stepped closer, standing directly behind me, but I knew they couldn't see you in the shadows. All they could see was me.
"Pull it open, honey," you whispered. "Let them see that pretty bra. You look gorgeous like this, half dressed in that light, with the sun glinting off that beautiful skin. Let them see more of you."
I was almost hypnotized by the calm, cool authority in your tone. You knew what you wanted, always, and your voice made that abundantly clear. What I didn't understand was why I had not the slightest wish to refuse. I wanted to do more. I loved knowing they were watching me.
But now was definitely not the time for self-examination. My fingers trembled, but of course, the men below didn't know that. All they knew was that a woman with thick auburn hair was showing them more than they had expected to see. And all I knew was that I wanted to continue. Swiftly, I grabbed the tails of the blouse and pulled them behind me. My ivory lace demi-bra was now fully exposed, as was the creamy smooth skin above and below it. And I was so turned on I could barely stand still. You heard my little whimpering moan as the breeze hit my skin, and you gave a low laugh at my ear.
"You know you look delicious like that," your velvet voice purred behind me. "And you can tell they think so too. But I'll bet they'd love to see even more of that luscious body... and I know you'd love to show them more, wouldn't you baby."
I stood up slowly, shivering again in the gleaming sun, but I couldn't turn away. Even with you behind me, standing there ready to make hot passionate love to me, I couldn't turn away from that window. I couldn't turn away from the hot, almost magnetic force their gazes exerted on me. I couldn't turn away from their eyes.
I heard the faint smile in your voice.
"Then show them more, darling. Show them everything you want them to see."
Mentally, I saw myself unhooking my bra and pulling it open, exposing my full breasts to their avid gazes. The desire on their faces had me breathing lightly, rapidly, my nipples stiff and tingling. But I couldn't move. My fingers remained behind me, gripping the tails of my blouse so tightly my hands ached. I didn't know why I couldn't move. But then you stepped forward, sliding your arms under mine to reach the front hook, and quickly unfastened it, pulling it slowly, smoothly open before letting the edges drop to my sides.
They couldn't see you, but they saw your hands. I gasped, but the reaction from the table was instinctive and very positive. The men's muffled exclamations merged with movements of their hands as they adjusted themselves furtively under the table. One of them slowly rubbed one palm over his face in what seemed to be amazed disbelief. But they all seemed to like it.
I stood there, my naked torso bathed in gleaming light, and my full, soft breasts seemed to become even fuller, thrusting themselves forward as if eager to be kissed by the sun. They seemed to rise to meet it, the pinkish-brown nipples engorged as if in response to a lover's eager lips and tongue. I lifted my chin and closed my eyes for a moment, bathed in warmth and light.
"Do you want me to touch you there, Vanessa?" and your voice sounded like honey in my ear. "Do you want me to help you show them how hot you are? Tell me baby. Tell me what you want."
I leaned back against you, enough to feel the deep, slow thudding of your heart, and I could feel the hot liquid seeping out between my pussy lips, soaking my panties.
.... There is more of this story ...