It was supposed to be a quiet holiday.

Day trips to Florence and Siena, Christmas lunch with wine and entertainment; all other meals provided at the hotel. The previous weekend, the Higgins family had once again exploited their possession of extremely compromising photographs of me Then, the night before my coach departed for Italy, my doorbell rang.

It was the Higgins boys, pupils of mine and only 14 and 15 years old.

I reluctantly stepped back as they pushed past me into the house and followed them into my lounge.

I had been planning a small party for friends on my return from Italy and had bought number of bottles of drink for the occasion. One of the boys took a bottle of vodka and poured a large tumbler of the clear liquid; handed it to me and ordered me to drink. He used a finger to tilt the glass and force me to gulp the fiery alcohol down. He repeated the process, then the two of them stripped me of my pyjamas. Dropped their trousers and sat on my settee while I stimulated them orally.

From time to time they compelled me to drink more vodka and opened a bottle of brandy when the vodka ran out. I swiftly succumbed to the effects of the alcohol and they began screwing my pussy, my ass and mouth as my mind dissolved into a morass of the sound of flesh on flesh, the exquisite sensation of the double penetration and the raw scent of sex.

I was still woozy during the flight although sufficiently in control not to make an exhibition of myself despite consuming a couple of large gin and tonics.

My arrival in Italy was in one of those pleasant alcohol induced hazes many of us have experienced without the falling over one or two drinks might have brought on. The coach trip to my hotel was uneventful and on reaching my room, I just fell on the bed and slept.

It was dark when I woke and I decided I badly needed some fresh air as my head was still fuzzy and although it was nearly dinner time, I couldn’t face the thought of food. The hotel had a small map of the area and a quick glance showed a large park just a little way down the road, I set off and the evening air was deliciously cool and fragrant. I reached a set of large wrought iron gates and went in. Off to one side, a distant floodlit football match was taking place and the enthusiastic yells from the players hovered unintelligible in the night, muted by distance. Occasional benches were set along the path, several occupied by lovers blind to the world around them as hands explored bodies and tongues explored mouths. Entered The path entered a stand of trees which arched over, all but blotting out the sky. A defective lamp cast the path into a profound darkness with just the faintest gleam ahead showing the path.

I paused in my progress to catch my breath, when I was startled by a voice alongside me addressing me in Italian. I turned but there was just a black shape in the darkness. “Sorry!” I said, “I don’t speak Italian.”

Another voice chirped up from the other side and I realized there were three or four youngsters around me. I repeated my statement to the second voice. “English?” the first voice asked. I debated replying “Welsh!” for a moment but quickly compromised with “I speak English!”

A cigarette lighter flicked on and a black boy in his mid-teens was illuminated as he raised the flame up inspecting me.

“Let us walk with you.” the voice continued, and we started to walk but it was a minute or two before I realised, we were now on a side path. I was about to say something when we rounded a circle of shrubbery and I could see a light ahead, It was an open area surrounded by flower beds, trees and bushes with a street lamp on either side, several benches around the outside and several unpaved paths leading off. There were four of them. All mid-teens, all black, all dressed in baggy shorts and baggy tops.

“I was going the other way.” I said and turned back the way we had come. Two of the boys blocked my way and grinned.

“We will stay here for a while. Have fun!.” Said one and run his fingers up my arm.

Another stood to one side cleaning his nails with a knife and grinning. “Yes!” he said, “Have fun!”

A hand slipped under my blouse and on discovering I was bra-less broke into excited chatter in a language that was neither Italian or English.

They closed in and the blouse was unbuttoned and removed in seconds. My shorts and panties followed. I thought of the knife and resisted the urge to scream as they propelled me to the edge of the open area and pressed me down onto a grassy patch. Between some bushes, shedding their clothes as they did so.

The first of them quickly spread my legs and thrust himself into me and set up a vigorous rhythm and chatting to his friends as he sawed back and fore. It wasonly a few minutes before he grunted and stiffened as a seemingly unending stream of love juice flooded my pussy and overflowed.

The second boy was larger but slipped in with no problem as I was now well lubricated. As he began to pump my pussy with increasing vigour his mouth fastened on my breast, his tongue sending sparks from the nipple and throughout my body. He began grunting as the short digs started and he groaned long and loud as he emptied his seed into me.

Boys three and four were quick but still made me orgasm and I lay there on the grass panting as they disappeared into the night.

The following day, our group visited Florence and I was entranced by our guide, possibly in his 40s but good looking with just a touch of grey at the temples adding to his knowledge and enthusiasm for the city. Lunchtime beckoned at the end of his fascinating guided tour and while my much older travel companions headed for the numerous cafes and restaurants, the guide stopped to talk to me and invited me to have lunch with him.

We went to small restaurant nearby where we were greeted warmly by the portly owner. The food was gorgeous and accompanied by several bottles of wine. Afterwards, Marco, the guide, led me unresisting through a curtained doorway to the rear of the restaurant into a room with a huge bed covered with cushions.

His hands busied themselves removing my clothing and his hard penis slid into my moist vagina even before we sank onto the bed.

He was gentle but too swift for satisfaction and after just a minute or two, gave a loud groan jerked stiffly and slowly slid out of me. As he rolled away, I became aware that we were not alone.

The portly manager, already naked, leaned over the bid and his lips closed on my nipple, his tongue lapping it into hardness. Through a small gap between our bodies, I glimpsed another person just as a second pair of lips caressed my sex, a tongue teasing open the already stimulated lower lips while hands roamed my body. The manager shuffled up the bed and his surprisingly large penis nudged my partially open mouth. I opened it wider, and he slid in with a gasped string of Italian which conveyed a great deal of happiness at the situation.

Down below, my unknown visitor now spread my legs and something related to an Italian Salami nudged them apart. The wine, the warmth the constant stimulation by hands, mouths and penetration turned my mind to mush.

They slowed down as they changed positions. I leaked cum and was half blinded by cum and perspiration before they slumped around me in exhaustion.

I never did discover the identity of the third party and tried, unsuccessfully, to build a picture of him but failed to get much further than an enormous penis, the memory of which sent sparks of sensation coursing through my body.

The following day, Christmas Day was memorable for the amount and quality of the food accompanied by a more than generous supply of wine and spirits throughout the day dispensed by Louis, the hotel barman, a giant black man who spoke perfect English with a softly spoken French accent.

Apart from a small group of elderly ladies who seemed rather delighted to have someone with something of a scandalous aura about her among their number, I believe I was the only unattached woman in the hotel. Two of them had seen me being kissed by Marco the previous day and fertile imaginations probably came close to my actual afternoon entertainment. I made no attempt to disabuse them of the conviction that Marco and I had been engaged in “hanky-panky” and they eagerly grilled me about my sex life. My image was probably made more sensational by the male guests at the hotel who sought throughout the holiday to catch me beneath one of the dozens of sprigs of mistletoe suspended with the trimmings in the public rooms of the hotel.

Although I allowed myself to be “caught” for a kiss by several of the men (sometimes several times), I was careful to avoid their clumsy gropes becoming too personal. Apart that is, from Louis, the black bar man who quietly drew me unresisting into a small storeroom next to the bar where apart from a prolonged oxygen deprivation kiss, I allowed his hands to wander where they wished, and my hands did an exploratory expedition of their own.

Our interlude was brought to a halt by the bell from the bar and he left to serve his customers. There were two or three repeat performances during the afternoon and evening usually followed by keen interrogation by the old ladies, vicariously following my encounters with a dedication that suggested MI5 training.

The bar “closed” at 11.00 pm with free drinks for all remaining patrons. The hotel had a night porter who would serve drinks during the night while the kitchen retained someone to serve sandwiches etc. if required. I went up to my room in the lift with a number of guests with Christmas greetings as we parted at each floor.

Once in my room I quickly discarded my clothes, showered and slipped into a pair of most unChristmaslike striped pyjamas. I turned on the TV to a music channel and sprawled on the bed still sipping from my last glass of wine. I did not expect the gentle tap on my door but rose anyway and opened it and peeked out.

It was Louis with a huge grin and a bottle of Champagne.! opened the door for him to enter but instead he said “Come with me!”. Looking around I paused for a millisecond then grabbed my key card and followed him, still bare footed, along the passage and up the stairs to the top floor of the hotel. We crept quietly along as we could hear muted party sounds from some of the staff bedrooms. He opened a door and bundled me inside as a door further along opened.