Chapter 8

A stomach growl woke me. It was loud. It wasn't mine, either. Opening my eyes Bianca smiled apologetically at me and shrugged, her gorgeous blue eyes bright and twinkling. "Buongiorno, Julian. Ho fame. I'm hungry."

Moving languidly, I kissed her. "Then let's eat."

Her smile broadened. I watched when she rolled out of bed and bent to pick up her panties from the floor. A pale yellow ribbed cotton camisole, a gorgeous, spectacular bare ass, and compact buttocks moving delightfully absorbed me. The beginning of an erection brought back a memory of last night. I wanted Bianca. I wanted to make love with her more than almost anything.

"Spostarlo!" she admonished me as she emerged from the bathroom, telling me to move it.

"But..."

She was gone.

BIANCA STIRRED THE SCRAMBLED eggs in the frying pan. The smell of toasting bread filled the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder again and smiled with pride. Julian looked so sexy and she'd had sex with him!

"Honestly, Bianca, I'm so sorry. I couldn't help it," he said, holding a mug of coffee with two hands.

Bianca laughed brightly feeling proud. "I told you I don't mind."

She didn't, either. It wasn't quite what she'd imagined her first time would be like. She hadn't cum. Julian hadn't really gone all the way in. But there was so much that was better. It hadn't hurt anywhere near like what she'd expected. She'd felt so stretched, too. But it was Julian cumming in her that truly amazed her. She'd never really thought about the guy's pleasure. In all her daydreams, when she played with herself, it had always been her pleasure she imagined. Feeling Julian cum, feeling his orgasm and the intensity of his whispers, his murmurs of affection, was amazing! She'd made him happy. She'd given him pleasure. She'd made him cum!

Those were powerful feelings she was still getting used to. They brought warmth and pride and feelings of maturity. Stirring the scrambled eggs, Bianca was shocked. She loved him! She loved Julian!

The toaster popped.

"What are we doing today?" she asked, passing a plate to Julian.

"We could..."

"Go water-skiing again," Bianca cut in.

"If you knew what you wanted to do, Bianca, why did you ask?"

"I wanted to make sure you wanted to do the same thing."

I ATE SLOWLY SAVORING the scrambled eggs. They were very good. Feminine logic seemed a mystical thing, or a black art. I was tempted to ask her to explain her logic in that statement but suspected I'd find the answer just as confusing as the statement.

"Are you sure you're not too sore?" I innocently asked. Bianca blushed, a rare occurrence. "No. Not that," I added. "I meant from water-skiing yesterday."

"Oh!" She stopped eating, eyes losing focus briefly. "Actually I am. My legs ache," she said, somewhat surprised.

"Then we can go to see the MAMAC or take a walk along the Promenade des Anglais."

"What's the MAMAC?"

"The Musée d'Art Moderne et d'Art Contemporain."

"What's that?

"The Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art," I clarified.

"Okay."

There it was again, that amorphous 'Okay'. "Okay what?" I asked.

"Okay let's," she answered. "But why are we walking if my legs ache?"

"Because stretching them is the only way to make them feel better faster. And okay to which one? The museum or the Promenade des Anglaise?"

"I already said the museum," she replied, going back to eating her scrambled eggs.

"No you didn't. You just said 'Okay'," I clarified.

"Okay."

I gave up. One of these days I'd figure it out. Maybe I needed to change how I asked her questions, avoid multiple choices, perhaps? "Museum it is. Let's go."

The museum building was impressive. Two huge white windowless cube buildings stood at a slight angle to each other connected by a broad modern glass enclosure with suspension-bridge-like black steel accents joining each cube. We spent a couple of hours exploring the museum and I discovered I didn't like modern art.

Bianca disagreed with me as we stood staring at an exhibit of Xavier Theunis' works.

"He's used a ruler to draw," I commented, staring at a white canvass with linear patterns impressed and embossed on it. "It's not very creative."

"It's nice. I like it," Bianca retorted.

When we stood in front of a large square canvass that had been artfully painted with dark blue on the upper half and a lighter blue on the lower half, the most artistic element being the line where they met, a wavy joining, I commented, "Monkeys could paint something more interesting."

Bianca looked at it. "I like it."

"You have no taste. You don't know anything about art," I countered.

"You know less," she observed. "You don't even have a memory."

Touché. I smiled and took her hand. For another hour or so we meandered, disagreeing completely on what made art interesting. I had a great time.

As we headed away, the Maserati growling quietly, Bianca suggested we head home for lunch, not the Chinese restaurant I'd planned on. I was eager to try Chinese. Sweet and sour sounded like an oxymoron. How could something be both at the same time?

As soon as we entered the house Bianca took my hand. "Come on," she urged with a tug, leading me upstairs.

"What gives, Bianca?"

"I want to cuddle," she said, leading me towards the bedroom. "I've been ... you know, all morning."

Her comment brought with it a physical response and amusement. "Okay. But why are we going to the bedroom?"

"I told you. I want to ... you know."

"Cuddle?"

"Yeah, cuddle."

"But, we don't have to go to the bedroom to cuddle," I pointed out.

"Yes we do. I want to cuddle naked. Would you like to shower together?"

Her enthusiasm made me chuckle. However, when I had her undressed down to a small, innocent-looking plain white cotton bra and matching simple white cotton panties, showering was the last thing on my mind.

Drawing her to me we nuzzled and kissed lightly. In her simple underwear she looked very young indeed. Those firm, upright breasts cried out to me, petite and sexy. Her cotton panties had folds and gathers that emphasized the plump lushness of her pussy underneath. Once again I marvelled at how sexy and desirable she felt in my arms, so young, slender yet warm and attractive.

Still standing, Bianca looked up at me, her arms around my waist, her lower body pressed against mine. The slightest blush emerged on her cheeks when she asked, "Would you kiss me again?"

I did, lightly, my lips brushing against her silky lips. It was almost addictive. Her eyes watched me as we kissed, her lips not responding. "What?" I asked.

"That's not what I meant," she clarified, a blush intensifying. "I meant, would you kiss me down there, on ... where you did ... like you did..."

I rubbed her red cheek. Damn she was cute. "It's okay to say pussy, or oral sex, Bianca. You don't have to be embarrassed."

"Bene," she said, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "Would you do it like last time? Sono ... I'm horny. Is it alright to say I'm horny?"

Chuckling, I led her onto the bed, her beautiful bright blue eyes watching me. Bianca settled on her back, her legs closed, her hands fidgeting as if she didn't know what to do with them. Smiling in reassurance, I leaned over her and kissed her mouth, my hand settling over the succulent mound of her breast.

My thumb caressed the remarkable shape and, through thin cotton, teased an areole and soft nipple. It made Bianca close her eyes. One of her hands found something to do - it reached for my neck. Her mouth opened slowly when my tongue touched her lips, the sensation of deeply kissing her almost overwhelming me again.

Breaking the kiss, I stood at the side of the bed and, under her sharp, watchful eyes, dropped my boxers, my cock springing out and up. Her eyes followed my movement as I went to the end of the bed and crawled up. Looming partially over her supine body I pressed the palm of my hand to her mons, loving the sensual way it mounded up, her cotton panties so chaste. With a light trail of fingertips up the outline of her camel toe, Bianca shuddering lightly, I grabbed the waist of her panties and started easing them down, one side then the other, Bianca rolling her hips from side to side to help.

Her pussy appeared. Once again I marvelled at the sensuality of such a young pussy and the intense sexiness of soft, blonde pubic hairs spread thinly over it.

Sitting back on my heels, I drew her panties down, Bianca raising her legs almost vertical to help, her pussy emerging from behind between her thighs, her butt crack showing before her legs fell back to the bed.

Bending, I kissed her soft stomach. As I moved down the bed, I eased her legs apart. Her sexy pussy was revealed in all its youthful glory; a tightly closed cleft, silken blonde pubes hiding nothing, her buttocks bulging sensuously where they pressed to the bed. I settled between her legs and watched her labia separating slowly, oozing apart to reveal her beautiful clitoral hood and the glistening moisture of her arousal below. Pausing, I inhaled deeply to calm myself. I'd never tire of the sight.

The bed felt good pressing against my erection. Her scent hit me, slightly stronger than last time, the scent of her erotic ambrosia awaiting me. My lips touched the top of her pussy brushing lightly against silky soft pubes. I heard Bianca inhale and hold her breath.

Smiling, I kissed her clit, added gentle suction and pulled her clit between my lips. Bianca groaned quietly, her hands finally finding a purpose; holding my head. Her knees rose, thighs gently pressing to my ears.

I let my fingertip slide up from below using her butt crack as the guide. She clenched her buttocks when I touched her anus, relaxed when my fingertip passed, and clenched again when, probing into moist warm folds at the base of her cleft, I found the impossibly small entrance to her vagina. My tongue began strumming her clit. Bianca groaned quietly. I probed into her with my finger.

Bianca moaned. Her body trembled with growing tension. Her tight vaginal entrance yielded to grip the tip of my middle finger in a velvety moist hug. My erection strained, pulsed, and leaked precum onto the sheet. It felt good to be so aroused.